#it's overwhelming and buries other notifications.

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

I'd appreciate if you slowed down in liking all my posts, please.

[redrrem]

Syncing My Period Tracker With My Bf (gone wrong) — gojo satoru

cw: smut, ovulation, ovulation sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, clit pinching, cum licking and eating, little bit of anal play, gojo is pussy drunk fr, female reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI, slightly proofread

wc: 0.8k

a/n: thank you guys for 1k! finally wrote something after so long lol.. pls check out my navigation for updates on when new fics will be posted, what's coming soon [series] and [long fics and drabbles], and my current semi-hiatus due to exams! hope you all enjoy this <3

whoever told you that syncing your period tracker with your boyfriend was a good idea was wrong. it was a bad idea to begin with, giving satoru full access to your cycle on his phone.

because the minute he got the notification that your ovulation started, he teleported his ass home.

without even greeting you, he makes his way into your shared bedroom, with you slung over his shoulders. not sparing a single second, he manhandles you onto the bed, forcing you on your hands and knees. tearing off your clothes, his hands grip the fat of your asscheeks, spreading them wide open to the sight of your glistening pussy, while you're lying underneath him confused.

“toru?” you ask, looking behind your shoulder and receiving no reply, your boyfriend busy burying his nose in between your folds. a groan leaving his lips as he takes a big fat sniff of your ovulating pussy, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull from your scent.

“you’re ovulating,” is the only response you get before you squeal, his tongue diving in without warning, licking eagerly at your wet folds, drinking in your juices with vigor.

your arms and legs tremble as you try to keep yourself up, arms giving out underneath you as your face falls flat onto the bed, moaning in pleasure as drool ruins your pillow covers.

“toru- toru please-,” you whine, feeling a suck to your clit that has your body thrashing and squirming. his hands gripping the plump of yass as he spreads you open, back in a pretty arch, only shoving his face deeper into your pussy.

feeling his warm tongue leaving your wet pussy to lick at your little puckered hole teasingly, you sob. pussy clenching on nothing, begging him to touch you where you need him the most.

your nails dig into the sheets beneath you, smothering your face into the pillow as you try to swallow and keep in your moans, afraid to wake up the neighbors, but satoru has other plans. tongue curling against your slippery walls, his fingers pinch your engrossed clit whenever you try to muffle your pretty sounds.

wet slurping noise fills the bedroom. satoru's tongue and nose deep in your pussy as he drinks your sweet juices, adams' apple bobbing as he gulps. your pussy tightening with each curl of his skilled tongue as he laps at gummy walls.

"mhmm- oh god-" a choked moan leaving your wobbly drooling lips, knuckles turning white from fisting the sheets tightly. your head buried in your pillow as you try to grind your hips against his face, despite his bruising grip on your ass, thick fingers digging into your cheeks as he spreads you wide open for his eager tongue.

the bed creaks slightly as satoru grinds his hips against the mattress, trying to reach his peak with you. cock straining against his uniform, precum leaking under his boxers, making a wet patch against them as he eats you out, his voice muffled between your thighs as he devours his meal.

hands fondling your asscheeks, a finger sneaks its way inside, stretching your tights walls as he laps at your juices, pulling out a silent scream from your shaky lips. your abdomen tightens as he abuses your poor sweet spot, lips making their way further down to wrap around your sensitive clit, while you desperately try to run away from the overwhelming pleasure.

"fuck baby-" he groans, forcing you to stay still as he abuses your poor cunt, "stop moving." you think you're finally hallucinating, your ears betraying you as you hear him nearly whine, begging you to stop moving, to stop depriving him of his sweet desert.

your body trembles as satoru relentlessly pleasures you, his skilled fingers and tongue bringing you closer and closer to the edge. your senses go numb as tears stream down your cheeks, the coil in your belly ready to snap at any moment as orgasm approaches.

"toru- I'm close," you sob, voice shaky and breathing ragged as your eyes flutter shut tightly.

doubling his efforts, his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, finger curling against your spongy wall with each flick of his tongue. his soft, wet lips wrap around your sensitive bud, sucking your clit as pleasure consumes your senses.

the pace of his fingers increases, thrusting up against your sweet spot, and with a final suck to your poor clit, you come undone. your back in a pretty arch as intense waves of pleasure wreck your body. a loud moan escapes your lips as your pussy flutters, coating his fingers with your juices before he sucks them clean, humming at the taste of you, his favourite sweet treat.   

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[nephynes]

Submissive hoon? Orrr we could do toxic hoon…:3

toxic hooooon feral noises

MDNI 

══════════════════════════

Your thighs tremble where they rest on either side of his face, his tongue flicking rhythmically against your clit like it's something he's practiced to perfection—and he has. Sunghoon's fingers dig into the softness of your hips, thumbs spreading you open while he moans softly into you like he's the one getting off.

And in a way, he is.

Your body jerks when he flattens his tongue, dragging it slow, indulgent. He tilts his face up enough to mutter against your slick, "You always taste so sweet when you're upset with me."

Your hand tugs his hair harder than you meant to.

"Don't say that."

But he only hums again, lazily, like he's unbothered. Like the way he got you here, half dressed, pissed off, thighs shaking, is a win in his twisted little book. You're trying to hold onto the thread of frustration. You were angry, you still should be angry. But he's got you falling apart on his mouth like every other time he finds a way to make himself the cure to his own chaos.

Because somehow, Sunghoon is always the one who's hurt. Who needs to be forgiven. Who says things like "I didn't mean it like that, baby," with big eyes and a voice so soft you almost forget what he's actually saying.

He'd texted you from his friend's place last night at 1AM. Then gone silent. No replies, no calls answered. Just a three-hour stretch of anxiety sitting in your chest like a boulder until he showed up this morning at your apartment with the same puppy dog pout and an "I fell asleep on the couch, swear."

And maybe that would've worked on you again, like it always does, if not for the notification that popped up on his phone while he went to get water.

"You okay baby? Thought your girl was getting suspicious. lol."

You didn't say anything. Not right away.

You just sat there, watching him walk back in with that little bashful smile, kissing your cheek, curling up next to you like he was starving for closeness.

"Missed you all night," he whispered, curling his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand to his chest, holding it there like you were the one who'd been gone.

That's how you always end up like this—with your legs over his shoulders and his mouth buried between your thighs. He uses sex like silk to cover his missteps, winding himself tighter around you with each gentle kiss and whimpering apology.

You'd told him once you like when he begs. Now he does it like clockwork. "Don't hate me," he says now, voice muffled against your cunt as he slides two fingers inside. His lips drag up your inner thigh as you whine out his name, chest heaving. "I can't take it when you look at me like that. I'll go insane.

You almost don't hear the desperation behind it anymore. It sounds too rehearsed. Like he's said it a thousand times, probably to you, maybe to others too. You don't even know anymore.

He shifts upward, fingers still knuckle deep inside you, his cock straining against his stomach, flushed and leaking. He doesn't even ask before he straddles your waist, reaching behind himself with an ease that feels almost calculated, finding your clit with the heel of his palm while his fingers curl deep.

Your eyes widen.

"Hoon—"

"Shhh," he whispers, leaning down to kiss your mouth as his hips rock against your belly, pre-cum smearing across your skin. "Let me make it up to you."

And god—he does. His fingers know just how to press, just where to curl, and your mind is fuzzy, too overwhelmed to sort through what's real and what's manipulation.

You don't even remember when he sinks into you—all you know is that he's deep, forehead to yours, hips barely moving. His voice breaks into a soft whimper.

"Say you forgive me," he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Say it, baby. Please."

He rolls his hips deeper, your breath catching at the stretch.

"Sunghoon—"

"No, say it," he repeats, a little sharper now, though it's wrapped in a soft breath. His forehead presses harder to yours as he thrusts again, slower this time, almost punishing. "Please. I can't handle it if you don't."

If you weren't so gone, body limp and pliant underneath him, you might've caught how it wasn't really a plea—it was a demand wrapped in desperation. His hands aren't just clinging to you, they're pinning you, thumb pressed into your jaw to keep your face tilted up, eyes wide for him.

He's begging, yes but not like a man asking for forgiveness. Like a man who needs your absolution to keep control.

But you don't catch it. Not then.

Not when he's fucking you like he's trying to own every part of you, cock dragging through your walls until your legs shake. Not when he's moaning into your skin, voice breaking apart with need and something far more dangerous, "Don't be mad at me anymore. I can't fucking take it, I'll lose my mind, baby."

It's only afterward, when you're lying there spent, head laid on his glistening chest, that you remember everything.

Like the time he got you to stop going to girls' nights because he "just doesn't sleep well without you."

Or how he told you he hates condoms because it makes him feel like there's something between you.

How when you cried the first time he said "you make me crazy when you talk to other guys," he wiped your tears and made you come four times that night with your legs over his shoulders and soft apologies in your ear.

Sunghoon is never outright cruel. He's never loud, never aggressive.

But the way he needs you, it’s no longer sweet. He shifts under you now, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your hair.

"Still mad?" he mumbles, sleepy and soft.

You want to say yes, get up and kick him out of your apartment, but you shake your head instead, mumbling a little, "No." And you stay because sweet boys with soft mouths and ruined eyes make you feel needed. And Sunghoon knows that. He always has.

══════════════════════════

• a/n: i wouldn’t leave either 🤧

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[apteryxparvus]

AITA for exposing my pro volleyball player boyfriend's monster addiction on r/fridgedetective?

Pairing — Suna Rintarou / Reader

Word count — 2,046

Content warning — none

Summary — When you accidentally expose your boyfriend for hoarding an ungodly amount of Monster energy drinks in his mini fridge, the internet takes it and runs wild.

You don’t think twice when you head to your boyfriend’s mini-fridge. Suna always keeps a stash of snacks and drinks in there for late-night movie marathons, and you’re desperately craving a fizzy hit of Ramune soda. But when you open the fridge…

Monster Energy. 

Monster Energy everywhere.

You don’t even spot the soda you’re looking for. Just rows upon rows of neon cans stacked like Tetris blocks, along with an alarming number of Chuupets squished in the corners. Who needs this much caffeine and sugar?

The fridge hums ominously, as if judging you for your surprise.

Naturally, you take a picture and post it.

For science.

You don’t expect much. Maybe 10 or 20 upvotes, and a couple of comments from bored strangers confirming that, yes, Suna’s energy drink consumption is borderline criminal. After all, it’s just a silly post on a silly subreddit, nothing to lose sleep over.

But when you groggily check your Reddit account the next morning, your notifications are wild. It’s not just a handful of upvotes—it’s thousands. Your post isn’t just trending on r/fridgedetective; it’s made the Reddit front page.

There’s an overwhelming flood of comments, many of them calling out your boyfriend by name. A part of you wants to laugh—because, really, how did they guess so fast?—but another part of you is too scared to even open Twitter or any other social media platform. You just know someone has screenshotted it and blasted it across the internet; probably with a wild caption like: “Suna Rintarou EXPOSED by his own partner”.

The sheer absurdity hits you like a train. Your boyfriend’s unhealthy obsession with energy drinks and frozen treats has gone viral. Your boyfriend has gone viral.

And, at this point, you’re not sure if you should wake him up to warn him, or just quietly pack your things and go into witness protection.

Among the chaos of Reddit notifications, your phone buzzes with a few messages. A quick glance tells you it’s from two very predictable sources.

Kita: Just empty the fridge and restock it with healthy food. He’ll grumble, but it’s for the best.

Atsumu: WOW I CAN’T BELIEVE U TATTLED ON MY BOY LIKE THAT 💀💀💀

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Against your better judgement, you open the Inarizaki High alumni group chat—and immediately regret it.

Atsumu is clearly living for this. You should’ve known better.

He’s on a rampage, flooding the chat with screenshots from Twitter.

"Suna's fridge contents have NO BUSINESS being this cursed."

"Suna Rintarou EXPOSED for his crimes against hydration."

"Monster sponsorship when???"

It’s one caption after another, each one wilder than the last. You groan, burying your face in your pillow, as if that could block out the chaos unfolding on your screen. You can practically hear Atsumu’s wheezy cackles through the text, and his twin brother, Osamu, is doing nothing to help—just spamming the chat with popcorn emojis like he’s front row at the circus.

You sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you prepare to grill Atsumu for being the absolute worst at 7 AM. But before you can type a single word, the bed shifts.

Suna groans softly, stirring beside you. His arm slides over your waist, pulling you closer as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mm, what’s with all the buzzing?” he mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you lie, way too quickly, throwing your phone across the bed like it’s radioactive. You lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

It almost works. Almost. But your phone keeps vibrating obnoxiously—no doubt Atsumu is still spamming the group chat with screenshots and whatever unhinged commentary he’s decided to add. You curse yourself for not muting him earlier, but now it’s far too late.

Suna groans again, this time with the exasperation of someone who just wants five more minutes of peace. He shifts, reaching for the phone you so desperately tried to avoid.

“Why’s Atsumu spamming the group chat so early?” he asks groggily, his thumb already swiping across the screen.

“No reason!” you blurt out, sitting up too quickly. “You don’t need to check—”

But it’s too late. The moment Suna opens the chat, his expression shifts. His sleepy indifference hardens into something sharper. 

Betrayal.

Two days later, you’re settled into your couch, blanket wrapped snug around your shoulders, laptop propped up on your knees. Kodzuken’s stream is set to start in fifteen minutes, and if you’re going to survive whatever chaos the streamer’s chat is inevitably bound to bring, you’re going to need a heavy caffeine boost.

Your eyes slowly drift to the mini fridge in the corner.

You’ve been trying to avoid it ever since the whole incident. But you cannot deny the itch for something cold and fizzy to keep you awake. There’s a moment of hesitation as you chew on your lip, before you finally stand up and pad over.

“Okay… alright,” you mumble to yourself, hand hovering over the handle. “It’s just a fridge. How bad can it be?”

You pull it open.

And the sight nearly makes you drop to your knees.

Gone is the chaotic hoard of neon green Monster Energy cans and suspicious, almost-melted chuupets. Instead, the shelves are pristine, almost squeaky white, gleaming as if the fridge belongs to some sort of soda commercial. And every single slot has been replaced with your favorite soda flavor.

Each glass bottle has a sticky note attached to it, the handwriting unmistakably Suna’s—slightly tilted to the right and a little lazy, like he couldn’t quite be bothered but also cared just enough.

The first note you pick you reads: “I’m doing this for you, even though it hurts 💔💔.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pick up another bottle, the condensation slick against your palm. This note reads: “Please don’t post me online again 😔💔.”

A third one in the far back reads: “I hope you’re happy. My dignity is in shambles.”

You choke back a laugh, clutching the bottle to your chest like it’s some sort of love letter.

Everything is just absurd. Dramatic. Completely unnecessary.

But so him.

Kenma’s notification pings from your laptop, reminding you his stream is starting soon. But for a moment, you just stand there, bathed in the soft glow of the fridge light, staring at the ridiculous display of Ramune bottles and heartfelt stickies.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for the occasional clink of chopsticks against bowls and the soft fizz that Suna’s Ramune soda makes as he takes a long, dramatic sip. You can’t help but glance at him as your phone buzzes with another notification from the group chat.

The #monstersmvp hashtag Atsumu created is still going strong.

You unlock your phone, and cover your mouth trying to stifle a laugh—Atsumu’s latest spamming spree is a trainwreck you cannot look away from.

“What now?” Suna asks, voice flat as he picks at his food.

“‘tsumu keeps sending the eulogies from the hashtag. Ready to hear the best of the best?”

 “No,” your boyfriend deadpans, taking another slow, deliberate sip of the fizzy drink.

Ignoring him, you start reading anyway. “Okay, here goes,” you clear your throat, holding the phone up dramatically. “Rest in power: Gone but never forgotten. Suna’s energy drink hoard was a beacon of poor nutritional choices and excessive caffeine addiction. Taken from us far too soon by the merciless hand of justice (a.k.a. his girlfriend). May its legacy live on in vending machines and gas station coolers everywhere.”

Suna rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth subtly twitching, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, scrolling further. “It wasn’t Suna’s blocks that made him a true legend. No, it was his fridge full of Monsters. The stash stood as a tall, proud monument to his dedication to caffeine and chaos, but alas, all good things must come to an end. In lieu of flowers, please send Ramune soda.”

He takes another slow sip of his soda, gaze fixed on you over the rim of the bottle. “These people are unhinged.”

“You mean your fans are unhinged,” you correct, waving your phone at him. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

He sets the bottle down, resting his chin in his hand as he smirks at you, that lazy, infuriating smirk that makes your heart skip a beat even when you’re annoyed with him. “You’re awfully invested in this for someone who caused the whole mess.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who kept a hoard of energy drinks like some kind of cryptid!”

“And you’re the one who made it go viral.”

Suna shakes his head, clicking his chopsticks. “If I ever get my stash back, I’m putting a padlock on that fridge.”

“Sure,” you tease, scrolling through the wall of text messages. “But you’ll have to bribe me first.”

The morning after starts with the doorbell buzzing like it’s got a personal grudge against your sleep. You groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets as Suna mumbles incoherently beside you.

“Are you gonna get that?” you ask, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nope,” he replies, eyes still closed.

The buzzing continues, persistent and annoying, until you finally throw the blankets off with a groan. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if it’s Atsumu, I’m kicking him.”

Shuffling to the door in your pajamas, you swing it open, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Instead, you’re greeted by two delivery people dressed in head-to-toe Monster Energy attire. Hats, shirts, gloves—even their shoes have the Monster logo.

“Delivery for Suna Rintarou?” one of them says, all too chipper for this ungodly hour.

Behind them is a massive, industrial-sized fridge wrapped in black and neon green, the Monster Energy logo glowing ominously on the front.

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“We’re not,” the other delivery person says, already wheeling the monstrosity closer.

You stand frozen as they maneuver the fridge through the door, parking it in the middle of your living room like it belongs there. By the time Suna wanders out from your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the delivery people are gone, and the fridge looms like some sort of otherworldly deity.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Your consequences, clearly,” you grumble.

“You think it comes pre-stocked?”

You stay quiet, keeping your distance from the fridge as if your glare alone might short-circuit the thing. If you got too close, you’d be tempted to whack it with something—like the baseball bat you keep by the door in case of emergencies.

Suna, unbothered by your lack of answer, wanders closer, hand lazily brushing against the neon logo before gripping the handle. He looks back at you with a smirk.

The door creaks open.

Even though the fridge isn’t even on, it’s packed to the brim with dozens upon dozens of Monster cans. Shelves sag under the weight of every imaginable flavor—there are classics, tropical blends, tea-infused hybrids, even some cans with foreign text that scream exclusive import.

“How is this fridge even stocked? It’s not on.” You can’t hold back the groan. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Look at this,” Suna says, picking up a can with a holographic label. He holds it up like it’s some kind of treasure. “I didn’t even know this flavor existed.”

“Put it back,” you say, your voice sharp. “I’m gonna set it on fire, I swear."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs another can, then another. “They’ve got the white pineapple, the tea blend... oh, and the zero-calorie peach! This is insane.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind.” You bury your face in your hands, trying to process the sheer audacity of the situation. “Who does this?!”

“There, there,” Suna teases, patting your back. “Want a sip?” he asks, cracking open a random can.

You glare at him, contemplating the consequences of slamming the door shut on both the cans and his smug face. Instead, you stomp to the couch, plopping down, and muttering, “I’m calling ‘tsumu. This has his name written all over it.”

Suna’s laughter echoes through the living room, followed by the distinct hiss of him opening yet another can.

Author's note: phew, editing the Reddit posts took ages 🤧 please ignore any discrepancies between the profile pictures of the users pls

i’ll marry whoever buys me a fully stocked redbull fridge, no questions asked

[sky-is-the-limit]

Meddle About (Part 1)

P: Captain Price x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger at a pub and begin a beautiful friendship. Though you start developing feelings for the older man, he doesn't seem to reciprocate. That is, until you flirt with someone else to test the waters.

NSFW part 2 here.

WC: 2.3k words

CW: Nothing other than some angst (light), age difference and jealousy.

Notes: The age of the Reader is mentioned only because I feel uncomfortable writing about an age difference where X person is under the age of 23-25.

@glitterypirateduck

You stumbled into the pub, your heart heavy and your mind clouded with the weight of your breakup. The air was thick with the aroma of alcohol and the sound of muted conversations. You sought solace in the dimly lit corner, choosing a table far from prying eyes, hoping to drown your sorrows alone.

As you sat there, lost in your own misery, your gaze wandered aimlessly to the booth next to yours until it landed on him, the older man sitting alone, his presence almost ghostly in the shadows. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, drinking a glass of whiskey with a distant look in his eyes.

At first, you paid him no mind, too consumed by your own despair to acknowledge anyone else's existence. But then, just as the ache in your chest threatened to overwhelm you completely, a notification on your phone pushed you over the edge. It was a message from your ex, a cruel reminder to pick up your things from his apartment.

With a choked sob, you buried your face in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought. And then, as if sensing your despair, the older man's voice cut through the haze of your misery.

"Are you alright, love?" He asked, his words gentle and filled with genuine concern.

Startled, you lifted your head to look at him, your vision blurred by tears. His face came into focus, and you found yourself momentarily captivated by the sight of blue eyes, the ruggedness of his features softened by a hint of kindness. He extended a napkin towards you, a silent offering to wipe away your tears.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this stranger even with such an innocent gesture. But something in his demeanor, the warmth in his gaze, made you lower your defenses.

And so, with a shaky breath, you accepted, allowing the soft material to soak up whatever was left of your relationship.

As the night dragged on, the heaviness in your heart began to ease, replaced by a sense of relief as you found comfort in conversation with the stranger. He didn't speak much, but his attentive listening spoke volumes.

You found yourself pouring out your heart to him, recounting the details of your breakup, the betrayal, the lies, the countless nights spent crying yourself to sleep, wondering what you had done to deserve such treatment.

Were you ruining his night out? Was he growing tired of your rambling? Was he secretly wishing for an escape from your company?

Your overthinking vanished every time you looked into his eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest and compassion staring back at you.

The hours slipped away and the pub grew quieter, you realized that this stranger had become more than just a sympathetic ear. And though you couldn't quite put it into words, you knew that his presence had brought you a sense of peace that you hadn't felt in a long time.

As the night progressed, you learned that he was a military man, a Captain stationed at a base just twenty minutes away. His hesitance to get into the specifics of his job only added to the air of mystery surrounding him but you respected his boundaries, content to learn other parts of his personality. It wasn't like you'd understand much of the military life anyway.

In between sips of beer, you discovered common ground in unexpected places. He spoke passionately about his love for football, declaring his support to Liverpool with pride and that sparked playful banter between the two of you, given your loyalty to Manchester United. And then there was his love for 70s rock music, a good old Sunday roast and his German Shepherd named Bucky.

Everything he uttered seemed to captivate you. But it wasn't just his words that kept you staring in awe. It was the way he carried himself, the undeniable aura of strength and confidence that followed him.

His strong, masculine features were impossible to ignore. The full beard that hugged his face and trailed down to his neck, the small charming beauty mark on his nose, his ocean blue shaded eyes.. There was no force im the world that could tear your gaze away from him.

Despite being seated, he seemed to tower over most in the room, his tall frame accentuated by his broad shoulders and defined physique with thighs barely fitting under the table.

Each time your eyes met, you felt a rush of excitement, a flutter in your chest that you couldn't quite explain.

He definitely noticed, there was no doubt about it. You caught him watching you, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips but he never made a point of it. It was as if he welcomed your attention, basking in the way you were taking him in yet never crossing the line between polite conversation and flirting.

Around two after midnight, the pub began to empty out, leaving only you and the interesting stranger as the sole costumers.

Stepping outside, the chill of the rain hit you both, shimmering under the moonlight as it landed on the darkened street below and he wasted no time in offering you his coat.

You protested but he insisted, draping it over your head as you both dashed towards your car. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him through and yet he seemed unaffected, almost as if he enjoyed the feeling of the water against his skin or perhaps in a way to make the night last a little bit longer.

As you turned the ignition, a sudden realization struck you. In the midst of the conversation, you had forgotten the most basic of exchanges. Names.

"Hey!" You called out over the drumming rain, "I never asked for your name."

"John Price." Came his simple reply, accompanied by a a small smile.

You reciprocated with your own name, something so simple suddenly feeling intimate, important. After saying your goodnights, you closed the door and began to drive away, the rain beginning to taper off.

But then, a nagging thought tugged at your brain. His coat still laid draped over your shoulders. Without giving it a second thought, you turned the car around and rolled down the window, calling out into the night.

"Hey, John! I still have your coat!"

He turned, his silhouette illuminated by the fading streetlights, and yelled back, "Bring it back here tomorrow, same time."

With a smile tugging at your lips, you nodded in agreement. That night, as you drifted off to sleep, the thoughts of your recent breakup seemed distant and insignificant. Instead, your mind was filled with the memory of the handsome Captain and the promise of tomorrow.

/////

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, your meetings with John at the pub became a tradition. Every Wednesday and Saturday, like clockwork, you would find yourselves drawn back to that familiar corner booth, where the outside world faded away and it was just the two of you, lost in conversation.

Your advances were subtle yet unmistakable, a brush of your hand against his, a playful flirtation laced with innuendo. And though John never shut you down, his demeanor remained restrained, as if he was holding himself back from crossing an invisible boundary.

He never pushed for more, never crossed the line into something deeper, leaving you to wonder if the attraction was one sided.

It was both frustrating and endearing at first, what had started as a playful game of cat and mouse had morphed into something deeper, more profound and the anticipation of seeing him, of sharing those precious hours together, became the highlight of your week.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully comprehend. It was borderline obsessive how you tended to every detail, choosing the perfect outfit and spending hours grooming yourself to ensure you looked your best for him.

While his eyes traced the curves of your body with hunger, his hands always remained glued at his sides. Always a good conversation, a walk to your car and a goodnight to leave you awake at night, going through every scenario possible.

It was maddening, the way he welcomed your touches and flirtatious banter without ever making a move of his own.

Perhaps, if he was to turn you down outright, to reject your advances and put an end to the torture, it would be easier to accept. You could move on, content in the knowledge that you had tried and failed. But John never did that.

And so, that particular night, you swore, it would be different.

////

Another Saturday night unfolded and you found yourself once again nestled in the comfort of your favorite booth at the pub, opposite of John.

Dressed in figure hugging black dress that accentuated every curve, you couldn't help but feel confident and ready for what you were about to do. The neckline dipped low, offering a glimpse of your cleavage while the bold red lipstick painted your intentions clear for all to see.

Taking a moment to gather your courage, you lifted your glass to your lips, the sweet aroma of your fruity cocktail easing your nerves. After taking a sip, with a playful smile, you turned to John, nudging the glass towards him.

"Wanna try my drink?" You asked, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

You knew all too well that John was a man of simple tastes, his preference for whiskey never changing. Your intentions weren't supposed to change that, anyway.

John's gaze lingered on the glass for a few seconds and returned to yours, a small smile playing at his lips.

''I don't think I'm gonna enjoy drinking that one, love.'' He replied with a chuckle as he took another sip of his usual choice.

That was your moment.

With a coy smile, you took another sip from your cocktail, savoring the fruity sweetness that danced on your tongue and then, with a boldness you hadn't known you possessed, you placed your hand on John's thigh, the touch of your fingertips freezing him into place.

"You don't have to drink it to enjoy the taste." You replied, your words dripping with innuendo whilst you took in his unusually tensed reaction.

Without waiting for John's response, you leaned in, the anticipation coursing through your veins like wildfire.

Your heart pounded loudly against your chest as you pressed your lips against his, the taste of whiskey and strawberries mingling together the more you took his bottom lip between your own. There was a hesitance in the way your mouth moved, your tongue grazing his own as you awaited for him to deepen it.

Feeling the warmth of John's palms resting on your shoulders, you couldn't help but anticipate his next move, to reciprocate the kiss and finally make you his.

But to your surprise, instead of drawing you closer, John gently pushed you back, disconnecting your lips with a tender touch that almost felt like betrayal. His eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable as if he was still lingering on the taste of your kiss, contemplating what he was about to do next.

Feeling the weight of John's eyes piercing through you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet them, the sting of embarrassment and disappointment burning hot against your cheeks.

You felt exposed, vulnerable in a way you had never felt before. As his hands left your shoulders and came to rest on the table, you could sense the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, his voice broke the silence, "Y/N, I can't." He said, his tone filled with a mixture of pity and regret.

"Even if I want-" He started to say, but then abruptly stopped, as if his own thoughts had betrayed him.

You wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and anger, but all you could do was sit there, confused and curious to the thought of him finishing that sentence.

Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you took in a deep breath and with trembling hands, you finally raised your face to look at him.

All you managed, was a one word question coming out as a barely audible whisper, ''Why?''

His hesitation, his struggle to articulate his thoughts only grated against your nerves but you sat there patient, waiting for him to state a good enough reason that would match with his last sentence.

"You're so young and I-" John began but his words only added to your ticking bomb. His excuse felt like a slap in the face, and before he could finish, you cut him off, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"Young? Is that it?!" You exclaimed, the anger in your voice palpable. "I'm 25 for fuck's sake!"

In that moment, what he said, the implication of his excuse became painfully clear. It wasn't about age. It was about fear, about his own insecurities. But you refused to be dismissed so easily.

"Younger, then." He persisted, correcting himself, his tone tinged with frustration. "You should be out there flirting with guys your own age, not messed up middle-aged men that you meet at a shady pub."

How dare he, you thought, how dare he belittle your choices, your feelings like that?

Your eyes widened in disbelief at what he was saying, the anger bubbling up inside you threatening to boil over. How could he be so blind, so oblivious to the depth of your feelings?

"Guys my age, huh?!" You retorted sarcastically, raising the volume of your voice just enough to make him look back into your eyes.

But instead of backing down, John simply nodded to your question. And then, as if to salt to your wound, his eyes trailed around the pub, landing on two young guys ordering a drink at the bar.

"Someone like him, not me.'' His tone devoid of self-pity or insecurity.

It was as if he was protecting you, shielding you from the potential pain that could come from being with someone like him.

His words only added more fuel to your fire that was threatening to consume you whole and so you stood up from your seat, straightening your dress with a determined flick of your wrist. Every fiber of your being screamed with frustration, but you refused to let it win.

"You know what, maybe you are right." You said to John, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Trailing your gaze towards the blonde guy at the bar, who seemed more interested in his reflection on his front camera than anything else, you saw an opportunity.

With a calculated move, you turned back to John, his eyes awaiting your next move. With a forced smile, you continued, "Maybe I should take my chances with a younger guy."

Without another word, you turned on your heel, grabbing your purse and made your way towards the bar. As you approached the blonde guy, you could feel John's eyes boring into your back but you tried your hardest not to take a peak.

Instead you sat down next to the new stranger, who finally put his phone down and turned his attention towards you, giving you a warm smile before introducing himself with a simple, ''Hey.''

Glancing back at John for a brief moment, you noticed an unfamiliar look in his eyes. A mixture of possessiveness and jealousy that sent shivers down your spine.

With his jaw clenched and posture tense, John seemed poised to stand up. But you refused to let his sudden change dictate your actions and so maintaining the same fake smile as before, you turned back to the blonde guy.

"Hey, there." You replied, your tone light and casual as you greeted him back.

It was time for you to finally be the cat and it was only a matter of seconds before the mouse came running back to your claws.

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

-

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

-

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

[lovings4turn]

ᯓ★  𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 (𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒)

— a few days have passed since you last saw lando, yet your feelings are as strong as ever. there’s nothing like another party to finally set the record straight. (3.2k words)

+ aka. part two of don’t delete the kisses (and my longest fic to date on this blog !!)

+ again mentions of drinking and clubbing, largely fluff . lando n reader are only slightly tipsy ! this took far too long to get out but she's finally here - hope you all enjoy !!!

it had been three days since you’d gone to the club, and three days since you’d consequently fled from the club due to your inability to act normally around lando norris.

you hadn’t seen him since then, but you’d texted back and forth from the morning afterwards. you’d felt bad about the whole thing, just leaving without even finding him to say goodbye, and so made up some excuse about getting too overwhelmed and not wanting to ruin his night with your desire to go home.

and because he was an angel, lando didn’t even question you. instead, he instantly accepted your explanation, assuring you it was more than fine as long as you were okay. he could go without a goodbye, if it meant the best for you.

eighty percent of your subsequent conversations were complete nonsense. ever since you had became close all those years ago, lando had taken it upon himself to text you every single thought he ever had, no matter how menial or silly.

embarrassingly, as a result of being down so, completely, horrifically bad for him, you found each and every one endearing. yes, even the god-awful memes he would send you religiously between the hours of two and five am when he couldn’t sleep.

perhaps it was even worse that you’d go on to forward said memes to other friends, pretending that you had found them. you were unable to prevent the laughs that would escape your lips every time your phone buzzed with a notification from lando.

one on hand, you were on top of the world. on the other, you were going insane.

lando had positively taken over your mind, every corner of your head filled with deep brown curls and impish laughter. even the most menial things proved to link back to lando in some way, a tangled red string of association that to anyone else would make zero sense but was obvious to you.

you were icarus, and lando the sun; something to dream of but never to have. you were certain that if you chased him, your wax wings would melt rapidly as you succumbed to your impulses before you crashed onto the harsh ground of reality.

learning to cope with the heavy feeling of yearning was something you could do. suffering with a little heartache to keep lando in your life far outweighed not having lando at all.

being definitive in your decision to bury your feelings didn’t mean it wasn’t a struggle, though.

now more than ever, it seemed impossible to not think about lando, or talk about him, shout his name from the rooftops so the whole world could hear the praises you would sing for him. it appeared to be a pretty clear sign that you were losing any remaining shreds of self control, but what could you do? no matter how many times your head said no, your heart would tell you that it would always be lando, one thousand times over.

a notification lit up your phone screen, and you were convinced it was a sort of cruel taunt from the universe. 

landonorris just posted a photo!

it was borderline masochistic, the way in which you tapped the notification instantly and allowed yourself to be led to lando’s latest instagram photo dump. alongside a few selfies, pictures of him from that night in the club were littered throughout, and though he was posing with friends in each photo, your eyes were focused solely on him.

without really thinking, you pinched the screen, zooming in a little further to admire every detail of lando’s face that had been captured by someone’s iphone. the moles that were dotted across his face like they’d been individually placed there, the unruly curls that begged your fingers to find a home in them, and that fucking smile.

realisation hit soon after, and you caught yourself with a groan. here you were, sitting looking at his pictures with a dopey, love-sick grin on your face, acting like a teenage girl with an innocent classroom crush.

“god! might as well write all over a notebook that he rocks my world or something,” you scoffed, mock disgust lacing your words.

oh great, now you were fucking talking to yourself. christ, what had he done to you?

in an act of frustration, you quickly liked lando’s photo before throwing your phone onto your bed, partially hoping it would get lost amongst the pillows so you couldn’t find it again and fawn over more pictures of your supposed best friend.

a distraction was what you needed. and so you stood up and made your way into the kitchen, praying that maybe cooking a nice meal for yourself would sort you out. either that, or you could hit yourself over the head with a frying pan and hope that the concussion would remove any feelings that breached the label of ‘platonic’.

and for two whole hours, your plan had worked. 

not only were you able to enjoy the delicious meal you’d made, but also got through a good few episodes of the new tv series you had started watching a week or so ago. the lando shaped hole in your mind had been replaced by witty dialogue and pointless character drama, and you were beginning to think that you had everything under control.

that was until you returned to your bedroom and reached for your phone once more, your lockscreen lighting up to display yet another text thread from lando.

lando: going out tomorrow at 10!!!

lando: be there or be square😈

lando: i need my best dance partner w me

fingers dancing across the keyboard, the text was sent before your brain could even think about the invitation.

y/n: i'll b there🥳

it was official: you were absolutely fucked. 

. . .

it was 10:28pm and you were already questioning your decision to come out.

you would say that you had no idea why you’d even agreed to the invitation, but that would be a lie. you knew exactly what had convinced you to get dressed up and leave your house tonight, and that reason was currently grinning at you from his place at the bar, clothed in another stupid button down shirt and sunglasses, of all accessories. 

how he had managed to make sunglasses indoors not only acceptable, but attractive to you was just another sign of the power that the man held over you. you’re sure that if you told your friends, they’d never let you live it down. and hell, you wouldn’t even blame them for it.

from the moment you had arrived, lando had commanded your attention. there wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t intently tuned in to every word he spoke, each movement of his limbs and the expressions on his face. he had you completely hooked, and you were letting it happen, swept along in the riptide of your stupid crush,

whether it was from the pulsating house music, the shot lando had shoved into your hand the moment you’d shown your face, or even just lando himself, you felt electric. sparks of lightning rippled beneath your skin, every last nerve in your body buzzing with anticipation for something that you couldn’t even put your finger on.

butterflies swarmed your stomach, and if someone were to tell you you were looking at lando with stars in your eyes, you would have no doubt that it was true. because as he grinned at you once more, the lively groups of club-goers began to fade away leaving only a vignette of his figure.

you were experiencing every romantic cliche in the fucking book, all thanks to him.

you were unsure as to whether it was a minute or a hour before he was standing in front of you again, the scent of his aftershave almost taunting you as it enveloped you. lando was expertly clasping two vodka cokes in one hand and two shots of tequila in the other, sporting a lopsided smile.

“lando!” you groaned, actions betraying your scolding tone as you reached out to pluck the shot from his hand before grabbing your drink, careful not to cause lando to spill anything. 

the last thing you needed right now was to spill a drink on lando’s white shirt. the sight of the material slowly becoming see-through until it offered you a glimpse of his tan, toned skin was more than you would be able to handle. 

lando held up the plastic shot glass with a cheeky expression, a silent toast to god knows what, before he tipped the liquid down his throat. his face quickly soured, and he wasted no time in seeing off a large portion of his drink in an attempt to rid himself of the tequila flavour.

“woah, woah, slow down there,” you laughed, gently pushing the cup away from lando’s mouth. “got the whole night ahead of you.”

watercolour eyes dropped to glance at your hand, lando’s stare lingering even after you had pulled your hand back towards your body hastily, as though merely being in the proximity of his body was enough to burn. 

you would have thought it odd, if lando hadn’t immediately taken your hand into his larger one and stalked off towards the dance floor, gently tugging you along without a word. your mind told you that lando had simply felt the effects of his drink quicker than expected, and it took him a minute to realise that leading you to the dance floor was the mission he would give himself for the night.

flashbacks of the last time you were out clubbing with lando played in the back of your mind like an old movie, something you would put on in the background for comfort yet wouldn’t pay much attention to. 

one dance turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it you had been dancing with lando for the better part of an hour, both of you expertly adapting your moves to match the vibe of whatever song the dj decided to play next.

one of the many perks of attending clubs with formula one drivers was that there was an ever-flowing supply of alcohol. it was something you’d discovered after the first few times you had gone out with lando and his friends: you would finish your drink and before you could blink, someone had shoved a new one into your hand, the cup still marbled with cold condensation.

your current drink had been supplied by max, or maybe even carlos, a far too strong liquor mixed with nowhere near enough soda for your liking. your nose scrunched up at the taste, and lando laughed before gently plucking the cup from you, his fingers brushing against your own for a fleeting moment. 

a fire burned in the pit of your stomach, noticing that lando’s lips landed perfectly over the lipgloss mark you’d left moments ago. an indirect kiss. 

much like your own moments prior, lando’s face twisted up into a grimace at the taste, and he shook his head furiously.

“that's fucking awful,” he claimed, leaning down a little to shout his complaints into your ear. “whoever bought you that has shit taste.”

“says the man who bought a round of tequila earlier in the night.”

lando chuckled, mumbling a ‘fuck off’ that held more adoration than malice, in your humble opinion. like he had rehearsed it, lando smoothly palmed your drink off onto max before delicately taking hold of one of your wrists, twirling you around just like he had done a few nights ago.

possibly driven by a subconscious want to set right the events of your last night out, you repeated your own actions and spun lando under your arm in response.

lando’s grin was almost blinding, and he pulled you towards him, your hands still clasped by his as he moved your limbs around like the world’s worst puppetmaster.

you were convinced that, had he had enough room around him, he would have spun you both around until you were dizzy, a move he’d pulled many times when you were dancing together in one of your kitchen’s to pass the time it took to cook your meal. 

sadly, lando had to settle for flailing arms and uncoordinated shimmies, his priority making you smile rather than trying to look suave amongst the mass of bodies at your every turn. 

a few other drivers started to join your circle, handing you both more drinks as they tried to engage in miscellaneous conversation and playfully poked fun at yours and lando’s lack of coordination or apparent shame.

unable to control who stood where, thanks to the power of free will, you had been separated from lando, instead flanked by oscar and george whilst he was wrapped up in a conversation with max fewtrell.

thanks to his position across from you, lando was able to catch your eye, his brow quirked slightly in a silent question meant only for you to decipher. you nodded, a clear response to his wordless communication.

as though it were planned, you and lando began to leave. this was how your last french exit should have been; no longer were you alone and flustered, stumbling into the back of your uber with the desire to bash your head off of a brick wall.

no, this time you had lando’s hand in yours, the pad of his thumb brushing soft circles against the back of your hand as he expertly manoeuvred you both through the crowd, informing you that a car would already be there to take you back to your flat with him in tow. 

apologetic texts and goodbyes weren’t necessary this time around, if the loud, obnoxious whooping and whistling from pierre and charles were anything to go by. with their propensity for gossip, you were sure that every inhabitant in the club would be informed of your swift exit with lando within the hour. 

the ride home was filled with melodic laughter as lando made it his mission to unload every observation he’d made in the past few hours onto you. he’d taken particular interest in the argument two girls were having when he was waiting at the bar, and left no detail out as he recounted the whole event like some sort of one man show, his only audience you. 

the streetlights you passed caused a flickering glow to dance across lando’s features, and the momentary flashes of illumination caused lando to look otherworldly, all shadows and contours framed by deep curls.

lando was so caught up in his story that he was oblivious to your wonderstruck stare, completely unaware of the way you were drinking in every last inch of him, committing each miniscule detail to memory and storing it away for a rainy day. 

good, you thought. he’d only take the piss anyways.

the alcohol rendered you both a little unsteady on your feet, and you snorted a laugh as lando stumbled through your front door, catching his shoe on the tiny step that led into your apartment. 

whoever lived underneath you would likely be cursing your name right now, as neither you nor lando were too concerned about remaining quiet and light on your feet as you bumbled over to your bedroom. comfort was the only thing on your mind, though you made a mental note to push an apology letter underneath the poor soul’s door the next day. 

making himself at home, lando threw himself down onto your bed, the plush mattress eliciting a soft groan from him. his once closed eyes snapped open as you tossed a pair of his joggers at him, a pair he’d left at yours a few months ago (and that you may or may not have ‘forgotten’ to return to him.)

“i’ll get changed in a sec,” lando promised, sinking back into your sheets. “you can too. just, come on, lie down for a bit.”

lando delivered two quick pats to your bed, perhaps hoping it would prompt you to join him faster than you already would have. secretly, you were glad that he thought you needed convincing to lie down with him for a moment.

you pretended to consider it, eyes flitting over to where your makeup remover sat, before you gave in, mumbling an ‘okay’ as you clumsily removed your shoes and clambered onto the bed next to him.

the gap between you both was barely there. if you moved your hand just slightly, your fingers would brush against lando’s side. how easy it would be, just to grant yourself a slice of heaven for once.

lando’s voice brought you out of your trance. 

“when you left, last time…”

an unfinished question. lando was clearly attempting to seem nonchalant as he broached the topic that you had both been skirting around since it had happened, his eyes trained onto the thread of your duvet that he had busied his hands with. 

in that moment, you didn’t think you could ever lie to him, no matter how humiliating the truth was. 

“it got too much. y’hands on me and everything, i got too flustered. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself, i guess,” you admitted as an embarrassed smile played on your lips. 

a giggle trickled from lando’s mouth, prompting you to roll onto your side and face him with a raised brow.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothin’. just the fact you fancied me so much that you had to run away from me,” lando responded, grinning mischievously.

your response came in the form of a pillow hitting lando square in the face.

“oi!”

the pillow came flying back, but missed your body by roughly a couple of inches, the alcohol clearly impairing his usually decent aim. 

“missed me,” you taunted.

unexpectedly lando’s face lit up at your words, and he rolled closer to you, propping himself up onto an elbow so that his face was hovering over yours.

you swallowed thickly at the sudden movement, eyes darting across his face frantically as though his motives would be written into the curve of his smile.

“think there’s a saying about that,” lando mused, a hand trailing up your side so gently that you half believed you were imagining it. “missed me, missed me, now you’ve gotta kiss me, or something.”

and if that wasn’t a sign to press your lips to his, you weren’t sure what was.

you swallowed lando’s sound of surprise as your lips melded with his own, his mouth soft and warm as he more than returned your affections.

clearly not content with the level of control he possessed, lando briefly pulled back and swiped the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip before attaching his lips to your once more, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth and nipping at it with a smirk.

it was slow, and a little sloppy, a blend of tongue and teeth as you desperately tried to taste as much of each other as possible.

your grip on lando’s shirt was vice-like, as though you were scared he would disappear if let out of your hands for even a fleeting second.

“don’t worry, ‘m not going anywhere, pretty girl,” lando teased softly, punctuating his words with another kiss. “y’stuck with me.”

and suddenly, everything had become clear. it was always going to be you and lando, a love that would transcend a lifetime.

tags : @wintfleur @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy @ssararuffoni @tbsloneely @onecojg @basicchelsea

[insidekatmind]

Return~ Raphinha

You spent your Saturday night in a club, surrounded by music, lights, and the laughter of your friends. One drink followed another, and before long, a warm buzz settled over you, making everything feel a little lighter, a little hazier.

At some point, you slipped away to the restroom. In front of the mirror, your reflection caught your attention—cheeks flushed, eyes shimmering under the dim neon lights. You couldn't resist capturing the moment with a quick picture.

You intended to share it with your friends, but fate had other plans. Your finger, perhaps guided by something deeper than a simple mistake, tapped a name you thought you had long buried in your past.

Moments later, your phone buzzed.

"Where the hell are you?"

The message came from a ghost you weren’t ready to confront.

Raphinha, your ex.

A sudden notification snapped you out of your thoughts. The bass from the club pulsed through the walls, but your focus shifted entirely to the glow of your phone screen.

"Where the hell are you?"

The message stared back at you, and time seemed to slow. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat growing louder than the music outside. A chill ran down your spine, and cold sweat clung to your skin.

Your mind spiraled, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, fear, anger, longing. You thought you had buried those feelings, locked them away along with the memories of him.

But here you were again, standing at the crossroads of the past and the present.

And Raphinha was waiting for an answer.

"in the disco" you write

After a few seconds of silence, you received a reply:

"Which one? The one downtown."

The messages sent a shiver down your spine. You were starting to feel a bit dizzy due to the alcohol.

"Yes" you write back

"I'll be there in 10 minutes."

You felt like everything around you started spinning, and you leaned against the sink to support yourself.

"oh god what did I do" you laughs drunkenly

You were starting to feel sick from the alcohol, as you leaned over the sink and looked down. Your head felt like it was about to explode, and you were already questioning your decision to drink this much.

Suddenly, your phone lit up again:

"I'm here."

You quickly put your phone back in your pocket, and tried to fix your messy hair. The club was loud and the only thing that was louder was your fast heartbeat.

You left the bathroom and stepped out into the club again. The crowd of people became blurs, and you were barely able to see anything.

You pushed your way through the crowd, and stumbled out of the dance floor. Your vision was blurred and everything around you felt spinning. And then you saw him.

Raphinha, who was way more handsome than you remembered. He was sitting at the edge of the bar, wearing black pants and an unbuttoned red shirt. He seemed to sense your presence as he looked up and his gaze met yours. The air suddenly felt thick, and it was hard to catch your breath.

you approached him drunk. You stumbled over to him with an uneasy smile. Your head was spinning and you were having difficulty even standing up straight. Your ex looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"How much have you drank?" He asked, his voice holding a hint of irritation.

You stumbled over to him with an uneasy smile. Your head was spinning and you were having difficulty even standing up straight. Your ex looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"How much have you drank?" He asked, his voice holding a hint of irritation.

you laughed "I don't remember" you say drunk

Your ex sighed and shook his head. "You're a mess".

He stood up from the barstool and moved closer to you. He was so close now that you could feel his breath on your face.

"You can barley stand up straight" he muttered, his eyes searching your face.

you smile and hold on to him so you don't fall.

He looked surprised by your sudden gesture, but didn't push you away. He even wrapped an arm around your waist to support your weight.

"You really drank way too much" he said, his voice a bit softer now.

laugh and nod "maybe".

He looked at you for a moment longer, clearly amused by your drunken state.

"Come with me" he said, tightening his grip around your waist, as he began leading you towards the exit.

"where?" you say mischievously drunk .

Your ex glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"We'll see" he replied vaguely, guiding you towards the exit of the club.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, you shivered a little. The world was spinning and you stumbled a bit, leaning on him for support.

you started singing laughing. Raphinha chuckled at your drunken behavior. "You're in a great mood" he teased.

He continued to lead you to his car, his grip on your waist still firm. The streets were almost empty at this time of the night, and the only sound was your voice singing cheerfully.

Once you reached his car, he opened the passenger's side door for you.

"Get in" he said, gesturing for you to get inside the car.

you laugh and get in and fall into the car ass up and laugh. He chuckled as you stumbled into the car.

"Careful, you're really drunk" he muttered, trying to help you into the seat, but your awkward position made it difficult.

"God, you're going to be miserable in the morning" he said, shaking his head as he closed the car door and walked over to the driver's side.

Your ex glanced at you as he started the car and buckled up.

"You really think this is amusing?" he said, his tone slightly amused, but with a hint of annoyance.

you look at him amused "you've become even more handsome"

Raphinha looked at you for a moment, surprised by your comment. A slight blush crept up his cheeks.

"You're only saying that because you're drunk" he replied, but he couldn't help smiling faintly.

laugh drunk "you're hot anyway".He chuckled at your drunken honestly. "You really have no filter right now, do you?" he said, trying to keep a straight face.

He glanced at you again, his eyes looking you up and down. "You're not half bad yourself, even in this state" he teased back.

you laugh and look at him. Raphinha kept driving, occasionally glancing over at you as you continued to laugh.

"You're really enjoying yourself tonight, huh?" he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you smile and touch his leg. He's smile widened as he felt your hand on his leg. He glanced at you, a tingly feeling running through his body.

"You're being awfully touchy right now" he teased, his voice a bit huskier than usual.

you laugh and go over to him while he's driving and kiss his neck.Raphinha was clearly caught off guard by your sudden move. He let out a small gasp as you leaned over and kissed his neck.

"Hey, I'm driving!" he said, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

you hum and continue to kiss his neck, nibbling it every now and then. He let out a low moan as you continued to kiss and nip at his neck. It was hard for him to concentrate on the road with you so close to him.

"You're going to get us into an accident" he said, although his words lacked any real authority.

"stop the car" you whisper and continue kissing his neck

Your ex exhaled sharply as you continued to kiss his neck. "You're really testing my patience here" he said, his voice a bit strained. He signaled and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Alright, we're stopped" he said, looking at you with smoldering eyes.

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face you. He looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and desire.

"You're really playing with fire here" he said, his voice low and raspy.

you smile and wanted to get closer but you had your seat belt on. Raphinha chuckled as he watched you struggle to get closer to him with your seat belt still on.

"You're a mess" he teased, his eyes roaming over your body. "Having some trouble there?"

"yes it's blocking me" you huff annoyed.

Your ex smirked at your frustrated expression. "Well, unbuckling your seat belt would solve that problem" he said, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned a bit closer to you, his eyes dark with desire.

"But then again, I wouldn't mind you being tied up a little bit..." he continued, his voice lowering to a sultry tone.

you move trying to go to him "untie it please". He chuckled as he watched you struggling to reach him. He reached over and unbuckled the seat belt, allowing you to move closer.

"There you go, much better" he said, as you moved closer to him.

You smile and straddle him.Raphinha groaned as you straddled him, his eyes darkening with desire. His hands instinctively moved to your hips, holding you in place.

"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" he said, his voice hoarse with need.

"I missed being on top of you" you say touching his shoulders softly.

His breath hitched as you spoke, your words stirring up a mix of pleasure and torment within him. His grip on your hips tightened.

"I've missed it too" he admitted, his eyes roaming over your body.

You smile and kiss his neck.Your ex hummed in pleasure as you kissed his neck, his body responding to your touch. He ran a hand up your back, pulling you closer to him.

"God, you're driving me insane" he groaned, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Raphi" you mutter using the nickname you gave him when you were together.

Raphinha inhaled sharply as you spoke his nickname. A wave of nostalgic emotions washed over him, and he tightened his grip on you subconsciously.

"You know I can't resist you when you call me that" he said, his voice low and raw with yearning.

you smile and hug him "why did we break up?" you mutter sadly.

His expression sobered as you brought up the painful subject. He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

"It's complicated" he said, his voice quiet and low. He pulled back a bit so he could look at you properly. "There were a lot of things happening... we just weren't good for each other, you know?"

Your ex's expression sobered as you brought up the painful subject. He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

"It's complicated" he said, his voice quiet and low. He pulled back a bit so he could look at you properly. "There were a lot of things happening... we just weren't good for each other, you know?"

you look at him sadly and get off his lap and sit back down

His eyes followed you as you moved back to your seat, a mix of guilt and sadness in his expression. He knew this subject was painful for you both.

He let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his hair again. "I never wanted us to break up" he said, his voice quiet. "But sometimes things just don't work out, no matter how much you want them to."

"Do you want me to go on?" you whisper without looking at him

Raphinha's heart wrenched slightly as he heard the vulnerability in your voice. He knew this conversation was difficult for you, but he also knew that you needed this closure.

He reached out and took your hand gently, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. "I want you to do whatever you need to" he said softly. "If you need to leave, then leave. But if you want to talk, then let's talk. I owe you that much."

"I don't want to leave I miss you Raphi. But if you don't want me I understand"

Your ex's heart ached as he heard your words. He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked on yours.

"I miss you too" he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. "I never stopped missing you."

He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing as if he was struggling to find the right words.

"It's not that I don't want you. It's just..." he took a deep breath, "it's complicated. I don't know if it would actually work between us again."

"Don't you want to try again?" you whisper sadly

His eyes softened as he looked at you, his heart in turmoil. He wanted to try again; he wanted to fix things between you both. But there was still that nagging doubt in his mind.

"Of course I want to try again" he said, his voice a low, tortured whisper. "But what if we just end up hurting each other again? I don't want to put either of us through that pain again."

you bite your lip to keep from crying and look out the window.Your ex noticed the way you looked away, trying to hide your emotions. He released your hand and reached up to gently turn your head back towards him.

"Look at me" he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Please, don't cry. I can't bear to see you like this."

"I want to go back to the disco with my friends" you whisper without looking at him.

His expression fell as you spoke, his heart clenching at the thought of you leaving. He gently took your chin, making you look at him.

"You really want to go back?" he asked, a hint of pleading in his voice.

you looked at him with tears in your eyes "what am I left to do". Your ex's heart shattered as he watched tears stream down your face. He cursed his own inability to give you what you both needed.

He gently brushed your tears away with his thumb and leaned closer to you. "You deserve so much better than this. Better than me" he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

you bite your lip and look away.Raphinha's heart ached at your attempt to hold back tears. He hated seeing you like this, torn apart by the same painful emotions he was feeling.

He reached out, gently cupping your face and turning it back towards him. "Please, don’t cry" he whispered, his eyes searching yours.

"Please don't leave me again" you whisper sadly.

His heart dropped as he heard your whispered plea. Memories of the pain he had caused you flashed in his mind, making his heart ache with remorse.

He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, his voice cracking as he spoke. "I don't want to leave you. I never wanted to leave you. But I don't know if I'm good for you..."

you sigh and look at him "just tell me if there is a possibility between us otherwise I'll move on" you whisper.

Your ex's heart squeezed painfully as he heard your ultimatum. He was torn between his desire to try again and his fear of causing you more hurt.

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them for a moment before looking back at you.

"There is a possibility" he said, his voice low and honest. "I can't deny that I still have feelings for you. But I can't promise that we won't hurt each other again. I don't know if I'm capable of giving you what you need."

"I'd rather try again a thousand times with you than move on" you whisper.

His heart clenched at your words, the sincerity in your voice piercing through his defenses.

He let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of emotions.

"I wish I could promise that I'll never hurt you again" he said, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "But I don't know if I can stop myself from messing things up. I don't want to see you broken again."

"Raphi stop pushing me away you hurt me even more like this" you whisper

Your ex's expression tightened as you spoke, the truth in your word cutting straight through his heart.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to control the maelstrom of emotions inside him. Then, he reached out and gently took your hand in his.

"I'm not trying to push you away" he said, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "I'm just... I'm scared, okay? I'm scared of causing you pain again."

He continued looking at you, his eyes full of raw emotion.

"I want to give us another chance, I do" he said, his voice low and honest. "But the thought of hurting you again... it terrifies me."

"Then choose. Shall we try again or not?" you say looking at him

Raphinha's heart ached at your ultimatum. He wanted to try again, desperately. But the fear of causing you more pain was holding him back.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, his expression showing his internal struggle.

"I... I want to try again" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Fear and hope warring in his heart. "But I need you to understand that I can't promise it'll be easy."

You nod and hug him. Your ex's breath caught in his throat as you reached out and hugged him. He felt a mix of relief, gratitude, and love pour over him.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

"I missed this" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I missed you."

"me too" you whisper, holding him tighter. His buried his face in your neck, relishing the feel of you in his arms. His breaths were ragged, a mix of emotion and relief.

"I've been such an idiot" he said, his voice muffled against your skin. "I should never have let you go."

"we're here now" you whisper and kiss him

Raohinha heart thundered in his chest as you kissed him. He pulled you closer, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

He let out a low groan, his lips moving against yours hungrily. "I've missed you so much" he muttered between kisses.

[holyblonded]

could we maybe see estrella and ale are both at international camp and they haven’t been able to speak because of the time difference and it’s really taking a toll on estrella, maybe her abandonment issues flare up and her and ale have a whole moment when they get back?

— estrella doesn’t even realize how much it’s affecting her at first. she’s at camp with the uswnt, surrounded by her teammates, laughing and training hard, but there’s this constant, gnawing feeling in her chest that she can’t shake. normally, ale is just a call away. normally, she gets a goodnight text or a quick “you’re doing amazing” in the mornings. but the time zones between the u.s. and europe are brutal, and ale is away with spain, and estrella’s messages have been going unanswered more often than not.

— she tells herself it’s fine. ale is busy, she’s busy, it’s just camp, it’s normal. but every unanswered text, every missed call, every time she opens her phone and sees no new notifications—it chips away at her. it stirs up old fears she thought she buried.

— by the end of the week, estrella is short-tempered and quieter than usual. she picks at her food, snaps a little too easily at her teammates, shuts down when they try to pull her out of it. trinity notices first, then mal, then even sonnet quietly checks in. estrella just shakes her head, says she’s tired. but inside she’s spiraling.

— when she finally gets back to barcelona, she’s holding it together by a thread. she drags her bag into the house, drops it in the hallway, and just stands there. everything feels wrong. empty.

— ale comes around the corner with a huge smile, ready to wrap estrella in a hug, but estrella flinches back without meaning to. ale freezes, confused, hurt flashing across her face.

— “mi vida?” ale says gently, reaching out again.

— that’s all it takes. estrella bursts into tears, big, heaving sobs that make her whole body shake. she doesn’t even know what she’s saying at first, just cries into her hands, mumbling about how she missed ale, how she thought she forgot about her, how she tried to be fine but she wasn’t.

— ale immediately pulls her in, sitting them both down on the floor right there, estrella curled into her lap like a little kid. she rocks her gently, stroking her hair, whispering over and over “i’m here, i’m here, i’m so sorry, mi amor, i’m here.”

— once estrella’s breathing evens out, ale pulls back just enough to wipe her face and says, “you’re allowed to miss me. you’re allowed to need me. i’m never going anywhere, estrella. never. even when we can’t talk for a few days. even when i’m across the world. you’re mine. i’m yours. always.”

— estrella clutches ale’s shirt in her fists and hides her face again, overwhelmed but comforted. she mumbles “i thought i was being stupid” and ale kisses the top of her head and says “you’re not stupid. you’re the bravest girl i know.”

— they stay like that for a long time, just holding each other. later, when olga comes home and finds them on the floor, she doesn’t even ask. she just quietly joins them, wrapping herself around both of them, and estrella finally feels that aching, scared part of her settle.

[kk-iki]

Hey ,just read your piece about casual misogyny in the cod fandom and I am so happy that I am finding people talking about this especially the subtle misogyny that most dont even notice or ignore .I also didnt notice some of it when I was new in this fandom ,because it wasnt that obvious and I thought it may only be some fics .But recently, it amplified to very rampant misogyny ,probably because it isnt called it out often and just buried . I feel like we can /are being influenced just reading it and imagine young impressionable fans .

The saddest part to me is that women are perpetuating this and If one is called out ,they will hit them with "fiction excuse" .

Dont get me started on the subtle pe*dophilia/ grooming fetishization ,with the older bf bs / reader being childish to a weird extent .It is not even subtle anymore ,I think I saw a fic with reader being tagged as barely legal .Does this seem like normal behavior?

It reminds me of what you said in your post ,a lot are writing for the male gaze and I am starting to understand why many fans left the fandom .

my baby, you have no idea how happy it made me to receive this ask. i woke up this morning and saw the notification, and i was immediately overwhelmed with a deep sense of hope. the fact that there are other people noticing these things and being able to recognize them is such good news to me.

i truly, honestly wish people talked more about this. i know that @femmemichaelis has a couple commentary pieces on this that are just so beautifully put. even so, it’s absolutely heartbreaking that most of the people who claim to be for women’s rights and feminism are the ones writing these things.

“i feel like we can [be]/are influenced just [by] reading it.”

this is what i’ve been saying for so long, and i’m so glad you said this. the ‘meanie!simon’ tag is the bane of my fucking existence. regardless of what people think, fiction does affect reality. normalizing this behavior and hate in fiction and media only serves as a stepping stone to keep it afloat in society.

writers in this fandom will say they’re sick and tired of how women have been treated by men in today’s world, then turn around and write their favorite male characters doing the exact same thing they condemn when it’s convenient—what example of what women enjoy do you think thats setting for the men you claim to want to see you as more than an unfeeling sex machine?

personally, i believe that people should never be censored nor do i feel like writing things as coping mechanisms should be seen as inherently wrong. i myself occasionally write darker subject matter—with an emphasis on the fact that it is dark and shouldn’t be glorified—and i can understand a small number of writers in the fandom who do the same.

however, i also believe that some of the things being written in this fandom toe the line with startling precariousness, and i also believe that there is a big difference between coping and romanticizing.

unfortunately, we see so much of the latter in the way the characters are happily tagged as sexist and toxic, in the way the authors will giggle flippantly about these very real problems because they’re being viewed through a fictional lens, in the way nobody else seems willing to say a thing about it—whether that’s out of fear of disrupting the status quo or out of agreement, i’m not sure. and i honestly can’t tell which is worse.

“i think i saw a reader being tagged as barely legal. does this seem like normal behavior?”

absolutely not, and you should say it. i feel like this fandom has taken the ‘controversially younger gf’ joke a little too seriously, but i’ll get jumped if i say that too loudly. there’s a difference between an age gap (which i love and am guilty of indulging in when it’s written well) and borderline pedophilia. it’s truly sickening and i wish more people noticed it.

so many of these fics are for the male gaze. so why is it that it’s primarily women who read and enjoy them? in the current state of the world, what does that say about where feminism is headed?

i’m tired of being nice about it. writers in this fandom are extremely fucking guilty of performative activism. it’s part of why i’m ashamed to identify with it in the first place. and it’s people like you, dear non, that give me at least a little more hope for this desolate ass wasteland of patriarchy’s iron grip that we’ve become.

thank you so very much for sending in this ask, pretty baby. you were absolutely right on all counts and i am so overjoyed that you see what i do. i love you forever and ever and i truly hope that we’ll continue to move forward in this fandom instead of recessing backward.

[marsplastic13]

'Complicated' (part 6) - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn. Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names) Genre: modern AU, slow burn word count: 4.8k notes: this is one of my favorite parts, let me know if you like it!!

@millercontracting @coldmermaidhologram @syd649

Kaz stepped out of the shower feeling drained, both physically and emotionally. He collapsed onto the bed, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and memories from the evening with y/n. The incessant vibrations of his phone interrupted his attempt to find peace.

With a heavy sigh, he checked the notifications. Fifteen messages from y/n, three from Jesper, and one from Inej wishing him goodnight. Guilt twisted in his gut; he had abruptly left y/n's house, leaving behind a mess of emotions and unanswered questions.

Their attempt at intimacy had started with good intentions. Kaz had tried his best, using his hands to pleasure y/n as they had discussed. He felt her respond, melting under his touch, her moans guiding him in the right direction. y/n's encouragement spurred him on, reinforcing that he was making her feel alive and desired.

But then came the moment when she asked him to go further, to insert a finger. Panic seized Kaz like a vice. The sensations overwhelmed him, dredging up memories he had tried to bury. Wet, sticky, drowning—those feelings crashed over him, triggering a panic attack he hadn't experienced in months.

y/n had tried to reach him, her voice a lifeline in the chaos, but Kaz couldn't hear her. In a haze of fear and confusion, he fled, escaping from the situation and from himself.

Lying on the bed now, thoughts of Inej haunted him. He imagined her peacefully wishing him goodnight, unaware of the turmoil he was facing. They were drifting apart, he realized sadly, their connection strained by his own struggles and insecurities. The thought of their upcoming reunion offered a flicker of hope, a chance to mend what felt broken.

The text from y/n flashed on Kaz's screen like a warning signal. 'I swear I'm coming to your house if you don't answer me' it read. Kaz stared at it, torn between the desire to explain himself and the overwhelming urge to be left alone. He knew y/n was worried, but he couldn't face anyone right now, not even her.

In an attempt to ease her concern without having to engage in conversation, Kaz transferred the money he forgot to give her, hoping it would serve as a reassurance that he was alright and prompt her to drop the matter. But instead of quieting her, his phone immediately lit up with an incoming call from her.

Reluctantly, he answered. "Yeah?"

"Kaz, are you okay?" y/n's voice was laced with genuine worry, cutting through his defenses.

"Yes, I'm better now," he replied softly, hoping to convey that he wasn't in immediate danger.

"You could've answered me," she chided gently, her concern palpable. "I was worried sick."

"You shouldn't have been," Kaz deflected, unable to bear the weight of her concern.

"Are you kidding? You left my house completely out of yourself. I thought you drove straight into a tree," she confessed, her worry turning into frustration.

Kaz winced at the image she painted. Driving in his state had indeed been reckless, a fact he couldn't deny. "Well, I didn't," he murmured, feeling a pang of guilt.

"I want to sleep now," Kaz added hastily, hoping to end the conversation before it delved further into his vulnerabilities.

He heard y/n sigh heavily on the other end. "Go fuck yourself, Kaz," she retorted softly, a mix of exasperation and affection in her voice.

Kaz closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the day bearing down on him.

***

The tension from the past few days had been building, and now he found himself standing outside y/n's door, late at night, unsure of what to expect. He knocked tentatively, almost hoping she wouldn't answer, but when she did, his heart sank a little.

y/n opened the door, wearing only panties and a crop top, looking tired but still striking. Her casual demeanor contrasted sharply with Kaz's turmoil. "I was about to smoke weed and watch House, what the fuck do you want?" she greeted him bluntly.

Kaz hesitated, then slowly pulled some cash from his pocket and handed it to her. She glanced at it, then back at him. "She's coming tomorrow, right?" she asked, her tone implying she already knew the answer.

It was Kaz's turn to hesitate. "I really like House," he blurted out awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

y/n sighed and accepted the money, stepping aside to let him in. The room was almost completely dark. They both understood the unspoken rule—if she didn't take the money, their interaction would mean something entirely different. In the dim light, Kaz undressed and climbed into bed, feeling the unsettling mix of familiarity and detachment.

y/n sat on the desk, rolling a blunt with practiced ease. Kaz observed her silently, struck by how natural she seemed in this setting. She tossed him the tablet. "The first drag is to share or it's ten years of bad sex," she said with a smirk as she lit it.

"You just made that up," Kaz chuckled. y/n inhaled deeply, then leaned in to blow the smoke into his mouth, their lips almost touching. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment before exhaling slowly.

They settled into bed—Kaz on his back with the tablet balanced on his stomach, and y/n nestled beside him, her head on his shoulder and a leg draped over his. He placed a hand on her thigh, the intimacy of the touch not lost on either of them. As she passed the blunt between them, Kaz squeezed her thigh gently each time, a silent acknowledgment of gratitude.

They watched the episode in comfortable silence, interrupted only by Kaz's occasional comments about how the actor didn’t know how to really use a cane. "Should I light another one?" y/n asked when the first blunt was finished. Kaz nodded, watching her move gracefully around the room. He couldn't help but admire how effortlessly sexy she was, even in such mundane actions.

When y/n blew the first drag into his mouth again, Kaz realized he had seen others do it and found it incredibly alluring. Another thing he was experiencing for the first time with her.

They continued sharing the blunt and watching the show until Kaz's thoughts turned impulsive. "I don't know how to put on a condom," he blurted out, his mind clouded by the effects of the weed. y/n seemed unfazed by his confession.

"Do you think you'll have sex?" she asked casually, her eyes still fixed on the tablet.

"No, it's still too soon," Kaz replied quickly.

"Do you want me to teach you?" she offered, her tone matter-of-fact.

"Yes," Kaz admitted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and determination. He wasn't sure if Inej knew how to do it, but he wanted to be prepared, or at least have a plausible excuse for being here.

"Great, but first, kill this," y/n said, passing him the blunt with the last two drags. "It's easier than you think."

Hesitantly, Kaz inhaled, then leaned in to blow the smoke into her mouth, feeling a surge of heat at the intimate gesture.

"So, show me," y/n prompted, her usual playful grin teasing Kaz's nerves. He frowned for a moment, then reluctantly looked down at his lap.

"Where do you put a condom, Kaz?" she asked, her tone teasing yet instructive.

Feeling somewhat foolish, Kaz hesitated. "I... you know I won't do that," he muttered, suddenly aware of his boundaries. Some things should remain between him and Inej, even if he was stoned enough to forget that.

"I know, I was testing my luck," y/n replied nonchalantly, getting up to retrieve a box from a drawer. She tossed vibrators and dildos onto the bed, making Kaz regret his request even more. "Choose one that's most similar," she instructed, pulling out a handful of condoms from another drawer.

Grateful for the darkness that hid his embarrassment, Kaz picked one without much thought. y/n raised an eyebrow. "Come on, baby, I felt it, you're being modest," she teased.

"Why do you always have to make things harder for me?" Kaz sighed, looking up at her with a mixture of exasperation and affection.

"Do you hear yourself? You serve them on a silver platter," she laughed. y/n slipped into teaching mode, and Kaz found himself oddly satisfied with his progress, despite the awkwardness of the situation. "Don't get cocky, darling. You won't be this relaxed when you're about to have sex for the first time, and real skin is much slippery," she warned, stuffing a handful of condoms into the pocket of his jacket. "Try them out at home to find the right fit."

"Damn, weed makes me so horny," she commented, settling back onto the bed beside him. "And so wet, I—"

"y/n, oversharing," Kaz interjected, amused yet also caught off guard by her candidness.

"Right, sorry," she smirked knowingly. "Do you ever touch yourself?"

Surprisingly, Kaz didn't feel as embarrassed as he thought he would, thanks to the weed. "Rarely. Sometimes even my own touch bothers me."

"When was the last time?" y/n inquired, her eyes challenging him with playful curiosity.

"Um, I think that time we kissed for three hours," Kaz admitted with a slight flush creeping into his cheeks.

"Did you think of me?" y/n's question was direct, her eyes searching his for an honest answer.

Kaz's hesitation was enough to let her know the answer. His brain seemed to have memorized every whisper and moan, replaying them with absurd accuracy.

"I thought about you too," y/n confessed with a smile that suggested she found their connection intriguing.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Kaz chuckled softly. "Did you, now?"

"I'm not embarrassed, Kaz. You know that," she laughed softly, moving closer to him.

"Do you think about your clients often?" he asked, half-serious, half-teasing as he pulled her into his lap.

"Some of them," she replied coyly, her face dangerously close to his.

"Kaz, stop looking at me like that. Your girlfriend is coming," y/n whispered, her lips brushing against his teasingly.

"I paid you. I'm just a client," Kaz replied, trying to maintain a distance that felt increasingly fragile.

"Then why are you hesitating?" y/n countered softly, her gaze searching for him.

"I just wanted to look at you," Kaz murmured truthfully, his resolve wavering.

"Kaz, are you about to tell me I'm beautiful?" she teased with a smirk.

"No," Kaz insisted, his voice firm yet tinged with uncertainty, he definitely was. "I want to try it again. I want to..." He paused, sighing deeply as he struggled to articulate his desire. "To get you off."

"Baby, don't ask me things hoping I'll refuse," y/n replied with a playful tap on his nose. "I'm working right now. I can't say no."

"I want to," Kaz reiterated more firmly this time, his resolve clear despite the nerves fluttering in his stomach. He knew this was crossing a line, pushing their arrangement into uncharted territory. Yet, something in him yearned to explore further, to delve into the intimacy they had danced around for so long.

Their eyes met in the dimly lit room, each silently acknowledging the unspoken tension that crackled between them. y/n regarded him with a mix of curiosity and amusement, as if testing his resolve. Kaz held her gaze, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and fear.

"Kaz," she began softly, her tone taking on a more serious note, "you know the rules. This isn't just about you anymore."

He nodded, acknowledging her point. The boundaries were clear—they were here because of an arrangement, a transaction. Yet, the air around them was thick with unspoken desires and uncharted territories.

"But," she continued, her voice lowering to a whisper, "if you're sure..."

"I'm sure," Kaz interrupted, his voice steady now. He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I want to."

y/n hesitated, her eyes searching his face for any hint of doubt. Finding none, she nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Okay," she murmured, almost to herself as if affirming the decision.

Without further hesitation, Kaz closed the distance between their lips, tasting the familiar hint of cherries. This time, his touch was confident, tracing paths along her body with purpose. Her satisfied sounds were like music to him, and he found himself reveling in the moment.

Kaz's fingers moved with increasing determination, feeling her arousal through the fabric of her panties. She grew restless under his touch, prompting Kaz to gather his courage. He slid a finger inside gently, feeling her react with a gratifying gasp. He wished he had a video of how she threw her head back—it would be the only porn he'd willingly watch.

Taking his time to adjust to the sensation, Kaz met y/n's desire with each movement. "Another one, please," she requested breathlessly, her eyes filled with longing.

"Kaz, love, you're driving me crazy," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Go faster."

Lost in her responsiveness, Kaz kissed her deeply, savoring her moans. y/n interrupted their kiss intermittently, praising him, asking for more. He enjoyed how demanding she was, each demand boosting his confidence.

"I'm so close, love. Just for you," she gasped, her body tensing under his touch. "Come for me, darling," Kaz whispered, the words slipping past his lips with a mix of urgency and tenderness. He watched as y/n's eyes opened in surprise, a fleeting moment of vulnerability passing between them before her body tensed under his touch. She closed her eyes again, surrendering to the sensations he was coaxing from her.

Kaz felt a surge of pride and relief as he felt her body relax against his, the tension melting away in the aftermath of her climax. He pressed his lips gently against her temple, savoring the closeness and the intimacy of the moment they had shared.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, mindful of her sensitivity.

Kaz lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he processed what had just happened. He felt a mix of exhilaration and unease, realizing how far he had pushed their boundaries tonight. As much as he wanted to convince himself it was just business, he couldn't ignore the undeniable connection they shared.

"You're too sweet for me," she murmured between heavy breaths, trying to steady herself. "I want to ruin you," she added, her fingers tracing his lips with a mischievous smile.

Kaz was surprised, he had no idea what she meant, but she distracted him right after. "Are you hungry?"

Kaz nodded. Smoking had made him really hungry. "I can make noodles if you want," she said. "I'm starving."

"Now?" he frowned, still feeling the remnants of their earlier intimacy.

"Yes, now, come on," she got up and changed into a fresh pair of underwear, keeping the crop top.

"I really need a minute to—"

"No one is around, let's go."

"I'm half naked."

"Me too," she said with a wink, her casualness making him smile despite himself. 

In the kitchen, y/n assured him that she didn't need help and started moving between cupboards and stoves. Kaz leaned back in his chair, watching her with a mix of curiosity and admiration. She moved with ease, her confidence captivating him.

"How hungry are you?" he asked, noticing the large quantity of things she was cutting. She smiled, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"You'll see."

Kaz felt like his eyes were glued to her, following every movement she made in the kitchen. As y/n moved between the cupboards and stoves, her graceful motions and focused demeanor captivated him. He watched as she effortlessly reached for ingredients.

When y/n tried to reach the upper shelf of the cupboard, Kaz noticed her struggling despite standing on her toes. Instinctively, he got up to help her, feeling a rush of protective instinct.

“Wait, I’ll take it. What do you need?” His voice was softer than usual, a stark contrast to his usual guarded demeanor. He moved behind her, and she gestured toward a red box on the top shelf. Leaning in, Kaz’s chest pressed lightly against her back, and he placed a hand on her waist as he reached for the box.

Their proximity caused a strange flutter in Kaz’s chest. He handed her the box, but instead of moving away immediately, he lingered, studying her reaction. y/n turned to look at him, her expression unreadable, which both intrigued and disarmed him.

"Why do you have to be such a tease?"

"What did I do?" he asked, genuinely confused, as he went back to his chair. y/n shook her head, going back to her pots.

Finally, she placed two plates in front of them, sitting on his lap. "There are three more chairs," he observed half annoyed, but curling an arm around her waist anyway.

“Just wait,” she replied with a playful glint in her eye. “Is it good?”

Kaz couldn't contain a satisfied hum when he started eating. It was really, really good. Or maybe it was just 3 am, and he was stoned and he could still smell the orgasm he made her reach on her skin. Everything felt surreal and intensely vivid.

A few minutes later, they started hearing noises, and her three roommates peeked into the kitchen. Kaz was really grateful that she was sitting on him, covering him up a bit. 

"Did you make noodles?" asked roommate one, with sleepy eyes, already grabbing a plate.

"Yes, but you can have them only if you promise to behave," said y/n amused.

"I promise," repeated the girls all together.

“So, what’s going on with you two?” another roommate asked, her curiosity clear despite her sleepy demeanor.

“Nothing,” y/n shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, like we don’t know your after-sex face,” one of the roommates teased, causing Kaz to nearly choke on his food.

"Nothing happened," she insisted, laughing at the absurdity.

"y/n, it's 3 am, you made noodles that you're actually eating, and you are fucking loud," added roommate three.

"You promised to behave," y/n scolded them, but there was no real anger in her voice.

Kaz hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth of her body against his. The girls kept their playful banter going, and for the first time in a long while, Kaz started to feel weirdly at ease. He couldn't believe he was with four prostitutes, all half naked, himself included, eating and kind of enjoying himself.

"So Kaz," asked roommate one, "is it true that you have a job shadier than ours?"

A small laugh escaped his lips as he leaned back in the chair, dragging y/n back with him. "You could say that," he admitted, making them giggle, "but you know, I heard some strange things staying here, so maybe the shadiness is equal."

"Are you still hungry?" asked y/n softly, looking at his empty plate.

"Maybe," he said, involuntarily gazing at her lips. 

y/n got up to fill his plate again, and the girls started laughing at the face he made. "y/n, you should make him promise to behave too," laughed roommate two.

"Shut up," she retorted, going back to his lap.

Kaz wrapped his arms around her again, feeling a sense of belonging he hadn't expected. The strange, comforting domesticity of the moment made him realize how starved he was for simple human connection, for a feeling of being part of something, even if just for a fleeting night.

As the conversation flowed and the banter between y/n and her roommates continued, Kaz found himself drawn into their playful teasing and laughter.

"Did she tell you about her new boyfriend?" Roommate three smirked mischievously, glancing at y/n with a knowing look.

"No, she didn't," Kaz replied, eyeing y/n curiously and poking her side lightly.

"So, you are embarrassed about him," Roommate one chimed in triumphantly, raising an eyebrow at y/n.

"I'm not!" y/n protested half-heartedly, a playful glint in her eyes.

"He's 50," Roommate two blurted out suddenly, causing Kaz to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"What?" Kaz turned to y/n, his curiosity piqued.

"He still didn't sleep with her because he's afraid she's going to give him a heart attack," Roommate three added with a chuckle, earning a playful swat from y/n.

"She told him she's a pilates instructor," Roommate one added with a grin.

"Girls, come on," y/n laughed along with them, "he's cute."

"Where did you even find him?" Kaz asked, genuinely curious now, his earlier worries about Inej momentarily forgotten in the midst of their light-hearted banter.

"I'm not telling you," y/n replied coyly, leaning back against Kaz's chest, her demeanor relaxed and carefree. "I'm not telling anyone anything, you bunch of snakes."

The teasing continued into the early hours of the morning, their laughter filling the kitchen and easing the tension that had hung in the air earlier. Kaz found himself caught up in their laughs, enjoying the distraction and the genuine warmth of y/n and her roommates.

They talked and joked until 6 am, their conversation ranging from light-hearted gossip to shared stories and playful teasing. Despite the late hour, Kaz didn’t realize he hadn't once thought about his girlfriend during their time together.

As exhaustion finally caught up with them, Kaz found himself drifting off to sleep in y/n's bed, his head nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck. 

He was jolted awake by the insistent buzzing of his phone two hours later. Inej. Inej would be arriving in a few hours. What the fuck was he doing?

“Turn it off,” whined y/n beside him, her voice thick with sleep.

He glanced at the screen, seeing he had already missed two calls from her. Panic surged through him as he quickly disentangled himself from y/n. 

“Hi, Kaz. Did I wake you?” asked Inej as soon as he answered.

“Yeah, am I late? Are you already here?” he asked, worried.

“No,” she laughed, “I was supposed to arrive in a few hours. Did you forget?” Her laugh was meant to lighten the mood, but Kaz couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.

“Nej, what do you mean ‘supposed to’?”

Inej hesitated. “Something came up. I can’t come this week.”

“Something came up? You promised,” he said, unable to hide his hurt.

“I know, but Kaz, I might have a lead about some slavers. I can’t back out from that.”

Kaz knew she was right, but he couldn’t help feeling a wave of frustration and disappointment. “You could’ve told me sooner,” he said harshly.

“I knew it on my way to the airport,” she admitted.

“You’re always ready to leave me waiting like an idiot,” he snapped before he could stop himself.

“Excuse me? Are you mad at me? You know this is important.”

“Well, for me, it was important seeing you today.”

“I have to go, Kaz. Have a nice day.”

Kaz sighed heavily, staring at the phone in disbelief. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. Defeated, he sat back on the bed, feeling a strange sense of relief mingled with guilt.

“She’s not coming?” asked y/n without opening her eyes, her voice still sleepy.

“No, she’s not,” he admitted quietly.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she murmured, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Thanks,” Kaz replied, feeling unsure of what the right thing to do was. “I had the whole day planned,” he chuckled dryly, “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not. How could you know?”

“And you? Plans?” he asked, shifting the conversation to y/n, perfectly aware of the risks.

“Just going to the gym, cleaning my room, nothing important. I’m off from work. Can you get my birth control pill? It’s in the nightstand.”

Kaz got up and fetched the small pill from the blister pack. y/n stuck out her tongue, and he carefully placed it on it, a small smile forming on his lips at the playful gesture.

“Can we sleep a few more hours?” Kaz asked, exhausted from the sleepless night and the heavy disappointment.

“Of course, love. Come here.”

Kaz crawled back into bed, finding comfort in her warmth. As he settled down, he realized he felt less guilty about his time with y/n. The ache of Inej’s absence still lingered, but in y/n's arms, he found a fleeting solace. He closed his eyes, hoping to escape into sleep and away from the turmoil of his emotions.

They slept until the early hours of the afternoon, the haze of the night lingering as Kaz dropped y/n off at the gym. His mind was a whirl of thoughts as he drove to meet Jesper. He needed to vent about Inej, about everything, and Jesper was always a willing ear.

Jesper was in a good mood, and luckily, he didn't mention y/n. Kaz spent the next hour unloading his frustrations about Inej, feeling abandoned by her constant absence. Inej didn't call, didn't text, too caught up in whatever she was doing. Kaz really wanted to get drunk, but he had to work that night. The boss wanted him to close some deals, and he couldn't afford to mess up.

As he tried to focus on organizing his papers, Kaz's mind kept drifting back to the previous night. How surreal and good it had been. y/n's friends were actually funny, all a bit deranged. He suspected that if he hadn't been there, their conversation would have escalated to something else pretty quickly.

y/n was always in his mind, and he knew that it was wrong, that they were blurring the boundaries of their relationship too much, but Kaz couldn't help but feel less lonely than he had ever been in his entire life. He tried to remind himself that he paid her for that time together, but the connection was undeniable. If she didn't think that they were at least friends, she was an Oscar-deserving actress.

As if y/n read his mind, she sent him a picture. Apparently, she was watching the last episode of their show. His show, he corrected himself, there was no 'them.' Kaz replied with a picture of his messy desk.

‘Poor baby, working late?’ she wrote back.

He wondered if she texted this often even with other clients, but his mind refused to acknowledge the possibility.

‘Luckily I slept all morning,’ he replied.

‘Did you enjoy snoring in my ear?’

‘Very much.’

‘I’ll tape your mouth shut next time.’

Kaz skipped a beat reading ‘next time.’ They were playing with each other, but he was the one who had something to lose. His relationship was at stake, and Inej's constant distance didn't help. He never had a problem with the distance in their relationship until he found out how much he liked having someone close. At the start, he was almost grateful that Inej was never there—fewer occasions to let her see how inadequate he was to fit the boyfriend role. He used to thank Ghezen that she decided to stay with him anyway.

But now that he discovered that he could be more, more present, closer, Kaz was starting to worry about the distance between them. Inej had always been the girl he loved, the only one he had ever fallen for. It had always been them, long before deciding to have an official relationship. y/n was making him discover that he was so much more, that his limits could be pushed further than he thought, and that for doing it, he needed to have someone close.

Kaz felt a surge of guilt as he reflected on this. How could he have allowed things to get so complicated? Inej had been his rock, his constant in a world full of chaos. She was the girl who knew his darkest secrets and still chose to love him. Yet, here he was, entangled with someone else who made him feel alive in ways he never knew were possible.

The realization was unsettling. Kaz prided himself on being in control, on keeping his emotions in check. But with y/n, everything was different. She brought out a side of him that he had buried long ago, a side that craved closeness and connection. He couldn't deny that their time together was more than just a transaction. It was real, and it scared him.

Kaz wondered if Inej sensed the change in him. She was perceptive, often seeing through his facades with ease. The thought of her finding out about y/n sent a chill down his spine. How could he explain that he needed someone else to discover parts of himself he didn't know existed? How could he justify his actions when he couldn't even understand them himself?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The stakes were higher than ever, and he was playing a dangerous game. The distance between him and Inej had once been a comfort, a way to keep his vulnerabilities hidden. Now, it was a barrier he desperately wanted to break down. But at what cost?

[hey-syia]

Between The Lines

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: office au, office romance, angst, strangers(?) to lovers, Co-workers to Lovers, fluff towards the end

Summary: Y/n faces unexpected turmoil as she discovers that her new collaboration partner in the office is none other than Kim Mingyu, a figure from her college past associated with painful rumors. As they navigate their professional collaboration, Mingyu's persistent attempts to break through Y/n's guarded demeanor unravel a history of misunderstandings and hurtful rumors.

Warnings: slow burn-ish, reader is bullied in college, puckering of lips against each other, let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: ~3k

My main masterlist

A/N: Happy Carat's Day! This is my first ever fic and I am not sure how this will go. This story is just an idea that has been in my drafts for ages. I hope you like it! Cross-posting it here cause my other account is pretty new and this is not showing up in search results

The harsh hum of the photocopier and the distant murmur of office life formed the backdrop as I stared at my screen, which had just received a notification of an email. The subject line sent a ripple of anticipation through me: "Collaboration Partner Assignment."

Opening the email, my eyes quickly scanned the details. I braced myself for the revelation, but nothing could have prepared me for the name that leaped off the screen – Kim Mingyu. My stomach churned, though I couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was the mounting pressure of the project or the unfamiliarity of working with someone from another company. A wave of discomfort washed over me as memories of college days resurfaced, memories I had long buried because of the same name! But it couldn’t be him, right?

I had hoped to leave the shadows of the past behind, but fate had different plans. Mingyu, a name that had once been sY/nonymous with popularity and my own insecurities, was now set to become an integral part of my professional life.

Navigating the familiar hallways towards the designated meeting room, my steps carried the weight of unspoken history. The door creaked open, revealing Mingyu already seated, his eyes lifting from a set of project documents to meet mine. A knowing smile played on his lips, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within me. It was him, Kim Mingyu!

"Y/n, right?" he said, extending a hand in greeting. "I'm Mingyu. Looks like we're going to be partners on this project."

I hesitated for a moment before accepting the handshake. "Yes, Y/n. Nice to meet you."

The sterile hum of the office's fluorescent lights set the stage for a reunion neither of us had anticipated. Mingyu, a name echoing through the corridors of my past, now sat across from me in a conference room. His smile seemed to mock my silent discomfort, reminiscent of college days where he effortlessly commanded popularity, and I existed on the fringes.

"Ready to dive into this project together?" Mingyu's voice snapped me back to the present, his expression oblivious to the tumult of memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Sure," I replied, my voice masking the unease within. The corporate battleground was familiar, but the arrival of Mingyu resurrected a dormant storm.

As we settled into the collaborative routine, Mingyu's attempts to get to know me became increasingly apparent. In team meetings, he'd throw casual questions my way, trying to unearth the person behind the professional facade.

"So, Y/n, any exciting plans for the weekend?" he'd ask, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"Same as always," I'd reply, nonchalant. I wasn't one to divulge personal details easily.

But Mingyu was persistent, undeterred by my guarded responses. "Come on, Y/n, there must be something you enjoy doing outside of work. Hobbies? Interests?"

His inquiry probed deeper than the surface, seeking to unravel the layers I had meticulously wrapped around myself. "Not really," I'd brush off, maintaining a stoic demeanour.

In the break room, he'd invite me to join him for a coffee, hoping to chip away at the walls I'd built. "Coffee break, Y/n? It's on me," he'd offer, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks, but I prefer working through breaks," I'd decline, my gaze fixed on the computer screen.

Mingyu, always the optimist, remained undeterred by my cool demeanour. "Alright, next time then," he'd say, masking any disappointment that might have lingered beneath the surface.

Our interactions, or lack thereof, became a dance of casual questions met with guarded replies. It wasn't that I didn't notice Mingyu's efforts – I did. The truth was, I had carefully crafted my isolation, and I wasn't eager to let anyone in.

One day, as we reviewed project details, Mingyu tried a different approach. "Y/n, we make a good team, you know? But it would be even better if we understood each other a bit more. What do you say?"

His words held a sincerity that caught me off guard. Maybe it was the vulnerability in his eyes or the genuine desire to bridge the gap. I sighed, relenting just a bit. "Look, Mingyu, it's nothing personal. I'm just here to get the job done."

He nodded, understanding but undeterred. "Fair enough, Y/n. I respect that. Just know, I'm here if you ever want to talk."

The unspoken hurt lingered beneath the surface, but Mingyu never let it show. His attempts to befriend me continued, even if they were met with my persistent nonchalance.

In another attempt to connect, he invited me to a team dinner. "Y/n, we've been working together for a while now. Let's celebrate our progress. What do you say?"

I hesitated, then finally relented, "Fine, but just for a little while."

As the evening unfolded, I found myself in an unexpected situation – Mingyu's infectious charm gradually wearing down my defences. We laughed, shared stories, and for a brief moment, the professional barriers faded.

In the midst of the camaraderie, Mingyu leaned in and said, "See, Y/n? We're not that different after all."

I couldn't help but smile, the walls I had so carefully constructed showing signs of cracking. Mingyu's efforts were slowly paying off, breaking through the layers that shielded me from the world.

As we left the restaurant that night, I couldn't deny the shift in dynamics. Mingyu, once an unwelcome intruder from the past, had become a persistent presence in my present – a presence I was starting to appreciate, even if I wasn't quite ready to admit it.

The echoes of our team dinner lingered in the air as Mingyu and I left the restaurant. Laughter and camaraderie had briefly bridged the gap, but as we stepped back into the office building, I retreated into my familiar shell. The nonchalant exterior was my armour, and I wore it with practised ease.

Days passed, and Mingyu's efforts to break through my walls persisted, but my responses remained unchanged – short, guarded, and distant. The unspoken hurt beneath his eyes grew more evident with each interaction, until one day, frustration etched across his face.

As I sat at my desk, engrossed in my work, Mingyu approached, a determined expression on his face. "Y/n, we need to talk. Meet me in the meeting room in fifteen minutes," he said, his voice carrying a firmness I hadn't heard before.

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "Sure, whatever," I replied, my tone as indifferent as ever.

The meeting room, a neutral ground for professional discussions, now became the stage for an unexpected confrontation. As I entered, Mingyu was already there, his arms crossed, and a look of frustration etched across his features.

"What's your deal, Y/n?" he began, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and hurt. "I've been trying to get to know you, to be a good teammate, but every attempt is met with this... this wall you've built. What are you so afraid of?"

I sighed, my nonchalant facade momentarily faltering. "Mingyu, I'm not afraid of anything. I'm just here to work, not make friends."

His frustration bubbled to the surface. "You don't have to make it so difficult, Y/n. We're part of the same team, working towards the same goal. Why can't we at least get along?"

I leaned back in my chair, the familiar defences back in place. "Getting along is not a requirement for getting the job done."

Mingyu's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disappointment. "It's not just about the job, Y/n. We spend a significant portion of our lives working together. Why make it miserable for both of us?"

His words struck a chord, a brief pang of guilt flickering within me. But I couldn't let him see it. "Mingyu, I have my reasons for keeping things professional. Let's just focus on the project and leave it at that."

He leaned in, his frustration giving way to a determination that mirrored the spark in his eyes. "Fine, Y/n. If that's how you want it, we'll keep it strictly professional. But know that it doesn't have to be this way."

Mingyu's proposal hung in the air, and for a moment, I considered the possibility of a truce – a ceasefire in the silent war that had defined our collaboration. The weight of his words pressed upon me, and I decided to break the stoic facade, if only for a moment.

"Fine," I responded, my tone betraying a hint of resignation. "Let's keep it professional."

As the days passed, our interactions adhered to the newfound agreement. Work discussions unfolded without the previous tension, and the strained atmosphere began to ease. However, beneath the surface, the unspoken distance lingered, a reminder of the unresolved history that bound us.

Late one evening, as the office lights flickered in the waning hours, Mingyu and I found ourselves alone in the workspace. The hum of computers and distant traffic outside seemed to amplify the silence between us. Mingyu broke the quiet, his voice softer than before.

"Y/n, there's something I need to know. The tension between us... is it just about work, or is there something more?" His gaze bore into mine, a silent plea for honesty.

I hesitated, contemplating whether to unravel the layers that guarded my past. In that moment, I decided to breach the unspoken barrier. "It's not just about work, Mingyu. There's history – a rumour that tainted my college years, and I believed you were behind it."

His eyes widened, a mix of surprise and realisation flickering across his features. "Rumour? What rumour are you talking about?"

College, a realm of possibilities, unfolded before me. Amid vibrant campus life, I preferred solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of the library. My routine, a sanctuary, was disrupted when a rumor about me and Mingyu, the campus heartthrob, began to circulate.

Whispers painted a false picture – a rejected proposal, a scornful comment. The rumor, like wildfire, labeled me as the girl who dared to confess, only to face ridicule. My once-unnoticed existence transformed into isolation as judgmental gazes and hurtful labels became my companions.

The most painful aspect was the misunderstanding – the lie that branded me a loner, rejected and ridiculed. The library, my refuge, now felt like a glass house, the rumor exposing me to the harsh scrutiny of others.

Mingyu, oblivious to the storm, continued his life, while I bore the weight of fabricated rejection. The rumor, a dark shadow, cast a long-lasting mark on my college experience. The isolation, self-imposed or not, became my reality.

"The one where it was said I proposed to you in college, and you rejected me, saying you'd never date a loner like me," I confessed, my voice holding the weight of years of perceived betrayal.

Mingyu's expression shifted from surprise to understanding, a furrow forming on his brow. "Y/n, I never spread that rumor. In fact, I had no idea it existed until now. In fact, I wanted to be friends with you back then and expressed it to some of my friends!"

My defenses faltered as the revelation sank in. The narrative I had carried for years, the resentment that fueled our strained collaboration, crumbled like a fragile facade. "But... why would someone spread such a thing?"

Mingyu's eyes softened with sincerity. "I don't know, Y/n. But I promise you, it wasn't me. I regret that you went through that, and I wish I could've been there to clarify things."

The weight of the misunderstanding hung heavy in the room. Mingyu's admission brought forth a vulnerability I hadn't expected, and the unspoken tension that defined our collaboration began to unravel. As we navigate the murky waters of our shared history, the silence transformed into a hesitant dialogue.

"Maybe," he began, choosing his words carefully, "we can move past this together. Start anew, without the burden of misunderstandings."

In the quiet office, Mingyu and I shared a moment where words seemed unnecessary. His hand found mine, a gentle intertwining of fingers that spoke volumes. Leaning in, he kissed me with a tenderness that felt like an unspoken apology.

The kiss was slow, each movement deliberate, as if time itself had slowed down. Mingyu's lips met mine in a dance of connection, a soft exploration that conveyed a shared understanding. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a promise – a promise to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of something new.

As our lips lingered in the gentle exchange, the weight of misunderstandings lifted. Mingyu's touch, comforting and sincere, became a bridge that spanned the distance between us.

The air shifted after the shared kiss, the unspoken tension replaced by a newfound understanding. Mingyu, eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity, gently pulled away, creating a space for words to bridge the lingering gap.

"Y/n," he began, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments, "there's something I'd like to propose."

I met his gaze, a silent invitation to continue.

"How about we take a step into the present? Leave the office behind for a while, just you and me. What do you say to a dinner? A date, maybe?" Mingyu's words hung in the air, a simple yet profound invitation.

The corners of my lips twitched into a hesitant smile, the remnants of the emotional whirlwind we had just weathered. "A date?" I echoed, the word carrying a hint of both surprise and curiosity.

Mingyu nodded, his eyes holding a hopeful gleam. "Yes, a date. No work, no misunderstandings – just two people sharing a meal and getting to know each other beyond the confines of the office."

The idea, once foreign, now seemed like a welcome proposition. A chance to rewrite the script, explore the uncharted territories of this evolving connection. "I suppose a dinner sounds nice," I conceded, the tension replaced by a sense of openness.

His face broke into a radiant smile, the lines of relief and excitement mingling. "Great! How about tomorrow night? I know a place not far from here. Casual, nothing too fancy. What do you think?"

Tomorrow night – a prospect that carried the promise of a fresh beginning. I found myself nodding, the corners of my own lips forming a genuine smile. "Tomorrow night sounds good."

Mingyu's joy was palpable, and as he pulled out his phone to exchange details, the office surroundings seemed to fade into the background. In the quiet aftermath of a shared kiss, the invitation extended marked a turning point – a step away from the weight of the past and into the possibilities of the present.

As we finalised the plans, Mingyu's gaze held a promise – a promise of a date that transcended the ordinary, a date that hinted at the potential for something more. The unspoken tension that had defined our collaboration was replaced by the anticipation of a shared meal, laughter, and the uncharted journey that lay ahead.

[dinodontwait]

Between the Lines

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: office au, office romance, angst, strangers(?) to lovers, C-workers to Lovers, fluff towards the end

Summary: Y/n faces unexpected turmoil as she discovers that her new collaboration partner in the office is none other than Kim Mingyu, a figure from her college past associated with painful rumors. As they navigate their professional collaboration, Mingyu's persistent attempts to break through Y/n's guarded demeanor unravel a history of misunderstandings and hurtful rumors.

Warnings: slow burn-ish, reader is bullied in college, puckering of lips against each other, let me know if I missed anything

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: Happy Carat's Day! This is my first ever fic and I am not sure how this will go. This story is just an idea that has been in my drafts for ages. I hope you like it!

The harsh hum of the photocopier and the distant murmur of office life formed the backdrop as I stared at my screen, which had just received a notification of an email. The subject line sent a ripple of anticipation through me: "Collaboration Partner Assignment."

Opening the email, my eyes quickly scanned the details. I braced myself for the revelation, but nothing could have prepared me for the name that leaped off the screen – Kim Mingyu. My stomach churned, though I couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was the mounting pressure of the project or the unfamiliarity of working with someone from another company. A wave of discomfort washed over me as memories of college days resurfaced, memories I had long buried because of the same name! But it couldn’t be him, right?

I had hoped to leave the shadows of the past behind, but fate had different plans. Mingyu, a name that had once been sY/nonymous with popularity and my own insecurities, was now set to become an integral part of my professional life.

Navigating the familiar hallways towards the designated meeting room, my steps carried the weight of unspoken history. The door creaked open, revealing Mingyu already seated, his eyes lifting from a set of project documents to meet mine. A knowing smile played on his lips, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within me. It was him, Kim Mingyu!

"Y/n, right?" he said, extending a hand in greeting. "I'm Mingyu. Looks like we're going to be partners on this project."

I hesitated for a moment before accepting the handshake. "Yes, Y/n. Nice to meet you."

The sterile hum of the office's fluorescent lights set the stage for a reunion neither of us had anticipated. Mingyu, a name echoing through the corridors of my past, now sat across from me in a conference room. His smile seemed to mock my silent discomfort, reminiscent of college days where he effortlessly commanded popularity, and I existed on the fringes.

"Ready to dive into this project together?" Mingyu's voice snapped me back to the present, his expression oblivious to the tumult of memories that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Sure," I replied, my voice masking the unease within. The corporate battleground was familiar, but the arrival of Mingyu resurrected a dormant storm.

As we settled into the collaborative routine, Mingyu's attempts to get to know me became increasingly apparent. In team meetings, he'd throw casual questions my way, trying to unearth the person behind the professional facade.

"So, Y/n, any exciting plans for the weekend?" he'd ask, a playful twinkle in his eye.

"Same as always," I'd reply, nonchalant. I wasn't one to divulge personal details easily.

But Mingyu was persistent, undeterred by my guarded responses. "Come on, Y/n, there must be something you enjoy doing outside of work. Hobbies? Interests?"

His inquiry probed deeper than the surface, seeking to unravel the layers I had meticulously wrapped around myself. "Not really," I'd brush off, maintaining a stoic demeanour.

In the break room, he'd invite me to join him for a coffee, hoping to chip away at the walls I'd built. "Coffee break, Y/n? It's on me," he'd offer, a friendly smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks, but I prefer working through breaks," I'd decline, my gaze fixed on the computer screen.

Mingyu, always the optimist, remained undeterred by my cool demeanour. "Alright, next time then," he'd say, masking any disappointment that might have lingered beneath the surface.

Our interactions, or lack thereof, became a dance of casual questions met with guarded replies. It wasn't that I didn't notice Mingyu's efforts – I did. The truth was, I had carefully crafted my isolation, and I wasn't eager to let anyone in.

One day, as we reviewed project details, Mingyu tried a different approach. "Y/n, we make a good team, you know? But it would be even better if we understood each other a bit more. What do you say?"

His words held a sincerity that caught me off guard. Maybe it was the vulnerability in his eyes or the genuine desire to bridge the gap. I sighed, relenting just a bit. "Look, Mingyu, it's nothing personal. I'm just here to get the job done."

He nodded, understanding but undeterred. "Fair enough, Y/n. I respect that. Just know, I'm here if you ever want to talk."

The unspoken hurt lingered beneath the surface, but Mingyu never let it show. His attempts to befriend me continued, even if they were met with my persistent nonchalance.

In another attempt to connect, he invited me to a team dinner. "Y/n, we've been working together for a while now. Let's celebrate our progress. What do you say?"

I hesitated, then finally relented, "Fine, but just for a little while."

As the evening unfolded, I found myself in an unexpected situation – Mingyu's infectious charm gradually wearing down my defences. We laughed, shared stories, and for a brief moment, the professional barriers faded.

In the midst of the camaraderie, Mingyu leaned in and said, "See, Y/n? We're not that different after all."

I couldn't help but smile, the walls I had so carefully constructed showing signs of cracking. Mingyu's efforts were slowly paying off, breaking through the layers that shielded me from the world.

As we left the restaurant that night, I couldn't deny the shift in dynamics. Mingyu, once an unwelcome intruder from the past, had become a persistent presence in my present – a presence I was starting to appreciate, even if I wasn't quite ready to admit it.

The echoes of our team dinner lingered in the air as Mingyu and I left the restaurant. Laughter and camaraderie had briefly bridged the gap, but as we stepped back into the office building, I retreated into my familiar shell. The nonchalant exterior was my armour, and I wore it with practised ease.

Days passed, and Mingyu's efforts to break through my walls persisted, but my responses remained unchanged – short, guarded, and distant. The unspoken hurt beneath his eyes grew more evident with each interaction, until one day, frustration etched across his face.

As I sat at my desk, engrossed in my work, Mingyu approached, a determined expression on his face. "Y/n, we need to talk. Meet me in the meeting room in fifteen minutes," he said, his voice carrying a firmness I hadn't heard before.

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "Sure, whatever," I replied, my tone as indifferent as ever.

The meeting room, a neutral ground for professional discussions, now became the stage for an unexpected confrontation. As I entered, Mingyu was already there, his arms crossed, and a look of frustration etched across his features.

"What's your deal, Y/n?" he began, his voice tinged with a mix of anger and hurt. "I've been trying to get to know you, to be a good teammate, but every attempt is met with this... this wall you've built. What are you so afraid of?"

I sighed, my nonchalant facade momentarily faltering. "Mingyu, I'm not afraid of anything. I'm just here to work, not make friends."

His frustration bubbled to the surface. "You don't have to make it so difficult, Y/n. We're part of the same team, working towards the same goal. Why can't we at least get along?"

I leaned back in my chair, the familiar defences back in place. "Getting along is not a requirement for getting the job done."

Mingyu's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and disappointment. "It's not just about the job, Y/n. We spend a significant portion of our lives working together. Why make it miserable for both of us?"

His words struck a chord, a brief pang of guilt flickering within me. But I couldn't let him see it. "Mingyu, I have my reasons for keeping things professional. Let's just focus on the project and leave it at that."

He leaned in, his frustration giving way to a determination that mirrored the spark in his eyes. "Fine, Y/n. If that's how you want it, we'll keep it strictly professional. But know that it doesn't have to be this way."

Mingyu's proposal hung in the air, and for a moment, I considered the possibility of a truce – a ceasefire in the silent war that had defined our collaboration. The weight of his words pressed upon me, and I decided to break the stoic facade, if only for a moment.

"Fine," I responded, my tone betraying a hint of resignation. "Let's keep it professional."

As the days passed, our interactions adhered to the newfound agreement. Work discussions unfolded without the previous tension, and the strained atmosphere began to ease. However, beneath the surface, the unspoken distance lingered, a reminder of the unresolved history that bound us.

Late one evening, as the office lights flickered in the waning hours, Mingyu and I found ourselves alone in the workspace. The hum of computers and distant traffic outside seemed to amplify the silence between us. Mingyu broke the quiet, his voice softer than before.

"Y/n, there's something I need to know. The tension between us... is it just about work, or is there something more?" His gaze bore into mine, a silent plea for honesty.

I hesitated, contemplating whether to unravel the layers that guarded my past. In that moment, I decided to breach the unspoken barrier. "It's not just about work, Mingyu. There's history – a rumour that tainted my college years, and I believed you were behind it."

His eyes widened, a mix of surprise and realisation flickering across his features. "Rumour? What rumour are you talking about?"

College, a realm of possibilities, unfolded before me. Amid vibrant campus life, I preferred solitude, finding solace in the quiet corners of the library. My routine, a sanctuary, was disrupted when a rumor about me and Mingyu, the campus heartthrob, began to circulate.

Whispers painted a false picture – a rejected proposal, a scornful comment. The rumor, like wildfire, labeled me as the girl who dared to confess, only to face ridicule. My once-unnoticed existence transformed into isolation as judgmental gazes and hurtful labels became my companions.

The most painful aspect was the misunderstanding – the lie that branded me a loner, rejected and ridiculed. The library, my refuge, now felt like a glass house, the rumor exposing me to the harsh scrutiny of others.

Mingyu, oblivious to the storm, continued his life, while I bore the weight of fabricated rejection. The rumor, a dark shadow, cast a long-lasting mark on my college experience. The isolation, self-imposed or not, became my reality.

"The one where it was said I proposed to you in college, and you rejected me, saying you'd never date a loner like me," I confessed, my voice holding the weight of years of perceived betrayal.

Mingyu's expression shifted from surprise to understanding, a furrow forming on his brow. "Y/n, I never spread that rumor. In fact, I had no idea it existed until now. In fact, I wanted to be friends with you back then and expressed it to some of my friends!"

My defenses faltered as the revelation sank in. The narrative I had carried for years, the resentment that fueled our strained collaboration, crumbled like a fragile facade. "But... why would someone spread such a thing?"

Mingyu's eyes softened with sincerity. "I don't know, Y/n. But I promise you, it wasn't me. I regret that you went through that, and I wish I could've been there to clarify things."

The weight of the misunderstanding hung heavy in the room. Mingyu's admission brought forth a vulnerability I hadn't expected, and the unspoken tension that defined our collaboration began to unravel. As we navigate the murky waters of our shared history, the silence transformed into a hesitant dialogue.

"Maybe," he began, choosing his words carefully, "we can move past this together. Start anew, without the burden of misunderstandings."

In the quiet office, Mingyu and I shared a moment where words seemed unnecessary. His hand found mine, a gentle intertwining of fingers that spoke volumes. Leaning in, he kissed me with a tenderness that felt like an unspoken apology.

The kiss was slow, each movement deliberate, as if time itself had slowed down. Mingyu's lips met mine in a dance of connection, a soft exploration that conveyed a shared understanding. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a promise – a promise to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of something new.

As our lips lingered in the gentle exchange, the weight of misunderstandings lifted. Mingyu's touch, comforting and sincere, became a bridge that spanned the distance between us.

The air shifted after the shared kiss, the unspoken tension replaced by a newfound understanding. Mingyu, eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity, gently pulled away, creating a space for words to bridge the lingering gap.

"Y/n," he began, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments, "there's something I'd like to propose."

I met his gaze, a silent invitation to continue.

"How about we take a step into the present? Leave the office behind for a while, just you and me. What do you say to a dinner? A date, maybe?" Mingyu's words hung in the air, a simple yet profound invitation.

The corners of my lips twitched into a hesitant smile, the remnants of the emotional whirlwind we had just weathered. "A date?" I echoed, the word carrying a hint of both surprise and curiosity.

Mingyu nodded, his eyes holding a hopeful gleam. "Yes, a date. No work, no misunderstandings – just two people sharing a meal and getting to know each other beyond the confines of the office."

The idea, once foreign, now seemed like a welcome proposition. A chance to rewrite the script, explore the uncharted territories of this evolving connection. "I suppose a dinner sounds nice," I conceded, the tension replaced by a sense of openness.

His face broke into a radiant smile, the lines of relief and excitement mingling. "Great! How about tomorrow night? I know a place not far from here. Casual, nothing too fancy. What do you think?"

Tomorrow night – a prospect that carried the promise of a fresh beginning. I found myself nodding, the corners of my own lips forming a genuine smile. "Tomorrow night sounds good."

Mingyu's joy was palpable, and as he pulled out his phone to exchange details, the office surroundings seemed to fade into the background. In the quiet aftermath of a shared kiss, the invitation extended marked a turning point – a step away from the weight of the past and into the possibilities of the present.

As we finalised the plans, Mingyu's gaze held a promise – a promise of a date that transcended the ordinary, a date that hinted at the potential for something more. The unspoken tension that had defined our collaboration was replaced by the anticipation of a shared meal, laughter, and the uncharted journey that lay ahead.

[secretlytranced]

Warning, involves your bestie and you in a hypno scenario. If that's not your thing then I can understand and feel free to delete here.

Our hypnoslut's bestie had found her blog. That's what she got for letting her phone lying around and rushing out of the room before the phone had locked. That's what she got for having notifications turned on. That's what she got for posting sexy pics of her tits for everyone to stare at, jerk off to, to get horny about and send her messages about.

She was ready to get an earful of what a weird kink she was into, the condemnation, shaming, she was readying herself to fight to explain herself, but the outrage never came. No disparaging comments or disapproving looks. Nothing. Her bestie was simply scrolling through her tumblr, one post at a time, slowly, down, down and down, deeper down her feed, one spiral after the other, one mantra, one hypnotic story or fantasy after the next.

She hadn't even noticed someone entering the room. Her legs were slightly spread. Her mouth open. Her eyes glazed over. Still scrolling. So our hypnoslut tip-toed closer, suddenly energized by... she couldn't quite describe what she was seeing. Was her bestie too engrossed to notice? Curious, maybe? That definitely wasn't a look of disgust on her face...

So our hypnoslut settled down behind her bestie, arms slung around her, slowly, softly caressing her, fingertips traveling up and down her arms, then her sides. She was pressing her tits against her bestie's back, her breath against her bestie's ear, her neck. And still her bestie didn't react more than whimpering for a brief moment. A short jolt went through that body of hers, a shudder, followed by a brief, soft moan.

Our hypnoslut looked over her shoulder. Spirals. Mantras. Talking about being a good girl. How much better it felt to stop with all that unnecessary thinking. No thoughts. Simply the words, the spirals, the patterns drilling deeper, spreading that warm, fuzzy feeling in her head, helping her leak all of her thoughts out of her pussy. One by one. One after the other.

By now our hypnoslut was trying to match the words her bestie was reading. A thrill had run down her spine, her pussy wet, her entire body electrified by the sudden chance to drag her bestie down into that never ending loop of pleasure, obedience, submission and pleasure again. Every now and then she would take a quick nibble of her bestie's earlobe, a quick series of kisses along her bestie's neck, one hand buried in her bestie's hair, guiding her head movement to nod along with the texts, the other hand roaming freely under her bestie's top.

Good girls make more good girls. Her bestie stopped scrolling. Spread her legs a little more. Our hypnoslut's hand moved down to caress her bestie's inner thigh. Moans again. Sweet, short gasps, and her bestie leaned back into her embrace, finally empty and docile and so pliable that every new thought immediately leaked out of her pussy, panties soaked, breath coming in short, overwhelmed gasps.

And our hypnoslut knew how to take advantage. Slipped in ever more hypnotic language, reinforced whatever tumblr had fed her bestie. And for the rest of the evening, our hypnoslut proved that she knew full well that good girls make more good girls.

Holy fuckkkk yesss

[badomenslullaby]

Author's Note: I decided to start listening to my favorite sad songs and thought about writing a Noah one shot to Dance Gavin Dance's song Betrayed By The Game. I even incourperated the lyrics into it, so please enjoy!

Paring: Noah x Fem reader

Trigger Warning: Car crash, mention of crawling through broken glass, mentions of broken bones and bleeding.

Word Count: 1221

As I lay in bed, vulnerable and with a wounded pride, I'm surrounded by open wounds, fear oozing out of every pore. I never thought this breakup with Noah would hit me so hard, Yet here I am, lying in bed, struggling to breathe, overwhelmed by the sense that I deserve to face this pain alone for what I've done. I roll over to his side and inhale deeply, burying my face into the pillow, catching a lingering trace of his scent. The bed still smells like I’m not all alone. 

I reach for my phone on the bedside table, my heart pounding with a flicker of hope. Yet, as I unlock it, the screen remains as hollow and empty as ever, devoid of any trace of a notification from him. It’s been a long month since Noah ended things, and the blame lies solely with me. I let fear consume me as our relationship grew more serious. Noah and I had a twisted game of trying to incite jealousy in each other. That night at the bar, while Noah was engrossed in a game of pool with Nick, I found myself the object of someone else's attention. With the stranger's touch and my complicity, things escalated beyond my intentions. Noah reached his breaking point, and the next day, he left to stay with his bandmates.

I majorly fucked up, and now I'm reaping what I sowed. I look out the window, and the feelings start roaring within me again. It’s pouring down rain, matching how I'm feeling inside. I take a deep breath and pick up my car keys, deciding to go for a drive. I slip on my shoes and head out without an umbrella or jacket, letting the warm rain wash the pain away as I slowly walk to my car. By the time I reach it, I'm drenched. I turn on the car and crank up the radio, playing my break-up playlist at total volume, letting the music drown out the running thoughts in my mind.

As I navigate the winding road, lost in the distraction of singing along to the music at the top of my lungs and changing the song, I fail to notice the slickness of the pavement. Suddenly, the car starts to hydroplane, sliding dangerously out of control. Panic sets in as I desperately try to regain traction, but it's too late. The vehicle veers off course, hurtling towards a looming tree at a terrifying speed.

I groan as the airbag deploys, the impact jarring my senses. Pain shoots through my face, feeling like I now have a fractured nose, split lip, and eyebrow. Blood trickles into my mouth, mingling with the suffocating scent of smoke. This isn't good, especially with the airbag deployed. I deflate it to free my arms, struggling to unbuckle my seat belt. I push the door open with effort, ensuring my phone is still clutched in my right hand. I let my upper body slump out of the car, leveraging gravity to ease my bottom half out of the vehicle.

I scream as I land on a carpet of shattered glass, the shards digging into my skin. Ignoring the pain, I force myself to keep moving, crawling through the debris with determination. Every inch forward is a battle against the jagged obstacles, but I refuse to be deterred until I know I am safe from my car in case it catches fire. With a huff, I gather the strength to shift into a slight sitting position, intending to assess the damage. However, what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

My car is a mangled wreck from the front, the metal crumpled and twisted. It's a miracle I survived the impact. The sight alone triggers a panic attack, and I'm overwhelmed, choking on tears. Sobbing uncontrollably from fear, I frantically take in my surroundings. As my life flashes before my eyes, all I see is Noah and me. My sobs come out longer and harder now, and I grab my phone and unlock it, clicking on his name to call. As it rang, my panic increased out of fear that he might not answer me, but after the fourth ring, the line picked up.

“Hello?” Noah asked relevantly and confusedly, sounding like he had come out of a deep sleep. I started to sob harder. “[Y/N]? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, slightly more alarmed.

“I just crashed my car….and….and…I love you so much, Noah. I miss you so much. I know we fucked everything up this time, but I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop loving you. I still love you so much, Noah," I sobbed into my phone. Suddenly, I heard ruffling and panicking on the other side of the phone. 

"Goddammit, [Y/N], are you okay? Did you call the police?" Noah's voice crackled with concern, a barrage of questions following. Another sob wrenches from my throat, raw and hoarse.

"No, you were my first thought when I decided who to call. I'm so scared, Noah. I need you," I pleaded.

"I know it's scary, baby, but take some deep breaths with me, okay?" he instructed gently as we went through breathing exercises. "I know you're still sharing your location with me, so I will call the police while I head over to you. Are you going to be okay?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice.

"Yes," I stammered, feeling slightly hopeful that things weren't as terrible as they seemed. I could hear Noah sigh in relief. 

"Okay, the boys and I will be there soon. Don't move too much; I don't want you to worsen any injuries just in case they could be life-threatening," he stated firmly. I murmured an okay and an "I love you" in response. After he said it, he hung up, leaving me alone again. After what seemed like an eternity, I began to hear a car nearby and prayed with great intensity that it was Noah. Not far from where I was, the distant wail of sirens pierced through the night, signaling that help was coming.

There were screeching tires and then running footsteps coming in my direction. I turned my head slightly to see it was Noah, with a mixture of worry and horror on his face when he saw how bad the wreckage was. "[Y/N], baby, I'm so glad you're okay," Noah began to exclaim rapidly as he slowly kneeled beside me, his eyes scanning over the damage down to my body. As the sirens get closer, Noah looks deep into my eyes. He suddenly and gently kisses me, then leans his forehead on mine.

 "You're never leaving my side again, got it? We'll work through our problems together and do whatever needs to be done, whether that's therapy or a different route. But I'm moving back in immediately," he states firmly. All I could do was nod my head as tears streamed down my face once again. Noah gently wipes the tears away and pulls me into a comforting embrace. As the police and ambulance arrive, he talks me through what's about to happen and assures me that he'll be by my side every step. Eventually, he accompanies me in the back of the ambulance, with the boys following closely behind in their car.