#started ANOTHER build that won’t feel complete to me

[moodycowplant]

Between Distance and Desire - Walls Come Crashing Down.

They wandered the streets of Britechester long into the evening, until darkness settled in and the street lights flickered on, casting a warm, golden glow over the stone paths.

The city felt more alive at night, cozy and inviting, as if welcoming them back.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, drifting from music and favorite artists to art and literature.

Lana gushed about her love for sitcoms—an obsession that Conrad didn’t exactly share but tolerated with amusement. He wanted to know her, all of her, quirks included.

By the time they returned to the dorm, the building was nearly empty.

Most students were still away on break, and the few who remained were either buried in work or already asleep.

The dim lights created long shadows, the glass ceiling above adding to the atmosphere, making it feel almost like they had stepped into an ancient castle.

Conrad walked her to her room, exchanging lingering glances and light brushes of fingertips.

“I had an amazing time tonight,” Conrad admitted, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. His lips curled into a teasing smile. “Even if I still don’t understand your sitcom obsession.”

Lana gasped in mock offense. “Obsession? It’s called appreciation.”

He chuckled. “I just don’t get how you can rewatch the same thing a million times.”

“Because it’s comforting! And funny!” she argued, playfully crossing her arms.

Conrad shook his head, smirking. “I guess I’ll have to see for myself then. You know, for research purposes.”

Lana’s eyes lit up. “You really should! And I’ll rewatch with you—it’ll be a completely different experience if we do it together.”

CW: May contain scenes suitable for individuals 18+, light NSFW.

<Previous- Next>

Slight pause. Something shifted in the air between them. The lightness of their conversation gave way to an unspoken charge, a tension that made her breath hitch.

Lana didn’t think—she just acted. Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss started slow, thorough, exploring. He let out a breathy sigh against her lips, then deepened it, losing his control, as he pulled her closer.

She clung to him as if she could melt into his warmth, his touch setting every nerve in her body on fire.

She barely noticed when her fingers found the doorknob, twisting it open. They moved together, never breaking apart, stepping inside as the door clicked shut behind them.

But then, just as things began to spiral, Conrad suddenly pulled away. His breath was ragged, his forehead pressing against hers as he fought to regain control.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I—Lana, I’m sorry. I lost control. That’s not fair to you.”

He took a step back, putting distance between them, as if he was afraid of himself. “I was the one who said we should take things slow, and here I am, acting like—”

“Like you missed me?” she said watching the way his shoulders tensed, how he refused to meet her gaze.

She stepped forward, gently touching his arm. “Hey,” she murmured, tilting her head to try and catch his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away from me.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Lana, I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” She reached up, brushing her fingers against his cheek. “Do you know what I want?” she whispered.

His eyes darkened as he studied her face, his finger gently tilting her chin upward.

“Tell me,” he murmured, in low almost pleading voice.

“I want YOU.” She said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I need YOU, Conrad.”

A quiet groan escaped his lips as he pulled her into another kiss, this time with no restraint.

He lifted her effortlessly, his grip firm yet careful, as if she was something precious.

“What are you doing to me, Alanya Snow?” he murmured against her lips.

She smiled. “Showing you how much I need you. How much I missed you.”

Conrad exhaled deeply, pressing his forehead to her. “You make me feel… like I’m losing myself in you,” he admitted. “And it scares me. I’ve never let anyone emotionally close like this before.”

“Maybe you’re not losing yourself,” she said gently. “Maybe you’re finally finding the part of you that’s been locked away behind the stone cold wall.”

His eyes flickered with something raw, something vulnerable. Slowly, he pulled her against him, holding her in a way that felt more like an embrace than just desire.

“I can’t put those walls back up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not with you. I don’t want to.”

Lana turned in his embrace, cupping his face between her hands. “And you don’t have to,” she murmured, brushing her lips softly against his.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if letting the words sink in, before meeting her gaze once more.

“I think I’m falling for you, Lana.” His voice carried the weight of an unspoken fear.

A warmth spread through her chest from his words.

“I feel the same way,” she confessed. “And I’m not scared.”

His lips curled into the smallest of smiles. “Of course you’re not.”

She kissed him again—slowly, reassuringly. The passion between them ignited once more, and this time, neither of them pulled away.

Their hands moved instinctively, exploring, memorizing, savoring.

Piece by piece, their clothes fell away, each touch was deliberate, each moment stretching, as they surrendered to the intimacy between them.

Conrad was careful, attentive, making sure she was comfortable, making sure she enjoyed this as much as he did.

And she did.

The moment was everything—vulnerable, raw, passionate.

A culmination of unspoken longing, of patience rewarded. Something that, in the end, was worth waiting for.

<Previous- Next>

[florwal]

[pucksandpower]

Burn, Baby! Burn!

Lando Norris x firefighter!Reader

Summary: Lando almost burns down his house (twice) and meets the throughly exasperated love of his life in the process

The shrill screech of the alarm pierces through the calm of the fire station. You jolt upright in your chair, coffee spilling across the table. Another firefighter bursts into the room.

“We’ve got a call! Some bloke has managed to set his kitchen on fire boiling pasta!”

You shake your head in disbelief as you follow your colleague out to the truck. Who in their right mind manages to burn water?

The sirens wail as you weave expertly through the London streets. You’ve lived here your whole life and know every nook and cranny. As you near the address, plumes of smoke curl up in the distance. Sure enough, you pull up to a posh townhouse billowing with black smoke.

You hurry to unravel the hose, pulling on your heavy fire gear with practiced ease. As you blast water at the licking flames, they hiss and retreat. Within minutes, the fire is out.

Your captain does a sweep of the place to check for any remaining embers. You start to inspect the damage. The kitchen is completely demolished — cabinets charred and counters blackened. And there, in the middle, stands a lanky man with a mop of brown hair. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in the ruin.

You stride over. “What in blazes happened here?”

“I, uh, was just trying to make some pasta,” he stammers.

You spot a scorched pot in the sink. “Pasta? All you need for that is water, salt, and noodles. How did you manage to incinerate the whole bloody kitchen?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “I filled the pot with water, turned on the stove, went to get my phone and next thing I knew, the place was up in flames!”

You rub your temples, frustration simmering. This overgrown child clearly can’t be trusted alone.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Lando. Lando Norris.”

Lando Norris … why does that sound familiar? You rack your brain trying to place it.

“Well Lando, unless you fancy burning down the rest of London, I suggest you leave the cooking to the takeaway. Or hire a personal chef or something, sure looks like you can afford it.”

Lando chuckles at that. There’s a twinkle in his eye that irks you.

“Will do, firefighter ...”

“Y/N,” you supply.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful firefighter,” he says with a wink.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The last thing you need right now is an incompetent flirt.

Your radio crackles to life. “Y/L/N, need you to hang back with the resident until a building inspector can come assess the safety.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before responding. “Copy that.”

You turn back to Lando. “Looks like you’re stuck with me till the inspector shows up.”

“Well I certainly won’t complain about that,” Lando says with a dimpled grin.

You plop down on his couch, which by some miracle remains unscathed. Lando sits down next to you, angling his body in your direction.

“So, do you rescue fiery damsels in distress often?”

You snort. “Wouldn’t exactly call you a damsel. But putting out idiots’ fires? More often than you’d think.”

Lando clutches his chest in faux offense. “Idiot? I’m wounded!”

Despite yourself, you feel your lips quirking upwards. There’s something endearing about him, even if he is concerningly incompetent.

“Gotta admit, this is a new one,” you gesture around. “Never been called for someone catching water on fire before.”

“Ah well, I like to keep things interesting,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to respond when your radio crackles again. “The inspector’s been held up across town. Gonna be another 30 minutes.”

You lean your head back and groan. Lando perks up beside you.

“Well, lucky me! More time with the lovely firefighter.”

You toss a decorative pillow at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Lando just laughs, dodging the pillow with ease. “So tell me, Y/N, what made you become a firefighter?”

You debate shutting him down, but something about the open curiosity on his face makes you open up.

“My dad was a firefighter,” you explain. “Some of my earliest memories are of playing at the fire station with the other firefighters’ kids while our dads were on calls. I was maybe 5 or 6 when my dad let me slide down the fire pole for the first time.”

You smile at the memory. “I knew then that I wanted to be just like my dad. I thought firefighters were the coolest people in the world.”

Lando is watching you intently as you speak.

“What about you?” You ask. “What is it you do, besides wreak havoc in the kitchen?”

Lando smirks. “I’m a Formula 1 driver.”

Your eyes widen — no wonder his name is so familiar.

Lando looks pleased at your recognition. “So you’ve heard of me then?”

You nod. “Guess that explains how you can afford a posh place like this. Though I’d think a racing driver would have a bit more common sense in the kitchen.”

Lando shrugs sheepishly. “Never really had to fend for myself until now. I’m a bit hopeless at all things domestic.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “Been living off takeout, have you?”

“You know it,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to retort when the building inspector arrives. You greet him as Lando shows him around the thoroughly singed kitchen. After an extensive examination, the inspector deems the place safe, reminding Lando to get repairs done immediately.

With that settled, you make your way outside, Lando following at your heels.

“Don’t suppose I could get your number?” Lando asks as you reach the fire truck. “You know, in case I have any other domestic mishaps that require rescuing.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “How about I just pray we don’t meet again? Since that would likely mean you almost burned your place down … again.”

Lando clutches his chest in mock offence. “You wound me! And here I thought we were really hitting it off!”

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You pause, considering him for a moment. “But seriously … try not to burn the place down again, yeah? I’d rather not have to peel you off the floor next time.”

Lando grins. “I’ll do my best to keep the place flame-free. Though I can’t promise I won’t still need rescuing from time to time.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take care of yourself, Lando Norris.”

As you hop into the fire truck and speed away, sirens blaring, you catch Lando waving out of the corner of your eye. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

What an absolute disaster of a man.

***

It’s been nearly two weeks since the incident at Lando’s place. You’ve replayed that day in your mind more times than you’d care to admit. There was just something about that hapless yet charming Lando Norris.

Speak of the devil — the fire alarm at the station suddenly blares to life.

“Never a dull day, eh?” Your captain jokes.

You hustle to gear up, a sense of deja vu washing over you. As you near the now familiar posh townhouse, plumes of smoke once again curl into the sky. Your disbelief grows when you see a very sheepish looking Lando standing outside.

He grimaces as your truck pulls up. “Before you ask, yes, it was me again.”

You leap out of the truck, pulling the hose as your team gets to work quelling the flames.

“What the hell happened this time?” You shout over the roar of water.

“I, uh, may have tried to microwave some leftovers,” Lando says, rubbing the back of his neck.

It only takes a few minutes to extinguish the fire and assess the damage. Thankfully, it seems contained to mostly the microwave this time. Lando leads you inside, where smoke still lingers in the air. Your eyes immediately zone in on the microwave, or rather, what’s left of it. The interior is completely blackened and melted.

You whirl on Lando. “Please tell me you didn’t put something metal in there.”

Lando winces. “Right, so, funny story. I may have left a fork in the takeaway box.”

You drag a hand down your face in exasperation. “Lando, are you actually incapable of functioning like a normal adult?”

He has the decency to look ashamed. “I know, I’m a disaster, truly. But in my defense, the microwave came with the place already. I didn’t even think to check for a manual or proper usage instructions.”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure not putting metal in the microwave is common sense.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. “Suppose I don’t have much of that.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling a bit bad for berating him. He really is just hopeless, not malicious.

“Look, maybe it’s best you just avoid the kitchen altogether,” you suggest gently. “At least until you get some proper instruction.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “You’re absolutely right. In fact, why don’t I just take you out for dinner? Be a lot safer than me bumbling about the kitchen.”

You cross your arms, biting back a smile. “Are you asking me out while I’m on duty?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No no, of course not! I would never compromise your professionalism.”

You can’t help but grin. “I’m just teasing you.”

Lando looks relieved. “Right, sorry. But truly, I’d love to take you to dinner, if you’re open to it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I could certainly use the company of someone responsible in the kitchen.”

You consider him for a moment. There are about a million reasons you shouldn’t agree to this. But despite the situation, you find yourself charmed by Lando.

“Tell you what, why don’t you swing by the station once my shift is over in ...” You check your watch. “Four hours. You can ask me again then.”

Lando’s face lights up. “It’s a date! Well, hopefully, if you say yes.”

You chuckle and turn to leave, but Lando calls out your name. You glance back and he smiles warmly.

“Thank you again for rescuing me … in more ways than one.”

Four hours later, you’re wiping down the fire truck when an expensive sports car pulls up outside the station. Lando hops out, beaming when he spots you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he calls out cheekily.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t you know this is a strictly no-playboys zone?”

Lando clutches his heart. “You wound me, Y/N! I’m much more than just extraordinarily good looks.”

“What good looks?” You challenge.

Lando strolls over and holds open the passenger door. “Have dinner with me and see for yourself.”

You pretend to consider it, then shrug. “Eh, why not. Beats more takeout on my couch.”

You hop into Lando’s flashy car and he zooms off towards the restaurant. Lando insists on opening every door for you and pulling out your chair. You poke fun at his over-the-top chivalry, but find it endearing nonetheless.

Over dinner, you learn there’s much more to Lando than his hapless antics. He’s unexpectedly clever, with a sharp wit to match. He’s passionate about racing, his eyes lighting up as he tells you about life on the circuit. And despite his lavish lifestyle, he’s remained remarkably down-to-earth.

Conversation flows easily between you two. You’re amazed at how you manage to lose track of time, the restaurant emptying out around you.

When Lando finally drives you home, you linger in the parking lot, neither of you wanting the night to end.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

Lando smiles. “Me too. Think it’s safe to say there were definitely some sparks between us.”

You groan at the terrible fire pun, shoving Lando playfully. His eyes gleam with mirth.

“In all seriousness, I’d love to see you again,” Lando says. “If you’re willing to take another chance on this walking fire hazard.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well, seeing as I’m trained to deal with hazards ...”

Lando perks up hopefully. You grin and lean over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I would love to see you again. And until then … just please stay away from anything flammable.”

***

A few months have passed since your unusual first encounters with Lando. To your surprise and delight, you’ve settled into an easy relationship that feels almost like second nature. Lando has been actively planning creative dates, seemingly determined to take you on adventures across London.

It’s been a whirlwind of posh restaurants, West End shows, helicopter rides, and more. Lando delights in lavishing you with exclusive experiences. While you appreciate the gestures, your favorite nights are spent cuddled on the couch playing video games.

You’ve helped Lando gain basic competency in the kitchen. He can now make scrambled eggs and pasta unsupervised. Progress.

In turn, Lando has taken an interest in your life as a firefighter, asking for crazy stories and even visiting you at the station with treats for those on shift. He greets you after work with hearty meals — takeaway warmed up in the oven without any explosions — a welcome respite from having to worry that you would come home to find his house burnt to a crisp.

You’re touched by how you’ve each become such a fixture in the other’s unusual life so quickly.

One morning, the two of you are lounging on Lando’s couch during a rare shared day off when he suddenly perks up.

“The British Grand Prix is in a few months! I know it might be tough for you to get the weekend off but I would love it if you could come,” Lando suggests excitedly.

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? I would love to see your world up close.”

Lando grins and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s a date then! Fair warning though, the garage can get a bit chaotic. But I can’t wait to show you off to my team.”

You laugh. “Well in my line of work, chaotic is the norm. I think I can handle it.”

On race day, Lando picks you up in a sleek McLaren emblazoned with his number. You take in the organized chaos of the paddock, amazed by the scale of it all.

Lando guides you through the sea of team members prepping for the big day. He greets his mechanics warmly, introducing you with a hand on the small of your back.

“Lads, meet my girl Y/N,” Lando announces proudly.

The mechanics appraise you curiously. One whistles under his breath. “Nice catch, Lando. She’s clearly out of your league.”

You laugh as Lando flips him off good-naturedly.

Another mechanic, Dan, gestures to your athletic frame. “So what is it you do, Y/N? Personal trainer? Athlete? Fitness influencer?”

You smile wryly. “I’m a firefighter, actually.”

Dan gapes in disbelief. “A firefighter? No way! But you’re so ...” He vaguely gestures at you.

You quirk an eyebrow. “So what? Girls can’t be firefighters?”

Dan holds up his hands quickly. “No no, course not! Just didn’t expect it, is all.”

Lando grins and squeezes your shoulder. “She’s saved my arse more times than I can count.”

You laugh. “He’s not wrong. Man’s a walking fire hazard.”

Lando’s team ribs him fondly about his cooking mishaps. But you can tell they’re impressed, regarding you with newfound admiration.

“Go on then, show us what you can do!” Dan cajoles.

You grin mischievously. “If you insist.”

Before Dan can react, you swoop down and lift him effortlessly into a fireman’s carry. The other mechanics whoop and holler as Dan flails comically over your shoulder.

After a few seconds, you gently set a very flustered Dan back down.

Lando lets out a low whistle. “Have I mentioned how hot it is when you go all firefighter on me?”

You smirk. “Never gets old seeing you boys underestimate me.”

Dan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, fair play. Reckon I earned that.”

You laugh good-naturedly and pat Dan on the back, assuring him no harm done. As you all chat, you notice Lando’s gaze lingering on you admiringly.

As race time nears, Lando has to start prepping with his team. But he keeps glancing over at you with a newfound awe. Your little display of strength clearly left an impression.

Soon it’s time for him to get in the car. You wish Lando luck with a quick kiss, giggling at the mechanics’ dramatic groans.

Once the race gets underway, you stand behind the monitors with Lando’s performance coach, cheering him on with every overtake. You join the crew in jumping to your feet when Lando crosses the chequered flag for an exhilarating podium finish. The garage explodes into celebration, and Lando sweeps you up into a spinning hug when he arrives.

“My good luck charm,” he proclaims, keeping you close as champagne sprays wildly.

Later at an afterparty for the drivers and teams, you sip cocktails under strings of lights. Lando proudly spins you around the dancefloor, making sure everyone can see you on his arm.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Lando murmurs into your hair.

You grin. “Might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well I’m saying it again. You’re incredible, Y/N. Today was so much better getting to share it with you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in Lando’s eyes. You cup his face gently.

“Couldn’t imagine a better first Grand Prix. Thank you for inviting me into this part of your world.”

Lando smiles softly. “You’re the best part of my world now.”

Over the following weeks, you start to notice Lando looking at you with a new hunger in his eyes. The easy affection between you has shifted into something more wanton and primal.

One night, as you’re cooking a simple pasta dish together, Lando comes up behind you, hands encircling your waist. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck as his grip tightens possessively.

You lean back into him with a pleased hum. “Well hello there.”

“Mmm, ever since I saw you lift that mechanic, I just keep thinking about all the ways you could put that sexy strength to use,” Lando murmurs against your skin.

You grin and turn in his arms. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” You purr teasingly.

Lando crashes his lips to yours, backing you against the counter hungrily. You just barely remember to turn off the burner before completely losing yourself in the feel of him around you — one burnt pot of boiling water is more than enough for your relationship, thank you very much.

Later, lying spent and sated in Lando’s bed, he nuzzles against you. “Have to say, your skills in the bedroom rival your skills as a firefighter,” he jokes.

You swat his chest playfully. “Careful or I may have to break out some new moves on you.”

Lando’s eyes gleam. “Promise?”

You grin and roll on top of him, ready to stoke the flames between you once more. Though your relationship started unconventionally, it seems things with Lando will never stop burning hot.

[grumpypixistix]

The lab assistant

Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader

Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )

MINORS DNI 18+

You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

Miguel O’Hara.

When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.

About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.

But then you started appearing in his dreams.

Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.

And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.

But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.

But God, were you so far off from the truth.

As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.

“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”

Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.

Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.

You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.

“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.

“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.

When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.

“Oh great, look who’s here.”

“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”

“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”

The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.

God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.

As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.

Shit.

“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.

Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.

“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.

Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.

“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.

Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.

Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.

“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.

“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“

“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.

Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.

“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.

Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”

Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.

“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.

She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.

“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”

“Please, don’t call me that-“

“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.

The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.

“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.

It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.

“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.

You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.

“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.

Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.

You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.

The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…

You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.

The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.



After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.

Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.

“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”

Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.

The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?

“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.

Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.

“They were… questions a- about you.”

Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What did they ask about me?”

You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.

“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.

That caught Miguel off-guard.

His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.

“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.

His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.

“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.

But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.

“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.

“Really?” You squeaked.

Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.

Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.

After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.

You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”

Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.

“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.

“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.

You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.

Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.

“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.

Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.

But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.

“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.

Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.

“Go on, Cariño…”

You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.

“Even… touching me…”

Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.

“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.

You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.

“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.

Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”

You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.

“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”

The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.

“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.

You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.

“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.

Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.

“Not entirely…”

Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.

“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.

You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.

It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.

Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.

“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.

“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.

You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.

“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.

You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.

“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.

“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.

“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.

You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.

“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.

But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.

Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.

“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.

Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?

“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.

“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.

With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.

As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.

A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”

Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.

“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.

Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.

Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.

Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.

“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.

Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”

Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“

“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.

A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.

“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”

“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.

“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.

“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.

You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Of course I do, Miguel.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

[narcissisticsmoker]

You are restless, shifting in bed, your thighs rubbing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache that won’t subside. You know what this is. Your body is betraying you, begging for something only I can give.

Your scent is intoxicating, thicker, sweeter than usual, seeping into my senses like an aphrodisiac. You are warm beneath my hands, your skin fevered, shivering as I trail my fingers down your spine. Every breath you take is shallow, hitched, like you are barely keeping yourself together.

You need this.

You need me.

I press my lips to your throat, feel the flutter of your pulse against my tongue. You gasp, tilting your head instinctively, offering me more. You are sensitive, unbearably so. Every touch is electric, your nerves alight, your body primed, desperate for relief.

I take my time, watching the way you writhe beneath me, the way your thighs squeeze together, slick already glistening between them. You are soaked, dripping, aching before I have even touched you properly.

I drag my fingers down your stomach, slow, teasing, tracing the curves of your hips. You shudder, your breath catching, your nails digging into the sheets. Your body is pleading, trembling, your skin burning with anticipation.

I spread you open, and you gasp, back arching, a high, desperate moan slipping from your lips. You are pulsing, throbbing, your arousal spilling over my fingers as I drag them through your folds.

“You’re so wet,” I murmur, my voice thick, rough.

You whimper, hips lifting, chasing the friction you crave.

But I don’t give it to you.

Not yet.

I stroke you, slow, barely-there touches, just enough to make you shiver, to make you plead, your voice breaking, breathless. You are trembling, your body wound tight, every muscle coiled, waiting, needing.

I slide a finger into you, and you sob, your walls clenching, fluttering around me. You are hot, unbearably tight, squeezing me like you never want me to leave.

I add another, stretching you, pressing deep, curling just right.

You buck, a broken sound spilling from your lips.

I set a rhythm, slow, teasing, dragging my fingers out before pushing them back in, each stroke deliberate, precise. Your moans are desperate, pleading, your body trembling, liquid heat pooling at your core.

I feel you tightening, feel the tension building, the way your breath hitches, the way you start to tremble.

“Not yet,” I whisper, pulling my fingers away.

You sob, hips lifting, chasing the pleasure I have stolen.

I do it again.

And again.

I bring you to the edge, let you dangle there, make you feel every second of it. Your body is overstimulated, nerves raw, every touch amplified, unbearable.

You are begging now, voice broken, desperate, your thighs shaking, your hands grasping at my wrist, trying to pull me back.

“Please,” you gasp, voice wrecked.

I press a kiss to your inner thigh, slow, lingering, before finally giving you what you want.

I take you in my mouth, and you shatter.

Your thighs clamp around my head, your body arching, back bowing, pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave. You are soaking, dripping onto my tongue, your body trembling with aftershocks as I keep going, relentless, dragging you through another, and another, until you are sobbing, shaking, completely wrecked.

But I am not done.

Not yet.

I flip you onto your stomach, pull your hips up, press the head of my cock against your entrance. You whimper, too sensitive, too overstimulated, but I know you want this.

I push in, slow, deep, stretching you, filling you inch by inch until I am buried to the hilt.

You gasp, your body clenching around me, impossibly tight, pulsing, milking me.

I start to move, slow at first, deep, dragging it out, making you feel every inch, every stroke. You are gone, lost in it, your body giving in completely, letting me take you, claim you, fill you the way you need.

Your nails claw at the sheets, your moans broken, desperate, each thrust pushing you deeper into the mattress. You are trembling, your body shuddering with pleasure, every nerve alight, overwhelmed.

You are mine.

You always will be.

And I will give you everything your body craves.

[miley1442111]

saving me- s.reid

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

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

a/n: fem reader, but as always imagine what you like :)

summary: spencer has to save you before it's too late.

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: general cm topics, sexual assault, hostage situation, drugging, the team don't know about you and spencer, injuries, reader gets injured, reader is allergic to opioids, drugs, alergic reaction, knives, guns, reader begs to be killed, spencer shoots someone. (i think that's it, tell me if i missed anything :))

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

Another migraine. Another fucking migraine. 

Your life was truly a joke. 

You sat beside Emily in the car, eyes heavy with pain as you profusely rubbed them, the sunlight from the sky beside you far too bright. 

“Y/l/n? Any ideas?” Morgan asked, kicking you softly under the table.

“The unsub will probably be extremely interested in the investigation but they probably won’t bring themselves into it. We’ll end up seeking them out,” you rattled off. 

“Are you alright?” Prentiss whispered. 

“Fine,” you lied. “Just tired eyes.” 

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

Spencer’s eyes were on you from the second you’d spoken about your ‘tired eyes’. He was meant to be working up a geological profile, but his focus was completely on you. ‘Tired eyes’, you’d been wearing glasses or contacts all week, you’d been drinking enough liquids, you’d been eating, he assumed you’d slept, you'd been busy most of the week and sleeping at your own apartment instead of his. 

What could cause ‘tired eyes’?

“Reid!” Seaver all but shouted in his ear. 

“Y-yeah? Yes?” He answered, eyes focusing on the map again. 

“Is Y/l/n here?” Rossi asked. 

“W-what? No. I thought she went with Hotch and Prentiss,” he hesitated. 

“She told them she was with us,” Rossi sighed. “So then where is she?”

“I-I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “I’ll call her.”

Rossi held up your cell phone and Spencer’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“Shit is right,” Rossi nodded. 

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

It had been 24 hours, you were officially a missing person. You had no idea where you were, someone must’ve drugged you. That hadn’t been a regular migraine. Your head thumped with pain as you struggled against the duct tape around your hands and feet. 

“You’re one beautiful girl, aren’t you?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, feel the way he was watching you. 

You tried to scream but the duct tape around your mouth made it difficult.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he came closer, into the light. You could see his face. He was a white male, between the ages of 35-40, dad-build, and a sick smirk. 

You didn’t fight back, you couldn’t. You didn’t even notice the camera in the corner. You didn’t know that this was being recorded, or live-streamed directly to Penelope. Penelope, who showed it to the team. To your boyfriend. 

They were watching the worst moment of your life unfold. 

And you had no idea. 

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

“Guys,” Penelope squeaked. “This j-just came through,” she showed them her laptop and looked away, tears clouding her vision. 

“Is that-” Derek started

“Y/n,” Aaron finished for him. 

“What about her? Did you find her?” Spencer asked, staring at the group from behind Penelope. “Is she ok?”

The team’s eyes were glued to the screen as Spencer stood there, demanding an answer. 

“Guys what?!” he shouted. “Someone answer me!”

“Come here,” Seaver sighed. Spencer stood beside her and watched in horror as the unsub hurt you. 

“We have to find her,” he stated. “Now.”

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

“Please, please just kill me,” you begged. He’d taken the tape off a while ago. “Please kill me.”

“I’m not a necrophiliac,” he laughed in your face. “I like my girls alive.”

“Fuck you,” you sobbed. Blood, dirt, tears, and sweat coating your skin. “Fuck you!”

“I’m actively trying to fuck you,” he laughed again. You hated him. You hated this. You hated everything.  

“Just kill me,” you sobbed. “Please!”

He hit you on the head and you went out again. 

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

“FBI!” Morgan’s voice rang out through the warehouse. Spencer was hot on his heels, walking ahead of him and ignoring proper protocol. “Reid!” He ran after him. 

“FBI! Put the knife down!” Spencer shouted at the unsub holding a knife to your throat. Something had gone wrong. He scanned the room quickly. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- I was just-” The unsub stepped away, dropping the knife. “She wasn’t meant to die.”

Die. Dead. You were dead.

Spencer fired his gun without a second thought. He ran over to you and checked your pulse, there but barely. 

“Hotch I need an ambulance!” He shouted. “Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up,” he begged. “Please, please, wake up, I need you Y/n. Please.” 

“Spencer-” Prentiss started but Spencer silenced her with his own words. 

“We’re dating. We have been for a year and a half, don’t you dare tell me to ‘step away’,” he sighed. 

The paramedics rushed in, starting you on an IV. 

“She’s allergic to opioids,” Spencer rattled off. “She can’t have any opioids.”

“Spencer,” Hotch sighed. “She’s had some already,” Hotch pointed to the vials in the corner of the room and the rusty needle beside them. 

Fuck. 

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

“So when were you planning on telling us?” Derek sighed as they all sat in the waiting room.

“I don’t know, soon-maybe?”

“A year and a half is a long time,” Emily smiled. “Congratulations.”

Spencer nodded.

“Dr. Reid?” The nurse asked. Spencer shot up and out of his seat. 

“Yes?” 

“Ms. Y/l/n is stable but she is severely hurt. Physically and... mentally. She endured hours of sexual assault and her body and mind reflect that. I suggest someone non-threatening to see her first. Maybe a woman?”

Spencer gulped and nodded. “Emily?”

“Yeah of course,” she nodded, walking behind the nurse as he led her to your room.

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

You wanted Spencer. You needed him.

Emily walked in and tears filled your eyes. “Where’s Spencer? Is he ok?”

“He’s fine, they just thought that you’d want someone non-threatening to come in and see you first-” Emily explained. 

“Can you go grab Spencer please?” you sniffled. She smiled and nodded, then left the room. 

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

“Spencer?” Emily called into the hall. “She wants you.”

Spencer had never walked faster in his life. 

There you were. Bruises and scratches littering your body and face. Your beautiful face. Your beautiful smile and teary eyes.

“Come here, please,” you whispered. Spencer sat at your side, your hand in his. “Thank you.”

He chuckled sadly. “For what?”

“Saving me. All the time,” you smiled softly.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

[mixingandmelting]

Hello! I was wondering if you'd quite something based on the bat boys (or just Jason) reaction to realizing they liked having a normal life?

Like they go to visit the readers' family for Xmas, but their family left without letting them know, so they had the whole house to themselves, so they got to play house. It was in a whole other state, so no needing to be vigilantes. Just them with their s/o getting ready for Christmas, being shown around and just living a normal life for a few weeks.

A/N: Hope you don't mind me not writing about Duke and Damian since they're both minors so legally speaking they can't really travel out-of-state alone. Plus to be real, I highly doubt Batman would want to leave Damian unsupervised considering what happens when he's alone 😔

Dick:

His whole life he was anything but normal, being raised in a circus and now, fighting crimes 24/7. Excitement, action, danger, and adventures are what defines him and how he had always dreamt of how his life would go on. But here he is, tasting “normal” for the first time in his life by spending the holiday with you in the house you were raised in. Snowball fights and building snowmen delays the process of clearing the snow. Not to forget the snow angels that are made once he playfully tackles you down into the snow after you manage to get more on him than yourself. Putting up the lights and decoration both inside and outside of the house was more fun than the times he helped out at the Wayne manor, while finding out shopping for anything during the holiday season is a battle of its own. Adding that to the daily routine that’s usually gone through on his days off every day,  it’s… quiet and peaceful. He doesn’t wake up to sirens or violence. He’s not worried about another mission, instead figuring out how he’ll get your present under the tree without getting caught. You greeting him at the door, placing a kiss on his cheeks that are slightly bitten from frost when it’s decided he’s moving the snow on his own makes him so fuzzy, he starts calling you honey over babe. The most mind boggling about this? He doesn't mind it. It’s hard to accept that he actually likes “normal”. He’s confused over liking a concept that’s completely foreign to him and with his personality, he won’t last long with living with “normal” forever. The happy couple/marriage vibe though? He’s on board and digs it, one-hundred percent. Especially in a house filled with childhood memories, it’s giving him ideas and changing what he perhaps would want in the future in ways he wouldn’t think of back then.

Jason:

Considering his childhood and how he went through the whole reincarnation cycle of dying and then reviving, it’s a desire he had as a kid but gave up right away. He didn’t even fathom that a day would come where he would experience what it would be like to be normal. Walking around and staying in the typical home most average people live in made him tense the first three days, even more so knowing this was where you lived since a child. Moving snow with you becomes his favorite pastime, where you’d distract from getting the job done and have him chase after you from the snowball that hits his back. Or bringing out steaming hot chocolate so his nose and hands would stop feeling as if they’re ready to fall off from the cold after cleaning up and helping you build a snow fort of all things. His hands are frequently on your waist from holding you up to string the lights and hang the decorations after you frown from his “aesthetic” way of placing them, pushing him to move aside so you could show how a real pro does it. It’s also his first time struggling to find time to get a present behind your back from being with you all the time. Eating meals together, taking walks together around the neighborhood and city, acting as bodyguard during grocery and Christmas shopping, spending time together as a couple in general in a house that’s warm, cozy, and peaceful as Jason Todd is a first. Not as Robin once dead and revived or Red Hood, the violent outlaw.  It’s a wish once buried in his heart on top of another where he’s spending time with you that comes true before the holiday. He’s emotional from being so happy, he doesn’t think of anything else other than wanting to live like this for the rest of his life.

Tim:

Contrary to the stereotypes depicted by the media, rich kids don’t spend time with their family; it's usually spent with their nanny as their parents leave them for long periods of time in a house too large for two people. Sure over the years he has healed with his friends and a new family. But it feels like a dream come true with you. He’s laughing and enjoying the soft fluffiness of white that gets all over him, freezing his nose and hands when he tries to clear the snow. He gets into it with you over how the lights and decorations should be placed inside and outside the house when you mentioned you want to outdo your neighbors, a set of blueprints and sketches drawn while debating that rainbow lights were better than the flickering, white ones. To much of his chagrin, he’s fumbling with all the things you toss at him when he helps you shop, him being in charge of the shopping cart as he stays in-line as you grab and bring back what’s needed in the store. Not that he’s complaining, his face suddenly tinted in red when you come back and slip your hand between his hand and the handle during the wait for the next opened cashier. Surprisingly enough, he doesn’t struggle with getting you a Christmas present and placing it under the tree. He had been keeping tabs since the day after Valentine’s Day on the things you’ve been looking at while relying on your habits he memorized to time things perfectly. Similar to Jason, he, too, wanted to live normally like any other person. Him getting to do that by prepping for the holiday with you heals the child in him, making him content and wishing the time the two of you currently have lasts forever.

[hyewka]

warnings: infidelity, dom!beomgyu, best friend gyu, dubcon, not proofread

he pouts, his face contorting into a childish display of temper as he lightly kisses your neck. “look what you do to me, baby…” he whines, grinding against you rougher, his cock fully hard now. “could fuck you right here right now... i know you want it too,”

you try to resist him, try to get the feeling building up between your thighs out of your head. this was wrong. thats what clicks for you. “no, no…stop, you know i-"

he hums, his fingers teasing the waistband of your panties. "you want me to rip these off and fuck you right here... don’t you want to feel my cock inside you?” he nibbles at your earlobe.

ever since you got finally got together with taehyun, attempting to completely abandon your unrequited yearning for your best friend, he had suddenly gotten more and more touchy with you which had eventually lead you having sex with him after you had your very first fight with your boyfriend. it was all you had hoped for…aside from the fact that you were committed to another.

when you had seen taehyun the next day, the guilt swallowed you whole, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. then days turned into weeks, and the feeling had eventually passed over until you could push it in the back of your head and pretend it never happened…but beomgyu doesn’t make it easy.

see, ever since that night he’d been trying to get you back in his bed. hes managed to have you cum on his fingers multiple times and had even convinced you somehow to get on your knees for him. each time you’d tell yourself that you hadnt had sex so it…technically wasn’t cheating, it was all you could hold on to without feeling like shit whenever you cuddled up with taehyun late at night.

the worst thing is, hes never shown you any hint of lust before you started dating, so it only throws you off when you spend sleepless nights deeply pondering on his behavior.

but what use does that do when you’ve made the mistake of letting him hang out at your house again knowing how he gets? he’s completely insatiable the moment he walks in, kissing you all over.

“baby?” he calls out and you shiver, the feelings you’ve built for him for years threatening to spill out your throat just at the simple petname hes learnt to latch onto over times you spend together like this. you can’t give in, not again. you swallow hard and shake your head, trying to keep your resolve.

“i’m loyal to taehyun, i’m not making this.. mistake again.” you say firmly, or as firmly as you’re able to make it sound. “i need you to respect our relationship or our friendship’s done.”

he laughs, a dark, twisted sound. "loyal? to him? now you decide to be loyal?”

you stand your ground even though every part of you wants to crumble. “y-you took advantage of my vulnerability and had sex with me, i didn’t mean to betray his trust. but i’m ready to move past all of this and-"

suddenly, his grip on you tightens. “what about all the other times after that? y’know, when your mouth was stuffed with my cock?”

you squeeze your eyes shut in regret the moment the memories come rushing in. he continues, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “don’t make me out to be the bad guy. i know you want me. i know you really love me.”

your heart stops, his words hitting you like a physical blow. you open your eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “what?”

his expression softens slightly, but there’s a determined glint in his eyes. “you heard me. you can’t deny it. all those times, it wasn’t just lust.”

you shake your head, struggling to find your voice. “no, you’re wrong. i love taehyun. i can’t… i won’t do this anymore.”

“you’re lying to yourself. he can't satisfy you like i can... he doesn't understand you like i do...” he trails off, testing your buttons. it’s like you’re under a spell the more he talks, pushing his fingers beneath your panties, his breath getting heavier. “you crave this... you crave me, don’t you?”

[vaguely-concerned]

To the ‘themes I am picking up on in Veilguard’ list, let's go ahead and add what I have a sneaking suspicion will actually turn out to be The theme:

— the world has changed and can never be as it was again.

— I have been changed and can never be who I was again.

— in this simple unavoidable truth there is endless grief and endless hope.

And I… may be getting a bit emotional about it haha. Let me show my work a bit: 

if da:o is a game about people who are already dead or half ghosts in some form (through societal forces, psychologically, functionally, literally, in body, through the joining etc.) coming together anyway to save the world from being swallowed by total nihilism and despair (symbolized by the blight) through the power of love and friendship and also this sword/potential heroic sacrifice that I found, da2 is a game about people who have lost their homes and been set adrift finding and building new homes in each other (while completely failing to save the world. also through the power of love and friendship. as well as years of petty bickering <3 we must imagine kirkwall if not happy then worth having been because the love was there the love was there and that's the only sanctifying force we can ever have in this doomed world and city of ours), and da:i is a game about old stabilizing-but-unjust comfortable lies vs. disruptive but potentially liberating uncomfortable truths, and the power of friendship to help us distinguish the one from the other and navigate through them...

folks… I'm starting to think that veilguard might be a game specifically about moving towards recovery and acceptance after trauma — about how even in this flawed, severed, scarred state, what is here right now is worth loving and worth caring for. even in an imperfect and impermanent world and self, there is worth and joy. and of course the first real tragedy — and threat — of Solas is that he just cannot find it in himself to accept this and move on, to let go of what was, the regret won’t let him go or he won’t let go of it. which means that even though on the surface it’s Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain (and the will to subjugate and violate they represent) who are the main villains, the real antagonistic force in this story beneath that is the Dread Wolf’s despair. A despair Rook must make an answer to by the end of the game, one way or another, compassionately or with righteous fury, triumphant or pyrrhic.

The world will change again and again and so will you — BUT the crucial element is that so will everyone else who exists along with you, you are fundamentally not alone in this existential truth. all we’ll ever have is each other and my god that is plenty, my god that is enough!!! Which is the second thing Solas just can’t accept, he keeps himself separate and completely alone out of an awful mix of fear and pride and feeling himself unworthy of anything else. Rook and the player want to save the world of Thedas because it’s where everyone we love lives, Solas wants to go back to the past because that’s the only neighbourhood where he can still visit those he loved — and the person he himself was, before. A very sympathetic and human instinct/trap to fall into when touched by trauma, I think, if only it wasn’t backed by godlike power, a fundamentally oppositional personality, and a catastrophic lack of therapy to make it literally everyone else’s problem too lol. It’s varric and solas’ banter about the man on the island and where meaning in a life comes from all over again, writ large and with detail work — and the added idea of ‘what if there are also other islands out there, though. With other people on them that you could find if you reach for each other’. Rook with the best of intentions has to make choices to which there are no perfect outcomes and live with what happens — and not cut themselves off from everyone else around them even when there is regret or shame. You get back up every day and you make a life with other people doing the same and you do your best, and that’s the only victory this world will give you. In the end, that is more than enough, that is essential. And I um. I love that. So much. It’s why some of the writing clumsiness on top can’t hurt me because this thematic spine is so solid and so beautiful to me. It’s DA2 all over again that way for me personally — I forgive this story for what it isn’t and couldn’t be, and I love it with my whole stupid open heart for what it actually is. Thank you for coming to my TED-talk and goodbye etc.      

(For my fellow TLT heads out there — you know what this story is reminding me of most of all, actually? It has some big Nona the Ninth vibes down there in the deep. It’s about… the horror and unspeakable beauty that can only be found in liminality, and the role of love in making that basic fact of existence bearable. And also even more unbearable at the same time. I'm so sorry.)

[azzifuddfanpage]

so competitive

————

hi guys new fic! Thanks for the prompt: Smut since they are both so competitive, maybe like them competing to see who can get each other off faster or more?

2.5k words tw: hella smut

theme: competitive gfs

————

Azzi reclined her seat as far as it went.

“No way you are actually going to sleep right now.” Paige huffed in disbelief reaching over and tugging at one of Azzi’s braids. 

“I told you, if you were gonna spend all your time talking to her tonight… you’re not getting nothing.” Azzi pouted, closing her eyes and angling herself so she was facing the window. 

Paige glanced away from the road to look at the lump beside her. 

“First of all, she was literally my trainer Azzi. Second of all, you know damn well you won’t last long, you know I always make you finish fast.” Paige teased, rubbing her hand along her thigh, listening to Azzi’s breath shift as it grew closer to where she needed her most. 

Azzi snorted, “wanna bet?” She said competitively, sizing her up as they pulled into the driveway of their dorm. 

“I bet I can make you finish faster.” Azzi said, grabbing Paige's hand and moving it upward so it was resting on her breast. 

Paige looked over, gulping as she could feel Azzi’s hardened nipple through the thin material of her tank top. 

Her lips curved into a smile as she let herself squeeze the fatty tissue a little, smirking as Azzi let out a breathy moan. 

“Oh trust me. I know I can make you finish first.” Paige said confidently, rubbing her finger over her nipple that was now poking through her  shirt. 

“Alright we will see about that.” Azzi said smartly, shoving Paige's hand away and climbing out of the car.

When they got up to the dorm, Paige shoved Azzi onto her bed, and locked the door behind them.

“Alright wait.” Azzi started, putting a finger against Paige's needy lips before she was able to go to work on her. “We need some ground rules.” She continued. “We can each make one move, we go for the same amount of time, and then we will see who cums first.” Azzi finished running her finger along Paige's bottom lip and  pulling it down gently. 

Paige licked her finger and sucked it into her mouth seductively, letting her cheeks hollow out as she bobbed up and down on it, coating it fully in her saliva. 

“Deal, but only cuz I know ur not gonna wanna wait.” Paige smirked, pulling her mouth off her finger and admiring it as it glistened in the light. 

Azzi felt her knees grow weak under her- no way was she gonna give in this soon.

“Alright- my turn.” Azzi said, sitting up in the bed so she was facing her. 

Azzi moved towards her, pushing her down so she was on the bed, she slid her hands under her shirt and felt herself come in contact with her hardened nipples. 

“No bra huh?” Azzi teased, rolling one under her fingers, watching as Paige's eyes rolled back. 

“Take it off Paigey.” She whispered in her ear. 

Paige almost gave in but remembered how worth it would be to win….

“Hey no, it’s my turn now, you touching me was your turn.” Paige said, shoving Azzi’s hands away from her, fighting the bubbling urges in her panties. 

“Bruh.” Azzi said irritably, glaring at Paige as she smirked at her. 

“Don’t bruh me, princess.” She said, leaning over her and sucking on the sweet spot on her neck. 

“You know I know you better than anyone baby.” Paige said in between sucks, placing soft kisses along her jawline.

“Wild you would even wanna make a bet wit me when you know what I can do to you.” She paused, pulling the collar of Azzi’s shirt lower so she could press a kiss lower on her neck. “The way I can make you moan like no one else is in the dorm.” then another one over her clavicle. 

“The way I-“ Azzi squirmed under Paige, cutting her off. 

“Alright alright- times up.” She said laughing at the way Paige's eyes were completely dilated for her and her a trial of spit was connecting to her chest. 

Azzi ran her fingers through paige’s hair, trying to forget the need that was building in her core, and she hovered her lips over paige’s, watching as paige puckered hers for her so needily. 

Azzi smirked, giving in and mushing their lips together, letting her tongue slide out and run over Paige's lip begging for entry. 

Paige obliged, letting her lips part gently so Azzi could slide her tongue in and massage it against Paige's. 

The sounds of their wet tongues working against each other filled the air.

Azzi was so turned on, she couldn’t even think straight, unintentionally moving her leg which just happened to be between paige’s. 

Her knee dug into Paige's crotch, and Paige let out a sharp moan at the unexpected pressure on her clothed pussy. 

“Fuck” paige groaned, letting herself grind down on Azzi’s thigh for a moment, before regrettably pulling off. 

“Only one thing I said-“ Paige growled wrapping her hand teasingly around Azzi’s throat- gently so she wouldn’t hurt her.” Azzi smirked under her, proud of how worked up she was.

“Paige moved her hand down and let it travel down to her waist band, and moved her finger letting it rub against the edge, traveling her fingers down the seam. 

“Need you to be a good girl az and follow the rules.” Paige said, watching as Azzi’s head lulled back as Paige's fingers grazed over her clothed center. 

“Fuck.” Azzi groaned. 

Paige smirked, noticing azzis reaction, clearing a mixture of the added pressure and her words. 

“You like that baby.” Paige tested, moving her lips down so they were pressing into her lower stomach above her waist band. 

“You like it when I tell you how good you are, pretty girl?” She asked, running her fingers up and down Azzi’s inner thighs.

“Fuck paige, you feel so good.” Azzi moaned, feeling Paige's words go directly into her core. 

“I know baby- you like it when I talk to you like this don’t you.” She started, moving her fingers back up over her pussy, and back to the waist band to toy with it. 

Azzi was about to surrender, give in to the praise, but pulled herself away. 

“You really didn’t think you would win that easily.” Azzi laughed as Paige's fingers danced  at the distance between them, needing to be against Azzi’s heat.

Azzi straddled Paige, letting herself grind down on her, rubbing her clothed pussy against Paige's.

Paige let out a shaken breath as Azzi moved her hips.

Azzi smirked at Paige's needy reactions, grabbing her knee and propping it up so their legs were interwoven together and they were practically riding each other.

“Fuck- love it when you touch me like that pretty.” Paige groaned as the breath she was holding released.

Azzi felt herself melt under Paige's words. 

She whined a little, blushing as Paige's glossy eyes scanned over her.

“Shit you really like it when I baby you don’t you.” Paige tested, moving her hands so they were preventing Azzi from grinding against her pussy, but instead onto her hand. 

“You fucking slut.” Paige laughed as she could feel her wetness through the tight material of Azzi’s leggings. 

“You’re such a sucker for praise aren’t you baby.” Paige said, rubbing her fingers against Azzi’s heat, listening as Azzi moaned loudly. 

Paige chuckled, grabbing at Azzi’s back and pulling her closer to her chest, whispering into her ear, “you can give in whenever baby- lemme feel you.” 

Azzi let out another moan, feeling the wetness between her thighs increase. 

Azzi nodded reluctantly, letting Paige pull off her pants.

“Your turn.” She said, stubbornly.

Paige smirked, 

“Only one who can touch me pretty.” She teased, pulling off her pants and boxers so she was completely naked.

Azzi moaned at the sight of her naked cunt.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” Azzi whined under her gaze.

“I know baby- why don’t you just be a good girl for mommy and let me win and then you can taste me all you want.” 

Azzi rolled her eyes defiantly, even though all she wanted to do was feel Paige's sopping cunt against her lips. 

Paige leaned forward placing her hand against the soft flesh of Azzi’s pussy, gently running it through her folds.

She pulled her fingers back, separating them in front of Azzi’s face, letting her watch as the cum dripped down in front of them. 

“I know no one makes you like I do.” Paige smirked, moving the fingers towards Azzi’s mouth.

Azzi obliged, sucking down on them, moaning as she tasted herself on Paige's fingers.

Paige smirked as Azzi ran her tongue over them, flicking it against her, letting her spit spill down the side of Paige's finger.

Paige made eye contact with her, focusing on her movements, and bringing her spit coated finger to her own mouth, sucking it gently.

Azzi moaned, watching her.

Paige smirked, grabbing her hips and grinding her down against her bare clit. 

Both girls let out a loud moan at the contact, moaning as their pussies melded together. 

Paige’s hips bared down on Azzi’s, feeling as their clits pushed together.

“You feel so good baby.” Paige whined, applying more pressure to Azzi’s hips so she was rubbing against her at a harder angle.

Azzi replied with a gentle moan, feeling their slick grow between them.

“Turn around.” Paige said confidently, stopping herself from grinding into Azzi. 

Azzi was confused, her hips hovering over Paige's, desperate for more contact.

“I’m not gonna say it again. Turn around.” Paige ordered softly, moving her hands so Azzi could turn around on her.

“Now we really will see who finishes first.” Paige said teasingly, running her fingers against Azzi’s ass which was now in her face. 

Azzi moaned, realizing what Paige was trying to do.

She looked in front of her at Paige's throbbing cunt. 

She backed herself up, inching her own pussy up to Paige's mouth, feeding it to her, as she bent down to lick at Paige's. 

Paige let out a moan at the contact, sending a rush of cool air into Azzi’s cunt.

Paige grubbed at Azzi’s hips as Azzi’s lips attached around her soaking clit. 

Paige moaned loudly into azzi, running her fingers against her core, pressing a kiss at her entrance.

Azzi felt the warmth of Paige's tongue against her hole, leaning forward she ran her fingers through Paige's slick as her tongue flicked against her clit.

Paige, behind her, followed her every movement, puppeting what she did and attacking her pussy with her mouth.

Paige shook her head against her, letting her tongue wiggle against her pussy, feeling Azzi squirm under her.

Paige slipped her tongue inside Azzi, feeling around her warm cervix, as she separated her ass with her hands.

Azzi moaned into her clit, causing Paige to speed up, thrusting her tongue in and out of Azzi.

“Fuck I love it when you touch me like that.” Azzi whined, running her fingers against Paige, and slipping them into her hole to keep up with Paige's motions.

Paige's legs spread farther apart at the contact, feeling Azzi thrust against her. She moaned, sending vibrations through Azzi’s cunt. 

Azzi felt herself getting worked up, the feeling of paige fucking into her, causing her to push harder agaisnt paige, driving her fingers deeper into her.

Paige moaned, speeding up her own pace, fucking her tongue into her harshly, and moving her thumb to massage her clit. 

Neither of them would cum until the other did. 

“Fuck I honestly don’t know if I can hold it much longer.” Azzi said disappointedly, not wanting to lose, but the pressure against her clit, feeling of Paige's tongue hitting deep against her walls, and the taste of Paige's cum was all too much for her.

“Fuck me either baby.” Paige responded, her breath coming out in gasps as she pulled her tongue out and lapped up some of the cum that was spilling out.

Before Azzi could catch her breath, and focus on pleasing Paige, Paige's fingers dove back into her, thrusting into her with such speed that Azzi’s fingers gripped at Paige's walls to stabilize herself, hitting her g spot as she did.

Paige moaned, feeling her walls tighten as her fingers pounded into Azzi’s pussy.

Azzi could feel Paige tighten around her fingers, it getting harder to thrust in and out. 

Paige sped up to get Azzi to the same place, her cunt sucking in her fingers graciously. 

Paige pulled away to look at the way Azzi’s cunt absorbed Paige's fingers, sucking them in with every thrust, the squelching sounds of their fingers diving into one another, filling the air.

As Paige let out a yelp feeling her cum start to ooze out of her, Azzi’s legs started to shake with an overpowering orgasm of her own. Paige moaned, thrusting her fingers hard against her, Azzi’s too working hard.

Both girls released at the same time, fucking the cum out of each other.

Paige removed her hand from Azzi’s cunt, using her mouth to lick the cum up from her, savoring every last drop. 

Azzi followed suit, slurping up the white syrup that had poured out of the girl moments before. 

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, Azzi’s ass still in Paige's face, and her face lying against her pelvic bone, hovering dangerously close to her aggravated cunt.

Paige let out a laugh. “Well I guess we are both just too damn stubborn to have a winner.” She paused. “I guess we will have to settle for a draw.” 

Azzi laughed. “I don’t know, felt like you might have came a little before I did.” She teased. Paige smacked her ass gently, pulling her off her so she was lying next to her.

“Whatever, at least I’m not the one with the praise kink, “good girl”.” Paige teased as Azzi’s face turned a shade of red.

Paige traced over her dimples as Azzi smiled bashfully.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, or you wouldn’t even have had a chance.” 

“Ya right, p, you were moaning just as I was.” 

They returned into a heap of giggles, and Azzi snuggled up against her, laying her head over her chest, tracing her name into her stomach.

“Even though I beat you, I know you still make me cum really well. So don’t let this L make you feel insecure.” Azzi said quietly. 

Paige laughed, shoving her head playfully. “Yeah alright big head, rematch tomorrow and we will see who’s talking then.” Paige teased, nuzzling herself against her and letting the night wash over her. 

[bigbigpushes]

Roadside Delivery

A broken down car was frustrating on the best on days, for Chloe and Jennifer it was more so. Chloe had gone into labour in the early hours of that morning, three days past her due date and they had been making the long drive to the closest hospital just after lunch, living over an hour away, they had left with plenty of time to spare.

Forty minutes into the drive, their car had just stopped, unable to start it again, the call for help had been made but two hours later, they were still waiting as Chloe paced beside along the side of the road. “They know I’m in labour, right? Why are they taking so long?” She complained as she braced herself against the hood of the car, breathing through her third contraction in five minutes, “they know, sweetheart. Please let me call an ambulance now.” Jennifer had wanted to call for one as soon as they had realised they wouldn’t be driving any further, but Chloe had been insistent, hopeful that they wouldn’t be waiting so long and wanting to save themselves an ambulance bill.

“Call them. There’s so much pressure.” Finally the labouring woman gave in, it was obvious help wouldn’t arrive in time for them to be able to get back on the road in time. The contraction passed and she began walking again, up and down the length of the car as their child shifted closer to entering the world.

She could hear her partner talking on the phone as she felt her uterus beginning to tighten. The passenger side door had been left open when she had first gotten out of the car and as the pain began to take hold, she leaned forward against the seat, letting out a deep groan as it built, “ahh, fuck!” She yelled out, there was a strange feeling, almost like a balloon bursting as her water broke, soaking her shorts.

“Babe!” Chloe yelled out, Jennifer quickly rushing to her, realising what had happened when she noticed the puddle beneath her girlfriend’s feet. “Ambulance is twenty minutes out.” Chloe looked to the other, panic in her eyes. “They won’t make it, I won’t be able to hold them in that long.” Her pelvis felt heavy and she was sure the head was pressing against her cervix.

She knew Jennifer well enough to know she was trying not to freak out completely, this was far from the birth they had planned, there was no changing it now as her abdomen tightened once more, with it the overwhelming need to push taking control as she gave into the instinct without a second thought. Chloe pushed with small grunts, her hands gripping onto the seat cover.

“Sweetheart, can you move? We’ll get you into the backseat?” She heard Jennifer ask, but all she could do was shake her head, her body telling her that this was exactly where she needed to be. “Okay, we’ll make this work.” Chloe nodded, resting as the pain ended while she listened to her partner open the back door, trying to shield them from the prying eyes of any passers by, the few they had seen in the last couple of hours simply looking on without stopping to help.

As the other woman grabbed their small first aid kit and a couple of blankets from their go bag, Chloe pushed her shorts and underwear down, the urge building again. “I’m going to push…” she warned Jennifer as she beaded down. “Ahhh, hhhnghhhhh!” She grunted loudly, feeling the baby move further through her birth canal, her opening spreading slightly as the head pushed against it before receding. The next few pushes were more of the same, she felt as if no progress was being made until finally the head didn’t recede as the contraction ended.

“Fuck, that burns.” She panted heavily, trying to let herself stretch. “You’re doing so well.” Jennifer was knelt below her, watching in awe and ready to catch. Chloe whimpered and breathed through the next couple of contractions until she couldn’t wait anymore, she pushed once again, letting out a cry of surprise as the head emerged.

Jennifer moved quickly, checking for the cord and supporting the head. “Baby is almost here sweetheart.” Another contraction built and all Chloe could do was push, she grunted loudly through her efforts as the shoulders moved free, “babe…” she muttered to Jennifer , exhausted but so close to being done. “One more push. You’re a rockstar, one more.”

Once again, she felt the pressure building, with no hesitation, she pushed once more, gasping for breath as she felt their child leave her body, falling into her mother’s waiting arms. Cord still attached, she and Jennifer turned carefully so she could sit in the passenger seat, their daughter being placed against Chloe’s chest as help finally arrived.

[readychilledwine]

Hiii helloooo. Back with another request that popped into my brain if it interests you enough to write it into existence ✨ so Az lives in an apartment/condo in velaris that he rents from an old high fae lady who owns the building and she also lives there with her granddaughter (YN/reader/OC) who is def his mate but they dance around it for her sake (and her poor old grandmother’s lol) since she’s still young for a fae. Oh and idk why but I imagine Az having a cat that reader takes care of while he’s on missions. Once a week, without fail, Az has breakfast with the old lady and her granddaughter. If he’s going on an extended mission, he always lets them know he won’t make it and he tells them in person or sends his shadows with the message. One time, he gets severely injured before he’s able to send word that he won’t make it to breakfast. The old lady sends her granddaughter to the townhouse to look for Az and feyre or cassian answers the door and is completely baffled that a girl and her cat are asking around for the spymaster. Like “well he didn’t come for breakfast today and he ALWAYS comes for breakfast and grandma was worried and so was (insert cute cat name) and she wouldn’t stop yowling so I had to bring her to look for him too” reader is def an awkwardly endearing rambler. (And if the cat is buddies with his shadows that would be totally adorable too 🥹) and then maybe it ends off with her (gently) smacking azriel upside the head while he’s on his sickbed healing because how dare he not tell her and her grandma that he was going to get injured and miss their weekly breakfast 😡 feel free to change anything up if you end up writing it!!

The Breakfast Club

Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat.

Warnings - mentions of injury, stray kitten mentioned, fluff

💙Peep the Azriel Masterlist here💙

To say you were nervous as you approached the High Lord's townhouse was an understatement.

In the 4 all too short and unexpected years of knowing Azriel, the last of which had been spent as much more than just friends, he had never missed breakfast with you and your grandmother. And if he had, it had come with a note or prior notice.

He had not shown up today, breaking your grandma's heart as she had prepared his favorites. It had set worry into your heart, though. Worry you masked as the two of you ate in deafening silence.

You two had hidden the growing romance so well. You didn't want to ruin the illusion now and risk your grandmother becoming protective over your youth and, of course, his reputation and profession.

You held his black kitten closer to you, kissing her little white paws as she mewed softly. She had protested you leaving his apartment to look for him without her, wanting to live up to her name as you tucked her into the hooded jacket you had custom-made to carry the kitten.

The poor baby probably missed her owner, her constant companion, more than she could truly express. You were used to caring for her when he was gone, but he normally always left one or two shadows for her to play with, and today, they were gone.

You'd had a whole explanation planned, rehearsing it quietly on the walk here over and over, but it went out the window the second you opened your mouth. You rushed through the words, stumbling over them as you looked down and away from him. "EverysundayAzrielhasbreakfastwithmygrandmaandIbuthedidn'tshowuptodayandInjstwantedtoknow-"

You shook the feeling of dread building in your stomach and knocked. You would be lying if you said you were not scared when the High Lord himself answered his own door studying you like a textbook. "What can I help you with?"

Rhysand held a hand up to you, scenting the faint smell of cedar and night air that clung to you and smirking before masking it. "Breathe. Start over slower." He tilted your head up to him. "And look at me when you speak to me. You are not a mouse."

You took two deep breaths, cradling Dective Mittens closer. "My grandmother owns the apartment complex Azriel lives in," the High Lord's lip twitched, the final confirmation he needed. "And every Sunday, he had breakfast with us. The only time he doesn't, he lets us know with a shadow or a note or verbally before he leaves. He did not come today, and he was supposed to be back 3 days ago. I just wanted to know if you've heard from him?"

"You're the female he's been missing family brunch for." It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Rhysand kicked off the door frame. "Come inside. He's here. He's hurt, but he will be fine." He glared towards the small kitten in your arms. "And where did that come from?"

"Detective Mittens?" He nodded, continuing to glare. "Azriel's cat? You didn't know he had a cat? She got upset when I tried to leave her in his apartment, so I brought her with me so she'd stop crying and yowling."

Rhys pinched his noses, shoulders shaking as he chuckled. "And who named Detective Mittens?"

"Azriel? It was Detective Mittens or Princess Buttercup. She isn't a Buttercup."

His eyes were watering from laughter, shoulders fully shaking as he led you further into the house and up the stairs. He held his arms out, nodding towards the cat as he stepped in front of a room. "Stay behind me," the High lord entered with a casual grace, stopping a conversation between two deep voices. Azriel's and one you didn't know.

The black collar with a small piece of Azriel's siphon was barely visible among Mittens's long black fur. She finally freed herself, leaping into the bed and walking to lay on Azriel's chest. "How did you get here, baby?"

Mittens was immediately squirming and clawing, desperate to get to her owner and get the cuddles she had been missing. "Did you go outside and pick up a random cat, Rhysie?" A large illyrian male, Cassian, you realized, sat staring with a brow up. "Or did you steal someone's cat? It has a collar."

"Some pretty little thing was at the door. Dropped the cat off and then ran away."

A shadow had already found you, twirling into your hand and ripping you towards Azriel the best it could by itself. Soon, two more joined, then three more, then your whole arm was swallowed in darkness, pulling you to the side of the bed Cassian was not occupying. "Y/n," it came out as soft surprise, happiness underlying the tone. "Angel, what are you doing here?"

"It's Sunday." The answer hit him, and his head fell back, eyes shutting as Cassian and Rhys shared a look.

He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by Cassian's arms, guiding him back down as he winced in pain. "Angel, I'm so sorry. I-"

"Don't apologize for getting hurt," Cassian said gently. The general looked at you. "Breakfast girl?" You nodded. "One. Breakfast was mine and Azriel's thing first until you showed up," a playful glare went your way. "Two. We dropped the ball. He was hurt. Bad. And we knew he was seeing someone, but it's been kept so secret by a certain spymaster that we couldn't contact you."

"Should have just spoken to the complex owner," Rhys muttered under his breath.

You nodded. "And, will you be okay?"

Azriel was focused in Mittens, scratching her ears as she rolled over, exposing the fur of her tummy and waiting. The three of you stared in silence, watching as he cooed and baby spoke to her. Watching as a few tears slipped. "Missed you so much, my little baby. Aw, look at that belly. Y/n been doing the best job keeping it full and happy, huh?"

Rhys and Cassian both hid their smiles, the High Lord motioning for the general to leave the room. You sat on the bed, taking his free hand in yours, bringing it to your cheek and holding it there. "I was so worried."

Mittens moved to the window as if she suspected you two needed room, allowing you two alone time before she'd be back to cover Azriel in her love and warmth.

He wanted to sit up, to hold you close, but every slight movement of his core had nerves screaming in hot agony. He'd never mock Cass for being a bitch while hid guts were hanging out ever again. He settled for moving his hand to your neck, pulling you close and resting your foreheads together. "Im so sorry, y/n," he kissed your nose, eyes closing as yours did. "I got distracted, and it happened so fast I couldn't get word out."

Your hands came to rest on his bandaged chest. "What happened? You never get distracted." He smiled, a rare beautiful thong he hid from everyone but you.

"You accidently tugged the bond when you and Mittens were playing, and all I could think of was getting home to be with you two. Did you catch that stray?" He changed the subject, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

A small orange tabby had been roaming around the apartments. Short little fur "doing nothing," in Azriel's words, to protect it from the Night chill. Azriel has been smitten with it since it allowed him to feed him and get a few scratched in before a shop owner scared it away.

That was over a month ago, and you two had been playing a slow game of seduction with the kitten, praying to the cat distribution powers that they'd allow this little one to trust you both the way Mittens grew to.

"I did. He's in my apartment. Him and Mittens get along really well." As of hearing her name, a mass of black fur launched herself onto the bed, curling up on Azriel's leg that was closet to you and purring. "I named him Investigator Whiskers."

You watched Azriel melt, groaning with a smile at the matching name. You could feel through that string his growing happiness as the same family you two had accidentally made grew, too. "I love you," he whispered softly with no sign of the ice Rhys had so loudly accused him of having in his heart.

"I love you, too. I'm glad you're going to be okay." Rhys and Cassian came back in to you two resting your foreheads against each other again, eyes shut, heart beats synced in time.

It made it even more comical to them when Azriel thought nothing of your hand moving up his arm, rest in his hair before you pulled away, and smacked him. "Ow! Y/n! What the fuck!"

"That," you smirked as you caught his hand that came to playfully tug your hair, "is for worrying my grandma. She made your favorites! You broke her heart! She thinks you hate us!"

"I was hurt!"

"Excuses, excuses!" He pulled you into him, not caring if the good of you had an audience and kissed you deeply. "Mmmm, forgiven," you muttered when he pulled away.

Azriel sighed. "Rhys, can you go get grandma. I think we need to tell her some things. And have lunch."

"Lunch sounds nice," Cassian said as he took his seat and glared at you. "Breakfast theif."

"Boyfriend theif," you shot back.

The room turned into you and Cassian having a playful argument as Azriel watched, fingers scratching behind soft velvety ears. He looked at Rhys, eyes warm with joy and happiness as Rhys looked between you and Cassian, who had fallen together like a puzzle. I like her, Rhys said into his mind. Keep her.

That's the plan, Azriel replied.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

@elle4404

Azriel Taglist-

A/n-

Picture of my and baby daddy's kitten to pay the cat tax gods 💕

[bblairxe]

Hiiii i would be very grateful if you could write about sub roommate Abby (tysm)

oh yes i love love submissive abby

it’s been a long day for abby, back to back missions. she’s been out all day from sunrise to sunset. you absolutely hate it when she has days like this because you know she’ll come home completely stressed.

you perk up when you hear those keys rattle in the door, immediately wanting to greet her. you see her walk in and you swoop her in for a big hug while kissing all over her. “hey, hey angel. missed you too.” she says with a smile, smoothing her hand down your back. she breaks away from the moment going to sit down on her bunk placing her bag next to it. you follow in her steps, reaching down to straddle her lap

“how was your day abs?” you question. you’ve missed your girlfriend’s voice so much even though it’s only been 12 hours. she struggles to respond as you start kissing down her neck, each kiss being significantly longer than the last. “it — it was good, baby.” the stutter in her voice makes you smirk, “yeah?” you murmur against her skin, lips brushing just below her ear. “tell me what was good about it.” your voice is low, teasing and you can feel the way abby’s breath hitches as you press another lingering kiss down her neck

“uh —“ she tries, but the words catch in her throat as your hands slide up sides, grazing her bra. “training .. went well,” she attempts to get out but a small whine follows soon after. “training hm? guess i’ll have to reward you for working so hard, won’t i?” your kisses trail lower to her abdomen while your fingers still tease at her nipples. her body subtly leans into your touch as if she’s already submitting.

“you don’t have to —“ abby starts, her words soft and breathless, but you cut her off with a shush. “but i want to, you’re always taking care of everyone else. let me take care of you love.” those affirming words were more than enough to give you the green light. she nods and responds with a hesitant okay before letting you continue your work.

you reach down to pull her muscle shirt off along with her bra. you take a slow breath, taking in the sight of her, every inch of her body so perfectly defined by her hard work. “god, you’re beautiful,” you murmur, your voice thick with admiration and hunger. abby’s face heats up out of both embarrassment and desire, her breath growing heavy as she tries to steady herself under your gaze.

abby leans back into the mattress, your gaze still fixed on her. you can see the way her chest rises and falls, her vulnerability mixed with the confidence she always carries. you slide your hand under her waistband, cupping her cunt. her reaction is something to die for, seeing her eyebrows furrow into pleasure as you make quick work of your fingers.

“baby, i need you so bad, i—” abby’s words are cut off with a sharp gasp as you thrust into her dripping core, “ohh fuck.” she moans out, fucking herself against your fingers. “that’s it, sweetheart,” you murmur, your voice thick with desire as you curl your fingers inside her, finding the spot that makes her hips stutter. “you’re taking me so well.”

abby’s hands grip the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white as she pushes herself harder against your touch, chasing the pleasure that’s quickly building. “please—don’t stop,” she whimpers, her voice shaky, the usual confidence in her tone completely gone. you stare out her with eyes filled with hunger and desire. she’s completely different than what she was earlier. that confident, proud attitude now withered away into something more submissive and small.

you add another finger, stretching her out completely. she responds with a guttural moan whilst arching her back as if needs more. you can tell she’s close, her breathing becoming more erratic, the way she pushes down into you, and best of all, you feel her walls clenching and contracting around your fingers. “cum for me abs. m’ right here, sweet girl.”

so she does, bursts of white hot pleasure washing over her as her body tenses, then trembles beneath you. she cries out your name, her voice shaky and raw, as wave after wave of ecstasy overtakes her. her walls flutter around your fingers, drawing out every ounce of her release while her thighs shake uncontrollably.

“good girl baby, that’s it.” you coo softly, trailing soft kisses on her chest as you slowly pull your fingers out of her. abby’s chest heaves as she comes down from her high. her face is flushed, strands of hair sticking to her damp face. she looks utterly beautiful like this.

“come on, let’s get in the shower lovey. get you all cleaned up, yeah?” you question and she nods. it’s nights like these that make everything that you’ve fought for feel worth it.

[nodoubtily]

MMMM THE WAY-

Fuck. The way I’d actually showcase my cunt to him.

TW:// smut so mdni! Switch!Sunoo x Switch!Fem!Reader, p in v, dirty talk, degrading as fuckkkk, possessiveness, talks of edging but not really detailed, not proofread as this was written at 1:11 am. UPDATE: proofread at 3:28 am

Not your fucking good boy.

“Please-“ he begs, his hands scrunching the bedsheets because you so cruelly won’t let him touch you. And normally he’d be a brat, but he actually wants to fucking cum.

“I don’t know. I feel like you can beg better then that.” You giggle, so happy he’s under your control. “You wanna cum?”

That question opens up a barrage of frustration-filled cries of desperation.

“Yes, oh god- please!” He begs as your hand speeds up around his shaft again before quickly letting go completely, denying yet another orgasm.

“Not good enough. Do you not want to cum? You don’t want to finally release?” You’re laughing, feigning a shocked expression.

“What do you fucking think?” His question stops your wrist moving, but he doesn’t really flinch. Instead, his larger hand grabs your wrist and flings it away from his cock, before moving up to your arm as he manhandles you under him. He straddles your stomach, annoyance covering his face. “Asking stupid fucking questions as if I haven’t been begging.”

He grabs your (his) shirt, pulling it off your body. Thankfully, you’re only wearing panties under, so your pretty breasts are on display. He then moves off you, ripping your flimsy panties off. You, out of instinct, go to close your legs when he wrenches them open, sliding himself in between, his hot throbbing cock resting on your clit.

“Sunoo- you’re not being a very good boy-“ your breath hitches as he slowly starts grinding over your crotch. “Right now.”

“Do you really think you’re in the position to say shit like that? I suggest you keep that dirty mouth closed before I put it to good use.” And for some reason, that shuts you up.

Sunoo pulls back far enough where his cock doesn’t touch your folds, until his fingers spread you entrance wide. With a quick thrust, he slams his dick straight in, quickly bottoming out. You exhale a whine elicited with pain mixed with pleasure. He just straight up groans.

“S-sunoo!” You gasp out, adjusting to him.

“Fuck, how is this pussy still so tight?” His voice is laced with whimpers he’s not afraid to let out.

“M-move.” Your hips don’t even get the chance to create friction until Sunoo lowers, one hand clamped around your throat while the other comes to your face, fingers mushing your face as he stares into your soul.

“You aren’t making decisions anymore. All you can do now is lay here like the obedient slut you are and take my sensitive cock. It’s your fault I’m like this now.” After that, he begins moving, hips thrusting in short sharp japs, the sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filling the room. “Edging me, trying to make me beg as if I’m your fucking good boy.”

“You ar-are.” Your voice cracks, airway limited due to his hand grasping your neck like a necklace.

“And yet you’re not my good girl, are you?” The question irks you, wondering the last time Sunoo was like this. One particular thrust sends desperate vibrations straight to your pussy, clamping your walls tightly around his cock. “Fucking hell.” A breathy moan escaped from his chest. “This fucking pussy- is mine. All. Fucking. Mine- oh fuck.” Every word is followed with a hard thrust, jolting your body. “Who’s pussy is this?” He asks, feeling you squeezing him, signalling you’re going to cum shortly.

“M-mine.”

Sunoo stops moving, taking away the warm pleasure that’s been building. “Say that again. I fucking dare you.” His voice sounds dangerous, and you know better then to egg him on more. So you stay silent. That wasn’t going to suffice him either. “Who’s. Pussy. Does. This. Belong. To?” Short stabs abuse your g-spot. Pride and wanting to cum fight, but the latter wins.

“you. This p-pussy is yours.” More whines escape from Sunoo’s throat as he continues to relentlessly pound into you.

Sunoo scoffs. You went from smirking to begging quickly. “That’s right. Mine.”

@jyikeu THANKS FOR THE IDEA POOKIE

[extinctlesspains]

Kwon with shy reader, but he thinks she arrogant cause she won’t even look his way?

Maybe he catches her alone and tries confronting her, but won’t get a single word out of her??

If you could, please 🙏

A/n: We love introvert and extrovert duos 😮‍💨

𝑁𝑜 𝐴𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑆ℎ𝑦𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑆ℎ𝑦! 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒! 𝑀𝑖𝑦𝑎𝑔𝑖 𝑑𝑜!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑀𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑎𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑦. 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑠ℎ𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑡𝑏ℎ 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△

Kwon had been watching you for weeks. You were a student of the opposing team, Miyagi-Do, a quiet girl who seemed to glide through every kata with precision and grace. Yet, you never once acknowledged him. Not a glance, not a nod, nothing. He couldn’t help but feel slighted. Were you too proud to acknowledge a competitor from another dojo?

One evening, after training ended, he saw you lingering near the small garden behind the building. This was his chance. With purpose in his step, he approached you, heart pounding.

"Hey," Kwon called out, trying to sound casual but his tone carried an edge. "You got a problem with me or something?" His voice was steady, but his gaze narrowed, searching for any reaction.

You froze, wide-eyed. Your mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. You clutched the hem of your gi, knuckles white. You shook your head, barely.

Kwon sighed in frustration. "What, too good to talk to me? You’ve been ignoring me since you got here, unlike the others." The other group members of your team had already given Kwon a hard time, except you.

Still, silence. Your eyes flickered to the ground, then back to him, a hint of panic in them. It struck him—you weren’t arrogant. You were shy and nervous.

"Wait… you’re not… scared of me, are you?" His voice softened.

You bit your lip, eyes darting away. He felt a pang of guilt.

"Look," he continued, his tone gentler now, "I’m not your enemy. I just… wanted to know why you kept avoiding me." He scratched the back of his head, feeling a little awkward.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… didn’t mean to. I just… get nervous around people."

Kwon blinked, realization dawning on him. All this time, he’d misjudged you completely. He felt a small smile tug at his lips. "Well, you don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m not as scary as I look."

A faint smile appeared on your face, and for the first time, you met his eyes.

"See? That wasn’t so hard," he teased lightly. "Maybe we could start over?"

You nodded, and he extended his hand. "I’m Kwon. And I promise, I don’t bite."

Your soft laugh made him grin. Maybe this rivalry wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Three

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader Themes/Warning: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer. Swearing. Summary: So you got kicked out of your own fanfic and know you have to go to work and face real life problems. . . or so you thought. A/N: Listen, don't expect this fanfic to be well organized because it's not supposed to be. I don't know where I am going with this yet, do enjoy this chaotic fanfic with me for now lmfao.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish @literaryavenger @aquabrie @ramp-it-up @nash-dara

@winchestert101

You leap out of your car like a bat out of hell, convinced that you’re finally back to normal life. No more fanfic shenanigans, no more redemption arcs gone wrong. Just a regular, boring job where I definitely won’t have to deal with anything weird.

As you stumble into the elevator, trying to untangle yourself from your coat and shove a half-eaten granola bar into your mouth, you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally. Back to real life.

You slap the “Close Door” button repeatedly, desperate to get moving. The elevator hums, the doors sliding halfway shut. But just as they’re about to close completely, they flicker—a sudden, sharp flicker of the lights overhead—and the entire elevator rumbles like it’s having a midlife crisis.

Your eyes widen as the lights dim and flicker again, the walls creaking. 

“Uh... what the hell?” 

You press the button frantically, but the flickering intensifies for a brief moment, making the whole thing feel more like the start of a horror movie than an office elevator ride.

Weird. Really weird. But then, just as quickly as it started, the flickering stops, the lights stabilize, and the doors begin to glide open again.

The doors glide back open, and in walks CEO Bucky Barnes, striding into the elevator like he owns not only the building but the entire damn planet. And the universe beyond that. He’s dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, the kind that screams: I make more money in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.

Your granola bar nearly falls out of your mouth as you press yourself against the elevator wall like a frightened mouse, eyes wide. 

“Oh, come on.”

Bucky glances at you, arching an eyebrow as he steps inside, completely unbothered. He casually hits the close button, taking a bite out of the apple he’s holding, and then gives you a look, as if your entire existence is mildly amusing.

Oh, no. When I said I want to go back I meant in my other fanfic, NOT THIS. You swallow hard, gripping the railing in the elevator. Is this another one of those fanfics I wrote and abandoned?

You glance at him again, suddenly realizing the flickering, the rumbling, the tailored suit, and the attitude. This is definitely not the action Bucky from before. Nope, this is CEO Bucky, and apparently, he has zero patience for your existence.

Great.

You groan internally, wishing you could rewind the last five minutes of your life.

He’s holding an apple—eating it, actually—like some kind of smug Greek god. The crunch echoes in the small space of the elevator, and with every bite, you can practically hear your sanity cracking.

You backup more—if it’s even possible—against the corner of the elevator, eyes wide, heart pounding. 

“Oh my God. Oh no, no, no—” you mutter to yourself, eyes darting around like you might find an emergency escape hatch. 

Bucky side-eyes you, not missing a beat as he takes another crunch of his apple. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your sudden and very visible panic attack.

“You’re late,” he says casually, as if pointing out the weather. The way he speaks, smooth and lazy, is enough to send a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t even look fully at you—just a quick glance that screams you are insignificant in my kingdom.

Your eyes dart around the elevator, fully cornered now. 

“Wh— I—Late? What—no, I’m not late!” You tug at your coat, flustered, hands shaking as you clutch your bag like it’s a lifeline. “I mean—yes, I’m late, but also... what are you doing here?”

CEO Bucky pauses mid-bite, looking at you as if you’ve just sprouted two heads. He finally turns fully toward you, taking another slow, calculated bite of his apple. 

“What am I doing here? I own this building.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like you should already be bowing down to him or, at the very least, shining his shoes. His eyebrow arches higher, and his lips quirk up at the corner into the slightest smirk. A smirk that makes you want to scream and faint simultaneously.

You sputter, pressing yourself further into the elevator corner like you’re trying to melt into the walls. 

“Right. Of course. You’re the CEO. That’s... that’s normal. Completely normal. You just... randomly show up in elevators eating apples and ruining people’s lives.”

“You always this chaotic first thing in the morning?” He shakes his head slowly, clearly unimpressed with your rambling.

“What—excuse me? Chaotic?” You blink, momentarily thrown off.

He takes one last bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash bin in the corner with a smooth flick of his wrist. 

“Yeah,” he says, turning to face the elevator doors as they slide shut. “Usually you’re nice and quiet”

You gape at him, jaw practically on the floor. “Nice and quiet?!”

The elevator starts to move again, and you just stare at the back of his head, blinking rapidly. This can’t be real. This CAN’T be real. You glance up at the ceiling, half expecting the universe to laugh in your face.

“Right, okay,” you mutter to yourself. “Cool. I’m in a scrapped fanfic where CEO Bucky Barnes exists and I’m... late for something. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

The elevator dings as it reaches another floor, and you brace yourself for whatever happens next.

Bucky side-eyes you again, folding his arms, his suit jacket stretching over his broad shoulders in a way that is entirely too distracting. 

“Try not to make this a habit,” he says coolly, his voice dripping with condescension.

You blink. “What—what habit?”

He shrugs casually. “Being late. And whatever this is,” he gestures to you, still cornered and clearly flustered, “your whole... thing.”

“My whole thing?” You’re so flustered you don’t even know what to say. “This isn’t even a thing! I don’t have a thing! This is just... my life, okay?”

Bucky smirks, his gaze sliding over you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll survive the next five minutes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, stepping out as the elevator doors open again. “Totally, your thing.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You’re left standing there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty space where he was just seconds ago.

The elevator doors close again, and you let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I hate this fanfic already.”

× × × ×

You sit at your desk, your fingers tapping anxiously on the keyboard, but your brain is doing everything but work. It’s going a million miles a minute, trying to piece together what exactly happened to land you in this ridiculous situation.

You glance down at the stack of papers on your desk, all labeled with the company’s sleek logo, and let out a long, tortured groan. 

Then it hits you like a freight train: You’re Bucky Barnes’ assistant. This is what you wrote months ago before you rage-quit the whole story.

Your head drops into your hands. Fuuuuck.

“What was this about again?!” you mutter under your breath, trying to dig through the mental files of your abandoned fanfic plot. 

You remember vaguely setting this story up to be some kind of CEO!AU where Bucky was... what? Brooding and powerful? Sexy, for sure. In control of everything? Definitely. You were supposed to be some mild-mannered assistant who totally had her life together.

But that was so not you either. You had given up on this story for a reason—writer problems. Why did I even scrap this plot again? Oh right. Because it got so cringey you couldn't even finish it.

You try to think back to why this fanfic had hit the writer’s block wall. It was something to do with the plot going absolutely nowhere. You had no idea where to take it, so naturally, you abandoned it like a badly cooked lasagna and moved on to the next story with more action and less... corporate nonsense. 

And now, here I am, stuck in the very fanfic I gave up on because I couldn’t figure out what would happen next. Fantastic.

You sigh dramatically, rubbing your temples. Great. I’m in an unfinished fanfic where I don’t even know the plot. Awesome. Totally normal day.

Just as you’re contemplating throwing yourself out the window—or at least hiding in the bathroom for the next eight hours—you decide to take a break. Maybe you can sneak out for five minutes and regroup. Get your chaotic brain together before CEO Bucky calls you for something ridiculous like filing his taxes or fetching his tenth coffee of the day.

You push away from your desk and stand up, trying to be stealthy. But just as you make your way toward the door—

“Hey, you.”

You freeze mid-step. Oh for fuck sake.

Slowly, like a guilty child caught sneaking out of class, you turn around. There’s CEO Bucky, leaning against his office doorframe, arms crossed like some kind of modern-day Greek god. His suit is perfectly tailored, every inch of him screams I own this place, and of course, he’s got that little smirk that makes your brain short-circuit.

He gestures with two fingers, that damn lazy motion that makes you feel like you’ve been summoned by royalty. 

“Come here.”

Your eye twitches. 

“I have a name, you know,” you say before you can stop yourself, crossing your arms defensively. It’s completely out of character for the version of yourself that you wrote into this fanfic, but your chaotic brain can’t help it.

Bucky pauses, clearly not expecting you to talk back. His eyebrows lift slightly, and then that smirk grows even wider, like you’ve just amused him. 

“Do you now?”

You groan internally. Oh crap. 

But now you’re stuck, because CEO Bucky Barnes, in all his smug glory, is eyeing you like a predator who’s just found something interesting to toy with.

“Yeah, last I checked,” you say, now fully committed to the chaos as you shuffle closer, arms still crossed like you’re trying to shield yourself from the intense vibes he’s putting off. “It’s not ‘hey you,’ it’s Y/N.”

He chuckles softly, leaning back slightly and watching you approach. “Y/N, huh? Interesting.”

You squint at him, already regretting your entire life. “Why is that interesting?”

He shrugs, still smirking. “I don’t know. I like ‘hey you.’ It fits you.”

You resist the urge to scream into the void. “Well, I’m taking a break, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“Break?” He interrupts, his smirk not fading. “You’ve been here what... five minutes?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he’s looking at you—like he knows exactly how to push your buttons—makes your brain scramble. 

“I need to regroup. You know... organize my thoughts. Get my head in the game.”

His smirk widens as he watches you try to squirm out of the conversation. “Right. Organize your thoughts. Good luck with that.”

You blink at him, genuinely baffled by how this man manages to look so smug while saying so little. 

“This is why I scrapped this fanfic,” you mutter, too quiet for him to hear. “Why did I write him like this? All smirky and... and haughty and... ugh.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing your muttering, but chooses not to comment.

“You’re really something,” you grumble under your breath as you turn and make a beeline for the door, desperate for some air.

You can feel his eyes on you as you walk away, and just before you leave the room, you hear him chuckle again. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great. Don’t get lost on your... regrouping.”

You grit your teeth, giving him a tight smile as you exit the office. “Sure. I’ll be regrouping. Totally.”

The moment you’re out of his sight, you let out a groan, practically melting against the hallway wall. How do I survive this fanfic?

And then, like a jolt of lightning, you remember why you gave up on this fanfic. Because Bucky Barnes as a smug, controlling CEO is TOO MUCH!

You smack your forehead, slumping down the wall. “I am so screwed.”

× × × ×

You return to your desk, a glass of water in hand, mentally cursing your decision to ever write CEO Bucky Barnes the way you did. Smug, intense, and probably the reason for my inevitable breakdown. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you plop into your chair. 

I can do this. I survived getting my ass beat up by action Bucky. I just have to survive the day. No more weirdness.

But, of course, life—or rather, your fanfic—has other plans.

As you sit down and try to focus, you hear the sound of high heels clicking against the floor, getting closer. You glance up, and there she is: Bucky’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. The character you completely forgot about when you abandoned this fanfic. She turns on her heel, clearly satisfied with her silent insult, but something inside you snaps. 

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out in a deep, gangster voice, “Da fuCK you lookin’ at, Discount Cruella?”

She freezes mid-step, as if you’ve just slapped her with a fish. Her head turns slowly, like she can’t quite believe you just called her that. You add a taunting little eyebrow raise, tipping your chin up like you’re daring her to respond.

What the hell just came out of my mouth? You blink, stunned by your own voice, but you don’t back down. Commit, commit!

She glares, her jaw tightening. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” you say, leaning back in your chair, sipping your water. “You struttin’ around like some budget Bond villain? What, you think I’m intimidated by your off-brand designer knock-offs? Please. I’ve seen scarier outfits at Walmart.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns with a dramatic huff and stalks off, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

You lean back even further, casually waving after her. “Yeah, you better walk away, Dollar shop Donatella!” 

She disappears down the hallway, leaving you feeling victorious, if not a little surprised at your own audacity.

You take another sip of water and mutter to yourself, “I swear, this fanfic is making me brave... or stupid. Probably stupid.”

As you’re mentally patting yourself on the back for that little victory, you hear footsteps approaching again. You look up, expecting it to be her again, but nope—it’s Bucky. 

“Hey, you,” he says, that smooth, infuriating voice drawing your attention.

You roll your eyes but try to act casual. “Yeah, what now, boss?”

Before he can answer, you take a sip of water—probably the worst-timed sip of your life.

Bucky’s just about to say something, but the sight of him leaning casually against your desk, all brooding and smug and tall and sexy, makes you choke on your water. You try to hold it in, but before you can stop it—

PFFFFTTTTT!!!

You spit your water all over him. Like, right in his face.

Time freezes. Bucky blinks, water dripping from his face and his perfectly styled hair. He looks stunned, as if this is the first time in his entire smug CEO existence that someone has dared to water-blast him.

You freeze, your eyes wide in horror. “Oh. My. God.”

Bucky wipes his face with the back of his hand, his expression unreadable as he stares at you. You panic, leaping out of your chair and rushing over to him, grabbing the nearest paper towel in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I am so, so sorry!” you babble, dabbing furiously at his face, then his shirt, then—oh no, his chest. Holy crap, his chest.

You keep muttering in a frantic whisper. “Oh my God, his muscles. I’m touching the muscles—holy crap, I am such a perv. This is inappropriate workplace behavior—so much muscle—why did I write him this way?” 

You write every Bucky character this way.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, watching you with a mix of amusement and confusion as you continue to pat him down like he’s a spilled drink. 

“Are you... okay?”

You blink up at him, paper towel still in hand, your brain short-circuiting. 

“I—uh—what? Yeah! Totally fine. Just, you know, touching muscles—I mean—patting you down! Because of the water! That I... spat in your face. Oh my God, I spat water in your face.”

Bucky chuckles, his smirk back in full force. “Well, this is definitely a first.”

“I’m going to die of embarrassment now. Please, just... let me dissolve into the floor.” You groan, backing away from him with the soaked paper towel in hand. 

Bucky, now completely unfazed by the whole situation, shrugs and gives you a half-smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just water.”

You stare at him, still mortified, and mutter under your breath, “I hate this fanfic.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead of heading back to his office, though, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your water glass and then back to your face.

You freeze. Oh God, why is he leaning in? Your brain is already preparing to short-circuit again. What now? Is he about to call me out on my water-spitting habits? Does he smell fear?!

“Actually…” Bucky says, his voice dropping, his smirk now in full dangerous levels of smirkiness mode. “There was something else.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh no. Oh no, not again.

“Yeah?” you squeak, gripping your water glass like it’s your last hope of survival. “What’s that?”

He leans in a fraction closer, his eyes practically dancing with mischief. 

“I was going to ask you for the Henderson file, but now I’m thinking...” He pauses dramatically, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Maybe you should get me a towel first.”

Your jaw drops. “A towel?!”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, not missing a beat, “since you’re so keen on throwing water at people.”

You blink at him, utterly mortified. “I didn’t throw it! I just—ugh, fine! I’ll get you a towel.”

He grins wider. “Good. And then... you can grab the Henderson file.”

“I’m not your assistant and your personal dry cleaner!” You groan, turning to leave, but of course, you have to get in one last grumble.

Bucky watches you, highly amused. “You sure? You seemed pretty eager to pat me down a minute ago.”

You freeze mid-step, spinning around with wide eyes.

“Oh my God, I—I wasn’t—I was just trying to—you know what? Never mind!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m getting the damn towel!”

You rush off toward the break room, muttering under your breath the entire way. “This fanfic is literally out to humiliate me. Why did I write him like this? Why, past me, WHY?”

Behind you, you swear you hear Bucky chuckle softly, and it only makes you walk faster.

× × × ×

Y/N, now on a mission to redeem herself after the whole spitting water fiasco, rushes back to her desk with the Henderson file in one hand and a towel in the other. No more screw-ups, you tell yourself. No more embarrassing moments. I’m going to act like a professional human being for once.

You take a deep breath before stepping into Bucky’s office. He’s seated behind his desk, looking as composed as ever, typing away on his computer. Cool, calm, collected, you remind yourself. You carefully place the file on his desk, and then with way too much flourish, dramatically whip out the towel.

“Your towel, sir!” you announce like you’re a butler in an old movie, bowing slightly for extra effect.

Bucky glances up from his computer, one eyebrow raised. “Thanks... I think?”

You nod seriously, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Only the finest hand towels for the World’s Wettest CEO,” you add, clearly not able to stop yourself from clowning.

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s definitely a flicker of amusement in his eyes. 

“You know, usually assistants don’t mock their boss right after spitting water on them.”

Before you can fire back with something clever, he stands up and—without breaking eye contact—starts stripping off his jacket.

Your eyes widen to saucer-size. Oh SHIT. Look at those biceps, I bet he could crack an egg with those.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you blurt, taking a cautious step back. Your eyes dart to the door, your brain immediately thinking of the worst possible scenario.

Bucky casually shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto his chair, and takes a slow step toward you. His sleeves are rolled up just enough to show off those forearms—and, holy hell, is it getting hotter in here?

You gulp, stumbling back another step. “Why are you coming closer? What—no, don’t come any closer!”

But he doesn’t stop. In fact, he smirks as he undoes the top button of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves even higher as if he’s about to give you some kind of private show.

Your brain completely short-circuits. 

“I will call the police!” you shout dramatically, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Don’t make me do it! I have a phone!”

Bucky takes another step, clearly enjoying watching you unravel.

“Stop!” you squeak, backing up so fast that you almost trip over your own feet. “I swear, if you come any closer—Please! I’m a virgin!”

Wait. WHAT? Did that actually just come out of my mouth?

Bucky stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing in pure confusion. His smirk falters, and he blinks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you might have. 

“Wait, what?”

You slap your hands over your mouth. 

“Not... not really!” you blurt, mortified, feeling your face turn a thousand shades of red. “I just—what—I mean, I don’t know why I said that! Forget I said that! WHY DID I SAY THAT?”

Bucky stares at you, clearly torn between laughing and being genuinely confused by your outburst. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You point at him again, eyes still wide. “You were stripping! I thought—I don’t know what I thought! I thought you were about to—look, can you just—stop doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I was just getting comfortable. You’re the one making this weird.” He finally gives in and lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. 

“I’M MAKING THIS WEIRD?!” you shout, nearly flailing in disbelief. “You just started stripping in your office like we’re in some kind of romance novel!” Well. . .technically. . .

Bucky shrugs, clearly amused by your total meltdown. “I wasn’t even halfway through, and you’re already threatening to call the cops.”

“I panicked!” you cry, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect when you come at me like some... some walking smirk with biceps?”

“Relax, hey you, I’m not gonna bite.” He takes one more step toward you, the grin on his face infuriatingly smug. 

“Right... okay... great. But, uh, no more sudden movements, okay? I don’t think my dignity can take another hit today.” You’re still staring at him, pulse racing, trying to get your heart back to normal.

Bucky, still smirking, unbuttons his shirt completely, slipping it off and tossing it aside as if the entire interaction hasn’t completely short-circuited your brain. Now, he’s shirtless, and your brain is screaming 

NOPE, NOPE, yes NOPE.

But he doesn’t stop there. Bucky takes another step closer, clearly enjoying the absolute chaos unfolding on your face. He gestures toward the towel still clutched in your hand. 

"Since you’re so eager to help, why don’t you pat me dry?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”

He tilts his head, completely unfazed by your reaction. “You spat water on me. Now it’s only fair you clean up the mess.”

You clutch the towel tighter, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Do you not have arms? You seem perfectly capable of drying yourself off with all these...” you gesture wildly to his bare chest, your voice rising in pitch, “...muscles!”

“I’m not saying I can’t. I just thought you might want to.” Bucky chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your face is practically on fire at this point. “Oh, I’m sure you’re more than qualified to handle it yourself!” you say, thrusting the towel toward him. “I’ll just—uh—get you some new clothes! Right?”

Bucky shrugs, clearly still enjoying your mortification. “Sure. Or you can keep patting me down. Your call.”

“I WILL NOT BE PATTING ANYTHING,” you declare, your voice an octave too high as you spin around and dash toward the door. “I’ll get your clothes!”

“Take your time.” As you stumble out of the office, you can hear Bucky’s soft chuckle behind you. 

You groan internally, your face still burning as you make your escape. 

“This is getting worse and worse,” you mutter under your breath, gripping the door handle a little too tight. “I miss action Bucky. At least he wasn’t... shirtless and smug! God, why is this happening to me?”

You rush out the door, praying for some kind of divine intervention—or at least for your brain to stop short-circuiting every time you’re within ten feet of his ridiculous muscles.

You blink, and suddenly the world shifts beneath your feet. One second you’re in the office, still mentally head-slamming yourself for your awkward slip-up, and the next, you’re standing in front of two massive, intimidating double doors.

You blink again, confused. “Wha—What the—Wait... where the hell am I?”

Your eyes scan your surroundings, and it finally hits you—you’re in some fancy penthouse building, way too expensive-looking to be anywhere near your normal, boring life. And then, just as you’re about to piece things together, glowing words flash above your head:

Business Proposal, Part 4: Sick Leave

You stare up at the words in disbelief, slowly lowering your water bottle. It went up to Part Four?!

“That’s new,” you mutter, looking around as if someone’s watching you. “Why does this feel like some kind of twisted game show?”

Before you can contemplate further, a voice—loud, deep, dramatic, and all-knowing (totally not Bucky’s voice)— suddenly echoes around you, narrating your life like it’s the season finale of a telenovela.

“It’s been a few days since Bucky’s break-up with Yasmine, and Y/N has been very worried—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut off the voice, raising your hand like you’re silencing an annoying ad.

The narrator pauses, then comes back, clearly annoyed. “Yes, you are.”

You cross your arms defiantly. “Nope. Not worried. Zero percent concerned. I barely even remember her name—Yasmine, was it? See? Forgettable.”

There’s an exasperated sigh from the unseen narrator. 

“Yes. You are. Bucky’s been distant, and you can’t help but wonder if this is affecting him more than he’s letting on—”

“Oh my God, I literally do not care,” you interrupt again, dramatically rolling your eyes toward the sky, wondering if you could just teleport out of this madness. “Can I at least care about something that doesn’t sound like a rejected soap opera plot?”

“You do care,” the voice insists, the irritation building. “You’ve been wracking your brain about how to comfort him, wondering if now is the right time to—"

You wave both hands in the air like you’re directing traffic. “Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not showing him anything. If anything, I need a vacation. A spa day. A break from all this fanfic insanity.”

There’s a very heavy pause, like the narrator’s deciding whether to keep talking or just yeet themselves into the void to escape you. 

Then, with maximum exasperation, the voice finally asks, “Do you ever just shut up?”

You gasp, clutching your chest in mock horror. “Wow! Rude! Is that how you treat all your characters? Is this why all my stories keep getting abandoned halfway through? Is this your fault?”

There’s a very, very tired sigh. “You do know this is your story, right?”

You blink, then scratch your head. “Oh yeah...”

You can practically feel the narrator rolling their eyes, probably contemplating retirement.

“Fine,” the narrator says, now with the exhausted tone of someone who just ran a marathon through an obstacle course of idiocy. “You’re not worried. But you are here at Bucky’s penthouse, and he’s expecting you. And deep down—”

“I literally do not care!” you yell, flailing your arms like a cartoon character.

The narrator groans again, even louder this time. “Why do I even bother?”

“Honestly? I’ve been wondering the same thing,” you mutter, finally stepping forward to push open the ridiculously huge doors. “Let’s just get this over with. What’s next? Is Bucky going to burst into song? Or is this the part where I accidentally knock over some expensive art?”

“For the love of—Just get your ass inside!” the narrator snaps, sounding like they’re one sarcastic comment away from quitting entirely.

You pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and then snort. “Wow. Testy, aren’t we? Someone needs a narrator spa day.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh that echoes in the hallway, clearly done with your antics.

“I’m just saying,” you add with a shrug, “I’ve been through a lot today. I feel like a little sass is warranted.” You push open the door with an exaggerated flourish, muttering, “I swear, if Bucky’s standing there with some dramatic lighting or a tragic backstory about Yasmine, I’m out.”

The narrator doesn’t respond, probably because they’re off somewhere wishing they had another job. You step through the doors, bracing yourself for whatever ridiculous fanfic nonsense is about to hit you next.

You step through the doors, fully expecting some serious businessman vibes from Bucky. Maybe sitting behind a giant mahogany desk, brooding over paperwork, casually looking out at the city skyline like the high-powered CEO you wrote him to be.

But no. Instead, you find Bucky on the couch, wrapped in what can only be described as the world's most excessive blanket burrito. 

His hair’s a mess, his nose is red, and—oh my God—he’s holding a mug like it’s the last ounce of warmth in the universe. Surrounding him? A small fortress of tissues and cold medicine.

This is not CEO behavior!

His head slowly turns toward you, his eyes slightly puffy, and you swear there’s a pitiful sparkle in them. He sniffs dramatically, like a rom-com hero in his darkest hour. 

“Y/N?”

Your brain stutters. “I—uh—what?”

“I think... I’m dying,” he whispers hoarsely.

You blink at him, completely dumbfounded. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s the “sick love interest” trope. Your life has officially hit peak cliché.

“Dying?” you repeat, hands on your hips. “Aren’t you, like, a super soldier? And a CEO? You manage hostile takeovers and boardroom battles, and now you’re... this?”

Bucky sniffles again, managing to look both miserable and somehow, annoyingly attractive. He shifts under the mountain of blankets and croaks out.

“I’ve never been this sick in my life.”

“You have a cold. A cold.” You cross your arms, staring down at the pathetic excuse of a man swaddled like a sad burrito. 

He coughs dramatically, like the very act is draining his soul. 

“It feels like... more than that.” His eyes meet yours, shining with exaggerated sorrow. “Can you... can you make me some tea?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man is running an entire company, and right now, I’m supposed to be... what? His nanny?

“You’re serious?” you ask, incredulous.

Bucky nods weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. 

“With honey. And lemon,” he rasps, voice full of the weight of his tragic illness. “Please.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard you might strain something, and head to the kitchen. 

“What happened to you, man? You’re supposed to be intimidating! A force to be reckoned with! What is this?”

He sneezes loudly from the couch, followed by a pitiful groan. “I’m emotionally compromised.”

You pause mid-step. “You’re emotionally compromised... because you have a cold?”

Another tragic sniffle. “It’s more than a cold. It’s the end.”

You fill the kettle, trying not to laugh. “The end? Of what? Your dignity?”

From the couch, Bucky coughs again—this time sounding even more over-the-top dramatic, like he’s trying out for a role in a period drama. 

“I think it’s... fatal.”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, pouring the hot water into a mug, stirring in honey and lemon. “How are you the same guy who intimidates boardrooms? This is embarrassing.”

Carrying the tea back to him, you set it on the table in front of him with a flourish. “Here’s your tea, Mr. CEO. I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You’re... my hero.” He takes the mug with both hands, looking up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

You deadpan at him. “If you expect me to wipe your nose, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Bucky takes a sip of the tea, then stares at you like you just saved his entire existence. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You sigh, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, staring at him like a tired parent. “Is this what rich people do? Get over-the-top colds and drag innocent assistants into their melodrama?”

“It’s not just a cold. I’m suffering.” He pouts, snuggling deeper into his blanket cocoon, clearly loving every second of the attention. 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m suffering too, buddy.”

Bucky coughs again, though you notice it’s less dramatic this time. “You’d do this for me, though... right?”

“Do what? Be your unpaid nursemaid?”

“Would you?” Bucky flashes a smirk, though it’s weak and slightly pathetic due to his current burrito state. 

You sigh, feeling like you’ve officially reached rock bottom. “Sure, why not. What’s next? Should I bring you soup and read you a bedtime story?”

His eyes light up. “Could you bring me soup?”

You throw your hands in the air, standing up in mock surrender. “Oh my God, I walked right into that one.”

From the couch, Bucky manages to look even more pitiful. “Please?”

“I swear, if this turns into a romantic montage, I’m jumping out the window.” You groan dramatically, heading back to the kitchen. 

Somewhere, the narrator’s voice hums, clearly enjoying this too much. "And so, Y/N found herself drawn into a reluctant role of caretaker, tending to Bucky's every need—"

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you shout to the ceiling. “Not this trope! Why is this happening?!”

Bucky, now fully alert, blinks at you. "Who... are you shouting at?”

The narrator sighs dramatically. “You’re really ruining the ambiance.”

Bucky's eyes narrow, looking around the room as if someone's going to pop out of the walls. "Seriously, who are you talking to?”

“GOOD,” you snap, ladling soup into a bowl. “Ambiance is overrated.”

Bucky frowns, staring at you like you've completely lost it. "You're... really freaking me out right now." 

You mutter under your breath, "Join the club, pal.”

As you return with the soup, you place it in front of Bucky, who looks up at you with the sad puppy eyes again. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N.”

“This is my life now, isn’t it? Fanfic sick-nurse tropes and soup.” You groan, staring at the ceiling.

The narrator hums again. “Exactly.”

You dramatically flop down on the couch next to Bucky. “Next time, just write me into an action scene. I miss action Bucky.”

“Action Bucky’s tired. Let CEO Bucky have his moment.”

You groan again, burying your face in a pillow. This fanfic is literally trying to kill me.