#it's overwhelming and buries other notifications.

[orphanedwolfandfriends]

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

[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)

[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.”

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

sneaking in before he fights 👁, lil goodbye fucking👁, he’s afraid but doesn’t show it 👁

⤷ Credits: @arcanefox207

Marcus Acacius x F!reader | WC : 984 | Proof read : NO | Navigation | Notifications | asks : OPEN

Summary: Wishing him luck before a battle

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), Voyeurism, Spitting, both give switch vibes, misogyny, angsty bc i cant help myself

A/n: its a lot more angsty then i thought but enjoy

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation, the distant roar of the crowd echoing through the stone corridors of the Colosseum. You found Marcus in a secluded corner, his eyes dark with a mix of desperation and desire. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows, dancing on the walls as he pressed you against the cold stone, his breath hot against your ear.

"Come on, baby," he murmured, lifting the skirt of your tunic and rubbing your clit softly. "We don't have much time."

You'd come to wish him luck before the gladiator battle, but his need was palpable, immediate. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, his kisses and caresses igniting a fire within you. His fingers played with your clit, circling it lightly, making you moan softly. He fumbled with his armor, the metal clinking as he pulled out his erection, giving it a few rough tugs before leaning down to spit on his dick.

With little preparation, he shoved his length inside you. The sudden stretch made you wince, but the pain quickly morphed into pleasure as he began to thrust into you. Your breath hitched, your back arching against the wall as he moved with a primal urgency. You covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to stifle your moans, your other hand gripping Marcus tightly for stability.

His pace was relentless, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the narrow corridor. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper. Marcus's eyes burned with intensity, his jaw clenched as he drove into you, every movement a testament to his raw, unbridled desire.

"You're so perfect," he groaned, his voice rough with lust. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to meet his powerful thrusts. The friction, the heat, the sheer urgency of the moment consumed you both, driving you closer to the edge.

You could feel the pressure building, your muscles tensing as you teetered on the brink of release. Marcus's breath grew ragged, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He was close, too close. The worry flickered in his eyes for a brief moment, but the need for release overpowered his concern.

"I can't hold on," he panted, his rhythm faltering.

"Let go," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "I'm with you."

With a guttural moan, Marcus buried himself deep inside you, his release sudden and overwhelming. The heat of his climax filled you, pushing you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your cries muffled against his shoulder as you came together, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Marcus rested his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. The sounds of the crowd grew louder, a stark reminder of the impending battle.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't wait."

He pulled out of you, and just as he went to drop to his knees, you stopped him. “Marcus, it’s—” He lifted your leg again, trying to continue, but you pushed against his shoulder firmly. “We don’t have time,” you insisted, your eyes locking onto his.

In that moment, you noticed a flicker of fear in his eyes, a look that sent a chill down your spine. Your breath caught as you took in the vulnerability hidden beneath his determined exterior. Quickly, you pulled him up, your hands moving to smooth down his tunic and wipe away the evidence of your passionate encounter.

“Marcus,” you said softly, your fingers trembling as you adjusted his armor. “What’s wrong?”

He averted his gaze, his usual confidence replaced with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nothing,” he muttered, the word a weak attempt to hide his true feelings. “We don’t have time for this.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whispered, your hands moving to cup his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I can see it. You’re scared.”

He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure. “It’s just another fight,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“But this time is different,” you pressed, searching his eyes for answers. “I can feel it. Tell me why.”

Marcus’s eyes darted away again, his fear palpable despite his efforts to hide it. “The stakes are higher,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The opponents are stronger. And… I have more to lose now.”

You felt your heart ache at his words, understanding the weight he carried. “You’re the strongest warrior I know,” you said firmly, your hands trembling as you held him. “You’ve faced death and come back stronger every time. This will be no different.”

He shook his head slightly, his fear still evident. “I’ve never had something to lose before,” he said, his voice breaking. “Every time I step into that arena, I think of you. What if I don’t come back?”

“Stop,” you interrupted, pressing a finger to his lips. “You can’t think like that. You fight because you have something to come back to. Use that. Let it drive you, make you unstoppable.”

He took a deep breath, the fear in his eyes giving way to resolve. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I need to fight for us.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in his muscles ease as he steadied himself. “Promise me you’ll come back,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He looked into your eyes, the determination returning. “I promise,” he replied, his grip tightening on your hands. “I’ll come back to you. No matter what.”

You kissed him deeply, pouring all your love and hope into that moment. As you pulled away, you saw the determination blazing in his eyes. He was ready.

“Go,” you urged, stepping back. “Show them who you are.”

Marcus nodded, a fierce smile spreading across his face. “For you,” he said, turning to stride towards the arena entrance.

[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

[amirasainz]

can you do a carmen x george x amira pls

Heyy.... so I know I#ve been absent for some time now, but I just have a lot of work and studying to do, so I'm not able to post as frequent as I used to. However I will try my best to write all of you're requests.

I this story Lando is painted like the bad guy, vut please be aware that this is NO HATE TOWARDS LANDO. It's just a story, so please read it as such.

Enjoy reading and let me know if you have some requests!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

You're enough

“George…” whispered Amira, her hand gently stroking his back. The man in her arms let out a shuddering breath, prompting the girls on either side of him to hug him tighter. His face was buried in his hands, his posture slumped in his seat. Carmen and Amira shared a look behind George’s back, both feeling lost and helpless.

Just a few minutes ago, they had received the devastating notification that George had been disqualified from the Belgium GP, meaning he lost his hard-earned win. After working tirelessly and executing a brilliant race strategy, it all meant nothing in the end.

At first, George put on a brave face. He received a call from Toto, who was the one to inform his driver about the misfortune. Then came the messages from the other drivers, all of them sending their support and well wishes to him. Through all of this, George maintained a neutral mask. What finally broke his facade were the concerned faces of the two beautiful girls in his driver’s room.

“It’s just—it’s such a stupid reason,” started the Briton, his voice trembling with frustration. “We are talking about 1.5 kg. Freaking 1.5 kg ruined my freaking race. And all thanks to stupid McLaren, just because Lando had a bad weekend and the team didn’t get enough points.” From one second to the next, George’s anger towards his DNS transformed into anger against Lando.

“We all know that Zak is kissing the ground that Lando walks on. Since his first win, he became insufferable. He acts like a god and expects us to pray to him. Worst of all, he compares himself to champions like Senna and Hamilton. Even freaking Schumacher. Not only did he ruin Oscar’s first win, but he also treated us like crap since Miami.” George stood up from his seat, pacing up and down in his room. Carmen and Amira let him continue with his frustrated rant, both of them knowing it would do the Mercedes driver some good.

“He started treating the rest of us horribly. He told Logan that it was only a matter of time before the world forgot his name. To Carlos, he said that Carlos wasn’t even good enough to be the Safety Car driver. He looked me straight in the face and said I only won in Austria thanks to him. And everything he did the past few weeks was crying and whining in front of the cameras.”

While George caught his breath, Amira felt conflicted. On one hand, Lando was her friend and didn’t deserve all of George’s anger after McLaren called for an investigation. On the other hand, George wasn’t wrong. After Miami, Lando really started behaving like a grade-A asshole. Not only to the drivers and other workers but also to her. But that was a problem for another day. All she could think about now was comforting the man in front of her.

Without another thought, Amira stood up and hugged George. Feeling overwhelmed by the disappointment of today’s race, George broke down in tears. Carmen immediately jumped up from the bed, both women hugging the man close to them.

After a few moments, Carmen suggested in a calm voice that the three of them should get on the bed. After situating themselves (George lying on his back with both girls lying on his chest, holding hands), George calmed down. “No matter what, we’ll always be proud of you, George,” whispered Amira. “She is right, amor, it’s us three against the world,” confirmed Carmen. George only hugged the women closer to himself, his heart already feeling lighter. The thought of the three of them together warmed his chest, putting his mind at ease.

As they lay there, the room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from George. Carmen and Amira exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to stay with him as long as he needed. They knew that this moment, though painful, was a testament to their bond. They were more than just friends; they were a family, united by their shared experiences and unwavering support for one another.

Eventually, George’s breathing steadied, and he began to relax. The weight of the day’s events still lingered, but the presence of Carmen and Amira made it bearable. He knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wouldn’t have to face them alone. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to find solace in the warmth and comfort of his friends’ embrace.

As the minutes passed, the trio remained entwined, drawing strength from each other. Carmen softly hummed a lullaby, her voice soothing and gentle, while Amira ran her fingers through George’s hair, offering silent reassurance. The room, once filled with tension and despair, now felt like a sanctuary of peace and solidarity.

George’s mind drifted back to the race, replaying the moments of triumph and the crushing blow of disqualification. Yet, with each passing second, the sting of disappointment lessened. He realized that victories and defeats were fleeting, but the bonds he shared with Carmen and Amira were enduring. They were his anchor, his source of strength, and his reason to keep pushing forward.

“Thank you,” George murmured, his voice barely audible. “Thank you for being here with me.”

Carmen kissed his forehead, her eyes filled with warmth. “Always, George. We’re always here for you.”

Amira nodded, her smile tender. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

With those words, George felt a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead might be challenging, but with Carmen and Amira by his side, he knew he could overcome anything. As he drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the people who loved him most, he felt a profound sense of gratitude and peace.

[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.

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 06

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,1k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

A single buzz of the phone distracted you from the document you were reading through. Thrown out of the work rhythm that had been driving you for the past few hours, you instinctively ran your eyes over the desk, pretty much buried in papers, meanwhile figuring out that the phone was hidden somewhere underneath. So you started collecting all the documents, putting them in neat piles to eventually find it.

It felt good to be working like that again. Finally, after a few weeks since your father's death, filled with overwhelming responsibilities and things a little too heavy for your shoulders, your mind was in the right place; stable enough to catch up on paperwork.

You grabbed your phone and tapped the screen to check the latest notification, expecting a message from Suzie reminding you to buy her promised snacks on the way home. But it wasn’t your sister. You froze when the sender of the text turned out to be Bucky.

You still have my sweatshirt. I want it back.

You hoped he had let go after weeks of being ignored. Right at the start – on the very evening John showed up at your house – you wrote Bucky a succinct message saying that you couldn't see each other anymore. This was to be the definitive end; you didn't reply to his texts, didn't answer his calls. You realized that otherwise you would be drawn to him again, therefore throwing away your only chance for a marriage. 

The phone in your hands buzzed again.

I don’t want it back. I want to see you. 

An unpleasant warmth went through your body. You put the phone back on the desk, then stood up; mostly to stretch your bones, stiff from sitting, partly to fight the urge to speak to him. With the phone still in your hands, you could have undone the hard work of recent weeks – weaning yourself from the presence of the one person who had always been on your side.

You walked up to the window where, just a while ago, you were thinking about your life, your past; about who Bucky actually was to you, and why your paths never crossed. But they finally did – at the moment when you most needed guidance, understanding, a friend. And now you missed him. You missed Bucky endlessly since the last time you saw each other. You missed him the way you missed the first rays of bright, warm sunshine after a harsh winter; the way you missed the cool, refreshing rain during a stuffy summer; the way you missed a favorite flavor that you never recreated again; the way you missed the childhood years of innocent carefreeness. Because he was just that to you – some lost, longed-for sensation that was beyond your reach.

And all this for what? A successful marriage to John? A peaceful, secure future?

In fact, everything seemed perfect. John was good to you – he didn't drop distasteful hints, didn't ogle you, didn't put any pressure. He regularly took you to one fancy restaurant after another, and kept trying to find out as much as he could about you. He even turned up at the exhibition in your gallery. From the outside it seemed like he was there to support you, to keep you company. However, the truth was that John was controlling you; just as Michael said. What's more, he lavished you with gifts, usually expensive jewellery that was rarely to your taste. You weren't ungrateful, but you got the impression that John was only giving you what he himself wanted to see on you, not what actually suited you.

But there was something that worried Michael in particular. John had expressed a willingness to make a deal, in addition it looked like he was courting you full steam ahead, but he hadn't asked you to marry him yet. So, at any time, he could have simply backed out, leaving you in the lurch – he had you in the palm of his hand and was taking advantage of this by testing your loyalty and, somehow, obedience. Knowing that any contact with Bucky would cost you dearly, you couldn't afford even a moment's weakness.

Hearing a quiet knock on the door of your office, you felt another wave of that unpleasant warmth. You looked back hesitantly and were instantly relieved seeing the familiar face of your friend, Connie.

“Are you okay?” She furrowed. “You look… bad.”

You smiled, as if that would dissuade your friend from worrying. “Just a little tired.” You stretched sleepily to emphasize your words. 

“No wonder. You've been working a lot lately,” Connie pointed out, sitting down on a chair in front of her desk. “You're hard to get to.” She raised her eyebrows, tilting her head to the side as if she had just caught you at something. Connie was one of your closest friends, and although she wasn't directly connected to your world – unless it was through you – you mentioned your problem to her; one that had been dragging on since your father's funeral.

“And how's your new job?” To distract Connie, you slightly changed the subject. You walked over to the desk and took a seat too. 

“It is not that bad. If I get promoted from making coffee and washing cups to actual finances. But it's only an internship, so I might as well keep making coffee until the end.” She rolled her eyes and your smile widened; perhaps Connie was complaining about her duties and you sympathized that she had to do something she didn't like, but it was nice to hear about such mundane problems. You would have liked to be making coffee for bankers and financiers instead of having to marry to save your family from ruin. “Actually…” she began innocently. “I just have one tiny favor to ask you. I swear I came mostly to see if you were okay, but-”

“I know, Connie,” you interrupted. “What’s the favor?”

“Go out with me this weekend. Have some fun, stop thinking about work and… you know, the other thing.”

Turning down such proposals was not in your habit. Moreover, suffocated by visits to expensive, uptight restaurants, which left you hungry and a little bored, you missed this kind of entertainment. Besides, lately you've only been hanging around older men, who always had a full range of golden advice and ideal offers for you. You craved loud music, dancing among strangers and, above all, alcohol – it didn't have to be expensive, the kind John would provide; you just wanted it to take the weight off your thoughts, at least for a while. You needed a break.

“Okay,” you said after a moment of reflection. 

Connie's face lit up with a bright, excited grin. “Okay?” she made sure, and when you nodded in surrender, she reached over the desk, put her hands around your cheeks and placed a big kiss on your forehead, and you – put in a light, somewhat carefree mood by your friend – laughed. You both did.

The weekend arrived much slower as you waited for the fun you craved. You had completely absorbed the idea that you would be spending Saturday night at some club, and there was nothing to stop you doing so. Not even John. As you sat in Connie's flat, in your robe, sipping a margarita, waiting for the polish on your nails to dry, he called you with a proposition for another date. 

“Johnny…” Despite the heavy sigh that left your lips, you tried to make your voice sound as sweet as possible; even if you wanted to set any boundaries, John had the upper hand, so you couldn't behave audaciously – you couldn't be cold and assertive, you had to wrap him around your finger. “I can't see you. I would love to, but I've been neglecting my girlfriends lately. I need to spend some time with them.”

“But in a club?” he reluctantly repeated the information you gave him at the very beginning. “Maybe I could go with you?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. A red light flashed in your head; John Walker was about to enter a phase that would put an end to you going out on your own. And you couldn't let that happen. At least not until he had made his final decision in terms of marriage. You needed that wedding, and in order to achieve it you were prepared to do a lot, at the same time you couldn't let John trample you like that. He said himself that he had always wanted you – so he had to realize that he could easily lose you. You couldn't be the only one who was fearing about this 'relationship'.

“Johnny,” you echoed his name, but this time you almost said it between clenched teeth with a kind of determination and slight irritation. You plastered a smile on your face to sound at least a little softer. “You are really sweet. But I need time with my friends. It will be something like my bachelorette party.” The words you used were intentional; you wanted to give him the idea that he should finally make up his mind and officially ask you to marry him. It wasn't your dream, but you had to protect yourself; you had to stop letting him lead you around by the nose, taking advantage of your dates.

“You're right. But you have to promise me that we'll spend all Sunday together. Tomorrow you will be just for me and no one else.”

The dates with John were not a disaster largely because they usually lasted a few hours. Spending a whole day with him was different. And if you reacted this way to this prospect – with discouraged silence – what about spending the rest of your life with John? You've probably never seen it in this light before, and it suddenly made you sick.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said hurriedly. “Yes, of course, we will spend the whole Sunday together.”

“Perfect. See you then?”

“See you then.”

You tossed your phone to the other end of the couch. Connie appeared in the living room, although technically she had been there the whole time due to the living room being connected to the kitchen. She looked at you with concern, put down the margarita pitcher she had brought, and sat beside you.

“He's not that bad,” you claimed. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You squinted, staring blankly at a random point in front of you. “But…”

Under the influence of margarita, you wanted to make some philosophical speech about how your end was near; how it was creeping up on you, crawling under your skin. You were sure of the end of your freedom, as future husbands tend to joke about, but you hated these jokes. Eventually you said nothing, occupying your head with ways to help you unwind; to somehow honor the potentially last opportunity for you to go out like this; without your controlling soon-to-be husband. 

Having shaken your head to get rid of some unnecessary thoughts, you glanced at Connie, smiling at her tenderly. “Would you be so kind and lend me the shortest dress you have?”

Although you weren't in the mood for men's company, the decision about the dress resulted in exactly what you thought it would. It was short enough that you didn't dare bend down, but its length and tightness actually played only a partial role in making you attract attention. You oozed a sort of mysterious, appealing aura of being open to innocent propositions you might have refused; eager for an adventure you might not have taken part in. Men followed you with their eyes, and it looked as if they were prepared to get burnt, to be rejected only if that meant they could get close to you, to exchange a few words, to have the opportunity to be noticed by you.

Perhaps it was the irritation, the cooling anger at John and the exhaustion of your living situation that made you attract people the way flame attracts moths? Perhaps your true nature – the one your mother tried to nip – has been bubbling to the surface through some small cracks, caused by your recent bending to the will imposed from everywhere? Or was it simply the result of a couple margaritas consumed before going out?

You didn't know, and you didn't particularly care. 

From the moment you arrived at the club – the kind of club you had in mind; with colorful but not aggressive lights, affordable alcohol and good music; on this night, hits from the early 2000s prevailed – you and Connie basically didn't leave the dance floor. Not including short breaks for drinks at the bar or going to the toilet. For the first time in a long time, you felt your age – carefree, almost irresponsible; you were having fun.

Time seemed to flow a little differently, so you didn't know exactly how much of it had passed, but Connie and you were starting to get sore feet. You knew that choosing some flat shoes would be a wise move, but high heels made your legs look even better than usual. There was no room for reason that night.

Connie disappeared somewhere, having promised earlier to get you some seats. You didn't want to return to the dance floor alone, besides, you needed to catch your breath. You ordered something exceptionally non-alcoholic at the bar – orange juice with ice – and decided to wait for your friend there. Resting your elbows on the slightly sticky counter, thereby trying to transfer your body weight from your sore legs, you sipped your juice. 

The bartender unexpectedly slipped you a pink drink in a wine glass. “From that guy.” She nodded to the other end of the counter. 

You turned your head in that direction. Seeing him, you felt a knot in your stomach, and your heart in your mouth. A strong shudder ran through your body, sending that familiar electricity right to your fingertips. By avoiding him for so long, you had built a wall that was supposed to make you immune to the feelings he evoked in you. But all it took was one look to tear it down. 

As Bucky was coming towards you, you considered running away, but your body – craving his attention, longing for his presence – stuck in place, refusing to obey you.

He stood next to you, his hand resting on the surface of the counter, his fingers almost reaching your elbow. You looked at his face; to your disadvantage, he was as beautiful as ever, his plump lips were wet, giving them the impression of being even more luscious; his eyes seemed fatigued as he watched you with calm and benevolence.

“Aren't you going to ask what I’m doing here?” He spoke, and from the way he articulated the words you were able to tell that he was a little drunk. “If I'm following you..?” 

“No, I'm not going to ask that. I’m not going to ask about anything, actually, because I shouldn't be talking to you at all.”

Bucky smiled, but there was not a bit of warmth in that smile. “So you're marrying him…” He nodded slowly, running his tongue over his teeth. “Did he tell you to stay away from me or what?” 

Closing your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh. “I want this marriage to work, Bucky.” You looked him straight in the eye. “And it won’t work with you there. I wish I could keep what we have, I wish I could keep you, I swear, but I can’t. I need you to understand that. Please.” 

At first he stared at you without a word, anger crept onto his face. “So that’s it? I lose you, you get your perfect little husband?”

You pursed your lips; no matter what, you didn’t expect to hear something like this from Bucky, yet you deserved it; you should’ve had a normal conversation with him. And now you were too tired, too defeated already, to fight. “Yeah, that’s it,” you said briefly. “Friendship isn't meant for us. Thanks for the drink,” you added, trying to take the least emotional approach possible, but in reality you could feel your heart breaking. 

Bucky looked like he was slowly being consumed by panic. But there was nothing you could do about it. You grabbed the glass filled with alcohol he'd bought for you and moved away from the bar. Anywhere, as long as it's far away from him.

By the kindness of one man (or, rather, innocent flirtation), Connie got the seats in the VIP box. The man shared it with a friend who introduced himself as Reggie, Ricky or Randy; you couldn't recall the correct version. You didn't focus on his name; nor did you pay particular attention to what he was saying. All you knew was that he called you pretty, and was buying you drinks, which you accepted cautiously.

Things stopped going as you had hoped. This was supposed to be your night without men, yet you were just letting one hit on you. You were supposed to have fun, yet you felt heartbroken by the situation with Bucky. Since when did everything start revolving around him? Since when did your mood depend on what was going on between the two of you? Did your first meeting unlock some mechanism that you were both doomed to, or did you just get so attached to him over the course of a couple weeks?

When Reggie/Ricky/Randy's hand resting on your thigh began to go higher and higher, your thoughts crashed against all these questions like rough waves. It didn't bother you, what he was doing. And since it didn't bother you, you decided not to spoil his fun. Your thoughts wandered so far and wide that you barely noticed the moment he kissed you. His hot, alcohol-breathing lips pressed onto yours, and you were basically indifferent to that too. Maybe not so indifferent, because you found something pleasurable in it; your relationship with John lacked the flame, the immediate desire. And Reggie/Ricky/Randy had that boyish charm mixed with the possessiveness of a grown man; a combination that appealed to you very much. Besides, your future wasn't in his hands, and not being at Reggie/Ricky/Randy's mercy turned you on even more.

And suddenly he was gone.

Reggie/Ricky/Randy ended up on the floor. You lifted up your eyes from the drunken man, unable to get up from the ground, and saw Bucky. Again. With clenched jaw and heavy breathing, he watched Reggie/Ricky/Randy laying between you. However, he was harmless enough to quickly lose Bucky's interest, so he grabbed your wrist and forced you to stand up, then follow him. 

“Bucky!” you groaned. You were afraid that Bucky was capable of dragging you behind him if the situation called for it. “You're walking too fast! I can’t walk that fast in these heels!” 

He stopped sharply and turned towards you; you could see how angry he was. You didn’t know when he positioned his hands at the right places on your body, so he could throw you over his shoulder. An amused giggle escaped your mouth, but you quickly remembered that you should be mad at him.

“Put me down!” You hit him somewhere under the shoulder blade and immediately felt the hardness of his muscles – you might as well have hit a stone. You massaged your sore hand right away, meanwhile coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't hear you over the thumping music anyway.

A sudden coolness and distant sounds indicated that you had left the club. Bucky put you down but still stayed close in case you would lose your balance.

“What the hell are you doing?” You abruptly pushed back his arm, which was meant to secure you.

“What I am doing?” he bit back, the anger not leaving his face. He seemed more sober than before, too. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, Y/N? Kissing some strange guy in front of fucking everyone? You think John is gonna love that, but us hanging out is too much for him? Do you want this marriage or not?”

“What's the difference what I want!” A dreadful sorrow and helplessness echoed in your voice that made Bucky perplexed. His lips parted slightly, then snapped shut, his eyes filled with concern and sympathy. Despite the fact that you had been yelling at each other outside the club for the past few minutes, these words rang out most emphatically, bringing you both back to reality. “Who cares, Buck?” you said more quietly. “I'm supposed to marry a guy I don't really know, and I try to like him, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it gets. I'm not even talking about love, not hoping for it to happen, because I know John Walker is not it. But it doesn't matter, I still have to have his children, otherwise everything I'm doing now goes out the window. And I'm doing it so that my sister doesn't have to. So that she and my mother don't have to worry about the future and money. I would do anything for them, but my mother won't even speak to me; she is mad at me for it.” You quickly wiped a hot tear from your cheek, completely missing the moment you started crying. “I know there are worse things than marrying a rich guy.” You rolled your eyes at the depiction of your problem. “But it still hurts. Maybe one day I'll get used to it, but right now I'm fucking scared. I’m all alone, I have no one to get my back, no one to hold my hand. I’m fucking scared-” 

“Y/N…” 

“No.” You didn't let him get a word in fear that – whatever he had to say – you would break even more. “Help me get through this less painfully and just… disappear. Leave me alone.”

Connie appeared beside you, but you only noticed it when her warm hand touched your bare shoulder.  You didn't hear what she was telling you; there was just ringing in your ears, and the sound of gushing blood in your head. Bucky didn't take his eyes off you; you'd never seen him so worried, so vulnerable and unsettled before. 

Connie stroked your hair, then put her arm around you, and you both began to walk ahead. The tenderness of her gestures revived you somewhat; you looked away from Bucky and fixed your eyes on the pavement. Eventually she pulled you into probably the only open diner in the area. There was still ringing in your ears, but you realized that you were to get something warm to drink and wait for a cab.

One of your first conscious thoughts shortly after waking up was that physically you felt far too good for a hangover. You were genuinely disappointed by this, as this kind of suffering would have been the perfect excuse not to spend the day with John. The perfect excuse for your nasty mood.

You sat up on the bed, your eyes automatically fell on the black sweatshirt slung over the chair by a vanity table. Returning it would have been the perfect opportunity to see him, but you had finished that stage in your life, and you were going to stick to it. You decided not to bother with how you planned to give Bucky back his property. Instead, you grabbed the sweatshirt off the chair and put it on.

When you went down to the kitchen, you met Michael there. He was sipping coffee – as you gathered from the smell lingering in the room – and focused on you as soon as you entered his sight. As you prepared your tea, you felt his attentive gaze on you.

“Where were you last night?”

You almost dropped the cup from your hands. That uncomfortable, paralyzing electricity ran through your body. The only reason Michael could have asked that particular question was because he knew – someone had told him about what you were doing; that you were making out with a man whose name you couldn't even remember. And if Michael knew, John was also going to get that information sooner or later.

“At a nightclub. With Connie. Do you remember Connie..?” You glanced over your shoulder and he only nodded. “Why do you ask?” you added casually, although in reality you were sure you were about to have a heart attack. 

“I thought you saw Bucky Barnes. That you convinced him to change his mind.”

Your forehead furrowed, your eyes widened. Trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat, you turned to Michael. “What..?”

“He has made an offer.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine

[bradshawsbitch]

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎↠ 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 - ⅸ ↞

⁘ bradley bradshaw, the notoriously ill mannered head chef at the small franchise pub down the street, is quite content with his fast paced job. no commitments or obligations outside of his kingdom of sharp knives, pots, pans, prep work and a shot of jäger after a double. that is until a new waitress is hired, and suddenly his strict and rigid rules of no obligations or commitments starts to waver. . .

› pairing; bradley bradshaw x f!reader

word count; ~ 3.2K

× chapter warnings; swearing, see general story warnings, mature content, mentions of food

disclaimer; first of all, thank you!! for being so understanding and amazing about this story. i am so overwhelmed with love for all of you who keep being excited about my surly chef, even after all this time. second of all, i am sorry for it having been an 'all this time' - your support means everything to me. thank you again ❤

this chapter was super hard for me to write, which is why it's a little shorter, and perhaps more of a filler and a thank you to my readers. please be aware that the prose may be a little rusty as i am slowly getting back into writing again ❤

tagging some people who i know have waited; @roosterforme @hangmanssunnies @mak-32 @laracrofted @pisupsala @cherrycola27 @gretagerwigsmuse @seresinsweetie @ryebecca @lewmagoo

otherwise you can follow @bradshawsbitch-library and turn on notifications ❤

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Soft little sighs, muffled by muted green sheets fill the room as rays of the morning sun turns harsher the higher it rises in the sky. Noon is approaching, unbeknownst to the two laying still in bed. A Monday, which for many means the start of a new week, gone is the restful weekend and labor is nigh. For the two forms in bed though, the pace of mere mortals were not applicable. A waitress and a chef could sleep in, for their holy day was indeed Monday. Most restaurants were closed, or very slow come Monday - which gave those weary souls a day to rest. 

Turning slowly, the woman burrow deeper into the sheets, a small smile tugging on the corners of her lips as she heard Bradley’s soft, sleepy grunt as his arms tightened around her naked midsection. He hasn’t awoken yet, and neither had you, not fully at least. Sleepy eyes were slow to open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light that surrounds the two of you. 

Waking up next to Rooster’s warm form sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. Seeing the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips are ever so slightly parted - his cupid’s bow defined so prettily beneath that lovely facial hair of his… the way freckles dot along the bridge of his nose… tan skin so beautiful, ridges, freckles and spots that adorn his skin. Sleepily, you let your finger trace over those shapely shoulders, where, much like the stars the freckles dot all the more frequently. 

“Bambi…” Rooster grunts, voice raspy and breathless - the mere mention of your nickname makes those fluttery wings of butterflies flap helplessly within your chest. His hold on you tightens again, drawing you in towards his chest. One arm embraces your form soothingly, as the other gently tucks your head into his chest, a large thigh suddenly nudging its way in between yours to rest. This position he also adjusts, letting the hand that had rested in its embrace slide slowly down past your bottom, ghosting over your thigh before gripping just above your knee - drawing it up high on his thigh. 

A content sigh leaves his lips as his thumb draws soothing circles on the bare skin that’s still in his firm hold, pleased with how he’s molded you into his form. You fit quite nicely here, he reflects as you start to place small kisses against Bradley’s sternum - he’s warm from sleep, radiating calm and safety as he holds you near. 

“Getting enough air in there, sweets?” he rumbles after a few moments of your face buried in the dip between his pecs, lips ghosting over his sternum every now and then. Nodding, you let out a soft ‘mhm’ in reply as you trace your hands over the ridges of his hips and waist, gently letting yourself explore his adonis belt and lower abdomen. 

Bradley lets out the softest of noises, a choked moan that seems to catch in the back of his throat as his pubic hair tickles the back of your hand as you leave feather light touches closer and closer to where he needs you. His grip on you has tightened, and his nose and lips are pressed tight against your hair where he inhales deeply. His palm is flexing, tensing and kneading where his palm is spread on your thigh - he hesitates for only a short moment before he uses his strength to pull your leg further over his hip.

A small gasp and a pathetic whine slips past your lips as your lower body joins where your hand had been exploring just seconds ago. Drawing your hand back, you feverishly grasp at Bradley’s neck, shuffling to tilt your head back up to catch his lips with yours, your body fluid and ever moving against his large form. Pressing, pushing, pulling– the leg Rooster had pulled closer now draws him in to you, the whole length of your naked body pressed against his sturdy one. 

“Fuck, Bambi…” he groans as you grip the short hair at the nape of his neck before your lips chase his, you whine again as Rooster’s palm slides up to grip the flesh of your ass, kneading and grinding you against his hardening cock. 

“Bradley!” you gasp as you feel his warm, soft skin run along your sensitive clit. Another whimper leaves you, clinging on to his shoulders, drawing him in with all the strength your sore muscles can muster. You need to be closer, need to have him surrounding you in every sense. Bradley hums deep in his chest as his lips stray from yours to leave chaste kisses along your neck, his hot tongue laving over points he discovered you were responsive to yesterday. 

Bradley’s hand drifts from your waist, up to tease at your nipple, pinching, pulling gently before letting his palm envelop your flesh, kneading and drawing out soft little moans from you before he traces his fingers down your stomach, down to where you’re rutting against his upper thigh. 

“What’s my needy little baby want, hm?” his raspy morning voice reverberates in your ears, and as he speaks he lets the rough pad of his index finger press against your clit, slowly drawing languid circles in time with your desperate movements. 

“Need you…” you whine, frustrated that he thought now was a good time to tease you. His soft chuckle in response draws the least intimidating little growl out of you, and Bradley can only smile as he places a soft kiss to your lips 

“Relax,” he whispers “we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetheart,” as he says this, a single thick finger gently eases back and forth over your slick folds before pushing inside. Bradley slowly moves in and out of you, lips attached to the junction of your neck and shoulder, drawing small moans out of you as he works you open for him. 

If yesterday had been frantic and explosive, today Bradley was savoring you. He wanted to memorize every sound you made, every move of your body as it reacted to his touch, every mewl of his name falling from parted lips. As he worked three fingers into you, he could hear your breathing pick up slightly, your grip on his bicep tightening and loosening rapidly, and he couldn’t help the smirk that grew against your salty skin. 

“You gon’ cum for me, sweet little Bambs?” he muttered, and you could only nod as your moans turned high pitched, Rooster never slowing or altering his movements as your body shook against his own as you tipped over the edge on his fingers. Bradley moaned low at the sight of you. 

“Look like a fuckin’ angel cumming on my fingers…” he murmured “Fuck, darling, you make me so fuckin’ hard.” 

Pulling his fingers out of you, he used your slick to coat his cock, languidly stroking himself as you came down from your first high. Panting, you nudged your nose against his, lips connecting in a fleeting kiss before you felt the nudge of his swollen tip against your puffy entrance. “Please,” you whispered softly against his lips, fleetingly catching a glimpse of those amber eyes. They were so intense, but you couldn’t look away if your life depended on it. 

At that first gentle push, your breath stuttered against Bradley’s parted lips. His cock was slowly inching into you, and even if he’d made a point to carefully prepare you for him, that initial stretch felt otherworldly - had he been this big yesterday too? 

Grunting, Bradley’s eyes fluttered shut. Gripping his bicep, you inhaled sharply, pressing your forehead against his as he stilled. “You alright, baby?” he murmured, his hand moving to soothe up and down your back, making your chest flutter with emotion. 

“Yeah- just… were you this big last night?” you moaned, and Rooster couldn’t help the small laugh that left him, before he reached up to cup your cheek. Moving away a little, he let his adoring gaze roam over your face. The cute scrunch of your nose, the thin sheen of sweat making you glow, eyes alight with lust and… Bradley blinked, taking in the way your chest heaved, the way his body was molded against yours, your warmth and your trust - it made him dizzy. 

“More… please, Bradley,” your voice was soft, and you slowly moved closer to his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck where your lips flitted over the skin of his throat, along the long line that went across it, up to his jaw and back down to gently suckle at the skin near his collarbones. 

Letting his strong arms wrap around you, Bradley moved against you, one hand slowly ghosting over your skin to grip your thigh as his cock slid deeper and deeper into your core, finally bottoming out as he gently pushed at the small of your back to tilt your hips just right. Small little noises reverberated against his warm skin, and he felt your lips leave wet traces as you occupied your mouth with his neck and shoulders. 

“You okay, Cookie?” he murmurs against your ear as he rocks his hips slightly against you. The soft mewl you let out fills his chest with pride, and something like a fierce need to protect you, to make sure you’re taken care of. 

“So good, Roos’” the words were slightly slurred against the naked skin of his shoulder, and he grunted softly as he yet again used his strength to form your body against his. His large palm resumed their hold right above your knee, drawing it upwards as he pressed your bottom down against himself. Almost as if he was rocking your body against his instead of the other way around. 

“Sound so pretty for me, darlin’” Bradley murmured, gently nudging your chin with his nose, lips hovering over your skin - he needed you to look at him. Needed to see the way those sweet eyes betrayed adoration, betrayed lust and need and want and… trust. He needed to see how much you depended upon him - how you’d given yourself to him to cherish. 

As with every other thing, you were so responsive to him. To his voice, touch - it was dizzying, truly. Your glittering eyes held his, and he moaned low in his throat as he felt the way you squeezed him as you caught sight of his face. He could feel his heartrate picking up, could feel the way his breath were coming in shorter bursts, and it fucking turned him on to no end that that drew the softest of little mewls from you - made your brows pinch in that cute little needy fashion he’d noticed only once yesterday. 

“You okay, my little Bambs?” he murmured softly, letting his lips brush against yours lovingly “I’m so okay,” you whispered against him, your hands slowly running across his muscled chest, nails leaving soft little tendrils of pleasure as they went. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Rooster confessed breathlessly, grunting softly at the end as his cock slid, if possible, even deeper into your heat - as your hips started rutting against his movements. The soft moan of his name made him groan, fucking into you more languidly - slow, steady and deep. The hand that wasn’t gripping your thigh, keeping it hitched high over his hip, returned to squeeze and knead at the flesh of your breast. Fuck, he loved your tits. Loved your body, loved– his breath hitched in his throat, heart almost doing fucking double time… 

Blinking, he let out a shuddering breath before letting his mouth leave a wet trail down your throat, before his lips enclosed on your nipple, his tongue teasing and flicking against the nub. At the sensation of Bradley’s hot tongue on your sensitive breasts, you let out a high pitched moan, pushing your chest against Bradley’s face as your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight as you panted wildly. You were so sensitive, and Bradley’s cock was stretching you, pulling and pushing so so slow - and yet he made it feel so fucking good. You could almost feel every ridge and vein as the drag of his cock made wetness drip from your core, down his length, making a mess of his pubic hair… He was fucking you so incredibly, right there in his bed, that you’d both shared that night. 

You cried out his name again, ending almost on a sob as he pushed his cock deep inside just as he let his lips latch on to your flesh, giving it a heady suckle - his facial hair scratching just hard enough to bring tears to your eyes from the pleasurable sensation. That pressure was building again, deep in your core, building and getting more and more tense. He was everywhere, just like you’d wanted. Filling you, tasting you, gripping you… his smell was surrounding you, the feel of his hair, the warmth of his body, his sweat glowing like a halo around his body in the morning sun as the muscles in his back rippled and moved. 

“Bradley!” you sobbed pathetically, clawing and clinging to him, he must have felt how close you were. Your pussy was pulsing around his thick dick, your arousal dripping down his balls at this point. He was grunting and moaning against your flesh, and you desperately tried to rut your hips, needing more, more more– but he kept his slow, deep pace. His cock barely left your cunt before he pushed deep, each stroke of his cock hitting that spot that you hadn’t been sure if it existed or not. 

“That’s it, baby,” Bradley’s voice sounded wrecked and broken as he released your now glistening nipple. “Can feel you squeezing my dick,” he sounded almost smug - you hated that it almost turned you on. His large hand was still palming at your tit as he nipped and kissed gently at your jaw, your hands still tugging desperately on his hair.

“N-need more,” you gasped, pleading with him as you looked down on him. Those amber eyes of his were shadowed by heady lust, and he just smirked softly before shaking his head ever so slightly “No,” he muttered, kissing your chin as you cried out, the tears that had burned behind your lids slowly running down your cheeks.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his cock twitching deep within your pussy “so pretty, darling, crying for more of my cock,” he whispered, you couldn’t do more than nod and keen, letting out small cries and whimpers as you felt your core clench around him harder, chasing that high so desperately. 

“You’ll cum from this, baby.” he rasped “You don’t need more.” he decided- It felt like he was cradling your body in his hands, molding and shaping, pushing, pulling, playing with you as if you were only made for him. And he was right. As he spoke those words, a shocked gasp tore through your throat as you cried and sobbed, white hot pleasure rolling through your body in waves as you shook and shook, convulsing slightly with every thrust that Bradley’s swollen tip hit that sensitive spot deep within your core. 

“Fuck–” Bradley moaned loudly, “atta girl,” he praised, voice breaking slightly as your hips rolled and shook in his hold “Fuck, Bambi- I’m gon’...” his chest rose and fell rapidly, his shoulders and back muscles rippling as he fought to hang on to see you through your high, not sure if he could–

“Cum in me,” you whined softly, needing him. Needing him everywhere. At those words, Bradley shattered. He couldn’t hold on if his life depended upon it. With a long, low moan of your name, his hips stuttered, once twice, stilling deep within you as he gasped and his warm release filled you, over and over as his cock pulsated through his high. 

“Jesus, darling…” Bradley gasped and moaned low as your cunt throbbed around his still hard dick, milking him of the last of his orgasm. “So good… so fuckin’ beautiful… soft ‘n pretty,” he was murmuring now, kissing his pretty words into the skin of your chest. He finally released his grip on your thigh, palms gently smoothing over the area, ghosting over your skin as his strong arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him as you both caught your breaths. 

“Bradley,” you murmured lovingly, nuzzling into his warmth, it was hard to describe how you were feeling - but it felt weird. Good, but a little jarring. You’d never experienced sex in this fashion before - not entirely sure you’d even experienced any other partner giving you two orgasms, let alone while they were actually inside of you. Your heart was fluttering fast and hard, and the tears that had run down your cheeks had all but dried, but it felt as if the high was lingering - clouding your mind and making you feel so utterly vulnerable. 

Perhaps he could sense it, perhaps he could hear it in the smallness of your voice, but slowly he’d ushered you to rest against the broad expanse of his chest as he softly shushed and murmured against your skin. “You’re alright, darlin’ - did so good.” in the fluffy state your mind was in, you hadn’t really gathered that you were whimpering and making noises as Bradley held you. 

“There you are, baby… you’re alright, you’re safe - I’ve got you honey… fuck - that was incredible… you’re incredible,” he let out a small laugh as his strong hands moved up and down your spine, the other gently stroking over your hair as he murmured praise and soft words of encouragement in your ear. Tilting your head back, you took in the tenderness of his brown eyes, and you smiled softly up at him. 

“That’s it, there’s my beautiful Bambi,” Rooster murmured before placing a small kiss on your nose. “Gave unsteady legs a new meanin’ huh?” he rasped, grinning as you swatted at his chest, although you couldn’t help the amused smile that stretched on your lips. 

“Do we have to get up?” you murmured, pouting softly at the thought of leaving this heavenly moment. You didn’t want to walk out into the harshness, the cold, the bitter. You wanted to stay here, in Bradley’s arms where everything was okay, everything was safe and covered in a thick layer of fluffy soft clouds. 

“Not right now,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head “I have to get up to cook you something of substance to eat in a while, but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that just yet,” he smiled, placing a reassuring kiss against your hair. You smiled softly at the thought, a content sigh making your form rise and fall gently in his hold.

“You never stop working, do you?” you teased.

“Well, hate to break it to ya, Bambs - but people will unfortunately always need to eat,” rolling your eyes, you felt the head chef had earned another light slap against his chest - the only answer was a rumbling sort of laughter that made his chest vibrate slightly against your touch. 

“And cooking for you isn’t a job,” he said casually “it’s something I love doing.”

For some reason, those small words sent a strong wave of emotion through your body, awakening the flutters of butterfly wings again. This time they were not only contained to your stomach, but seemed to flutter and spread warmth and overwhelming, nearly suffocating emotions all through your body. Choked up, you merely squeezed Bradley as tight as your muscles would allow it before offering him the most sincere

“Thank you.”

[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

[bloodylullaby]

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. 

[silenceofthewave]

[A SOUNDWAVE ROLEPLAY BLOG]

– This is a multi-verse roleplay and ask blog.

– Soundwave's character is a mixture between TF Prime and TF One. It's frame is consistent with Prime, which means it has the visor, datacables and creature like quality (hence the it/its pronouns).

– This blog does not shy away from shitposting, but don't let that scare you! I enjoy literature RP just as much, and always welcome discussion when opening new threads.

– Feel free to DM me! I am open to DM RPs as well as discussion! I'm here to make friends and have a good time :)

– Author is 24 years old, and does not shy away from NSFW topics. This includes smut, but also extends to violence, robogore, and the like. I understand I interact with minors, and I am always very careful to ensure they are not exposed to anything explicit. If you are interested in explicit RP, it MUST be kept to DMs for this purpose. I also need assurance that you Are above 18+ in order to engage in this way.

– Due to the multiverse nature of the blog, this is also multi-ship! I am willing to consider anyone who has good chemistry with Soundwave, but my otps are MegaSound, SoundOP, StarSound and WaveWave.

- Header image by kibermonakh

[RULES]

– Please put as much effort as I do into our RPs. It's frustrating writing out a big reply only to get a paragraph back. (This ofc does not apply to shitposting.)

– Minors are free to interact, but please keep in mind that I am particular and reserve the right to stop a RP if its veering into territory I'm not comfortable with. (as are you!! and this applies to all RPs)

– Please reach out to me before starting a big thread, and please keep in contact throughout so we can stay on the same page.

– OCs are welcome!

– Please send asks! Soundwave loves them. But, please do not flood my ask box. I assure you, I've seen it, and it will be answered.

– If you want to start an RP through an ask, please make sure we are mutuals. My notifications get flooded very easily and I am currently trying to work out a management system for them.

– To piggyback off that, if I missed a response from you please either Tag me in the comments of the thread, OR send me a DM with the link to your response. Like I said, my notifications are a MESS, and I know it's very likely for me to miss something.

– Since this has been a problem before, please please please don't purposefully flood my notifications. While I am Committed to the Bit, it's very overwhelming and buries replies. I appreciate the humor, but it's one of the few times I'll say something is unnecessary.

[UNIVERSES]

– 1024.14 Tau: The Chaos Verse

Lovingly called The Chaos Universe, this is where Soundwave gets to shitpost for fun and free. Soundwave has never known peace a day in its life in this universe. Soundwave speaks freely, using the typical "Soundwave: [sentence]" format.

Tagged as u 1024.14

Shipped with @/Lord-Starscream

- 1024.15 Tau: Revival

The Revival Universe currently focuses on the journey to bring Soundwave's cassettes back, utilizing Shockwave's cloning techniques. Angst and grief abound, Soundwave finds itself questioning everything thing it knows about itself. Soundwave has gone mute due to the grief of losing its beloved Cassettes, and instead uses others voices to speak. Still, it finds it has trouble voicing its true thoughts and feelings.

Tagged as u 1024.15

Eventually to be shipped with @/dailydoseoflogic

[HEADCANONS]

Soundwave thoroughly enjoys human music and art. It even has a hacked Spotify account and will listen to music while its flying, alone, or even share it with those closest to it.

Soundwave has managed to get itself connected to the internet, and will regularly do internet searches on things it is unfamiliar with. It also enjoys watching movies and videos.

Soundwave has a strong EM field, which it uses to hone its telepathy, and occasionally share emotions it cannot express.

Soundwave is not emotionless. It feels a lot, actually, but cannot express that.

It uses many emoticons to express what it's feeling, all with their own different meanings.

Soundwave's telepathy is touch based.

Before the war, Soundwave was a gladiator with Megatron. It honed its skills and life long friendship with the Decepticon leader in the pits of Kaon. It trusts Megatron with its life because of their shared experiences. Its loyalty to the Decepticon cause runs deeper than politics.

Soundwave loves its Cassettes. It will put itself in the line of fire to protect them, and will protect them even if it means certain death. In the universes where its Cassettes have gone offline, it's extremely vengeful and will stoop to murder to avenge its beloveds.

The Cassettes were built by Soundwave's own servos. A sliver of its spark splits off, and it only has a few days to build a spark chamber, the beginnings of a protoform and install an internal repair system. The process is extremely time and resource intensive, hence why it has not made new Cassettes during the war.

Further headcanons that appear on the blog are tagged as #soundwave lore

[TAGS]

#u 1024.14 - The Chaos Verse

#u 1024.15 - Revival

#Soundwave: <3 - usually used on neat artwork that i, and by extension soundwave, enjoys

#TheWaves - wavewave art, headcanons, general posting

#SoundAmongTheStars - StarSound art, headcanons, general posting

#Soundwave: >:( - usually used in RP to denote displeasure or anger

#Soundwave: Loves Its Cassettes - exactly what it sounds like, mostly artwork ft the Cassettes

#Soundwave: :( - Usually used in RP to denote some kind of sadness

#nightlygreeting - my sign off posts

#admin babbles - i enjoy yapping sometimes

[ughkat]

bleach - c.t.h

part one

calum x fem!reader

basically y/n and calum broke up bc of her mental health but they still see each other, and y/n suspects calum is already seeing new people and is jealous

tw: mental health talk, depression, anxiety, self image, eating, dissociation, breakup talk

over all cw: angst, smut, kissing, petnames, ex!calum, smoking, drinking, swearing,

not proofread

My mind grew numb and the sounds around me faded slowly to white noise. I glared blankly at my bedroom wall ahead of me following waking up fifteen minutes prior. I listened to my shallow breaths rise and fall as my few moments of peaceful absentminded dissociation shifted itself into an anxious pit in my stomach. A feeling I was all too familiar with. I let out a breath while the routine numbing emotion and inevitable dread slowly fell over me, blinking out of my trance.

All I could think of to aide my overwhelming sense of drowning was the boy causing it. I felt stuck in a cycle knowing my low wouldn't be so catastrophic if it wasn't for my "break" with Calum. He believed our 2 year relationship was taking a toll on me mentally, saying I needed time to care for myself and so did he. I've had my own share of mental health struggles prior to him, of course, though the sudden change of direction with the two of us didn't help the fire. I could tell it was almost just as hard for him as it was for me, being he still comes and sees me frequently. He never ended anything on bad terms, thankfully.

However, I can't shake the feeling that Calum only part ways with me because I was too difficult to handle, not for my best interest.

I reached for my phone beside me, checking the time. I scolded myself mentally for how long I let myself sleep through the day. At the top of my notifications, a message notification from Calum lit up the screen. I perked up slightly at the sight, his presence giving me an ounce of life back into my veins.

"Are you up yet? I wanna come see you today."

I half smiled at the message, it's words momentarily distracting myself from the sinking feeling inside of me. I slid open the notification before responding.

"I'm up. Give me 10."

I tossed my phone back onto my bed, letting out a sigh. I lolled my head to the side tiredly, unmotivated to leave my spot on my bed. Using every inch of power in me, I sat up from my bed, skipping the shower and head to my closet.

I rummaged lazily thought clean clothes, grabbing another pair of sweat pants and a large t shirt. Briefly checking my face in my mirror, I ignored my appearance, unwilling to battle my self conscious thoughts at the moment.

I flopped myself back into my bed, opening my phone once again to a message from Calum.

"Omw."

My stomach fluttered at the thought of him alone, him being one of the driving factors motivating me to be a functional person. All I wanted was Calum. Everything in my mind was him. Every second of my day, I was thinking about Calum. I shamed myself for the amount of self awareness I had about my feelings towards my ex boyfriend, yet choosing to not move on.

I had my suspicions that Calum felt the same, knowing if he didn't, there was no way he'd still be so kind, let alone come see me so often. We knew as a unit that we weren't together, and had no intentions of being back together, yet we couldn't seem to stay away from each other.

I scrolled aimlessly on my phone awaiting Calum's arrival as I heard his signature three knocks at my door. I jumped up pathetically quick at his presence, heading to the front door. I looked up as I opened the door, revealing Calum with a half warm smile.

"Hey, kid." He greeted, bringing me in for a hug. I smiled uncontrollably at the name he so often used for me as he wrapped his arms snugly around my neck, rubbing his hand on my head. I embraced him around the waist, burying my face into his chest with an exhausted whine. I pulled back and stepped to the side, inviting him in before shutting the door behind us. He had a generously sized grocery bag filled with various snacks and drinks. I motioned with my hand towards my room, guiding his way to where we most frequented. I repositioned myself at the head of my bed, criss crossed as Calum took a seat in front of me.

"I brought some snacks." He set the bag down, motioning with his head, "Those candies you like." He looked up at me with a cheeky smile. I giggled softly, shaking my head.

"Thanks." I spoke, "I'm not that hungry.". Calum furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head with suspicion.

"It's 2 PM, when was the last time you ate? I know you're hungry." He urged softly. I rolled my eyes playfully, brushing off his concerns quickly. I tried my best to play off my sinking feeling to avoid feeling like a problem. Calum looked at me deeply before scooting in closer.

"Really, though. How are you?" He asked genuinely. I looked up at him, studying his expression. His eyes squinted as he patiently waited for my response.

"I don't know." I shrugged, "I'm okay." I began to anxiously fidget at the plastic bag between us, avoiding his eyes.

"You don't look okay." He replied in a serious tone, "I've been worried about you.". I let out a sigh and let my eyes wander the room aimlessly, I tried frantically to seem nonchalant.

"I don't know, breakups can be hard, Cal." I muttered, trying my best to excuse my elongated low period. Calum shook his head, sitting up slightly.

"No, this is more than that." He spoke, moving his head to meet my eyes. I glanced up to him, biting the inside of my cheek.

"You're not sleeping, when you do you sleep until the late afternoon, you're barely eating, you look exhausted..." He rambled, talking with his hands. I began to feel a lump form in my throat, the feeling of being a problem starting to take over. I darted my eyes to my hands fidgeting in my lap, blinking tears away from the corners of my eyes.

"The breakup was supposed to help you work on this, not make it worse." He watched me closely, hesitant with his words. I tear quickly escaped my eye before I brought a fast hand to my fast, wiping it swiftly. Calum's posture softened.

"Hey." He spoke softly, placing a hand on my knee, "I'm sorry." He sighed. I shook my head, already feeling embarrassed for letting myself cry so easily.

"I just want you to be okay." He placed a hand under my chin, moving my eyes to his. I blinked quickly to rid of any tears trying to fall. Calum moved his hand to the side of my face, brushing his thumb on my cheek softly, "That's all I want.". I looked at Calum briefly before falling into his chest dramatically, his wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled into his chest. Calum shook his head.

"You're okay." He reassured, caressing my back gently with his hand. I let out a sigh before sitting up, wiping my face. Calum flashed me a warm smile before tilting his head.

"Will you at least eat snacks with me?" He sarcastically jutted his bottom lip out slightly. I uncontrollably let out a giggle, rolling my eyes.

"Fine.".

Calum and I were halfway through yet another terrible comedy movie after hours of pitiful laughter. We had made a dent in his haul of junk food and spent our time lazily in my bed.

My head turned between us at a ding ringing from Calum's phone. He moved quickly, silencing the phone's ringer before flipping it face down. I glanced back up to Calum, who had resumed his eyes to the screen in front of us. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, though telling myself to ignore it. These things shouldn't bother me anymore. My impulse took the best of me as my words flowed uncontrollably.

"What was that?" I asked calmly, gesturing to Calum's phone. Calum looked at me, then down to his phone before forcing a fake expression.

"...Oh! Yeah, that was just a work message." He spoke, failing a "cool dude" attitude as his phone vibrated silently once more. I raised my eyebrows.

"Well shouldn't you check that?" I urged, tilting my head. My suspicions growing bigger and bigger by the second. Why do I care?

"Nah, I can get it later." He brushed off, glancing at the phone quickly. I hummed quietly as I watched his shifting body language. My mind began to race at the mysterious texts and who they could be from. Petty jealousy took over me, filling me with anger.

"What if it's important?" I pushed. Calum looked at me cross.

"Fine." He muttered, flipping the phone over. My eyebrows furrowed at the name which very obviously was not work.

"Rose?" I exaggerated, sitting up in my seat. Calum let out a sigh and looked to his side before speaking.

"Yeah, she's a coworker." He explained loosely. I narrowed my eyes, not buying his story.

"Right." I started. Before I could gather my thoughts, Calum stood up from my bed abruptly.

"I gotta head out, kid." He sighed, avoiding my eyes. I scoffed in disbelief.

"Really?" I argued. Calum paused at my door.

"I'm sorry. I'll see you later, okay?" He spoke genuinely before exiting my room. I stared at my door blankly until I heard the latch of the front entrance, indicating his exit.