#gossip girl fluff

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Gossip Girl masterlist

Requests are currently open!

Key:

Fluff: ♡ Angst: ♤ Smut: ♧ Headcanons: ◇ May contain triggering content: ☆ Omegaverse: αβΩ

~

Serena van der Woodsen

Gingerbread Disaster ♡

Cherry Pits and Picnic Blankets ♡

Hallway Rendezvous ♧

Sharing Is Caring ♧♡

Under the Weather ♤♡

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk ◇

Strawberry Coated Kisses ♧

Safe and Protected ♤♡ αβΩ

Off Limits ♧

Heating Up ♧ αβΩ

Morning Glory ♡

~

Blair Waldorf

Happy Birthday, B ♧

Sharing Is Caring ♧♡

Under the Weather ♤♡

Drunken Accidents ♡

Orange Peels ♡

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk ◇

Morning Routine ♧

Easy As Pie ♤♡

Late For Dinner ♧

Safe and Protected ♤♡ αβΩ

Off Limits ♧

Bouquets and Butterflies ♡

Special Day ♡

No Pickles ♡

Blair Waldorf dating a chubby gn reader ◇

Forever and Always ♡

~

Nate Archibald

First Time ♡♧

Sharing Is Caring ♧♡

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk ◇

Safe and Protected ♤♡ αβΩ

Off Limits ♧

~

Chuck Bass

Sharing Is Caring ♧♡

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk ◇

Safe and Protected ♤♡ αβΩ

Off Limits ♧

Eager Transaction ♧

~

Dan Humphrey

Telling the Gossip Girl characters "I wish you were gay so we could makeout" while drunk ◇

~

Jenny Humphrey

Under the Weather ♤♡

The Right Person ♡♧

Uno ♡

Left Stranded ♤♡

~

Eric van der Woodsen

Uno ♡

Meet the Family ♤♡

~

Georgina Sparks

I Love You ♤♡

~

[snowvies]

Mr. Badgley

Penn Badgley x Fem!Reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about your married piano teacher, Mr. Badgley. and one day he slides under the instrument to show you how much he's been thinking about you too.

wc: 1k

cw: age gap (reader 19, Penn late thirties), cheating, piano teacher x student, pussy eating, fingering, female masturbation

Sundays are your favorite days, especially ones like this when the clouds hang low with a murky swirl in the sky. You're nineteen, and college is kicking your ass but you promised yourself you wouldn't think about the papers due when you're here, at Mr. Badgley's house.

You found his ad on craigslist, piano lessons..fifty bucks an hour you would've scrolled past it until you saw him, and his family. You felt safer in a random man's house when his wife and newborn baby were in the same room with you. So you started going there, ever since your freshman year.

Your raggedy car rolllsss to stop and you get out to see the lonely house, picked apart to be perfect, not a single thing out of place... except yourself.

His wife answers the door a few minutes after knocking, the cold biting your bare legs as you run in for warmth, completely missing her scowl at your lack of kicking the mat with your dirty boots.

Mr. Badgley offers you a warm smile, hair combed perfectly, sweater ironed and pants straight like every weekend. His eyes always look a little empty when you come. His wife jingles her keys around her finger as she readjusts the baby on her hip

"I'm going out, be done when I'm home" the same line. Every week. You smile her way but she doesn't pay mind to it, leaving you and her husband to play. you turn to Mr. Badgley but he's already walking to the connecting living room of the tiny house, sitting on the worn bench as he slides the fallboard up.

You sit next to him as he wears an excited smile, when he's like this, playing with you, it doesn't seem orchestrated by his wife. Every move he makes is analyzed by her, except this. The only reason he's allowed to do this is because they needed the extra money.

"Let's start where we left off last week, yes?" he asked and you nodded, you inhaled the mixture of musk and old books that surrounded the pianist as he began the background cords. his eyes are on you, they shine as his spine relaxes into the music and you begin your part. fingers dancing over keys as you try to remember the pattern

Your eyes squeezed shut once you messed the keys up. He smiles softly and lets a laugh out of his nose at your reaction

"Like this," his larger palm rests on top of yours as he guides your fingers, you nod and try again.

Soon enough an hour passes and you both rise from the bench and you dig into your purse for the fifty bucks you crumpled into it this morning, but, warm hands slide on top of your shoulder and the older man shakes his head.

"No need" he grins and tries to send you off but you insist, grabbing the money but he pushes you out the door.

"I will not have you pay for something that I enjoy just as much, Y/n, have a lovely week" The door softly shuts and you're left stunned.

.

You roll around your dorm bed, restless as the man's words keep ringing in your head. Why didn't he let you pay?

Maybe you're being dramatic. But it isn't like the Badgleys are set either.

You shut your eyes in a huff, suffocating yourself in the pillow under you as you replay the keys in an attempt to lull you asleep

But it isn't just the keys you're thinking about...

It's how his hand guided yours, it's how he looked at you when it was your part to play, it's his scent, it's his being. It's driving you mad.

You arch your back slowly, fingers sliding down your body until you get to your aching core. slick-filled fingers rubbing yourself at the thought of your teacher's hands touching you, grabbing you, loving you.

You moan into the pillow, legs shaking as you cream around your fingers, the thought of him drives you wild.

So just how will you act the next time you see him?

.

Before you know it, it's Sunday and you're back at the Badgleys, with his wife announcing her departure and the formal greetings of you and your teacher, you're back at that bench, side by side.

He starts the cords, and you follow trying to calm your shaking legs as you think about what fueled you that night. You couldn't even look him in the eyes this session.

His hand softly squeezes your bare thigh and you look back at the man.

"You're completely off" he informs you and you don't think your face could get redder.

"I-I'm so sorry...let's try again" you panic but his thumb rubs loving circles on your flesh.

"You usually think the world ends when you mess up, but you kept playing this time, you're mind is somewhere else Ms. Y/n."

"Sorry Mr. Badgley" you murmur

"Talk to me, get it off your chest so we can get back to playing" he smiles and you nod slowly

"...Why didn't you let me pay last time?" you ask, he stops for a moment as the hand on your thigh now rests on his face as he thinks for a moment.

"I just feel like, something so pleasurable shouldn't be bought," he says above a whisper and you feel your entire face glow, and he must have noticed with how he laughs.

"Not those pleasures, Ms. Y/n" he smiles and you don't think you've ever been so embarrassed. But when his laughter stops, his eyes swirl softly into something darker, in that moment you feel exposed to every thought as he eyes you.

He stands, hands finding your shoulders

"Keep playing"

You take a shaky breath as your thighs begin to shake once more, fingers finding the keys as you start the song

"Good," he whispers, his scents overwhelming you now as you feel almost dizzy while playing, you barely notice how he slips under the piano.

"Mr. Badgley, what are you doing?" you gasp as his dark brown eyes gaze up at you

"Keep.playing" he says sternly, and with a swallow, you keep going

He kisses your knees and you feel yourself sticking to your panties as he spreads them apart.

He has a wife. He has a kid. What are you doing?

"You're doing great" he huffs, kissing your thighs, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as his fingers dance up to your panties.

He pulls them down slowly, your wetness sticking to the fabric before they are lost in his pockets

Your bare pussy is in front of your teacher's face as he rubs up and down your thighs taking a shaky breath in

You slam the keys as his tongue licks up your pussy, he moans into you before forcing you to scoot closer into his face, his hands wrapping around your ass as he slurps and moans at your cunt.

"Mr.- fuck" you cry, hands climbing to try and stop your moans as your hips buck up to hump his face

"You taste so so good" he groans, making out with your pussy as he sucks at your clit just to tongue fuck your hole

Hot tears flow down your face as he stares up at you, watching you come undone for him.

You shake around him, orgasm approaching closer with every lick, he sucks on your slit before adding a long finger to your hole. You throw your head back as he fingers you, flicking his tongue relentlessly as his finger curls inside you.

You feel him whine and moan against your pussy, and when you look down you see him gripping and grabbing at his hard-on as he eats you out. You cry as that sends you over and you cum around his finger

You're panting as he curls his fingers a few more times before shoving it into his mouth and licking you clean, you're shaking and wide-eyed as hair sticks to your face and he crawls out from under the piano

Right, weren't you two supposed to be playing right now? Isn't his wife about to be home and he's sucking his fingers because they still taste like you?

He helps you off the bench and you stare into the stained cushion but he turns your chin to him before kissing you deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue before breaking it off with a simple

"My wife is on her way...see you in our next session Ms. Y/n"

And you can't wait for next Sunday.

an: lmk how obvious it is idk anything about pianos. This is based on a dream I had last night 😵‍💫🖤 I hope you liked it <333

[keehomania]

party animal — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, slowburn, pining, swearing, minors dni, reader’s surname is archibald bc it sounds expensive, super rich kids, slut-shaming, kook princess!reader, pre-buzzcut rafe, drug use, alcohol abuse, promiscuity, unprotected sex, reader has major daddy issues, rafe is lowkey obsessed, glazing the reader lol heavy serena van der woodsen vibes, rafe wants to fix her (he needs a therapist!)

you were a paradox, a contradiction wrapped in silk and sin—something meant to be divine but marred by every thorn that hell’s garden could offer. you reveled in it, though—the chaos, the pull of power, the way the world seemed to orbit around your smile. the thrill was intoxicating, the rush of watching people bend to your will like marionettes on fragile strings. if you wanted, they’d scrape gum from the soles of your designer heels, and you wouldn’t even need to say “please.” it wasn’t about malice; it was about the game. how far could you go before everything unraveled?

that’s why you came home late every night, long past the hour when even the shadows began to whisper secrets to each other. midnight had always been your threshold—swaying on the edge of your limits, drenched in vice. you carried the night with you like a perfume—martinis clinging to your breath, the ghost of cuban cigars still roughening your voice. your skin glistened under the harsh yellow glow of the porch light, the sweat and sin of your evening etched into your being.

sarah had been your constant, your touchstone in a life teetering between indulgence and destruction. she was supposed to anchor you, but even her goodness wasn’t immune to your sway. she let you in without question, her hand firm but gentle on your arm as she led you across the threshold. her boyfriend trailed behind, his words a muffled hum lost to the haze in your head as she whispered something you didn’t bother to catch.

you knew better than to stay, yet there you were, wrapped in tom ford and tequila, your gaze flickering in the dim light as you crossed the line you swore you wouldn’t touch again. this was mistake number one hundred, but this one felt different. this one was bigger. and you could already feel the weight of it pressing down on your chest, even as you smiled in the dark. god, how you wished you could take back time.

“shit, shit, shit,” you let out a long, high-pitched moan as your nails dug into the flesh of his chest, leaving everything from crescents to the presence of fresh blood from how hard you were clawing at him.

you threw your head back as you steadied yourself, his strong forearms wrapped around your knees as he spread them about, allowing him to meet your thrusts, his hips snapping forward as you moved at your own pace, bouncing, yours hands moving to push your hair back as your tits moved with every motion. “feel so good, rafe,” you slurred, leaning in and arching forward as you pressed your lips to his neck.

now, pause. was this bad? yes, this was very bad. not only were you drunk off your ass, but he was just as bad, if not worse, running on no sleep and booger sugar the way he usually did—maybe he was just wired that way. whatever the case was, he didn't care. he was enchanted, in a trance that he wasn't completely aware of—maybe it was the blow, he wanted it to be the coke more than anything, but he had a feeling it was more than that.

it had to do with the way you were moving, almost as if you were still at the club, dancing and swaying without a care in the world. had you always been like that? when did the kook princess conquer the underworld? he was panting, his mouth hanging open at the feeling of you squeezing, clenching around him like you were trying to milk everything he had to give—and you were. he let you kiss down his jaw, licking a stripe up his earlobe before moving down to his neck, nipping at the flesh and praying it wouldn't bruise.

“keep this up,” he hissed through his teeth, jaw clenching as his big, rough hands manhandled your hips, giving him all the leverage in the world as he kept thrusting, kept pounding into you like you were the only two people on the earth. “and i’m gonna fucking cum.”

you exhaled, something between a laugh and a moan passing your lips, ringing in his ears like a melody. “yeah, gonna cum?” you taunted, “gonna fill me up, cameron?” god, you were asking for it—begging for it, he was gonna nail you.

he pushed you back with a growl, leaning forward until his lips were perched around your nipple, teeth grazing the flesh of your tit as he muffled a guttural groan, fingers gripping the flesh of youe thighs as his dick throbbed. you could feel it pulsing inside you, twitching against your walls, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you sank down on his cock a final time. then, it was game over.

he moaned, loud and hard as he filled you up, milking the delicious grip your walls had around his cock as he continued to thrust, his cum spilling into you continuously, like he had an infinite amount of it in his balls, but he didn’t and, eventually, it did end.

it ended with you collapsing beside him, panting as you fought for oxygen. you wiped the sweat from your forehead as you panted, coming down from your high and absolutely refusing to look him in the eye—at all, really. he turned to glance at you, sweat sticking to the loose, thin bangs that grazed his forehead. he gulped, unsure of what to say as he took in the sight of you, unsure if he should say anything at all, and he didn't. he was too afraid to, but he’d never admit that out loud. he wasn't the type that got scared, intimidated, nothing of the sort. so, why was he suddenly quiet?

he was supposed to be the one to tell you to get up, to grab your clothes, and to get the fuck out of his room, but the words didn't come out. he was supposed to hear you talk about enjoying long walks on the beach, wanting something serious, something more than a quickie at three in the morning, but you didn’t. you didn’t beg for him to look at you as something more than just his friend, sarah’s best friend. instead, you turned around, pulling a blanket over your naked body, and went to sleep.

the pounding in your head was merciless, splitting your skull into jagged thirds as you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. everything was blurry—the sunlight cutting through the blinds too sharp, the stale remnants of last night’s debauchery clinging to your skin like a brand. you blinked, once, twice, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that refused to align. but when the realization hit, it slammed into you like a freight train. your breath hitched. rafe. naked. asleep.

the room—the white walls, the overflowing closet, the faint trace of white powder on the desk—left no room for doubt. this was his room. and you had slept with him.

“dumbass,” you muttered under your breath, smacking your palm against your forehead like it could somehow erase the memory. “dumbass. dumbass. dumbass.”

you scrambled to your feet, fumbling for the crumpled dress discarded near the bed. your hands shook as you tugged it on, the silk clinging to your skin like guilt. your heels weren’t hard to find, their straps a sharp contrast against the chaos of his room. quietly, you tiptoed to the door, heart thundering with the weight of your actions. what the hell had you done? you tried to steady yourself, convincing your mind that it wasn’t the end of the world. rafe wasn’t the sentimental type. he moved from girl to girl like a chess master with no endgame, and you weren’t exactly unfamiliar with that strategy yourself. if anything, this was just another misstep, a shared mistake that wouldn’t—couldn’t—ruin your friendship.

but god, the thought of sarah finding out, of topper’s smug comments and kelce’s relentless teasing, made your stomach churn.

you reached the kitchen, relief washing over you like a cold shower—until you saw her. standing by the counter, sipping orange juice, her messy blonde hair and pinched expression screaming hangover.

“hey,” you croaked, your voice raspier than you intended.

she barely glanced at you, waving her hand dismissively. “jesus, stop screaming,” she muttered, rubbing her temples.

you rolled your eyes, slipping into a stool and squeezing her shoulder. “sorry, mom, i’ll use my inside voice,” you whispered with a smirk. “what? john b keep you up with his john d?”

her eyes narrowed, a faint smile twitching at her lips. “oh, you so cannot be talking,” she shot back, draining her glass in one go. “you did my brother, so that totally makes us sisters-in-law.”

your heart stopped. “keep it down, you psycho,” you hissed, swatting her arm. “you totally hazed me last night. this never would’ve happened if you hadn’t dragged john b along.”

sarah shrugged, not even bothering to hide her grin. “and what now? gonna ditch the club-night stands and get with my brother?” she teased, her tone as light as the smirk she shot you.

“as if,” you scoffed, pouring her another glass of juice. “i’m getting tested for chlamydia after this.”

her brow lifted in mock surprise. “damn, this is a first. usually, the girls beg me to hook them up with rafe.”

you shook your head, wagging a finger at her. “absolutely not. you know me,” you said firmly, and she did. “rafe’s my friend. known him since he was hoarding cereal box comics. so, this? It never happened.”

sarah laughed, leaning back against the counter. “man, he’s totally gonna brag to top and kels,” she said with a mischievous glint. “not everyone gets to nail the kook princess.”

rolling your eyes, you snatched your keys off the counter, leaning in to hug her. “you’re real peachy, aren’t you?” you teased, hand darting down to slap her ass. “i’m out, babe. pick you up tonight for the bonfire?”

“wear something cute,” she called after you, shaking her head with a grin as she watched you leave.

the engine of your corvette roared to life, a deep, satisfying hum that vibrated through your chest and momentarily distracted you from the chaos in your head. you leaned back against the leather seat, gripping the wheel as last night’s events replayed in fragmented flashes. the tequila, the dim haze of rafe’s room, the feel of his hands on your skin—it all came rushing back like a tidal wave, making your cheeks burn with equal parts shame and disbelief.

“what the hell were you thinking?” you muttered, shaking your head as you pulled out of sarah’s driveway.

the quiet streets were still sleepy, the morning sun casting long shadows that danced across the pavement. you drove a few blocks, the rhythmic rumble of the engine filling the silence as you tried to piece everything together. but no matter how hard you tried, it all felt surreal, like something out of a dream you couldn’t quite shake. when you finally pulled into your own driveway, the sight of your familiar front porch brought a strange sense of relief. this was home, your sanctuary—empty for now, thanks to your mother’s work trip. thank god for small miracles; she would’ve flipped her perfectly groomed, suburban lid if she’d seen you walk in smelling like bad decisions and luxury cologne.

sliding out of the car, you groaned softly, your palm meeting your forehead for what felt like the hundredth time. “dumbass,” you whispered again, scolding yourself as you made your way inside.

the house was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows in soft golden streaks. you kicked off your heels near the door, leaving a trail of discarded items on your way to the bathroom. the cool tile against your bare feet was grounding as you stepped into the shower, twisting the knob until a hot, steamy cascade poured over you. you closed your eyes, letting the water wash away the remnants of last night—the sweat, the guilt, the lingering scent of rafe’s cologne clinging to your skin like a bad memory. your hands worked through your hair, fingers scrubbing at your scalp as you tried to scrub him out of your mind.

but he lingered, even as the water ran clear and you stepped out, wrapping a plush towel around yourself. you moved mechanically, toweling your hair dry before running a brush through the damp strands, blow-drying them until they fell in soft waves around your shoulders. a light layer of makeup followed—just enough to cover the shadows under your eyes and add a touch of color to your lips.

you opened your closet, scanning the rows of neatly hung clothes until your fingers landed on the white sundress. it was simple, elegant, hugging your curves in all the right places while leaving your tan lines exposed—reminding you of sun-soaked days that felt like a lifetime ago. you slipped it on, adjusting the hem before layering yourself with delicate gold jewelry: a thin chain around your neck, dainty hoops, and a few stacked bracelets.

the white heels completed the look, their sleek design elongating your legs as you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror. you looked put together, polished, even if you felt like a hurricane on the inside.

as you walked back out of the house, locking the door behind you, the corvette gleamed in the driveway. climbing back into the driver’s seat, you started the engine, the rumble a familiar comfort. last night was still a tangle of confusion in your mind, but as you pulled onto the road, you pushed it to the back of your thoughts. you had errands to run, a day to salvage, and a version of yourself to piece back together before anyone else caught on to how close you were to falling apart.

sarah wiped down the countertop with a slow, deliberate motion, her lips curving into a small smile as she thought about you. not with jealousy—she could never bring herself to feel that way about you—but with a kind of admiration that only years of friendship could cultivate. you had always been a force of nature, unpredictable and unrelenting.

you were the girl who punched cindy lopez in the nose for calling sarah stupid in third grade, who bought her her first vogue magazine when her parents refused to indulge her interest in fashion, who never hesitated to stand by her, no matter what. sarah knew, deep down, that nothing could ever truly take you away from her.

“hey.” the familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. she turned, her eyes landing on her brother as he sauntered into the kitchen. his hair was tousled, his eyes slightly bloodshot, and his expression unreadable.

“morning,” sarah greeted, fighting the urge to laugh. “some night you had.”

rafe ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze as he moved toward the fridge. “she left,” he stated, his voice flat, though sarah could hear the faint edge to it. “they usually don’t.”

rafe shrugged, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off. he took a long sip before sitting at the kitchen island, his gaze distant. “yeah, well, she’s a free spirit,” sarah said, leaning against the counter. she studied his face carefully, noticing the subtle tension in his jaw. “you’re cool with that, right?”

“yeah, yeah, yeah,” rafe said quickly, almost too quickly. he shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers against the counter as if to distract himself. “she’s a—she’s a good friend. shouldn’t be too bad.”

sarah tilted her head, suppressing a smirk as she moved some dishes around the sink. “congrats, by the way. you nailed the kildare princess. topper’s totally gonna be jealous.”

rafe raised an eyebrow, finally looking up at her. “top?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes narrowing slightly.

sarah nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “yeah, god, he’s had a crush on her forever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “don’t rub it in too much, though. i was totally rooting for them.”

rafe tapped his foot against the tile, his brows furrowing as he processed this. “yeah? And, uh, how does she feel about him?” he asked, keeping his tone even.

sarah shrugged, pondering the question for a moment. “i have no idea. no one knows what she’s thinking—not even me,” she admitted with a small laugh. “she’s a free spirit, like i said. she doesn’t take guys seriously. guess it has something to do with her dad. whatever it is, a guy couldn’t fix her with two hands and a toolbox, so be grateful she isn’t begging for your attention.”

rafe nodded slowly, her words sinking in. he leaned back in his chair, wiping his face with his hands as he considered what she’d said. it didn’t sit right with him—the way you had left without a second glance, the way you hadn’t even seemed to care about what had happened between you. he was used to a certain kind of response from the girls he spent the night with—flirty texts, coy smiles, maybe even the occasional attempt to cling to him. but you? you’d left like it was nothing, like he was nothing. it bothered him. more than it should have. but rafe cameron had always liked a challenge.

the roar of your corvette’s engine echoed as you pulled into the car wash, your fingers drumming against the steering wheel in a rhythm that betrayed your nerves. the ache in your head hadn’t dulled, and you silently cursed yourself for not grabbing an aspirin before you left the house. a drink sounded tempting too—something strong enough to quiet your thoughts about last night.

as you drove into the bay, a figure approached your car, a man in a black cap pulled low over his brow. his gait was confident, but as he got closer, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step. early twenties, give or take, with sun-kissed skin and broad shoulders, he leaned down to meet your gaze through the window.

“hey, do you need your tires polished—” he stopped mid-sentence, his voice faltering as his eyes widened. recognition lit up his face as his jaw slackened slightly.

“top?” you asked, rolling your window down with a grin.

a smile broke across his face, wide and sheepish, as he tugged the cap off his head, running a hand through his hair. “hey,” he stammered, his voice boyish and endearing. “what are you doing here?”

“i could ask you the same thing,” you replied with a chuckle. “what’s this? early career change?”

he laughed nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “nah, it’s my uncle’s shop. just helping him out for the summer,” he explained, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “it’s, uh, it’s really good to see you.”

you smiled warmly. “it’s good to see you too, top.”

the moment lingered for a beat longer than necessary, his gaze holding yours before he quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“so, what’s the occasion?” he asked, gesturing to the car.

“just getting her ready for the bonfire tonight,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “won’t take up too much of your time.”

topper shook his head quickly, his grin returning. “you’re not wasting my time,” he said, almost too earnestly. “i’ll get started—on the house.”

you frowned, leaning forward. “come on, top. you know i can pay.”

he waved you off, his grin widening. “yeah, but you won’t.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes playfully. “fine, but i owe you a drink or two tonight.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice lighter, more confident now.

as he turned to get to work, you watched him for a moment, appreciating the way his shoulders moved as he grabbed the hose. he was efficient, his movements precise, but his composure faltered when his eyes drifted back to you through the window. he tried to stay focused, but you caught the way his gaze lingered on your collarbone, the golden jewelry adorning your neck, and the soft curve of the sundress that hugged your body. his jaw tightened as his eyes trailed lower, taking in the tan lines just visible above the hem of your dress. topper had it bad. real bad.

the errands had eaten away your day, the sun already dipping low in the sky by the time you were done. time had flown by faster than you realized, but the anticipation bubbling in your chest made you brush it off. you drove down the familiar block, the hum of the corvette’s engine smoothing your thoughts as you spotted the estate. pulling to the curb, you honked the horn twice, leaning out the window with a grin.

“get in, loser, we’re getting wasted,” you called out, watching as sarah appeared in the doorway, slipping into a pair of sandals.

behind her, rafe hovered like a shadow, his tall frame taking up the doorway. he muttered something to his sister—something about seeing her at the bonfire—but his eyes weren’t on her. they were on you. your stomach twisted, caught between the weight of his gaze and the awkwardness of the situation. shit, what was he supposed to do? wave? say hi? stay quiet? he settled on a wave, though the moment his hand lifted, his confidence faltered. the wave was awkward, hesitant, and he regretted it instantly.

you winced for him, forcing a half-hearted wave back, just as awkward, until the sound of the passenger door slamming shut snapped you out of it.

“romeo, romeo, where art thou, fair romeo?” sarah teased as she tossed herself into the seat, kicking her legs up and reaching for your playlist without hesitation.

“good to see you too, princess,” you mused, rolling your eyes.

she shrugged, her teasing smirk softening as her eyes swept over you, taking in the white sundress that clung to your frame. “you look good,” she said, her tone genuine for once. “you look good in white.”

a smile tugged at your lips as you shifted the car into drive. “you look good in everything,” you shot back smoothly, earning a laugh from her.

the drive to the bonfire was pure summer magic, the kind of ride where the windows were down, and the air smelled like salt and heat. music blared from the speakers as you and sarah sang along, her feet resting on the dashboard as the wind whipped her hair around her face. the sky burned in hues of orange and pink, melting into a deepening blue as the sun dipped lower.

the road opened up to the party grounds, and it was clear the bonfire was just the centerpiece of something much larger. the expansive courtyard buzzed with life, groups of people laughing and chatting, while the glow of string lights gave the scene a warm, golden hue. to the side, a makeshift bar was already busy with activity, and further back, you could see the well-manicured green of a golf field illuminated by soft lighting.

you pulled into valet parking, handing over the keys with practiced ease as sarah slid out of the car beside you. without thinking, your hand dropped to hers, fingers brushing for just a moment before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“oh, god,” she muttered under her breath.

“what?” you asked, already bracing yourself for the mess. seriously, it’s been, what? 10 seconds?

you turned your head and saw him—john b routledge, weaving his way toward you with that signature grin of his. he didn’t even hesitate, wrapping sarah in a hug the moment he reached her.

“hey,” he greeted you casually, though his attention was clearly focused on sarah.

you didn’t reply. instead, you met sarah’s gaze over his shoulder, your expression speaking louder than words. “routledge. mind if i steal her? thanks.” you didn’t even wait for a response.

as he pulled back, you leaned in close to sarah, your voice low enough that only she could hear. “he does or says anything, you get bored, anything goes flat—you call me, text me, i’ll be there, okay?”

she nodded, her lips curving into a smile. “god, you’re the best,” she said, throwing her arms around you for a quick hug.

you shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “i know.” and then, with a bounce in her step, she was off, disappearing into the crowd with her boyfriend.

the bar wasn’t far, but the walk to it felt like something out of a movie. you didn’t notice it at first—the way heads turned, eyes lingering on you like you’d stepped out of some dream. the last rays of sunlight filtered through the trees and string lights, casting a warm, golden glow that seemed to follow you. It was as if the sun itself had decided to pause, just for a moment, to watch you move through the courtyard.

when you reached the bar, you slid onto one of the stools, crossing your legs and leaning forward just enough to signal that you meant business. the bartender looked up from his station, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he approached.

“miss archibald,” he greeted smoothly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to feel personal but still professional.

of course he knew your name—everyone did. kildare was a small county, and its residents loved their local legends. you’d been a sensation for years, the name whispered with awe and envy, your life dissected by those who had nothing better to do. table dancing in barcelona? they’d seen the photos. a whirlwind fling with a celebrity? they’d read the headlines. you couldn’t decide if the attention was a blessing or a curse.

“hey, trent,” you replied casually, your gaze flicking to his name tag, even though you already knew it.

“what’ll it be tonight?”

“don julio, chilled,” you said, pulling your wallet out with ease. you layered a crisp hundred-dollar bill with a few twenties and then added a little extra for him, sliding it across the counter without a second thought.

he raised an eyebrow but accepted the tip without comment, reaching for the top shelf. “haven’t seen you around in a bit,” he mused as he grabbed the tequila. “get yourself a boyfriend?”

the question made your skin crawl, though you masked it with a polite smile. “not in the slightest,” you replied, your tone light but firm enough to shut the topic down.

he nodded, as if that were the answer he’d expected, and set to work. within moments, he placed a chilled bucket on the counter, along with a neat arrangement of shot glasses, lemon wedges, and salt.

“here you go,” trent said with a grin, stepping back to give you space.

finally, you could relax. you exhaled slowly, letting the buzz of the courtyard fade into the background as you eyed the setup before you. the tequila gleamed like liquid gold in the bucket, and you reached for a glass, savoring the moment. tonight, at least for now, was yours. or so you believed, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. the joy was short-lived.

you turned at the light tap on your shoulder, eyebrows raising in curiosity before your lips curved into a familiar grin. there he was, his blond hair slightly messy, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “you look like you could use a drinking buddy,” jj maybank said, his voice laced with that casual charm that never failed to make people smile.

you leaned back against the stool, crossing one leg over the other as you looked him over. “what are you doing here, j? still crashing our parties?” you teased, your tone light but warm.

he chuckled, sliding onto the stool beside you, his movements as relaxed as ever. “what can i say? i keep coming back. think it’s for the women,” he shot back, his eyes trailing down to where your legs crossed before flickering back to your face.

“some luck they have,” you replied smoothly, raising an eyebrow as you poured yourself another shot.

jj whistled low as he noticed the bottle. “don julio? act a foolio?” he quipped, grabbing a glass for himself.

you smirked, pouring him a shot. “savor it, maybank. you’re drinking two hundred bucks.”

he laughed, leaning back on the stool and looking skyward. “huh, i thought houses cost that much. or is it just mine? just mine? okay.”

you swatted him lightly on the chest, shaking your head as you laughed. his grin widened, and he leaned closer, resting his elbow on the bar. “how about a drinking game?”

your curiosity piqued, and you raised an eyebrow. “oh, yeah? what’s your angle?”

jj grinned like a cat with a canary. “simple. i take a shot, tell you a secret. you take a shot, tell me a secret. loser has to outdrink the other.”

you stared at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “smooth operator, aren’t you?”

he tilted his head, his grin unfaltering. “when it works, it works.”

you tipped your glass back, the tequila smooth and icy as it slid down your throat. setting it down with a soft clink, you thought for a moment before a sly smile spread across your lips. “alright, remember last summer when i went to spain? that article about my celebrity hookup?”

jj nodded, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “oh, hell yeah. don’t tell me it was a kardashian or some shit.”

you smirked, leaning in slightly. “pablo gavira. nightclub. barcelona.”

his jaw dropped, and then he burst into laughter, slapping the bartop. “holy shit, congrats, it girl. you lived the dream of every fourteen-year-old girl out there!”

you rolled your eyes, a laugh escaping your lips. “shut up, you ass. your turn,” you urged, gesturing for him to take his shot.

jj grinned, taking the glass and throwing back the tequila in one swift motion. as he set the glass down, he leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “okay, remember last month when john b’s board mysteriously went missing?”

you groaned, already sensing trouble. “jj, what did you do?”

he shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “sold it to a tourist for three hundred. used the cash to buy everyone drinks at the wreck. including your best friend, by the way.”

your eyes widened in mock horror. “diabolical.”

he laughed, that carefree sound that was so uniquely him. “hey, the guy wanted something ‘authentic.’ i gave him authentic.”

you shook your head, pouring another round. “you’re the worst, maybank.”

“and yet, here you are,” he teased, his grin infectious as he raised his glass for another round.

you stared down the shot glass, your mind racing for a secret that would blow jj’s offbeat humor right out of the water. you had your reputation—hell, you had a treasure chest full of scandals to pull from. but this? this had to be a knockout. something so jaw-dropping, so absolutely wrong that it would leave even jj maybank momentarily speechless. and then it hit you.

you set the glass down with a soft clink, leaning toward him, your lips curling into a devious grin. “guess who i slept with last night.”

his head snapped toward you, his interest piqued as he leaned in, matching your grin with his own. “sarah,” he shot back instantly, smirking like he already knew the answer.

you rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “i wish,” you groaned dramatically. then, you paused for effect, letting the tension build before delivering the bombshell. “rafe.”

jj froze. for a moment, it was as if his entire system short-circuited, his jaw dropping in an expression that was equal parts horror and hilarity. then he hissed, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. “you’re joking,” he choked out between gasps, his face twisting in disbelief.

you shook your head solemnly, a hand over your heart. “i wish i was. i was drunk, he was high. it just happened.”

he leaned back, clutching his stomach as he cackled. “and they say romance is dead,” he wheezed before shaking his head in mock disapproval. “dude, you had sex with your friend. big no-no. and your friend is a total whore. what if he caught feelings? you be up for a change of pace?”

you nearly choked on the air you inhaled too sharply. “big no,” you said firmly, your voice rising slightly. “and with that psycho? he’d snap my neck in a heartbeat if he was coked up enough.”

jj shrugged nonchalantly, taking another sip of tequila. “that’s your type, though. let’s face it. you like ‘em hot and stupid, and that’s all rafe is.” he broke into another fit of laughter, the image clearly amusing him to no end.

you narrowed your eyes, leaning toward him. “hey, i don’t go for psychopaths that shoot cops, dude.”

jj winced, his head swiveling as he glanced around. “allegedly,” he corrected, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “not so loud, psycho. besides, you like your men deranged.”

you scoffed, throwing back another shot. “yeah, that’s what I need. a strung-out psycho blasting big syke while he beats my ass.”

jj’s laughter came to an abrupt halt as he stared at you, his brow furrowed in mock thought. “really? pegged him more as a tupac kind of guy.”

you chuckled, leaning in close with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “you know, i should fix him up. do some psychoanalysis-type shit. make him a good boy,” you joked.

jj nearly fell off his stool, laughing so hard that tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “is that it, bob the builder? you wanna fix me up next?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you cooed, shaking your head as you rested a hand on his shoulder. “no way, babe. i like you just the way you are. damaged goods.”

he faked a gasp, clutching his chest as if you’d physically wounded him. “who said these goods were damaged?”

“your track record,” came a voice behind you.

you froze, your entire body stiffening at the familiar sound. slowly, almost as if you could delay the inevitable, you turned in your seat, dreading the sight you knew you’d find. and there he was. his expression was unreadable, a mix of calm and something far darker lurking just beneath the surface. those piercing blue eyes bore into you, not leaving yours for a second.

jj let out a low whistle under his breath, muttering, “well, shit.”

you forced a polite smile as you turned to face him, though the tension in the air was as palpable as the heat rising in the room. “hey,” you greeted, trying to diffuse the moment with your usual charm.

you leaned forward to give him a quick hug, a friendly one, but as your arms wrapped around him, you could feel the shift in his breath, the way it caught in his throat as he inhaled deeply. his chest rose and fell just a little too sharply, his lips brushing the side of your neck as you pulled back. that warm, expensive scent of yours seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief moment, you thought you might have made things a bit too personal between the two of you.

but then, you pulled away, turning to greet the others, pushing the awkwardness aside. topper and kelce were already there, practically vibrating with excitement. you smiled and reached out to hug them both. “top, kels,” you said warmly. “you guys want a drink?”

kelce’s grin stretched wide, his enthusiasm unmistakable. “shit, don julio? there’s our money maker,” he cheered, sliding into one of the stools like it was his own personal throne.

topper, on the other hand, didn’t look as enthused anymore. his eyes flickered, darting between you and jj, the conflict visible in the furrow of his brow. you caught the shift, but decided to address it in a way that wouldn’t rock the boat too much.

rafe’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp and demanding. “what’s the pogue doing here?”

jj raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin pulling at his lips. “don’t shoot, just came for a drink,” he teased, the smirk never wavering from his face.

topper shot him a look, one that practically oozed disdain, his tone a little too biting as he quipped, “yeah, we can see that.” he slid a glance at you, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “bar’s full of stools. sit somewhere else.”

the words stung, but jj shrugged them off with practiced ease as you threw an arm around his shoulders as if to claim him as your own for the moment. “you guys are way too sober,” you joked, giving them a mock warning. “be nice.”

jj’s eyes briefly met rafe’s, just a flicker of something passing between them, something loaded with a challenge. and for that brief second, it was like the world stood still, the air thick with competition. but then jj’s smirk widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer to him. “some friends you have,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “haven’t even complimented your dress.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he held his ground. he didn’t even know why he was angry, but the sight of jj with his arm around you was a slap in the face. he wanted to believe that it was because jj was a pogue, on kook territory, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it than that.

“the dress is beautiful, looks great on her, probably real expensive,” rafe said, his voice suddenly tight, eyes flicking pointedly to where jj’s arm was draped around you. “so get your dirty-ass pogue hands off it.”

the words hit hard, but you weren’t about to let the tension build any further. raising both your hands in a surrendering gesture, you rolled your eyes. “okay, rafe, enough. we get it, he’s a pogue,” you said, your tone light but firm. “just chill out.”

rafe scoffed, a bitter edge to his laugh. as he passed by you, he paused and slammed his shoulder against jj’s, the force enough to make the stool wobble. he shot a look over his shoulder, his gaze hard. “paparazzi’s out in front,” he said, his words dripping with something darker. “try not to get sloppy.” ouch.

the air grew heavier as the boys found their places at the bar, settling down on the stools opposite you. you could feel their eyes on you, heavy and lingering, like they were trying to decipher something beneath the surface. kelce groaned, and the sound was unmistakable—hunger, wrapped in something almost reverential. his eyes raked over you, from your heels all the way up to the way your hair cascaded down your back, messy but perfectly styled.

“she looks fly as hell,” he muttered, swishing his beer bottle absentmindedly. his gaze dropped lower. “legs like that could give victoria's secret a run for their money.”

topper scoffed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning to kelce with a sharp look. “dude, back off,” he snapped, though there was a flicker of agreement in his eyes. he glanced at rafe, who was quietly sipping his own beer, a glint of something darker in his gaze.

rafe rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. he slouched back in his stool, taking another swig from his bottle. “you guys are cracked out,” he muttered dismissively, but then he added something they weren’t expecting. “that’s a low-value woman.”

“what the fuck did you say?” topper shot up, his voice harsh, his fist slamming the bottle down onto the counter with a force that startled a few patrons nearby. the shock in his voice was palpable, and even kelce's usual laid-back demeanor had faltered.

rafe shrugged nonchalantly, his demeanor almost too calm for what he had just said. “you’ve read the articles. she likes the attention. jumping from one guy to another, type shit,” he said, his words clipped, colder than the beer in his hand.

kelce and topper exchanged a glance, their confusion turning to something more, but kelce was the first to speak. “she’s our friend, dude,” he said, his voice lower now, softer. he paused before adding, “and besides, what does that make you? hazardous waste disposal in your pants.” kelce dapped topper up, short and quick.

rafe scoffed, the sound harsh as he ran a hand through his hair, the aggression simmering just under the surface. he looked over at the two of them, a hint of mockery curling his lips. “shoot your shot then, top,” he taunted, raising his bottle in a mocking toast. “let’s see how you’ll feel when you see her flashing the paparazzi.”

topper’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly, but the tension wasn’t just between him and rafe anymore. he could feel it, the way the balance was starting to shift. and for a split second, you caught rafe’s gaze flicking over toward you. it wasn’t subtle, the way his eyes followed you, the way they locked onto the easy intimacy you shared with jj. the hand on your thigh, your smile—as if you didn’t have sex with him the night before. and for a moment, just a fleeting moment, rafe seemed to tighten, like a rope pulled too taut.

before it could build into something more, rafe exhaled, the tension in his shoulders giving way slightly. his eyes softened for a brief second before his face hardened again, and he slapped a hand onto topper and kelce’s backs, breaking the thick silence.

“come on,” he finally muttered, the words almost too quiet to catch, his voice rough, but there was a finality to it. “let’s get laid.”

the night blurred together in a haze of tequila, smoke, and too many shallow breaths. the bottle of tequila was gone—an impressive feat, even for you—but the dull ache in your skull and the growing warmth in your chest only made you crave more. you’d been warned, right? rafe had said it, the same way they always did, but his words bounced off you like the cheap music playing overhead. you thought of him dancing with the girl, the way he smiled, fake and carefree. the kind of smile that had always made you ache before you started pretending it didn’t. the thing was, he was just like you, right? just another person trying to fill a hole, trying to make sense of it all. but there was no humor in it when you smiled at him from across the room, only condescension.

you turned your back on him and back to jj. he was leaning back in his chair, lazily flipping the joint between his fingers. the dim light from the courtyard highlighted the sharp lines of his face, the messiness of his hair, and the careless way he seemed to fit into his world. you didn’t think you’d ever met someone who wore chaos like that, but there was something almost magnetic about it. he caught your eye and smirked as he took the joint from his lips.

“oh, you shouldn’t have,” you cooed, leaning in and snatching it from him, pressing it to your own lips. you didn’t need his permission, not anymore. you hadn’t needed it for a long time.

“major pretty privilege,” jj teased, his voice low but amused. “totally would've kicked your ass if you weren't—” he let the sentence trail off as you took a long drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke curled between your lips and into the air.

you exhaled slowly, the smoke filling your lungs with a warmth that dulled everything else. “i’m a scandal away from a nose job,” you mused, half laughing as you watched him.

he grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand casually rested on your thigh. “i wouldn’t be so quick to joke about that,” he said with a smirk. but there was something softer in his voice, almost like he was trying to keep the conversation light. it didn’t matter. it never did.

you leaned back, staring at the stars above you, but it was hard to focus on them. the weight in your chest grew heavier, suffocating, like the world was closing in. you hated how it felt. how much you wanted to simply not exist, to disappear, even if only for a moment. you wanted to leave your body behind, to step outside of this mess you called life and pretend you were someone else. someone who didn’t need any of this, someone who didn’t feel like they were drowning in the way their own heart beat.

jj watched you, the flickering glow of the joint between his fingers casting shadows on his face. “lost in thought, princess?” his voice pulled you back into the moment. “already tapping out?”

you forced a smile, shaking your head as you took another hit from the joint. “the night is young,” you said, your words a little more slurred now, but that didn’t matter. nothing mattered except the rhythm of the music and the way your heart felt like it was pounding in sync with the bass.

somehow, that was how you ended up pressed up against him in the courtyard, your body swaying with his, your hips grinding against his front. his hands were on your waist, holding you tightly as if he didn’t care about anything else. you could feel the heat between you, thick and intoxicating, and you didn’t even have to think about it. the rest of the world? it didn’t matter. you could feel the eyes of others on you—the way their gazes flicked over you and jj, maybe in appreciation, maybe in jealousy. it didn’t matter. all you cared about was this moment, this feeling of losing yourself.

jj groaned, his breath warm against your ear as his lips brushed the skin just beneath it. “you’re asking for trouble,” he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t quite place.

“i know what i’m asking for,” you replied, your voice low as you pressed harder against him. his hands tightened on your hips, squeezing in a way that made your head spin, your breath catching in your throat.

and yet, far away from you, there was rafe. his hands were wrapped around another girl, his eyes dark and distant. he didn’t know her—hell, he didn’t care to—but he had her close, like a shield, something to keep the world at bay. and still, his gaze drifted toward you, the same way it always did. you were just a magnet for him, weren’t you? the pull between you both was a constant, but tonight, it felt different. as his eyes locked onto yours, watching you dance with jj, something shifted. his stomach churned uncomfortably, the world spinning in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. how could you be so shameless?

rafe’s thoughts turned bitter as his eyes flicked over your body, watching you grind against jj in a way that made his jaw tighten, but he couldn’t look away. you were impossible. you didn’t give a shit about the rules. you were different. how had you not crumbled under the weight of it all? you were spinning out of control, and somehow, that made you even more dangerous. he wanted to stop watching, wanted to tear his gaze away from you. but something inside him wouldn't let him. he couldn’t understand you. not now, not ever. and so he just watched. because that was all he could do.

the air in the bathroom felt thick with heat, suffocating, and charged with an electricity that had been building between you and jj all night. you barely had time to process it before you were pinned against the wall, his hands keeping your arms pressed against the cold tile as his lips moved urgently against yours. the sound of his soft grunt vibrated between you both as he kissed you deeper, a teasing hunger in his touch that matched the fire burning inside you.

you could feel the hard, insistent press of his dick against your knee, the way your body seemed to react of its own accord. without thinking, you pushed your knee upward, letting it graze against him, offering him just enough friction to make him groan lowly, his grip on you tightening in response.

the moment was stolen, heat building between you both in a whirl of urgency, until he suddenly released your hands, his arms lifting you up effortlessly. you gasped slightly as he placed you on the edge of the sink, his strong hands spreading your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his as his lips trailed down your neck. the sensation of his breath against your skin made you shiver, and you let out a soft whimper, your fingers finding refuge in his hair, pulling him closer.

his teeth grazed your neck in the most tantalizing way, making your head spin. “should’ve done this a long time ago,” he murmured between soft kisses, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but there was a subtle hunger in his voice that made your heart race.

you tilted your head back, trying to steady yourself, letting out a breathless laugh as you tugged his hair, forcing him to look up at you. “yeah? should’ve asked nicely. i’m a nice girl.”

his lips curled into a wicked grin, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping lower as he spoke. “real nice girl. nice girls like you get rewards.” the sound of his voice, the heat in his words, almost made you forget everything else. you felt his hands press into your ass, squeezing, fingers teasing the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

but then, just as quickly as the moment had built, it all came crashing down with an unpleasant, distinctly loud sound—a harsh gag, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. you both froze, the spell broken, and for a moment, you felt disoriented as reality quickly snapped back into place. you heard the retching, the splashing of liquid against porcelain.

“rafe?” you called out, your voice tentative, already bracing yourself for the inevitable. you stepped away from jj, quickly pulling the straps of your dress back up. “you okay?”

you found him hunched over the toilet, his face pale, sweat slicking his skin as he heaved. the sight of him was almost comical, in a way, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh. you rushed over to him, placing a hand on his back to steady him. he was breathing heavily, but still had enough energy to shoot you a look.

“peachy,” he grimaced, sarcasm dripping from his words as he threw up again.

you sighed, looking over at jj, who was still lingering by the doorway. he caught your eye, and you didn’t need to say anything. he gave a small, understanding nod. “i’ll call you,” he said, his tone soft, but there was a lingering playfulness to his words. you wanted to say something in response, something like “please don’t,” but the words stuck in your throat. the moment felt too fragile, too much of a mess for you to handle right now. rafe noticed the unspoken exchange, and his mood soured even more. he wiped his mouth, scoffing.

“real classy, man,” rafe spat, his voice hoarse.

you rolled your eyes, unfazed by his usual grumbling. “glad to know you're well enough to fight,” you shot back, grabbing a paper towel to wet it and gently wiping his mouth. he shook his head and pushed your hand away. “you gotta go home, man.”

“no way,” he muttered, groaning as he leaned back against the wall. “top and kels are still here. i’m not leaving.”

you tossed the paper towel into the trash, exhaling in frustration. “i’ll take them home too,” you countered.

he groaned again, looking like he might pass out right there. “oh, great, you're driving. so that's two felonies—drunk driving and kidnapping.”

you smiled coyly, stepping back. “you know a lot about felonies, do you?”

he waved you off dismissively, rolling his eyes. “whatever. do what you want.”

you stared at him for a moment, but his behavior still felt off. he wasn’t usually this combative, not with you. it was like he couldn’t decide whether to fight you or something else. whatever it was, you didn’t care. “prick,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. he didn’t respond, and you didn’t press him further. you weren’t in the mood for his antics anymore.

you sat behind the wheel of your corvette, the engine humming beneath you, but all you could hear was the muffled noise of the others in the backseat. the car felt too small, the air too thick, the silence between you all almost unbearable. you could feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, making your thoughts a little foggy, your senses dull. the weight of the situation was starting to settle, but it didn’t matter—you still had to get them home, and you could barely keep your eyes focused on the road.

“this is such a bad idea,” sarah muttered from the passenger seat, her words slurring just slightly as she leaned back, clutching the seatbelt. “you’re literally wasted.”

you shot her a look, shrugging carelessly as you kept your eyes on the road. you knew she was right, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. this was the least of your problems.

“you’re fine,” kelce said from the back, his voice louder than necessary, “i don’t doubt you, never doubted you.” he cut himself off with a gag, and you could hear the way his stomach lurched behind you.

god, they were a mess. none of them could handle their liquor, and here you were, playing the designated driver in the middle of a blackout night. you glanced at them in the rearview mirror, seeing them in the back, all sprawled out and disoriented. they looked like three little kids leaving a birthday party, unsure of where to go next, lost in their own drunken stupor.

“thanks for driving us home,” topper said, smiling at you, his head tilted back against the headrest despite the way his stomach was clearly protesting the ride.

rafe rolled his eyes and sneered from his seat behind you. “grease her feet while you’re at it,” he snapped.

topper turned toward him with a quick retort. “how about i break yours?” he slurred, half-smiling through the haze of his drunkenness.

rafe, wincing in pain from the aftermath of whatever he had consumed, sat up straighter. “bring it on, man,” he spat, still looking for a fight.

kelce groaned from next to them, exasperated. “shut up, macklemore,” he sneered at rafe, before turning back to topper. “you too, vanilla ice—” but he barely finished before letting out a shrill scream, his body jolting forward as you hit the gas, your car lurching forward onto the main road. the backseat erupted.

“man, let go off me,” topper grumbled, trying to push kelce’s hand away as he clung to his shirt for dear life.

sarah rolled her eyes. “i can't believe you have to babysit them,” she muttered, her voice dripping with frustration.

you didn’t reply, instead giving the steering wheel another firm grip as you swerved slightly, the backseat falling into even more disarray. the chaos from behind you was nothing but white noise as you tried to focus on the road. you couldn’t let your mind wander.

“nothing better to do,” you said, your tone flat, not caring about the joke.

rafe scoffed loudly from the back, clearly trying to provoke you. “what? lose your two minutes in heaven with the pogue?”

you didn’t respond, your eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror. rafe’s gaze met yours, and something dark flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t place. you didn’t have time for it, though, the weight of his words sinking in despite your attempt to block them out. your knuckles tightened around the steering wheel. it wasn’t long before you reached the final drop-off point, and you dropped topper and kelce off at their places first. you could still feel the tension in the air, thick and uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone.

when it was just you and rafe left, the silence between you both was more apparent. you turned to sarah, giving her a brief, tight hug before she slipped out of the car, but your eyes didn’t leave rafe.

"feel better, rafe," you said, your voice soft, a fake warmth in your tone as you held his gaze in the mirror.

he froze. he didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. his eyes remained locked on you for just a moment longer before he gave a brief, wordless nod. the moment lingered. without another word, you pulled out of the driveway and made your way back home.

when you arrived, it was the same familiar emptiness. the house felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in around you. the silence settled in like an old friend, but one you weren’t sure you wanted to have a conversation with. sometimes, you’d pretend your mom was upstairs, tucked away in her room instead of on another work trip—if that’s what you could call it. sometimes, you’d talk to your dad, even though you knew he wasn’t going to respond. you’d still say “hey,” because maybe, just maybe, one day, he would answer.

but tonight was different. tonight, you didn’t feel like pretending. you didn’t feel like escaping. you made your way to the bathroom, needing the comfort of your routine. you wiped the makeup off your face, the familiar motions grounding you for a moment, but even the sound of the wipes against your skin couldn’t drown out the noise inside your head. you checked the mark that jj had left on your neck. it felt like a different lifetime, like a fleeting moment that you could barely remember now. but the silence. it was deafening.

you wiped the makeup off, but the tears came anyway, falling silently as you let the weight of the night hit you. it felt impossible to stop them, as if the floodgates had opened and you couldn’t close them. the tears fell in quiet streams as you stared at yourself in the mirror, a stranger looking back at you. you wondered what her name was, what her favorite color was. she looked younger, more natural, like time hadn’t worn her out yet, like she was still someone’s little girl.

you woke up to the harsh sunlight filtering through your curtains, a dull headache pounding in your temples like a steady drumbeat. the scent of stale alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of the night before, as your eyes fluttered open with a groggy resistance. you groaned, the pain in your head intensifying as you sat up slowly, trying to collect yourself.

it was always like this—late, a raging hangover, the world around you still spinning as if mocking your every move. you pulled the blanket around you tighter, wishing for another few hours of sleep, but the persistent ringing of your phone yanked you out of the haze. your hand fumbled for the device, the familiar vibrations like an intrusion into the fragile stillness you had been trying to create.

you squinted at the screen, the name blinking in front of you. you inhaled sharply, before reluctantly swiping to answer. “mom?” you called out, your voice raspy from the sleep, the headache still making it hard to focus.

“baby? hey, baby! happy birthday!” your mother’s voice was loud and cheerful, cutting through the background noise of what sounded like a party. you could hear the sound of waves crashing, glasses clinking, and the unmistakable hum of conversation. “hey, what’s going on?” she continued, trying to speak over the noise.

you felt a pit in your stomach. “nothing, just woke up,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes as you leaned back against the pillows, a dull ache forming in your chest. “how’ve you been?”

she laughed in response, the sound of her happiness so sharp and out of place compared to the hollow feeling gnawing at you. “just great, baby. you get the birthday money i sent you? only the best for my girl.” her words were bright, carefree.

you blinked, the mention of the money momentarily pulling you from your thoughts. “no, i’ll check, thanks, mom,” you said softly, not really hearing her anymore. you bit your lip, then hesitated. “have you—have you called him yet? to ask if he’ll come? for my birthday.”

there was a long silence, and for a moment, you wondered if she’d heard you. but then she spoke again, the change in her tone so subtle you almost missed it. “honey,” she started, her voice lowering just slightly. “honey, it’s just not gonna happen. said he had things going on, i’m sorry.”

the words stung in a way you hadn’t been prepared for. your chest tightened, but your eyes were dry—no tears would come, not today. not after all the times you’d convinced yourself it would be different. it was just another year of empty promises. another year of waiting.

“it’s okay, mom,” you said, your voice small. “no, i get it. he’s busy.” the words left your mouth, but they felt hollow, like you were trying to convince yourself of something you knew wasn’t true.

she continued, not noticing the shift in your tone. “hey, but i saw the news! you looked great in the dress, baby, i’ll send you another one—” she rambled on, her words falling on deaf ears. you didn’t hear her anymore, lost in the quiet thrum of disappointment that had settled deep within your chest.

you blinked rapidly, trying to push down the tightness in your throat, the dull ache in your chest threatening to spill over. “that’s great, mom,” you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt foreign on your face. “i gotta go. love you.”

before she could respond, you hung up. for a few moments, you just sat there, staring at the screen of your phone as if hoping it would change. maybe she’d call back. maybe your dad would come through. but you knew, deep down, that wasn’t going to happen. he wasn’t coming. maybe you shouldn’t have expected anything. maybe you should’ve extinguished that spark of hope before it could set you ablaze. but you didn’t. you never did. and it hurt more than you were willing to admit.

the car hummed beneath you as you drove through the familiar streets, the sound of tires on asphalt a low, constant rhythm. you had spent hours getting ready, the weight of the day pressing against you as you meticulously chose the outfit—a gold bodycon dress that clung to your curves, hugging every inch of your form, a golden strap resting around your neck shimmered in the fading light. you had layered the gold more subtly than yesterday, but it still caught the eye with its gleam, like a whisper of elegance in the dim evening light. your heels clicked sharply against the floor of your car as you shifted, checking your reflection one last time, the gold dress and matching shoes completing the look, but still, you felt incomplete. your hair cascaded down your back, and you’d carefully applied just enough makeup to cover the evidence of the tears you’d shed.

the drive to the estate was quiet, almost like the calm before the storm. by the time you pulled up to the house, the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, the deep hues of nightfall creeping in. you sat there for a moment, the engine idling as you stared ahead, thinking about the emptiness that seemed to grow inside of you the longer you sat there.

you finally exhaled, pushing open the door and stepping out. the cool air hit you, making the tightness in your chest feel a little more unbearable. as you walked up the driveway, your heels clicking on the pavement, you saw him—rafe—leaning against the porch railing, his eyes trained on you as soon as you approached. his usual smirk spread across his face, but it was tinged with something else, something more curious as he took in your appearance.

“a little overdressed for mass, aren't you?” he quipped, his voice light, though his gaze was anything but. his eyes moved over the gold dress, the way it hugged you in all the right places, and you could feel the weight of his attention on you like a physical thing.

you didn’t respond at first, not sure how to react to his gaze, which lingered on you longer than usual. a breath caught in your throat, but you pushed it away, continuing toward the door. you had more important things to do tonight than engage with him. you just needed to get through this—this night, this birthday, everything. rafe, however, wasn’t about to let you go so easily. as you reached for the door, he stood up, pushing himself off the railing to block your path.

“happy birthday,” he said, the words soft now, an unfamiliar sincerity in his tone.

you paused, looking at him, feeling the weight of the moment as his eyes searched yours. “thanks,” you muttered, your voice flat. “you, top, and kels gonna join us tonight?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as if the question was casual, but there was an edge to it.

he raised an eyebrow. “where to?”

you shrugged, playing it off, though the emptiness inside you made it harder to keep the facade up. “viva, around nine. no big deal.”

his expression shifted, impressed but masking it behind a sardonically raised brow. “not even i can get into that joint. guess the people love you,” he said, his tone more biting now.

you nodded, unsure of what else to say, unsure of what to do. you just stood there, your eyes caught in his. something about the way he looked at you, a mixture of curiosity and something darker, made you feel exposed, like he could see right through you.

“we’ll be there,” he added after a moment, something less than a smile curling at the edges of his lips. it wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t mocking either. just something different. you smiled back, but it was small, uncertain. you nodded, stepping past him and into the house. the air felt colder inside, the silence pressing against you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

you made your way upstairs, your heels clicking on the hardwood as you walked toward sarah’s room. the door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, you found her sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. the moment she saw you, her face lit up with a smile that could have rivaled the sun, and before you knew it, she was up and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you in tightly.

“happy birthday, baby,” she whispered, burying her head in the crook of your neck, her warmth a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside. “we’ll make it your best, i promise.”

for a moment, you let yourself melt into the embrace, letting the love and care from her soak through you. but as she pulled back, her hands taking yours with a smile, her eyes caught sight of something. her expression shifted, the smile fading as she noticed the wetness in your eyes.

“baby, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice suddenly laced with concern.

you shook your head, trying to push the tears away, but they came anyway. you squeezed her hands tightly, the words barely able to escape your lips. “he’s not coming, sarah,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you felt the weight of the truth hit you. “my dad’s not coming.”

her face fell instantly, her arms wrapping around you again as she pulled you in closer. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered over and over, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “i got you, you’ll be okay. you’re alright.”

but the words didn’t stop the tears. they spilled freely now, hot and relentless, as sarah held you tight, her presence the only thing anchoring you in the moment. you let yourself cry, the weight of everything you had been holding in finally coming to the surface.

unbeknownst to either of you, rafe stood frozen just outside the door, his back pressed against the wall as he listened. he bit his nail, his gaze fixed on the ground, but his mind was far away. the sound of your sobs tugged at something inside him—something raw, something human. and in that moment, he understood. no one acted out for no reason. no one. and now he knew why you did.

the night air was thick, heavy, as you stepped into the car. rafe was already in the passenger seat, his posture rigid, jaw tight. you settled into the driver’s seat, your fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around the steering wheel. the silence between the two of you was suffocating, the kind that crawled under your skin and festered, making every breath feel labored. you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his profile sharp in the dim light, his eyes staring ahead, unseeing, yet somehow deeply observant.

the quiet stretched on, and neither of you moved to break it. the air felt like it might crack under the weight of unspoken words, until finally, he did. “we don’t have to go to the club tonight,” he said, his voice low but firm, cutting through the stillness like a knife.

you turned your head slightly, your brow furrowing as his words hung in the air between you. he didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t need to. you knew exactly what he meant. why go? why waste your birthday in a haze of liquor and music, knowing you’d wake up tomorrow with nothing but a pounding headache and a hollow ache in your chest? why numb yourself, knowing it wouldn’t work?

“i can’t,” you murmured, your voice soft, almost fragile.

he nodded, understanding in a way that made your stomach churn. it wasn’t that you wanted to go. it wasn’t even that you needed to go. but you couldn’t not go. you couldn’t sit in the house and let the quiet consume you, couldn’t face the crushing reality of what the day symbolized. rafe opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but the back door opened before he could. sarah slid into the seat, her presence immediately filling the space with a warmth that felt like a lifeline. she reached over, placing a comforting hand on your thigh and offering a smile—gentle, knowing, as if she could read every thought swirling in your head.

“it’s gonna be okay,” she said simply, her voice soft yet steady, like she believed it enough for the both of you.

and somehow, it was enough. you felt your lips twitch into a small smile, a flicker of gratitude in your chest as you nodded and turned the key in the ignition. the engine roared to life, and the car hummed beneath you as you pulled out of the driveway, the night stretching out before you like a promise and a threat all at once. the drive to the club was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the engine and the muted chatter from sarah’s phone. by the time you reached the club, the neon lights were already casting their glow across the pavement, painting the night in shades of electric blue and pink. kelce and topper were waiting near the entrance, their figures silhouetted against the vibrant backdrop.

kelce was the first to approach, a wide grin on his face as he spread his arms dramatically. “it’s yo’ birthday, so i know you want to ri-i-ide out,” he sang, his voice teasing as he reached out to pull you into a bear hug.

you rolled your eyes, swatting at his chest as you laughed despite yourself. “you’re an idiot,” you muttered, but there was a warmth in your tone that hadn’t been there before.

topper was next, stepping forward with a nervous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, his hug softer, more tentative. “you look really, really good,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “happy birthday, doll.”

you pulled back just enough to smile up at him, your expression genuine, if a little tired. but as you met his gaze, you felt the weight of another stare burning into your back. rafe stood a few steps behind you, his posture tense, his fists clenched at his sides. his jaw worked as he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and topper. the look on his face was unreadable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

he could feel his blood boiling, the vein in his neck throbbing as he watched you smile at topper. he doesn’t get it, rafe thought bitterly. he doesn’t understand.

topper couldn’t see you the way rafe did. he couldn’t pick apart the pieces of you that you tried so desperately to hide, couldn’t reach into the deepest, darkest corners of your mind and pull out the things you were too afraid to face. topper didn’t know you like rafe did. he didn’t understand you. and the worst part? there was nothing rafe could do about it. not here, not now. so he shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw tightening as he followed behind the group, his eyes never leaving your back as you made your way into the club. the music hit you like a wave the moment you stepped inside, the bass vibrating through your chest as the lights flashed in time with the rhythm.

the bouncer led your group through the heart of the club, weaving past packed tables and the glowing bar, where patrons leaned in to shout orders over the pounding music. the vip section was tucked into a quieter corner, though still pulsating with energy. elevated above the main floor, it offered an unobstructed view of the dancefloor below, with plush, leather seating that curved around a sleek glass table illuminated by soft, golden lighting. bottles of premium spirits and mixers lined the backlit shelves behind the bar like trophies, and the hum of wealth and exclusivity hung in the air.

kelce let out a low whistle as he plopped onto one of the couches, sprawling out like he owned the place. “man, i feel my trust fund going through withdrawals just standing here,” he quipped, nudging topper, who laughed as he leaned back, his eyes scanning the room.

you couldn’t help but smile at their antics as you took it all in. the place was opulent, a temple to indulgence and excess, and for a brief moment, it was easy to forget the ache in your chest. the bartender approached your section, a polished man in a crisp shirt and tie, his movements smooth and practiced.

you straightened your posture and glanced around at the group, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “so,” you said, clapping your hands together lightly. “what are we drinking? my treat.”

the others stared at you, surprised. sarah raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed over her chest. “shouldn’t we be treating you?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.

you waved her off with a dismissive gesture. “as if, guys. this place is expensive, it’s fine,” you replied, brushing off her words as though they were nothing.

but rafe’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching as he watched the interaction. it wasn’t fine. he could see it so clearly—the way you were trying to bury your pain beneath lavish distractions, throwing money around as if the hole in your wallet could somehow fill the one in your heart.

you didn’t wait for their protests, turning to the bartender with a confident smile. “chilled bucket,” you began, your tone even and composed, “we’ll do grey goose, nolet’s reserve, and some vodka sodas.”

as you reached into your purse and handed him your credit card, his eyes flicked over you appreciatively, lingering on the way your gold dress shimmered under the dim lights. “real big fan,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “dress is amazing, miss archibald.”

you forced a polite smile, nodding briefly as he walked away with your card. kelce and topper exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions a mix of amusement and curiosity, but rafe wasn’t laughing.

“that’s almost a grand you just spent,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the music.

you turned to him, your expression neutral. “it’s okay,” you said softly, as though repeating it might make it true. “just for tonight.” but he saw through you. he always did.

to everyone else, it might have seemed like you were simply indulging in the luxury the night demanded. but rafe knew better. he’d seen this pattern before—women in his orbit spending money as a salve for something deeper, using extravagance to mask emptiness. he’d always dismissed it as shallow, as meaningless. there was nothing to search for beneath their bold lipstick and sun-kissed skin, no hidden depths to uncover. but not with you. there was something beneath the surface of your carefully curated façade, something raw and real that you couldn’t quite hide. and it gnawed at him, this feeling of wanting to understand you, to know the truth of who you were behind the gold dress and the polite smiles. he didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

as the bartender returned with the drinks, setting them on the table with practiced ease, you picked up a vodka soda and raised it in a silent toast, your eyes flicking between the group with a small smile. “to tonight,” you said, your voice steady, though your eyes betrayed the storm brewing inside. everyone raised their glasses in response, cheers erupting as they leaned into the moment. but rafe stayed quiet, his gaze lingering on you, wondering if he’d ever get close enough to see the truth beneath the gold.

the energy was contagious, almost. the ambient bass thumped through the plush leather seats, rattling glasses on the illuminated table. laughter spilled freely, a mix of light-hearted giggles and drunken cackles, as the liquor flowed and the group reveled in the luxury surrounding them. the air smelled of expensive perfume, vodka, and the faint, metallic tang of ice.

kelce leaned back, swirling a tumbler of gin, his cheeks flushed as he tried to make topper laugh. topper, already several drinks in, leaned forward with a conspiratorial grin, his hair sticking to his forehead. sarah sat close to you, her hand lightly brushing yours as she twirled the remnants of vodka in her glass. you cracked open a vodka soda, the sharp hiss of carbonation cutting through the din of music and conversation. the moment the can opened, it sprayed everywhere, misting you and sarah. you squealed, recoiling as droplets of chilled liquid dotted your arms and face.

“oh my god!” sarah gasped, laughing as she frantically patted at her dress.

“sorry, sorry!” you cried, giggling uncontrollably as you grabbed a napkin to dab her arm.

“you are so buying me a new outfit,” she teased, but the twinkle in her eye told you she didn’t mean it.

the group erupted into laughter, kelce pounding the table with his fist. “what is this, amateur hour?” he mocked, earning a playful shove from topper.

“don’t act like you’re not next,” you shot back, shaking your head as you grabbed the vodka bottle from the bucket. the liquor was cold against your palm, the condensation dampening your hand.

in the background, act a fool blared through the speakers, the lyrics blending seamlessly with the buzz of conversation. rafe sat apart from the group, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were trained on you. his gin sat untouched in a crystal glass, the ice melting slowly. while everyone else laughed and joked, he watched you with an intensity that set him apart, his jaw tight as you brought the vodka bottle to your lips.

you leaned toward sarah, your movements slightly sluggish, your words slurring as you said, “i have to tell you something.”

she raised an eyebrow, giggling at your serious tone. “what’s that?”

you sighed dramatically, gesturing around the room. “i’ve gotten everything i’ve ever wanted, but i have one wish.”

sarah’s laughter softened into curiosity as she tilted her head. “i’ll grant you three,” she teased, her voice warm and affectionate.

you leaned closer, resting your chin on her shoulder as you whispered, “you and me. we’re thirty, living in california. we have a beach house in italy. these boys,” you waved dismissively, your free hand gesturing toward the guys. “…are just placeholders. we live together.”

sarah blinked, her expression shifting as her smile faltered. something in your voice, in the quiet yearning beneath your playful tone, struck a chord. she frowned, her eyes glistening as if tears were just a breath away. “i’ll drink to that,” she murmured, leaning over rafe to wrap her arms around you. the embrace was warm and comforting, sarah’s laugh mingling with yours as you passed her the vodka bottle. she took a swig, grimacing slightly as the sharp burn hit her throat.

across the table, kelce and topper exchanged a glance. “they’re not about to make out, are they?” kelce whispered, grinning mischievously.

topper slapped his arm, rolling his eyes. “shut up, man.”

rafe finally moved, setting his glass down with a soft clink. his voice cut through the noise, steady and authoritative. “hey, hey, hey, okay,” he said, leaning forward and grabbing the vodka bottle from sarah’s hand. he set it down firmly on the table. “you’ve both had enough to drink. settle down.”

you turned to him, your eyes glassy and your lips curling into a small, defiant smile. “you haven’t had enough,” you whispered, leaning against his shoulder.

the contact sent a jolt through him, his spine stiffening as your warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt. your proximity was intoxicating, your breath brushing against his skin as your words hung in the air like a challenge. for a moment, he was frozen, caught off guard by the way you disarmed him so effortlessly. his pulse quickened, but he didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe as your weight rested against him.

topper, who had been quietly observing, narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening. “alright, that’s enough,” he muttered, reaching out to pull you upright. but rafe didn’t move, his gaze locked on you, his hand steady on the vodka bottle as if anchoring himself. something unspoken passed between you, a charged silence that neither of you dared to break.

the night was teetering on the edge of chaos, the atmosphere thick with liquor-fueled exhilaration and the sharp tang of tension. the flashing lights from the dance floor illuminated your golden dress, reflecting in the swirling haze of smoke and sweat. the crowd moved as one, their energy magnetized toward you and sarah as you spun her under the pulsing beat. the music thumped louder, and the bartender, noticing the rising excitement, wiped down the counter with a quick slap of his rag. he gestured toward the two of you, his grin wide as he motioned for you to step up.

“come on,” you said, your voice cutting through the music as you pulled sarah toward the bar. her protests were faint, drowned out by your infectious confidence.

with a laugh, you guided her up onto the counter, steadying her with a firm grip on her hands. the cheers around you erupted into a frenzy as you began to move, your body swaying and rolling in perfect rhythm with the music. the lights caught every facet of your dress, sending shards of gold cascading across the room. sarah followed your lead, her movements growing more fluid as you guided her hips with your hands. she blushed under your touch, her laughter blending with the roar of the crowd. you leaned into her, arching your back just enough to draw more cheers.

the vodka bottle in your hand sloshed slightly as you crouched low, balancing effortlessly on your heels. tipping the bottle over the edge of the counter, you poured a stream of vodka toward the eager mouths below, eliciting more hollers and applause. the crowd drank it up, their cheers climbing to a fever pitch as you returned to your feet, twirling sarah into another spin.

the boys were transfixed. kelce leaned against the table, his grin wide as he shook his head. “i got a hundred riding on this night ending with an ambulance,” he slurred, though his eyes lingered on you.

topper, already three sheets to the wind, chuckled. “man, she’s something else,” he murmured, his gaze locked on your form as you danced. he leaned back, smirking as he added, “i think i’m gonna ask her out tonight.”

kelce let out a loud cheer, raising his glass in mock celebration. “see you at the gym, top.”

but rafe sat rigid, his jaw tight and his glass clutched too firmly in his hand. he drained the rest of his gin in one sharp motion, his knuckles whitening as he reached for the bottle to refill.

when topper caught the expression on his face, his grin turned into a taunt. he tilted his head, feigning innocence as he asked, “something to say, cameron?”

rafe shrugged, pouring another drink without looking at him. “do what you want,” he said, his tone low and biting. “it’s your funeral.”

topper’s smirk faltered, his drunken bravado shifting into something darker. “what the fuck’s your problem?” he demanded, leaning in. “mad you don’t get the girl for once?”

the taunt hung in the air, baiting rafe in a way that was impossible to ignore. his grip tightened on the neck of the bottle as he leaned forward, his voice dripping with venom. “not as mad as you’ll be when i tell you that we fucked,” he spat.

the silence that followed was deafening. kelce froze, his eyes wide as he glanced between the two, anticipation crackling in the air. the music continued to pound, but it felt muted, the tension between rafe and topper swallowing everything else. topper’s expression darkened, his fist curling at his side. then, without warning, he lunged forward, his punch connecting with rafe’s jaw with a sickening crack. he stumbled back, toppling over the couch as the room erupted into chaos. the cheers turned into gasps, all eyes snapping to the commotion in the section. but rafe wasn’t down for long. he was back on his feet in an instant, his jaw set and his eyes blazing.

“is that all you got, bitch?” he barked, his voice carrying over the music as he launched himself at topper, tackling him to the ground.

kelce, still lounging on the couch, doubled over in laughter. “stop the violence,” he slurred, pulling out his phone to record the fight. “white trash.” he added with a cackle, his voice barely audible over the shouts and scuffle.

the fight had turned vicious. topper lunged again, his fist swinging hard enough to make the crowd around them flinch. he caught rafe across the cheekbone, the sharp smack of skin on skin cutting through the music. “take it back!” he shouted, his voice raw with anger.

rafe stumbled but didn’t go down. his lip split, blood trickling to his chin as he wiped it away with the back of his hand. he smirked, that infuriating smirk that always made topper see red. “why, top? gonna shed a tear or two?” rafe taunted, his words slurred but sharp.

topper grabbed the front of rafe’s shirt, pulling him close. “say you lied!”

rafe laughed, low and mocking. “why would I? you really think you’ve got a shot with her? come on, man. she’d chew you up and spit you out.”

kelce, leaning back on the couch, was practically howling with laughter as he filmed. “oh, this is gold. gonna do numbers on snap.” he slurred, zooming in as topper shoved rafe back, only for rafe to retaliate with a fist to his jaw.

the bouncers at the edge of the chaos exchanged amused glances. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head, nudged his partner. “fifty says the tall one in the blazer goes down first,” he said.

“nah,” the other replied, shaking his head. “that one—rafe, right? he’s got crazy in his eyes. i’ll take the other guy.”

the blows became sloppier as the alcohol took its toll, but the rage between the two burned hot and bright. rafe tackled topper to the ground, the two of them grappling as the crowd shouted and jeered. that’s when you noticed. your attention, previously fixed on sarah and the music, shifted to the commotion. your heart sank as you recognized the figures on the floor. “jesus,” you muttered, pushing through the crowd. “what the fuck are they doing?”

kelce turned to you, grinning as he kept filming. “oh, you know boys, always roughhousing,” he cackled, his words thick with gin.

you shot him a glare before grabbing a nearby vodka soda, cracking it open with a sharp hiss. without hesitation, you stepped into the fray, tipping the can over their heads. the cold liquid drenched both of them, startling them into stillness. “what the fuck?” rafe spat, blinking up at you as the vodka dripped down his face.

you glared down at him, your chest heaving. “are you done?” you snapped, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to his feet. “we’re leaving.”

rafe tried to resist, but your grip was firm, and his drunken state left him little room to argue. the crowd parted as you pulled him through, cameras flashing as you emerged into the cool night air. outside, the chaos faded into quiet, the muffled thump of the music barely audible. you stopped by a bench, releasing rafe’s arm as you took a shaky breath. the night air bit at your damp skin, and you sat down, your pulse still racing.

he stood there for a moment, staring at you. then, slowly, he sank down beside you, his body heavy with exhaustion.

“i’m sorry,” he said, the words soft and unexpected.

you turned to him, your brows furrowing as you took in his bruised face. his eyes were glassy, his lip swollen, but his expression was sincere.

“i’m sorry for everything,” he continued, his voice rough. “for being an ass, for decking topper. i did it because i’m wired that way, okay? you just—you left that morning. you were gone, just like that. i woke up, i could still smell you, you and your stupid perfume. and i turned around, and you were gone, like i was waking up from a dream that was never meant to be.”

his words hit you like a blow, your chest tightening as you struggled to respond. “i’m sorry,” you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. “i can’t stay. you know i can’t.”

he shook his head, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i’m not him,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “i’m not your dad. i’m not gonna leave.”

and just like that, the dam broke. tears spilled down your cheeks, and you hated how vulnerable you felt, but rafe didn’t. he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as your body shook with sobs.

“you spend this time with a scab, and you expect it to heal,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “but how can you do that if you keep picking at it?”

he pulled back, his fingers tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. “anybody who’s had the pleasure of knowing your name just to lose you—they’ll regret that for the rest of their lives. and he will, too. but i’m not him. god, i could never be him. i could never let go of someone like you. i’d spend the rest of my life searching for you if i did.”

his words cracked something deep inside you, and when his hand stroked your cheek, trailing to the underside of your jaw, you didn’t pull away. his lips met yours with a fervor that made your breath hitch, his desperation coursing as though he feared you might disappear at any moment.

when he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, relief flooding his expression when he saw you were still there. “i love you,” he murmured, the words so quiet you almost missed them.

you shook your head, your voice trembling. “i’m damaged goods, rafe.”

but he kissed you again, silencing your protests. When he pulled back, he whispered, “you could never be damaged, not you. and even if you were, even if you kept falling apart, i’d keep putting you back together. over and over again.”

his arms tightened around you as you cried, his grip unwavering, as if you were gonna disappear—and as far as he was concerned, it was possible. he needed it to last, just in case. just in case this was fate being cruel, god laughing at him from afar, ready to snatch you away again. he’d let you slip away once, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again.

the silence of your home was deafening. the weight of everything lingered, pressing heavily on your chest as you sank onto the couch. your dress clung to your damp skin, and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands. for once, you didn’t talk to yourself, didn’t pace the room pretending you felt safe, didn’t toss and turn, praying for someone to come home and tuck you in. you just sat there, letting the stillness wrap around you like a heavy, unwelcome blanket.

“you’re biting off more than you can chew,” you muttered finally, your voice cutting through the quiet.

but this time, you weren’t talking to yourself. you weren’t talking to the father who’d never respond.

from below you, rafe’s voice came soft and steady. “you’re not gonna push me away,” he said, kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. his fingers traced light, soothing patterns on your skin, grounding you. “not again.”

a small, bittersweet smile tugged at your lips as your hands fell from your face. your fingers reached out instinctively, cupping his jaw, your touch feather-light. “sorry, was i doing that?” you teased, though your voice wavered.

rafe stood slowly, towering over you, his presence commanding as it was comforting. his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his eyes searching yours. “you can keep doing that,” he murmured, his voice low and unwavering. “because i’m not going anywhere either way.”

you couldn’t hold back the small smile that broke through, your face still streaked with the remnants of tears. “you’re not gonna like what you see, rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a vulnerability you hadn’t let anyone see before.

his thumb stroked your cheek, his hand warm and steady as it cupped your jaw. “do your worst,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering.

you stood, brushing past him, your steps slow and deliberate as you faced away. “i liked it,” you began, your voice fragile yet resolute. “the attention, the drinking, all of it. i could make it through my days of pity parties and waiting for something that was never going to come because i could pretend—pretend to be someone else, even if it was just for a few hours.”

rafe’s eyes never left you, his breath steady, waiting. “and who did you pretend to be?” he asked gently, his thumb brushing away the stray tear that rolled down your cheek as you turned back to him.

you exhaled shakily, the words breaking as they left your lips. “i’d pretend like i was still someone’s little girl. just for a little while.”

his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, and his lips pressed against yours with a tenderness that felt foreign, new. the kiss was sweet, patient, the kind of kiss that made your heart stutter. it was soft, unhurried, but beneath it was something so much more different that what you were used to. you clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair as if letting go meant losing him. he didn’t falter, didn’t break away. Instead, his hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. he turned, sinking back onto the couch with you in his lap, his lips never leaving yours.

his breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, “you can hide as much as you want. i’ll run away and hide with you.”

a genuine smile broke through your defenses, the first in what felt like years. it wasn’t forced or fleeting—it was real. and it was because of him.

you kissed him again, this time with more urgency, more heat. his hands roamed your back, steady but hungry, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of you. his fingers found the zipper of your dress, pausing for a moment as if asking permission. you nodded, your breath hitching as he pulled the zipper down, his hands brushing your skin as the fabric slipped away. you tugged at his shirt in return, your fingers fumbling slightly, but he helped you, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.

his hands, warm and firm, cupped your waist, his touch reverent as his lips found yours again. “god,” he murmured against your lips, his voice heavy with emotion. “i just wanna feel you—really feel you. not what you show the world, not the mask. just you.”

your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, letting the dress fall away from your shoulders, the fabric pooling around you. he kissed you deeper, his hands exploring, but gentle, as if he knew the fragility of your trust. your body responded, leaning into him, the heat between you growing as the fabric of his pants rubbed against your bare thighs.

his mouth trailed down your neck, kissing a soft line to your collarbone, and you shivered, your hands tightening on his shoulders. he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes, searching for reassurance. you nodded, your breath coming in gasps as you whispered, “yes, rafe—yes, i want this, i want you.”

his eyes lit up, a warmth that spread through you like a warm embrace, and he kissed you again, this time with an intensity that made your knees go weak. his hands moved to unhook your bra, the fabric slipping away to reveal your bare tits to the cool air. he took his time, kissing down your neck, nipping at your shoulders, as he trailed towards your breasts, his touch light and reverent, as if he was worshipping every inch of you.

you felt exposed, but not in the way you had with others. with rafe, it was different. you felt seen, understood—like he knew the secrets etched into your soul and loved you for them. as his kisses grew bolder, so did your desire, your hands sliding down to unbuckle his belt, to push his pants aside. your heart hammered in your chest as your skin met his, the sensation electric, as if the air around you crackled with energy.

his hand slid up your thigh, and you felt him, hard and eager against you, and for once, you weren’t afraid. you weren’t just giving in—you were choosing this. choosing him.

his thumb brushed against your center, and a soft moan escaped your lips. his eyes searched yours, and when he found what he was looking for—consent, trust—his hand slid further, pushing aside the last of your barriers, watching the way your panties slid off the flesh of your thighs with desire in his eyes

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the urgency growing as his fingers moved with a gentle skill that had you arching into his touch. your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you focused on the feeling of him, of this moment, of the way he was making you feel.

his other hand found your cheek, turning your face to his, and he kissed you again, his eyes never leaving yours as he entered you, slow and sure, filling the emptiness you’d felt for so long. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure, but with rafe, it was different—it was healing. you let out a moan as you held onto him, his dick pushing into you, splitting you in a way that had his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin, as he began to thrust into you, the rhythm steady and soothing, his eyes never leaving yours. your breathing synced with his, your bodies moving together as if they’d always been meant to, and in that moment, you forgot about your father, your issues, the weight of the world. there was only rafe. he let out a groan as he lifted your legs, pushing them back, leaning forward to take advantage of the angle that had his dick throbbing.

his voice was a whisper in your ear, “i love you, baby,” and the words sunk into you like warm rain, washing away the doubt, filling you up until you felt like you might burst with the emotion.

your eyes snapped open, and you stared at him, your breath catching. “you love me?” you breathed, your voice trembling with hope.

his smile was gentle, his eyes full of love and tenderness. “more than anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth as he thrusted into you. “more than i thought possible.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, your walls crumbling away. the love you’d been so afraid to admit washed over you, mixing with the pleasure of his touch. your hips moved with his, your bodies finding a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. his hand moved between your legs, his thumb brushing against your clit with a precision that had you gasping, your nails digging into his back.

you felt your orgasm building, the tension coiling in your stomach, your muscles tightening around him. rafe noticed, his eyes darkening with passion, his breath coming in harsh pants. “come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “let go—i’ve got you.”

you did, letting yourself fall over the edge, the pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. rafe followed, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. your bodies shuddered together, the intensity of your release leaving you boneless and weak. when he came inside you, there was no panic, no yelling, no running. he was still there, and so were you.

afterwards, he held you close, your heartbeats syncing as your breaths grew steadier. the room was filled with the scent of sweat and sex, but it was comforting rather than suffocating. rafe’s hand stroked your hair, his kisses tender and gentle as they trailed down your neck and along your collarbone. you leaned into him, feeling safe and loved in a way you never had before. the silence was no longer a prison but a sanctuary, a space where you could breathe and just be.

he could have this, he could enjoy it, knowing that you wouldn’t disappear when the morning came. not this time.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: take a shot whenever topper and kelce exchange a glance pls i giggled writing this

[buckysdoll-op81]

Not mine-found on Pinterest

[goldenroutledge]

champagne problems

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you catch lando’s eye at an art auction in monaco, so he challenges you to a friendly competition for one of the paintings. little does he know, you’d stop at nothing to get it. inspired by this request.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, illegal things vaguely mentioned, gossip girl au

a/n: thank you to @monzaaasharl for letting me use the request! based on events from gossip girl s6 ep6 but can be read without seeing the show! it is mentioned the reader is chuck’s stepsister, à la serena van der woodsen 🥂

lando norris masterlist

The reception was glamorous. Everything you would expect at an event like this, in a place of this caliber. Monaco was one of a kind that way; tuxedos were tailored to perfection and designer gowns flooded the room. The people adorning them certainly had the bank accounts to match.

For you, these scenes and crowds weren’t out of the ordinary. You’d been a part of them for many years at home in New York City. Sometimes alongside your mother at parties where her husband, and one of the city’s richest businessmen, commanded everyone’s attention.

The name Bart Bass spoke for itself, for better and for worse. You could only be so lucky that you were a teenager when your mother married him years ago.

Your step brother Chuck was not as lucky, being the one and only son of Bart’s. Under the weight of the Bass name, he could only hope to change the legacy that had been left for him. One that wasn’t tainted by duplicity and deceit.

If you could help him change that even a little bit, you would. It wasn’t a lonely effort either. Your entire friend group seemed to stick together in defining moments like these. When Chuck discovered a trail that would lead to the exposure of his father’s illegal business practices, there was no hesitation in your offer to help.

Bart often got away with any and everything, always facing little to no consequences for his wrongdoings. Paying off associates or officials using tens of millions in hush money was hardly a dent in the bank to someone like him.

Tonight, all of that could change. The justice you were looking for was right here in Monaco; a thin piece of microfilm enclosed in the back of a 1998 Richard Phillips painting being auctioned off tonight. Titled— The Spectrum.

On the film were numbers, nearly too small to see with the naked eye, that directly incriminate Bart in an illegal business deal. With a favorable social status and a hefty trust fund in your name, your logic tells you that it’s crazy to get wrapped up in all this knowing that if Bart finds out, he would likely turn your mother against you.

But your conscience reminds you just how many lies and just how much loss your family has endured at the hands of Bart Bass.

The soft touch of Nate’s hand on your shoulder interrupts your daydreamy stare into a flute of champagne. He’s out of breath and looks slightly panicked.

“Bart knows we’re here for the painting.”

“What?!”

“But Chuck’s following Bart’s guys, he won’t let them get near it.”

“The bidding starts in 10 minutes!”

“He won’t get here in time, it’s up to us. Think you can handle it?”

You give your best friend a knowing smirk, one that he returns.

“I know I can. These people may be rich as hell but Chuck would give his right arm for that microfilm. I won’t back down to anyone who bids on it.”

Your eyes flicker over to the painting, before they lock with a pair of blue ones across the gallery. He offers a subtle smile before turning his attention back to the painting. Whoever he was, he seemed to be a little too interested in the piece for your liking.

In a room full of deep pockets you knew you wouldn’t win a bidding war without a fight, but the challenge made it all the more entertaining. You turned to Nate, whose phone started ringing with a call from Chuck.

His eyes searched yours for reassurance and promise that you’d execute the plan.

You smiled at him, embracing your inner confidence mixed with a little liquid courage. “Answer him, I’ll take care of this.”

He nods, chuckling slightly as he follows your line of sight to the man admiring the painting. “Good luck.”

-

Lando fixated on the beautiful hues of The Spectrum. Though he can admit that the art doesn’t hold a candle to the woman that caught his eye across the room. He couldn’t tell if he was blinded by her smile or the sparkle of her dress, catching subtle glimpses of her throughout the evening.

His trance was broken by the soft clicks of stilettos inching closer and closer towards him, though the sounds were muffled over chattering guests and classical music.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? No wonder you’ve had your eyes on it all night.”

Lando’s head turned towards the woman’s voice, cheeks warming as he recognized you instantly. He wondered if you had been noticing him too, or at least knew who he was. Lando smirks and takes a subtle step closer to you.

If you weren’t about to psych him out of bidding on the painting, you’d be enamored by the scent of his cologne.

“Can’t help it, I’m naturally drawn to beautiful things.”

“Well, I guess you’re in the right place because this room is full of them.”

“That it is.” He teases, holding your eye contact while taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s almost impossible to find something I like best, but I think this one will blend in perfectly with the rest of my collection. Do you collect?”

“Art? No, I don’t collect art.”

“Then what is it you collect…?” Your sentence fizzles, realizing you hadn’t exchanged names.

“Lando.”

“Okay Lando, what is it you collect?”

He raises his eyebrows, almost surprised at the question, but chooses to be coy.

“Cars.”

“So then what brings you to an art auction?”

He shrugs in response. “Is it my turn to ask questions…?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n, what brings you to this auction?”

“I already said, my collection.” You smile, matching his coyness. If he wanted to be short and sweet, two could play at that game.

“Which is…?”

“In my apartment. In New York.”

“Wow, long way from home. You wouldn’t happen to be in need of someone to show you around, would you?”

“Not really, I’m just here for the painting.”

“Maybe you came for the painting, but I could give you a reason to stay.”

You roll your eyes at his flirty attempts, ultimately brushing him off. “And what reason would that be? A private tour of your car collection?”

“You’d be surprised. What happens if I decide to take home the Richard Phillips myself?”

“You mean if you’re able to outbid me for it?”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine.” Lando assures. “I promise I’ll let you come over and see it.”

“No need. The painting is what brought me here, remember? There’s no way I’m leaving without it.”

Maybe it was the competitor in him, (it probably was), but seeing you get more and more eager about the work of art fueled something inside of him. Sure, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside and let you have it. But where was the fun in that?

“You mean the painting that you only noticed about 5 minutes ago? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were using it as a cover to come over and talk to me.”

“Forgive me for sounding rude but… who are you?”

“I don’t just collect cars, Y/n. I‘m a Formula One driver.”

Your unimpressed stare makes him feel like an idiot, once he quickly realizes that maybe you really don’t have an ulterior motive.

“In any case, The Spectrum will look much better decorating the halls of my apartment than it will look collecting dust in your bachelor pad. It’s not like you’ll even be at home to enjoy it.”

“We’ll see about that-” Lando continues, before the bid caller starts introducing the pieces of art, the Richard Phillips being the crown jewel of them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we’re ready to begin, I’d like to start the bidding for the Richard Phillips at $500,000.”

Lando raises his bidding paddle immediately, quick reflexes and all. “500.”

“I hear $500,000, going once..”

“520!” You respond, before lowering your voice so only Lando can hear your next statement. “You may be an athlete but I promise this is a race you won’t be winning.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.” He teases, raising his bidding paddle once more. “540!”

“560!” You announce with confidence, eyes shooting daggers at the man beside you.

Another guest made a bid for 570, prompting Lando to bid 580.

“580!” The announcer calls. “Do I have 600?”

“$750,000!” You shout, turning heads.

Oddly enough, your bid inspires others to chime in also. There had to be something about what they wanted to prove to everyone else in the room— there was always someone richer in Monaco.

Lando certainly looks at you in disbelief, wondering how far you’ll take this. “Oh, now you’re just showing off. You only want the damn thing because I do anyway!”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Then why do you want it so bad?”

“It would be a nice treat for my family and I, that’s all.” Your eyes flicker around the room to the other bidding paddles, the number climbing quickly. “What’s it to you? Why do you want it so bad?”

Lando shrugs, raising his paddle to bid $920,000. “It’s for a good cause.”

“920… Going once, going twice…”

“1 million dollars!” You shout, looking around the room, daring anyone to exceed your bid.

Lando’s mouth hangs open and for a second he almost wants to challenge it.

But then he imagines the heart attack it would likely give his business manager to see a surprise million-dollar charge to his account.

“What?” You question him insincerely. “It’s for a good cause.”

“1 million dollars! Going once, going twice…. Sold to the lady in silver!”

You smile graciously at the applause from the crowd. After all, this was a victory for the charity of the evening. Little did they know you just secured a victory of your own.

Lando sighs. “Well, congratulations. I’m sure your husband will be thrilled.”

“Husband? What are you talking about?”

“That man you’ve been whispering with all night. You said the painting was for your family?”

“Who, Nate?” Your face scrunches up in perplexity, following Lando’s line of sight towards the back of the room where Nate is standing with Chuck, clapping and beaming with pride that everything went according to plan, the painting is yours now.

“Yeah, whatever his name is.”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And if you must know, I’m not married.”

Lando chuckles, part amused and part embarrassed that he jumped to conclusions. He reminds himself that he needs to stop doing that.

“And he didn’t send you over here to flirt with me in hopes that I wouldn’t outbid you?”

“He didn’t put me up to anything, I am way above those childish antics! And I’d hardly call any of that flirting.”

“Whatever it was, I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

You smile at him, contemplating your answer. “I suppose. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I have only good intentions.”

“Well either way, I still have to find my mum a new birthday present.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his drink.

Your smile falters and you give his arm a nudge, taken aback by his confession. “The painting was for your mother? Why didn’t you say that?!”

“I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you this, Y/n, but you’re not that easy to negotiate with.”

“I’ve been told. But for the record, neither are you.”

“If it were me, I wouldn’t have given up the painting. So I don’t hold it against you.” Lando concedes, but starts eyeing you suspiciously. “Although… I still don’t know your motive. I mean all of that drama simply for your art collection which is 4,000 miles across the Atlantic? I don’t believe it. So tell me, Y/n, what’s your motive?”

Lando chuckles at the stone cold stare you give him in return. “It’s only fair, Y/n, I told you mine.”

“Are we in first grade or something?”

By the look he’s giving you, it’s obvious that he’s actually dead serious.

At which you sigh, surrendering to the man’s relentless attempts to get a real answer out of you. Moments prior you did the same to him, except it’s not as fun when the tables are turned.

“The Richard Phillips painting, it belongs to my mother.”

Lando’s eyes widen in disbelief, like a deer in headlights. “You bid a million dollars on a painting you might as well already own?! Fucking hell, why on Earth woul-”

Abruptly, you take him by the arm and escort him away from the main crowd, an action that shocks you both.

But the last thing you needed was for him to blabber out all of your secrets, draw attention to you both and blow your cover in this crowded room.

“Long story short, my stepfather has been involved in some…not exactly legal business practices. And I’m not talking about some common white collar crimes, he makes Madoff look like a fucking Saint. He’s been hiding his proof in the back of that Richard Phillips painting, sort of in plain sight to throw the scent off. My mom’s had that painting in the apartment as long as I’ve been alive. By the time I found out the evidence was in there she had already sold it. My stepbrother tracked it down, and here I am.”

Lando looks like he doesn’t know what to say, equal parts confused and concerned for what kind of danger you might be in or just how deep this all goes.

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain everything but just know that he’s hurt a lot of people, not only my family and I. He deserves what’s coming to him and it starts with what’s hidden behind that painting.”

His heart softens at the look of purpose and conviction in your eyes, understanding that whatever this is, it’s bigger than you and him.

“Well if he’s facing your wrath, I should probably be wishing him the best of luck. Whatever the consequences to his actions, the U.S. government is no match for you.”

At that you let out a laugh, one that’s genuine and full of heart. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you laugh like that, and it was refreshing.

“That’s very sweet, Lando, even if you didn’t intend it that way. I just hope I’m not going to all of this trouble for nothing. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, you’ll see.”

“How could you be so sure?”

“Just a hunch.” He muses sarcastically, feigning uncertainty.

For the first time tonight you feel appreciative towards him, to the kindness and listening ear he’s giving you, a total stranger until about 20 minutes ago.

The irony wasn’t lost on you that while he was bidding on the art for a gift to his mother, you were bidding on it to repossess evidence that would send your stepfather to prison for the rest of his life, likely devastating your own mother in the process.

“Let me help with your mother’s birthday gift. Please?”

He raises his eyebrows at your sudden offer, wondering how or why you would be interested.

“You don’t need to do that. Aren’t you a little busy with your own family?”

“Somewhat. That doesn’t mean I can’t make it up to you.”

“You won the painting fair and square, Y/n.”

“Please?” You nearly begged, widening your eyes.

Lando sighs jokingly as a way of admitting defeat. “We really are in first grade.”

“See, I knew you’d come around! Art Basel will be in Miami soon, I’ll stay for the whole week if I have to. Surely I can find some amazing pieces for your mother there, I might even find another Richard Phillips painting!”

“I don’t dare underestimate you again.” He quips, raising his glass to you. “I have no doubt that we will find something.”

“We?”

“I’m a Formula One driver, remember? We’ve been racing in Miami for a couple years now, I hope you’re prepared to stay there for the weekend.”

You roll your eyes at his bargain, of course he already has plans laid out for you. “You’re as persuasive as you are slick, Lando.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

“You’re as sharp as you are stubborn, Y/n.”

“You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”

He laughs, impressed at how you manage to stay one step ahead of his banter. “Just promise me one thing?”

You humor him with an unsure look, knowing you would accept his terms anyway. “What’s that?”

“Don’t get into anymore bidding wars with handsome strangers.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s our thing.”

“Okay, Lando. I think I can agree to that.” You muse, holding out your pinky for him, the two of you subconsciously moving closer into each other’s space. “From here on out, bidding wars will be our thing.”

Lando accepts, but decides to challenge you further. “I’m no lawyer, but I don’t think pinky promises are binding, Y/n.”

You nod slowly in acknowledgement, realizing just how close the two of you are standing now, and how intensely he seems to be focusing on the beautiful features of yours he’s had yet to see up close.

Now that you think of it, you haven’t had a chance to take a good look at him either. His eyes are as captivating as his smart aleck wit that’s been keeping you on your toes from the moment you two spoke.

And in a split second, you forget all that was stopping you from noticing what drew you in to Lando to begin with. Your lips collide with his, the stress and tension you’ve been carrying melting away into the kiss, and he’s certainly eager enough to take it on for you.

Mesmerized by each other, you then forget how the hell you both ended up here, tucked away in a dark room from the art you were just competing for.

Until you do remember that you are still proving a point after all, breaking away from the kiss just a moment too soon and smirking in his face.

“How’s that for binding, Lando?”

He appears amazed, out of breath and slightly shocked that you went there. You, however, were carrying on with ease, your thumb brushing over his lips at the faint stain of your lipstick on him.

“Close enough.” Lando coaxes, this time bringing his thumb to brush against your cheek delicately.

His fingertips may as well have been on fire by the way his touch made you feel red hot, and yours to him. Instead of backing away from the burn, Lando leaned in, giving into temptation and meeting your lips once again.

💌: this is my first time writing for lando! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback is greatly appreciated! thanks for reading <3

[happy74827]

Can you make more Joe Goldberg? You did such aan amazing job on the first one that I NEED a second one. Just please consider. Thank. Love your fics btw 💖💖💖

Lily of the Valley

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Coffee might not be his favorite, but things can change when it involves a person like you.

WC: 659

Category: Fluff

Fortunately, I already had this small idea in mind for our lovely stalker man and this request really just put the icing on top of the cake. Hopefully it fulfills your needs 🙌 (also you’re too sweet… thank you so much for the kind words 💞)

『••✎••』

Coffee. The hard, hot, and bitter drink that is the reason many people get out of bed each day and the reason why some people stay up until the early hours of the morning. He never understood the appeal.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the smell of coffee beans roasting, the smell of fresh ground beans being poured into a filter, and the smell of the finished product. He didn't understand how something so bitter and disgusting could have such a calming and comforting smell.

Joe had been sitting in a booth in a coffee shop for the past few hours, watching the world outside go by, sipping a small mug of tea, and his current read, "The Woman In The Window" by A.J Finn, in front of him. His eyes were trained on the people going by, not really taking much of anything in. He was on autopilot, a default setting he slipped into whenever his mind was full of something else.

It was only when a waitress with a short, black pixie cut walked over to his table that his eyes come back into focus, and his thoughts began to slow down. She didn't look like she belonged in a coffee shop. With a long, floral dress, combat boots, and a cardigan, she was far too pretty and too interesting to be serving lattes. She was a rose in a garden full of daisies, a peacock among chickens.

Then, like a snap to reality, the sound of his name pulled him away from her and onto… you. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

If he thought the waitress was a rose, you were a whole bouquet.

"Jonathan! Are you going to order anything, or are you just going to keep sitting there, scaring all our other employees?" You said a laugh in your voice.

He hadn't even noticed the waitress had already left, and now, you were standing by the table, holding a coffee pot.

Yeah, he needs to stop letting his thoughts take over.

"No, no, I was just, uh, reading."

"Reading a book, or reading her?" You said, cocking your head to the side, indicating the waitress who had moved on to another table.

"Reading the book."

"Mhm, sure." You said, not at all convinced. God, he just wanted to kiss the smirk off your face. Those pretty lipstick-covered lips moving against his.

You shook your head, smiling.

"You want a muffin… or something? On the house, since you're a regular and all."

He looked down at the book again, then back up at you. Unlike the waitress, you were dressed for work in a black, collared shirt tucked into black pants and a black apron tied around your waist.

It told him a lot about you, like the fact that you were a rule follower organized. The other waitress played confidence to stand out. You wanted to blend in, but still, he noticed.

How could he not notice you?

"Sure."

"Blueberry, right? Your usual."

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second."

You had just turned to leave before you spun on your heel and stopped.

"And, Jonathan,” you paused. "That book in your hands? Wonderful read."

As you walked away, he realized how his heart had started to beat faster, and he couldn't stop the grin on his face.

A bouquet? No, you were something far more rare and far more beautiful than that.

You were an orchid.

And when you returned with that perfectly shaped muffin and that award-winning smile, Joe decided this would be the last time he ever chased a woman. Because this one?

You?

It was as though you were a mix between all his past loves and yet someone entirely new.

You were that new orchid in the greenhouse, the lily of the valley, and he wanted to nurture you and make you grow.

It's time to stop blending in; he would bring you out to bloom.

[divinedelusional]

ethereal

nate archibald x female reader

word count: 2356

warnings: slight angst i guess, altough is mainly fluff, and happy ending! slight hurt/comfort? mentions of alcohol. body image, insecurities. slightly suggestive at the end, but no smut! also Serena is not a villian in this.

synopsis: you get insecure about your smaller breasts while picking out a dress to wear for the white party, but Nate is there to comfort you

a/n: requested by the lovely @luluartpop! i hope i met your expectations. it's a longer fic and i know i could do it in a headcanon form, but what can i say, i got carried away with summer in the hamptons fantasy, xoxo

Sun illuminated your skin, slightly damp after taking a swim in the giant pool at the Hamptons house. Nate went to play squash with Chuck, leaving you for an hour, so you decided to relax outside. You couldn't be happier at the moment. You and Nate started dating right after new years party, and now that summer was coming to an end, your relationship was going strong after nine months. You were so comfortable and so in love with each other and most importantly you trusted each other. Nate didn't question you for hours before you were going out with your friends and you never were mad at him when girls tried to flirt with him. He only had his eyes on you and every girl who thought she stood a chance with him, quickly found out that he is taken and is proud to be your boyfriend. Speaking of your boyfriend, you suddenly noticed that someone blocked the sun, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"You're blocking the sun, baby" you said not opening your eyes.

"Oh really? My bad" Nate answered smirking and sat next you on the lounger. "Babe, i wanna se your pretty eyes" he said rubbing your thigh.

"Don't you know that the prince needs to kiss the princess so she'll open her eyes?" you asked lazily.

Nate's hand moved from your thigh to cup your waist, he leaned in and you felt his sweet lips on yours. He was kissing you slowly, licked your lower lip and you let him in. You continued to kiss like this for a while.

"You taste like watermelon" Nate said smiling.

"That's my watermelon maragritas, you can have one too" you said and got up from the chair.

"Where you going?" Nate asked.

"I need to get dressed, Serena's going to be here in like 10 minutes" Nate looked at you confused. "You know, to try on some dresses? For the white party tomorrow." you smiled

"Ohh right yeah." Nate got up from his spot too. "So have fun then." he smiled and gave you quick kiss.

You were just about to disappear in the house, when Nate yelled after you.

"Y/N!"

"What?"

"You look fuckin hot"

"Oh, I know that" you gave him million dollar smile, but when you entered the house you giggled at his compliment, excited to pick an outfit for tomorrow's party that you'll look just as hot in as you looked in your bikini now.

"Come on you got a bunch of white dresses in your closet" Serena said while roaming through the racks.

"Nothing feels right you know" you answered staring at the floor.

Serena found a dress for herself 15 minutes ago. Actually she tried on just two dresses out of ten she brought to your house and was pleased with her choice. You on the other hand didn't like any outfit you saw yourself wearing in your head, when you thought about the party earlier.

"Hey, what's Nate gonna wear? Maybe that will give you some inspiration, you could match or something" Serena smiled.

"Oh he said he has like three options and when I tell him what's the vibe of my outfit he's gonna take the one that matches mine the most" you smiled softly.

"What do you think of this one?" Serena took a dress out of her stash of clothes.

It was a simple white tube dress, with a flowy skirt, material very light and similar to the dress Serena chose for herself. You quickly tried it on and looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Serena I look like a braidsmaid at a beach wedding"

"But maybe that's the vibe! You could have your hair down in a loose braid, or we can even put some flowers in your hair"

The idea would occurred to you, if only ten minutes ago Serena wouldn't say no to the dress you liked the best, which was short, satin dress, with thin straps and square neckline that was a perfect fit for your smaller breasts. Besides, that dress was special to you, because the first day of your Hamptons vacation, Nate surprised you with a picnic and you were wearing it. You thought it would be nice to wear it to end summer.

"Serena, you told me the picnic satin dress wasn't good enough, because white party is too formal event for such and now you wanna go with beach wedding vibe?" you asked, no malice in your tone, although you started to get annoyed.

"Oh gosh yeah I guess your right" your friend chuckled. "Uhmm but I don't know if you don't want to go in any of your dresses maybe I'll lend you this one? It's similar to mine, but the shoulders are down, and you like this type" Serena handed you the dress. She was right, you liked summer clothes with shoulder down and the dress was really pretty with slight sliver shine, while Serena's dress was milky white. You changed into the dress and Serena gasped.

"Y/N!" you look like a princess!" you twirled in her dress and you'd have to say she was right.

"You're gonna wear your hair up?" you asked her and she nodded. "Then that way I can wear them down, maybe put this pearl clip in the back of my head"

"Yess!! And we can totally match that way, oh my god I'm so excited!" Serena exclaimed. She stood next to you in the mirror and you truly looked amazing together. But there was one thing that suddenly got you upset. Broad straps of Serena's dress, the depp v line and material gathered in the middle of her chest made her cleavage and boobs look perfect. Meanwhile you realized that if you want to make your breasts to look as good in your dress, you'd need to wear a strapless push up bra, or tape your boobs the right way and you hated doing that. Last time you used boob tape was probably for the dress you wore at cotillion, almost a year ago. You sighed, tired with the fitting but masked your concerns with a smile.

"Can't wait to wear that dress then"

"Baby, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?" You and Nate were outside eating your dinner, he ordered you favorite ravioli and opened a bottle of white wine, yet you didn't take a sip this evening and barely ate two ravioli.

"You've been dragging that raviolo through your plate for over ten minutes baby, what is it? You're feeling sick or something?"

"No, no Nate I just... I don't know, I'm just not that hungry right now. In fact you know, I am gonna go take a shower, I'll eat later" you said getting up from the table.

"Okay, but Y/N, please if you need something just call me okay? I'll do the dishes and I'll go upstairs." Nate put your hand on yours before you got up from the table.

"Sure, don't worry baby" you said and went upstairs with your eyes already glossed, but thankfully Nate couldn't see it. You quickly got upstairs and laid on the bed, trying to figure out a way to escape thoughts that were bringing you down. After what felt like a second to you, you got up but you realized you've been laying like that for 15 minutes. You wanted to finally take a shower, but you noticed the dress you were supposed to wear tomorrow and suddenly tears filled your eyes. You let out a silent sob, your back turned to the door, so you didn't see Nate coming in.

"Y/N baby, what is it?" you felt your boyfriends hands on your arms. You looked at him, tears streaming down your cheeks, you sobbed again. The view was breaking his heart.

"Nate" you chocked out, when he took you in your arms. You clinged to him and he walked you towards the bed and sat you on his lap. He was stroking your hair, not saying anything, waiting for you to let it all out.

"Sweetheart?" he asked when your sobs stopped. You were tracing circles on his chest with your finger and you hid your head in the crook of his neck when you mumbled "It's Serena".

"What? What happened?" he asked confused.

"Well it's actually not Serena, well partly but... i mean it's about her and the dresses too."

"Something happened while you were trying on the dresses? Baby please tell me"

"But promise you won't laugh Nate, deep down I know that what im gonna say it's stupid, but please"

"How could I ever laugh at you in such situation? Don't worry baby, just tell me" You took a deep breath and you told him everything.

"I mean we were trying on this dress right, and I wanted to wear the one I had on our picnic you know which one" Nate nodded "And Serena said that the white party was too formal for this"

"What? Where on earth? I mean it's not like you can wear pjs but the dress would be amazing!"

"Yeah I know, but then I was like, maybe I can wear something new right, so she gave me her dress" you pointed at the chair that the dress was laying on. "You know we could match each other with this dresses but her... her" you sniffled.

"Her what?" You yet again hid your face from him. He felt your tears on his t shirt.

"Her boobs look better than mine and I don't wanna go. They,re so small and I don't want to keep disappointing you," you finally said it.

"Hey, babe, look at me please" you looked at him, already embarrassed with what you just said. Nate's hand went under your blouse and rested on your left breast, but he didn't take his eyes off of yours.

"Listen to me baby. I. Love them" he said and squeezed your breast lightly. You let a small gasp. "I also love you" he cupped your face in his hands, thumb wiping off your tears. You chuckled. "Seriously babe, I don't know why you suddenly felt that way about your perfect chest but listen I love it. I love you. You look amazing sweetie. Everyday. In your bikini when you spend hours in water and then the next couple hours tanning. In my t-shirts in the morning, or after shower when we're watching a movie. In your sports bra, when we're going for a run in the morning. Oh and this picnic dress Serena didn't like? You know how you looked that day? Ethereal baby. Seriously, that day, first day of summer I thought to myself how lucky I am, that a girl who's so beautiful both outside and inside, is mine. Three months went by and I still can't believe my luck, you know that?"

You looked at your boyfriend in awe, feeling like you could start to cry again any minute.

"Nate, honey I don't know what to say..."

"You don't need to" Nate said taking your hands in his. "Just don't let your thoughts do that to you. Don't doubt yourself, your beauty, and my love for you. And don't listen to Serena if she says something stupid" you let out a laugh at that one. "Why'd you cared about her anyway?"

"I don't know, i know she didn't want to upset me, I didn't even let her see how I felt"

"Then what was it?"

"She just you know, she looked wonderful in her dress. Perfect. And you know, your history I thought that..."

"Our history ended, y/n. A long time ago. Since you're in my life, there's no one who could compare to you. She may be perfect to everyone else, but you are my perfection." Nate looked at you again, as you smiled sincerely for the first time today, since the dress fitting.

"There she is" Nate said smiling. You hugged him once more, relaxing into his embrace.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, baby" you said.

"And what I'd be without you I don't know either" Nate chuckled and kissed your head. "Hey babe, but what about the dress?"

"Oh my god" you said, getting out of his grip and getting of the bed.

"Hey baby easy, didn't want to stress you"

"No Nate im fine" you called roaming through the racks "I just remembered I had something perfect" Nate got out of bed and followed you, curious what you found.

"Here! This is what I looked for!". you exclaimed. You were holding a hanger with a linen white dress, spaghetti straps meeting at where the nape of the neck would be, backless with high slit on the right side. So simple but so classy.

Nate looked at you with adoration, happy that your spirit was back, his girl happy with sparkling eyes, that was all he needed.

"I'll try it on tomorrow I'm too tired for this today" you said happy that you finally chose something.

"I'm sure it will fit perfectly, sweetheart" Nate came up to you wrapping his arms around your waist. "You were saying something about shower earlier?"

"Yeah, you wanna go?"

"Mhm, in a minute" he started kissing your neck.

"Why not now?"

"You know" he started taking your blouse off, his hands cupped your breasts. "I have to make sure your not gonna get insecure about 'em" he twisted your nipple gently. You moaned a little.

"Can you be doing that while we shower?"

"Yes ma'am" he kissed your neck and picked you up bride style.

Needless to say that the next day at the white party you and Nate stole the show. You looked amazing in your dress, you were also glad that you choose this one, cause it covered all of the hickeys Nate left on your breasts last night, you couldn't even believe that yesterday you were so insecure. You were glowing and Nate couldn't be happier. Summer was coming to an end, but he was sure that your relationship was just at the beginning of a long, love filled journey.

reblogs and comments appreciatated♡

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

My Type » Carter Baizen

Pairings: Carter Baizen x Female Reader

Summary: Your type isn’t rich assholes, but you like Carter.

Warnings: Fluff, language, flirting, kissing, pet names

A/N: I’m rewatching Gossip Girl for the first time since I was 12 or 13 and my Carter Baizen obsession is back🥰

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“Who’s the new girl in town?” Chuck asks.

Everyone’s attention was turned to you, even Carter’s. Even though, he wasn’t hanging out with Chuck’s friend group, his attention was focused on you. A smile grew on his lips and he felt his heart flutter in his chest when he laid his eyes on you.

“I don’t know, but she looks like she could use a friend.” Blair says, a grin growing on her face.

“Not everyone wants to be your own personal minion, Blair.” Carter says.

Blair scoffed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“She’s hot.” Chuck smirks, standing up. “I’m gonna talk to her.” He says.

Chuck walked over to you and leaned against the wall next to you. You were on your phone and didn’t even bother looking at him.

“What’s up, hottie? I’m Chuck.” He says.

“And I’m not interested.” You say, not looking up from your phone.

“Oh, c’mon, baby. Don’t be like that.” He says.

You sighed and looked up from your phone.

“Still not interested.” You repeated.

“Seriously?” Chuck scoffs. “Everyone wants me.” He says.

“Not me.” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon. Give me a chance.” He says.

“I’m not into rich assholes like you.” You say.

You walked away from him, making Chuck scoff again.

“Whatever! You’re loss!” He shouts.

You rolled your eyes and rose your hand, flipping him off. Carter chuckled when you did that.

“What’re you laughing at, Baizen?” Chuck asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

“You getting rejected by a girl.” Carter says.

“She’s just playing hard to get.” Chuck says.

“No she’s not.” Carter pushed himself off of the wall he was leaning against. “There’s something called having a type, Bass and you’re most definitely not her type.” He says.

“And you think you’re her type?” He asks.

“Maybe or maybe not.” He says, shrugging his shoulders before walking away.

You got on the elevator to go up to your hotel room. Carter quickly got on the elevator before the doors closed. You gave him a soft smile. Carter smiles back. He only got on the elevator to get a closer look at your beauty. The elevator ride was quiet. The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“Have a nice day.” You say softly and politely before getting off the elevator.

“You too.” Carter smiles.

You sighed as you walked to your hotel room. You paused in front of the door, not unlocking it and going in your room. You bit your bottom lip at the thought of the cute guy on the elevator. You decided to run back to elevator and got back on it to find the cute guy. You got off the elevator, seeing the cute guy walking out of the front entrance of the hotel. You ran towards him to catch up with him.

“Hey! Wait up!” You say.

Carter stops in his tracks outside of the hotel and turned around to face you.

“Yes?” Carter asks.

“I never got your name.” You say.

“Carter Baizen.” He holds his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook his hand. “You’re cute.” You say flirtatiously.

Carter chuckles softly and put his hands in his pockets.

“I thought your type wasn’t rich assholes?” Carter says, recalling your words from earlier.

“Are you an asshole?” You asked.

“I can be, but I won’t be one to you.” He says.

“Then you’re my type.” You say.

You took a step closer to him, looking up at him due to the height difference between the two of you.

“I like you, Carter.” You whispered, looking in his blue eyes.

“I like you too, Y/N.” He whispers back.

You bit your bottom lip as your eyes flickered down to his lips. His lips look so soft and kissable. You couldn’t help yourself. You stood on your tippy toes and put your hands on his shoulders, kissing him sweetly. Carter’s hands found their place on your waist, pulling you against his body.

“Look out the window.” Blair says, pointing at you and Carter.

Blair, Nate, and Chuck look out the window, seeing you and Carter kissing. Chuck scoffs.

“There’s no way Carter Baizen is her type.” Chuck says.

“Looks like he is.” Nate says.

You pulled away from Carter’s lips, looking deep in his eyes.

“Wanna go out tonight?” Carter asks.

“Yes.” You kissed his cheek. “Let me get changed and I’ll meet you out here.” You say.

You pecked his lips softly before going back inside to your hotel room to change. Carter looks in the window, smirking when he seen Nate, Blair, and Chuck looking at him. He smirks to himself.

“Enjoy the show, assholes?!” Carter asks sarcastically with a chuckle.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[after-hours-art]

Sister's Mister

MDNI --> MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Pairing: Chuck Bass x f!reader

Genre: rather poor attempt to smut with a bit of fluff

Warnings: usage of AI during writing intimate scene due to my incompetence in that field, step-incest, language, foreplay, intoxication of both reader and character, alcohol, mentioning of drugs,

(It's probably the worst piece of literature you'll ever read, but I tried my best, I promise)

You're annoying. Like hell. Wearing those designer dresses. As if upgrade to Upper East Side made the shyness you brought all the way from the Eastern Europe vanished in matter of days. Out of all Lily's husbands, Chuck never thought she'd marry after his father died. Yet alone marry some shady businessman from Europe. Talk about patchwork families. He rolls his eyes when you walk past him. He can't even read a fucking paper in his own living room without you walking in, that Constance uniform haven't appeared so hot to him since Blair Waldorf. He groans quietly when you bend over the kitchen counter to talk to Eric.

- Fucking... - Chuck hisses and gets off the couch.

- You okay? - you turn to him, with that innocent expression on your face. The only thing that is left of old Y/N.

- Never been better...

- You sure? You look little... pale? - you start to walk towards him.

- I SAID I'M FINE. No need to play mother. - he scoffs.

You rise your eyebrows, little hurt but you stop.

- Umm... okay... Then... shall we get going, Eric? I can't miss my first day of junior year in new school.

- Yup.

Eric grabs his bag. He let you go first, stopping by Chuck. Younger boy looks at his stepbrother.

- Chuck... I know that look. Leave Y/N alone. - Brunette boy warns before following you. Chuck rolls his eyes. It's not like he would throw himself on you. He's not dumb, at least not anymore. Days of reckless, sexually frustrated Chuck Bass are the matter of past now. Especially that he's not looking forward to being hit in the face by your father, like Dan Humprey did when he found Chuck and his little sister Jenny on that roof. Chuck has grounds to believe that out of all Lily's husbands your father looks most manly and definitely would hold back the least if Chuck would do as little as look at you in bad way in his presence.

Chuck groans, running his hand along his cock through his pants. All he had to do is to somehow make you come to him. Worst part of this plan is that he has no idea now.

//

You stand at the courtyard of Constance with Eric and a few boys from his class. They all like you. You look different. You carry yourself differently. You don't strive to be Blair's successor. As if social hierarchy meant nothing to you. Maybe that's why you're even more interesting target? You're like a pure, innocent lamb waiting to be corrupted. And, as the matter of fact - the devilish reputation of Chuck's is like a testament that he should be the one to pull you on the dark side. At least those are thoughts that run through his head when he looks at you from behind the corner. You're annoying. You won't even wear shorter skirts despite all other girls doing so. You're also blind to that guy's flirting. Chuck sighs. At least it's Wednesday. Wednesday, meaning Eric has his stupid chess club.

After classes, Chuck waits by his limousine, leaning against the mask. As soon as he spots you on the stairs, he waves.

- Y/N! - he smiles in a charming way and opens the door to the limousine for you.

- Chuck... w-what do I owe this honour? - you ask hesitantly. Eric warned you about Chuck. You know 'the Jenny incident'.

- Can't I just be a good stepbrother and pick my little sister up? - he raises his eyebrows.

- He can, but... it's you. - you say, hesitantly getting in the limousine. You put your bag next to you to create a wall between you and Chuck, just in case.

- It's me? - he asks, getting in himself. Once he closes the door, the limousine driver pulls on the roads of New York.

- Yeah. You. Chuck Bass. - you say and turn to look at him. He is handsome, and you can't deny that. There's something in the way he looks at you right now, something in the way he respectfully keeps a seat of space between you two. But you can't tell if it's a smartly calculated facade to nudge you to lower your guard, or is he really not as bad as Eric portrayed him.

- So... being Chuck Bass, is that bad? You want me to change my name for you?

- No. It's not about the name. It's about who you are.

- Listen, whatever Eric told you, I can explain it. I'm not some spawn of a devil despite what everyone says about me, angel.

- Angel? - you raise your eyebrows.

- Yeah. Angel. You seem like a purest soul on the Upper East Side. - he says, corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.

- Purest soul on Upper East Side? - you repeat after him. You catch yourself staring at him, his penetrating brown eyes. For a second, you find yourself falling for him, quickly picking up your composure. I take a deeper breath. It seems like it was the truth about Bass's charm spells. Chuck smiles and chuckles. He knows that look. Those red cheeks, that turning away gaze. It feels like he repeats this type of conversion every time a stereotypically 'good girl' finds herself falling for him.

- Yeah. Like a little angel. - he smiles, turning his head to look outside the window. The silence falls inside the limousine, broken only my sounds of the engine and traffic. You look at him again. He looks so neat for a high school senior. His behaviour, his accent, even simply his face... it all is so fascinating and attractive for you. Maybe simply because he's different from boys you're used to? Maybe because he's an American and you're European? Maybe it's that dark aura that seems to surround him? Whatever that is... it cannot be good if you're falling for your brother. Step-brother but still a brother.

//

November. Saturday. Saturdays on the Upper East Side meant parties. Including one's threw by your very own stepsister, Serena van der Woodsen. As much as it is for you to 'introduce your to society', it is simply her desperate attempt to save her reputation after the latest scandal. It's not like you know any of those loud people. You stand alone by the kitchen counter, checking out the drinks. Not every day you get to be in the middle of such a party with such wide alcohol drinks range. Giving it some thought, you down two small shots. Sipping on rose champagne, you try to spot at least single friendly face in the crowd but you don't know any of those people and Eric is not here, ditching the party for a date with Elliot. You spot Chuck, his arms stretched on the headrest of the couch with two girls who are very likely to end up in his bedroom for the 'after party'.

- Hi.

You hear a sudden voice behind you. As you turn around, you see a guy. He must be a senior, just like Chuck and Serena, since you've never seen him before.

- Hi... - you say hesitantly, trying to fit in the crowd.

- Why so sad and so alone? Let me put a smile on that pretty face. - the guy smiles and hands you orange drink. You stare at pink liquid hesitantly, not taking a sip yet.

- What? - guy chuckles. - It's not poisoned, trust m-... - he starts when he suddenly gets cut off.

- But spiked it is. - deeper voice of your stepbrother says as Chuck walks up to you two.

- First lesson, little angel: ice goes up, drink is spiked. - Chuck says and then looks at the guy. - And you... really thought that it was wise of you to try and drug my little sister in my house? - Chuck rises his eyebrows.

- She's your sister? Dude, you do not look like a fam-

- Patchwork family, ever heard of it? Or you won't because your parents' open marriage works better than divorce? - Chuck gaze turns colder as he takes the drink out of your hands, turning around to pour it out in the sink.

The boy scoffs and mutters curses at Chuck as he walks away, blending in the crowd.

You look up at your stepbrother.

- Thanks. You like... literally saved me.

- No problem, angel. - Chuck pats your shoulder. He looks like he had a drink of two, yet he seems to be still in his right mind.

- Enjoying the party? After all... you're mentioned in credits.

- I... I don't know anyone here. They're your and Serena's classmates, not mine. - you say and smile weakly. Chuck's hand wanders from your shoulder to your arm.

- So... little sister isn't having any fun? - he hums, gently pulling you behind himself as he walks to his bedroom. Closing the door behind himself, he pulls you closer.

- Sit down. - he orders as he walks to his bookshelf, searching for something. You obediently sit down on his bed. The whole room smells like expensive whiskey and some type of colone that he's using. Maybe a bit of lavender softener as maids changed duvets yesterday.

- There you go.

To your surprise, he hands you a book. No alcohol, no drugs, a book.

- It's some romance novel. I saw you eyeing it.

- Thanks but... why?

- So you can have your 'fun'. I'm not a monster, I won't keep you at the party that you visibly got bored of after the first two songs. You're our little sister Y/N, and as much as Serena needs to save her public image, you deserve something out of Saturday night, too. - he smiles, taking some pills from the bedside table.

- Chuck?

- What? No worries, I won't spike anyone's drink. I'm not that much of an asshole. Not anymore, at least.

You look up at him from his bed, your eyes sparkling a little. You're lost in those brown eyes. You hesitantly put the book aside, getting off the bed. Seeing you getting closer, Chuck puts away the pills and turns to you. Pulled to each other as if there was a magnet between you two. Both drunk, yet not losing your minds just yet. Chuck hesitantly puts his hand on your cheek.

- Don't do dumb things, angel.

Your gaze remains locked on his, as if you didn't hear him at all.

- Angel... that's a really thin line you're crossing... - Chuck hisses through clenched teeth, as he realises he starts feeling things he shouldn't be feeling. His hand drops from your cheek to your neck, gently caressing your nape.

Chuck's fingers tightened on your hip, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of your throat.

- Last chance to back out, angel. - he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. - This is no game.

Your body trembles, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your longing. 

-Tell me to stop. - he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, even as your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt. 

- Please... - you mutter. A low growl of need comes from his throat, the sound sending a thrill through your body. 

- Fuck it... - he hisses, and then his mouth find yours, hungry and demanding. You melt into the kiss, months of pent-up desire exploding to the surface. Chuck's hands roams your curves, squeezing and stroking with growing urgency. Your hands find their way to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as your lips part. As he deepens the kiss, his right hand finds its way to edge of your dress. Of course you have to wear something short. Annoying him for months by now. His hand grips on the black material, not daring to do anything further. When you finally break the kiss he gently pushes you on the bed. You sit down, breathing heavily. Chuck stares at you, partially in horror for what he has down after swearing to himself that he has changed.

- We shouldn't. This... this is bad, Y/N. - the tries to reason, yet his eyes are glued to your body, the way the dress hugs you, emphasising all the right places. You look up at him.

- What if I want to?

- Then... - Chuck pauses, unsure what to do pursue his desires like he always did or be a better man he's trying to be since his father died and since Lily married your father. He slowly walks closer to you, dropping his blazer on the floor. Soon, he finds himself hoovering over you.

- Are you sure...? - he asks carefully, question he stated merely second time in his life before physical intimacy. When you nod, he hesitantly caresses your cheek. You're gorgeous and delicate. Like a little angel that he gets to corrupt.

- Use your words, angel. I won't believe you if you won't say it. - he says quietly, his voice barely auditable through loud music outside the room. You hesitate for a moment. Maybe it is too much alcohol, maybe just heat of the moment that finally opens your mouth.

- I'm sure. - you say as your hand finds his neck, pulling him closer to you. You part your lips a little, kissing him. As you do, his hand grips on your jaw a little, in almost possessive gesture. He taste your lips, sweet taste of strawberry champagne you had mixes with bitterness of his favourite whiskey.

A longer moment of hesitation lingers between you two, as if either is too scared to cross the line. That's till Chuck's lips start to gently pepper your neck with kisses as his hand slides up your leg to stop at the edge of your right black stocking. You hold your breath for a second when his lips move to your inner thigh, his hot breath grazing over your delicate skin.

- Easy there, angel. - he murmurs, noticing your nervousness, kissing down your thigh until he reaches your right knee. With almost religious precision, he pulls your right stocking down, resuming to the Dame on your left leg. As he pulls down your left stocking, he leaves gentle kisses along your left inner thigh, his warm breath making you shiver. Your heartbeat quickens, not only due to alcohol you had but also your stepbrother, yet time seems to be frozen as he workships your body. His fingers slowly unzip your dress, black material revealing your white underwear. In his eyes, you're now purest little angel, all in white in his dark bedroom, muffled song by Cheat Codes blasts in the living room, giving you two even more emotions to the mix.

- Beautiful... - Chuck mutters, slowly kissing you. As you gasp against his lips, you feel his tongue slide in your mouth, deepening the kiss. His hand grips on your ass, not daring to pull the underwear down just yet. If not the human need for air, he wouldn't break this kiss. The atmosphere in Chuck's bedroom feels heavier and warmer with each hungry kiss that he leaves on your collarbones and neck, making sure that he gets to kiss every inch of you. Unlike his regular self, despite being intoxicated, he doesn't hurry with his actions, as if something held him back. Could be his broken relationship with Blair, could be memories of that night on the rooftop with Jenny or awareness that there are people behind the door and some drunk idiot can enter any moment. Yet that never stopped him before. Something is awfully different this time. He knows it when you pull him in for a kiss, your fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt, soon pushing red material off his shoulders. For a sole second, he hesitates. You're his stepsister for a little over six months now. If your father ever finds out, he'll not only beat the crap out of him, sue him, but also probably divorce Lily. And hurting his stepmother, who was only good to him, isn't part of Chuck's plan.

- Angel... Y/N.. - Chuck tries to reason, but the second your hands unbuckle his belt, his right mind is gone. His eyes darken with desire as he helps you pull his black trousers off him, soon leaving you both in merely underwear. He leans down, kissing you slowly, every move dripping of passion and care - something rarely shown towards his sexual partners. He runs his hand through your hair, his lips slowly wandering lower to your collarbone, cleavage, to stop at your midriff. He pauses you, look at you, his gaze bearing straight into yours as he bites on the edge of your panties. For the second time in his life, he didn't feel like it is careless, teenage romance.

- Angel...? Have you ever...? - he asks, silent question lingering in the air as he traces tiny circles with his finger on your hips.

- N-no... - you asnwer quietly, too caught up in a moment to elaborate. Chuck pauses his doings.

- What? You're... fuck! - he wants to slap himself. He's not a first-time guy. He is not a suitable first-time guy for you. Not when you're both intoxicated. Not when you're obviously more drunk than he is. Not now.

- Chuck... - you try to pull him closer, but he only slides out of your weak grip. His breaths are heavy and deep. It wouldn't be his first drunken sex. But it would be yours. He feels something like a sting in his heart at that thought. Without a word, he sits on the bed, reaching for whiskey glass on his bedside table. He downs the drink, alcohol burns his throat as he hopes it will burn his mind. You lay next to him in your underwear, looking all cute yet sexy.

- You're so damn annoying, Y/N... - he mumbles, trying to put his sweater over your head to keep you warm. He's a jerk but not a monster. He won't let his little stepsister freeze. Even if he was close to fucking her minutes ago.

//

When you wake up, it's probably around noon. It seems like you must have passed out during last night's party. Ringing in your head and no memories hint you that you had quite a night. You slowly sit up, confused by being in merely underwear and by not your sweater on you. Suddenly, the door opens, and no one else but Chuck steps inside, coffee mug in one hand, glass of water with dissolving pill inside in other.

- For your headache, Angel. - he says as he hands you water with aspirin pill in it. He sits down next to you.

- You okay?

- Hungover... - you complain, drinking little water to hydrate your dry mouth. You look around, just now realising that you're in Chuck's room. Cogs in your brain slowly start to work as you add one thing to another.

- Did we...? - you ask nervously, the silent question lingering between to two. Chuck only scoffs, taking a sip of his coffee.

- Despite your... undoubted eagerness I had to be a bigger man. We did, however, share a few... meaningful kisses.. - he says in a low, little groggy voice as he runs his fingers across your covered in hickeys collarbones. - Sorry for those ones. Just wear turtlenecks till they fade.

- So we didn't...?

- No. You're my little sister. And I'm not some kind of a monster. At least not anymore. I got a little carried away, but I wouldn't take advantage of your drunk ass. - he says, finishing his coffee. - You're hot Y/N, I'm not gonna lie. And you drive me crazy and I know you like me too. I see the way you look at me. But... it's wiser that we'll keep our distance. We're... family now. Can't be my own sister's mister, can I? - he chuckles. - Though... royal families did marry within each other, so... maybe one day. - he leans to you as he kisses your forehead. Slowly getting off the bed, he stops mid step and turns to you.

- Oh... and Lily and your dad aren't back yet. But I highly advise getting out of my room, showering, and changing. - he says, walking out of his bedroom. You stare blankly at him for a moment before you get off the bed and rush after him.

- Chuck. - you call him, catching him in the kitchen. You look at the tore down living room, and you know Lily will be pissed. Chuck looks up from the newspaper he started reading.

- What?

Without a word, you walk up to him. You take a deep breath and gather your thoughts before you speak.

- Thanks. That... despite everything I've heard about you... you turned out to be so different. - you say, your voice is still a little groggy from last night drinking. Your stepbrother only chuckles. He stares at you, his gaze softer than usually, or just your hungover makes you imagine things.

- No problem, little Angel.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Can you write more for Blair Waldorf? Literally whatever you wanna write pleaseeee

omg yes ofc! I love blair sm so I really hope you like this <3

Bouquets and Butterflies (Blair Waldorf x gn reader)

Warnings: mild swearing, the reader is a bit of a nervous wreck here but it's in a fluffy and cute way I promise <3

Blair Waldorf, aka Queen B. The most formidable girl at Constance, a person that no one dared to mess with because of the consequences that would surely follow after. She's who you had a crush on.

Who could blame you, though? She was as gorgeous as she was frightening, as ambitious as she was demanding. In your eyes, she was perfect.

Of course you were terrified to tell her that, given her reputation. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little scared at the thought of her not only rejecting you, but also humiliating you in the process. You'd never leave your bed again if that happened.

Luckily for you, there was one person who seemed especially eager to help you win her over: her best friend, Serena van der Woodsen herself. She knew the ins and outs of the cold-hearted queen better than anyone did. With her guidance, it would be so much easier to get on Blair's good side.

"If you need help with figuring out what to get her, I suggest starting with something small yet meaningful," Serena suggested while walking with you down the busy streets of New York. "Like clothing or a piece of jewelry."

"I don't know what she likes, though," you said in turn, a slight frown tugging at your lips while you contemplated your options. "Besides, there's no way I'd be able to afford a Blair Waldorf signature piece. I'm not Chuck, you know."

"Ooh, look!" Serena grabbed you by the arm to get your attention as she pointed to the florist across the street, stopping you in your tracks. "Why don't we go look at the flowers?"

"Does she even like flowers?" You questioned while letting her drag you from one side of the street to the other, being careful to watch out for traffic as you went. "Blair doesn't seem like the type of person to enjoy things that end up dying after only a few days."

"I promise you, if you get her a bouquet of her favorite flowers she'll love you forever," the blonde insisted while quickly ushering you inside. "Peonies are her favorite, especially the pink ones. Get some of those."

Picking up one of the bouquets, you glanced over at her with a slightly apprehensive look. "Are you sure?" You didn't think something as small as flowers would impress Blair Waldorf, but you knew you needed to trust Serena's judgement on this if you didn't want to drive yourself crazy overthinking.

"I'm sure. Here, I'll even pay for them for you so long as you promise to invite me to your wedding."

You felt your face heat up at her teasing words. "Serena! Don't say something like that," you whisper-shouted as you gave her a light shove, which only made her giggle. "We don't even know if me giving her these is going to make her like me or not, so don't go making stupid jokes about marriage yet."

"Alright, alright, fine," she conceded with a playful smirk while taking the flowers to go pay for. "But I'm telling you, she's going to love them."

The next day at school, Blair waited impatiently on the steps at the front entrance, checking the time yet again as she rolled her eyes. Leave it to Serena to be late.

"Um, Blair?"

She whipped her head around in the direction she heard the shy voice come from, only to see you standing there. From what she could tell, you looked pretty nervous. "Yes?"

You audibly gulped at her cold tone, trying to muster up the courage to continue speaking. All you have to do is hand her the flowers, and then you're done, you thought. Just get on with it already.

"I, uh- I got you these."

Her eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity, her brown eyes widening when you presented her with the peonies you'd been hiding rather clumsily behind your back. You got her a gift? But why?

It was almost as if you could read her mind, because your next words seemed to answer her question. "I got them because they're your favorite, and they're as beautiful as you are," you said while handing her the bouquet, a nervous smile on your lips.

Most people only ever did things for her like this because they were expecting something in return, so naturally she was a bit suspicious, but you seemed genuine from what she could tell. "How'd you know peonies are my favorite?" She questioned in an almost interrogating manner, but you didn't even miss a beat.

"Serena told me. I didn't want to ask you because that would ruin the surprise, and I didn't want to get you something you wouldn't like, so I got her to help me."

No wonder she'd been acting so sneaky recently and flaked out the other day when Blair asked her to go shopping. That was probably when she was helping you.

"I hope you're not expecting anything in return for this," she spoke in what was an attempt at her usually firm and stand-offish tone, something that wasn't quite as ironclad as she'd hoped given just how giddy she secretly felt on the inside.

"Of course not. You don't give gifts to people because you expect something from them, you give them to show just how much you appreciate them," you stated matter-of-factly, watching her with an expression on your face that could only be described as one thing: lovestruck. You'd fallen for her, and as much as she hated to admit it she was starting to fall for you too.

"Well, thank you anyway. I appreciate them," she curtly replied before doing a brief shooing motion with her hand as a sign that it was time for you to leave.

You'd already expected as much, so it didn't surprise you. "Bye, Blair. Have a nice day," you warmly spoke while leaving, making your way up the steps to the school so you could start heading to class.

Have a nice day. That wasn't something she got told often, unless it was by Dorota as she was leaving in the morning. Her stomach was churning, and it wasn't even in a bad way.

It felt like she had small butterflies fluttering all throughout her body, making a home there after being sent by the bouquet of peonies you gifted her. You were making her feel flustered for once in her life. How dare you.

"Hey, B." The voice of Serena cut through her thoughts, her hands instinctively clutching onto the bouquet tighter, almost as though she was worried they might be snatched away. "Whatcha got there?" The look on her bestie's face was smug, as if she hadn't played any part in helping you get them.

"Just a gift," the brunette replied stiffly, clearly not intent on giving away too much information even if the other girl already knew everything.

Serena simply laughed and flung her arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get to class. We don't wanna be late."

Blair allowed herself to be led up the steps, still holding protectively onto the bouquet as she went. She discreetly brought them up to her nose on occasion and took a brief whiff, inhaling the sweet scent of the flowers.

Damn you for already making her feel so intrigued by this one simple act. She was going to have to find out more about you, though one thing was certain: you already had her hooked.

End notes: if you guys ever want a part two to this just let me know! I'd be happy to write one 🥰

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Gossip Girl masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @samcvrpenters @bleachxbunny

[bloodyymaryyy]

Gossip girl xoxo

Part 4

Part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / masterlist

Warnings : mention of underage drinking but other than that don't know

((Side note : apparently you guys like the series so what you want you take my beautiful people! I love you guys! Anyway I saw what happened with lando and I had to make that in here! Also something is coming soon I don't know if you will like it but I will enjoy writing so 🤷‍♀️))

Texts with lando

You : hi lan!

Landinio : hey!

You: I heard that you are going to King's day tomorrow with Martin

Landinio : yeah I am what's up?

You : well I got invited for some reason too and wanted to know if you will go with martin or you could carpool with me! I have the lambo here!

Landinio : OH SHIT! I am texting with will rn to cancel on him! There is no way I am missing the lambo ride with you!

You: okay sweet just text me when are you meeting and here you are staying at to come get you because I am out rn. Ttyl x!

Landinio : oh 😏 with who?

You : none of your bizz bye!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Texts between martin and lando

Lando : hey martin sorry to cancel last minute but y/n is coming and she has her lambo here and I won't find another chance to rice that thing so... Sorry again!

Will : oh it's nothing I understand I would too!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

After picking up lando from his hotel we headed out towards the boat that the party is held taking empty wide roads to really drive the thing, drifting and doing a few donuts in an empty parking lot just for the thrill of it but making sure to actually arrive in the boat party you both got out of the car talking and laughing entering and finding Martin by the dj booth.

Greetings were exchanged talking and laughing until the second round of drinks that started to kick in hopping around, dancing and sings to the rhythm being surrounded by the Dutch men.

You two weren't fazed by the phones recording your every move because you were having fun and a little tipsy, not that you would admit it both to anyone that in fact you were drunk continuing with the drinks and having fun and just as you were getting drinks you got elbowed in the face not really hard but enough to cause a little mountain the next hour not really noticeable.

Lando in the other hand just as you were nearing him again was hit or something because his nose was bleeding you drank both of them quickly and ran up to him while near you can see the bloody roll down in this lips and teeth he smiled at you teeth bloody, you started to laugh at the situation. Someone had a first aid kit and you cleaned the wound putting a plaster on the cut and a bandage wrapped around his head loosely because you were drunk it was going to be messy.

When you finished you started to laugh again at his stupid look he looked like a mummy but who cares? You two didn't nor did the men around you so you both continued dancing, bouncing, shouting lyrics and drinking again. You weren't piss drunk you could think and walk straight and so was lando, playing some songs with martin lando djing for a bit so will could take a break, talking to you laughing and gossiping about news lately and having fun and creating the mood for the actual club that Will, Lando and you will be going to after the pre party in the boat. You were sure you will regret going to another club but current you don't care about it, future you maybe.

You weren't a light weight by any means, starting drinking from a young age and in your teenage years going out drinking almost everyday drinking made it hard for you to get drunk so you were good by half of the actual party in the club but you wouldn't say lando was the same...

Cutting your night in the what you seen fit as to lando wouldn't start throwing up but you could see he was ready to do anyway calling a taxi and telling him the directions of your hotel so you won't drive while drunk.

Taking him by his bicep and wrapping one hand around his shoulder and the other in his arm you payed for the drinks you ordered and left, waiting for the taxi to arrive he was talking to you, whispered things, making sentences up that made no sense, talking gibberish almost falling in his face while you were laughing and loose the grip around him and quickly regaining strength keeping his upright the taxi finally arrived.

Getting him inside and going arout the car so you could take care of him he laid his head in your lap while you slowly and softly graced your hand through his brown curls and stroking his cheek softly while he closed his eyes smiled and opening one eye to look up at you periodically while you made small conversations with the driver which was a fan of the sport and you learned his daughter's favourite driver was you from a young age looking up at you and asking for a photo with you, he wanted a photo with lando but he was asleep so you decided against it, when you arrived you took his phone got a selfie with him and one alone from a high angle so he was visible but not his face just his hat and hoodie that he got out with, you paid the driver and slowly got out of the car and went around the car again opening the door taking his hand waking him up a little so he can get out but he feel asleep again on you as you closed the door.

You again wrapped a hand around him and holding his other firmly you opened the hotel door and getting inside the building, the receptionist was eyeing you but you didn't care you were determined to get him safe and tugged in, heading in the elevator you waited for the doors to close and pressing the button of your level.looking at the mirror you see on your dress a bit of blood from lando's nose you looked a bit disheveled with your eye sparkly eyeshadow somehow under your eye, the lipstick long gone now in its place your lip pencil a bit smeared around the corners of your mouth, in your forehead a little knob and in lando having his head buried in your neck seamingly asleep by his slow rhythmed breathing that was hitting your neck practically hugging you, the elevator pinged letting you know that you got to your floor you started trying to wake him up to stop hugging you but he didn't budged you decide to just carry him to your door which was easier taking out your card key which luckily you took out of your wallet in the taxi and opened the door.

Upon entering you left him to the bed trying once again to gently wake him up so he could change, you left the club at 4 :30 and now you read the clock it said 5 : 30 so you did all of this in an hour and in heels... He is gonna pay fro this but for now you laid a hoodie that you had oversized and long shorts again oversized that you knew that would fit you took your pj's and headed to the bathroom, you washed your face to get rid of the make up and changed out of the dress and heels.

Going again the the bed you saw lando's clothes messily tossed around the side of the bed he was occupying and in your clothes, the hoodie was one of your merch with a red bull logo in the back and you are not gonna tell that to him, wanting him to walk out with it, he was lying in your bed the covers covering most of him but his back and head out you took a picture and tugged him in and walking to your side of the bed pulling up the covers and getting in falling asleep almost instantly, felling a pair of hands wrapping around you and a head to your neck going closer to lando cuddling up on you and falling asleep peacefully

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Waking up in the morning was a struggle, you wouldn't say it was really a morning but evening waking up at 1pm by calls on your phone. Lando still asleep but starting to stir awake too by the annoying ringing of your phone you took your phone from the night stand you answered the phone without looking who it was

It was max

( the convo went like this)

Red : max / pink : y/n

Y/n? Why aren't you answering my calls? I have been calling you non stop from the morning where are you?

Max lower your voice... I have been sleeping what do you want? I am in my hotel room rn sleeping

Why are you still sleeping? What time did you leave the club last night?

4:30

Why? How did you get to the hotel?

Omg max can you interrogate me later? Let me sleep man...( a raspy voice could be heard in the background : stop talkinggg and then a sigh) shut up. Anyway I will call you back lat-

No! No don't fucking hang up! Are you with someone I heard a man! Who is he?!

Omg max! It's lando what do you want? I will talk to you later good bye!

I said and hand up the call not waiting for max to reply and rolled over now cuddling lando and falling asleep again for a few minutes then waking up by lando leaving the bed.

After he got a shower he came back and by then I dressed up to get food because I was starving waiting for lando you go together. We did you got a few pictures with fan and got food.

After that you called max and explained everything at some point max came with us to a few stored and hung out together and took max's plane and went to Monaco each to their own homes.

That's it thank you! ( not the end of the series tho)

[arthurmargon]

i’m going to be posting it primarily on wattpad, but i thought it would be fun to ask on here too in case any readers see this in the tags: i’m currently writing a nate archibald x ofc series bc i love the show and i love nate and chace crawford has aged like fine wine. i know the gg fanfic fandom is wayyy more active on wattpad and tiktok, but if you see this and you’re interested in me cross-posting on here as well, interact with this post !!

[riptidewaters]

Part 4, Lipstick

Nate Archibald x fem! Reader (named)

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

In the days that followed the white party, Charlotte couldn't get Nate out of her mind. She tried to focus on her new relationship with Dan, but it was clear to both of them that something was off. One afternoon, she found herself wandering the streets of the Upper East Side, her thoughts in turmoil.

"Hey, Charlotte," a familiar voice called out.

She turned to see Nate jogging up to her. He looked a bit hesitant, but there was a determined glint in his eyes. "Hey, Nate," she replied, forcing a smile.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Sure," she said, leading him to a nearby bench.

They sat in silence for a moment, each unsure how to start. Finally, Nate took a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot since the party. About you, about us... And I realized I was an idiot not to see it sooner."

"See what?" Charlotte asked, her heart pounding.

"That I've always had feelings for you, Charlotte. I just never had the guts to admit it."

Charlotte felt a surge of emotions, a mix of hope and fear. "Nate, I've liked you for so long, but I thought you only saw me as a friend."

Nate took her hand. "I was scared, Charlotte. Scared of ruining what we had. But seeing you with Dan made me realize I can't keep pretending. I don't want to lose you."

Charlotte's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to lose you either, Nate."

He leaned in and kissed her softly, and it felt like everything finally made sense. Pulling back, Nate smiled. "So, where does that leave us?"

Charlotte laughed, wiping her tears. "I think it means we should give this a real shot."

A few weeks later, Charlotte was getting ready for another party, this time a more intimate gathering with just close friends. She was in Blair's room, trying on different outfits.

"I still can't believe you and Nate are finally together," Blair said, grinning as she adjusted Charlotte's hair. "It took long enough."

"I know," Charlotte replied, smiling. "But I'm glad it happened."

Blair handed her a tube of lipstick. "Here, try this. It's my new favorite shade."

Charlotte took the lipstick and applied it carefully, noticing the rich, deep red color. "I love it," she said, turning to face Blair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Blair replied. "Now, let's go show everyone how fabulous you look."

As they walked downstairs, Charlotte felt a wave of happiness. She was finally with Nate, and she had her friends by her side. Everything was falling into place.

At the party, Nate found her almost immediately, wrapping his arms around her. "You look amazing," he whispered.

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Dan approached them, holding two glasses of champagne. "To new beginnings," he said, raising a glass.

Charlotte clinked her glass against his. "To new beginnings," she echoed.

Nate smiled and kissed her, and for the first time in a long while, Charlotte felt completely at peace.

Epilogue

Months later, Charlotte and Nate were still going strong. They had become inseparable, their relationship growing deeper with each passing day.

One afternoon, as they were strolling through Central Park, Nate stopped suddenly. "I have something for you," he said, reaching into his pocket.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What is it?"

Nate pulled out a familiar tube of lipstick. "This," he said, holding it up, "is the lipstick you wore the night we finally got together. I wanted you to have it as a reminder of that night."

Charlotte took the lipstick, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you, Nate. This means so much to me."

Nate smiled, pulling her into a hug. "I love you, Charlotte."

"I love you too, Nate," she whispered back.

As they walked hand-in-hand, Charlotte knew that their future was bright. She had found her place in the world, and it was right beside Nate Archibald.

@esposadomd

@littlepadfootmoony

@baconistherealmvp

@mochminnie

[pinazee]

I want paul and becky to be BFF’s.

[omgeto]

hi! i hope you’re doing well. i’m hoping this doesn’t sound too weird but i wanted to ask if you have any tips on writing smut? you’re works are amazing and i just wanted to ask :)

awwwww you think my shit is amazing and want writing tips from moi WOW I shall do my best since I still find my smut skills a bit iffy so some of the stuff I may say I might not even do but we shall see anyways.

READ SMUT: I think the thing that got me to write smut is just the fact that I wank a lot and read a shit ton of smut. therefore I internalise what I read more, and see the common phrases, tropes, plots, that other writes use that I can infuse into my writing. and no im not saying plagiarise and copy ect but im just saying the more you read, the easier it is to write.

USE A PLETHORA OF VERBS: so basically when it comes to me writing any type of fingering or like dick in the v a g i n a scene like try out using a variety of verbs to make your works more descriptive. my trusty little bag of verbs is mainly: charges, drives, forces, pushes, inserts, thrusts ect.

DIALOGUE: to make ur smut a bit more wordy and not as boring, use dialogue, since people talk when they fuck (surprise surprise) it doesn't even have to be a proper convo if you aren't into writing dirty talk and shit but just moans and groans and like gasps like some form of written audio to go along with the visuals.

MAKE SURE IT FLOWS: like try and find some form of the flow so the smut doesn't read as awkward, like if you're doing a short snapshot smut (like what I do in my "when you have sex..." series )then thats fine but in like actual smut fics, you dont need to have a serious plot BUT it does make it better to read when theres some form of flow. such as including some type of foreplay, then get them to fuck ect. and if ur doing a pure smut fic and struggling to find a plot, think of cheesy porn plots LIKE OLD ASS PORN PLOTS like the pizza delivery man that you want to tip but you end up taking his tip (hehehe im funny right) or like the plumber thats supposed to unplug ur sink but plugs up with pussy instead (am I eating with these or nah omg)

BONUS TIPS these r so unserious kinda sorta

dont call a dick a cock thats lame (this is purely a joke I personally wont be calling a dick a cock but if you want to you can you have my full support)

HAVE FUNN WRITING SMUT, LIKE REALLY AND TRULY IT ISNT THAT DEEP WHATEVER YOU WRITE. JUST MAKE SURE TO TAG UR SHIT PROPERLY, OUTLINE IN UR RULES WHAT U DO AND DONT WRITE IF U TAKE REQS AND STUFF AND THEN LIKE JUST WRITE AND BUILD UR CRAFT. CAUSE LIKE IF U LOOK AT MY FIRST SMUT COMPARED TO NOW ID PERSONALLY SAY IVE IMPROVED (even tho ive got like 15 works loooool)

[gleasonlovesjasontodd]

literally me