#the only one doing a internship and working another job as well

[karomiiz]

first crying session before finals~

[tearueful]

Play With Fire ( Homelander x Reader)

18+ for language, female (plus size♥) reader | You walk into an elevator with Homelander...💋 [AO3 Link] Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, AO3 Link

You can only stare at Ashley’s cold dismissal. Not Ashley Barrett, of course. You’re not high up enough to get personally fired by the CEO. Her assistant is the one doing it, also Ashley. 

There were too many fucking Ashleys in this office.

Your head is buzzing and you can’t exactly focus on the words that spill out of her mouth. She has such a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. A fake, corporate smile as she tells you that as of today? You no longer work at Vought International. A job you had scraped and clawed for. Survived an unpaid internship in fucking New York City for, moonlighting as a waitress in a diner where patrons had sticky hands even for one such as you.

You stare at her, having no idea what words her placid smile makes. Something about turning your badge in at the front desk on your way out. That they’ve packed everything up at your desk already and it will show up to your house in two to four business days. An easier transition, she says. How kind.

Neatly packaging your existence away and shipping it off in the post as if it didn’t fucking matter. You blink and you’re already stalking out of the office. The dismissal had been clear. They had saved it for when you normally would be packing up for the day. Less drama. Always better to fire someone on a Friday afternoon. Not many witnesses. At least you can slink out with some scraps of your dignity. Before you realize it, you’re fast walking through the hallway to the elevator lobby. All your mind can focus on is getting in that elevator and escaping this fucked up place. That is your one goal as your insides churn with bitter anger and your brain buzzes.

Your rage is impotent, with no outlet. What could you even do? Nothing against Vought. Not with their airtight security. You knew how Vought paid everyone and anyone off to make undesirables vanish. How they mopped up the ‘accidents’ of their precious supe products. How your firing was another one of those casualties, dismissed at a whim of the Seven. You knew specifically who. That star-spangled blonde bastard. One typo led to one tantrum from the supe and you had to suffer for it.

Rage pushes your feet to move a little quicker as you spot the open elevator doors. Someone must have just exited, you see the retreating forms of a handful of people down the opposite end of the hall. Perfect, except those doors are closing and you’re too impatient to wait in the lobby a moment longer.

At the sight of the closing elevator doors, your feet pick up their pace. You can’t stay in this building a moment long, not in this hallway with the chance of spotting anyone you know who may recognize the set of your face as something amiss.. Some of them know you well enough to know that would mean something’s wrong, or they knew the bad news before you. That gives you the motivation to snap a hand out to stop those closing doors, praying it’s empty so you can take a breath alone. You need it.You deserve it. It’s the least the universe can do for you at this moment. The universe is not kind today.

The doors stop at the presence of your hand while you slip through the opening. Your regret is almost instantaneous as you step into the re-opening doors because there stood Homelander.

Fucking Homelander in his stupid suit, looking all the world like Uncle Sam shat out the perfect Boyscout. Except, you know far better. There was a monster in that human suit.

He looks ever the caged predator within the confines of the enclosed metal space, wholly uninterested in you. There’s only the briefest of glances your way before his attention is back on the elevator’s LED number display. Oh, but you hate him. Stuffed up supe, high on his own importance.

You’d seen him about the office, from a distance. A wolf among doting sheep, bleating for his attention. How did anyone dare to get close when he flashed those canines? You should flee, but the elevator doors click behind you with a finality. No, fuck it. Fuck him. You don’t care. All you care about is getting out of this shit hole and this elevator ride will be your last here. One way or another. The white hot rage is back to roiling in your gut and you feel as if you’d choke on it.

Homelander’s cold blue gaze flickers over you once more as you stew, taking you all in within an instant. Your badge and your name. Another useless Vought employee, a wriggling worm at his feet. The Hero Management Department by the logo on your badge, but he’s never noticed you. No wonder. You’re too short. Someone who could get lost in a crowd. His lips turn up in a cruel sneer. Fat, too. A pudgy, little grub. At least you’re dressed well. You need to be if you work here. Almost demure in that dress that must have cost half your pathetic paycheck. He wants to be disgusted by you, but you meet his eyes. People rarely did that. There’s fire burning in those wide eyes. A defiance he’s not used to seeing often. Especially not from something as breakable as you. It gives Homelander pause. He’s puzzled. That sort of volatile hatred was usually reserved for dear William, but you? It was almost comical seeing such a delicate thing like you sparking with it. You looked like a little firecracker about to go off and Homelander wonders what sorts of sparks you’d show.

Your expression was utterly, almost eerily calm yet he could feel the rage rolling off of you, it was a palpable taste on his tongue. An almost bitter tang that made Homelander reflexively lick his lips. That gets your attention. Previously, you’d let your eyes dart around the elevator in your unrest. Now your eyes fixate on the flick of Homelander’s tongue while the wheels within your brain begin to whirl. What is the stupidest thing you could do on your last day at Vought? Something reckless and impulsive. Suicidal even.

He watches you with interest now that you’re daring to meet his gaze, scrutinizing this little mortal confined in the elevator with him with anger steaming off your body. Normally, Vought employees fawned over him while reeking of fear. They cowered and all but tried to tongue his taint in their need to appease him and soothe Homelander’s volatile moods. Yet here you were, looking as much like a caged animal within the confines of the elevator as he felt most of the time. 

Homelander senses the shift in you, from anger to something else. He can’t pinpoint it, not yet. Not with how the adrenaline pumps through your veins as you fix your eyes on his face, a heady perfume if there ever was one. It’s a little like prey backed into a corner, finally deciding fight over flight. Homelander doesn’t fear you or any possible outburst you could throw his way. How could he? He’s a god and you’re an ant. Still, he’s curious as to what you’ll do. Homelander can see the tension in your body, how your muscles coil before a pounce.

You weren’t quick, by any means. Homelander could have deflected you with his pinky finger, but the determination in your eyes kept him still. What were you even planning to do to him, of all people? Seeing you unleashing your anger on him would amuse the supe. Give him a valid reason to crush your fragile skull in his fist with a satisfying wet crunch. Yet, you surprised him. All that anger and vitriol boiling over shifted into something else entirely, but it still burns.  It burns so much that you need to let it out. Which you do, by pressing your lips against Homelander’s. It’s pure impulse and oh so reckless. He’s killed people for lesser slights but you don’t care. Not in that moment. You want this, maybe even need it. Need to vent out all your frustration on the man who caused all this in the first place.

So you dig your nails into the leather fabric of Homelander’s suit, having to get up on your toes to press your lips against his own. 

They’re surprisingly soft, Homelander’s lips. You hadn’t expected it. A contrast to the lack of give against his body because leaning into Homelander is like leaning into a brick wall. Unmovable. The only give is from his lips and you suspect that’s because you took the supe by surprise.

The audacity of this little bug!

Homelander’s eyes are wide, shocked even at your brazen act. Staring down at this impertinent little human daring to touch him.There’s a desperation in your act, in how your face is still twisted up in rage and confusion but softening as you stubbornly keep your lips moving against his own.

Still so curious. 

He lets you kiss him, even goes as far to settle into the kiss himself. He can’t help it. Softness was a rare thing for him to feel and you really are oh so soft against him. Pliable and willing now that you’ve settled into properly kissing him. You’re not bad at this either, knowing exactly what sort of coaxing pressure to give him while teasing Homelander into giving back more.

So he does.

Homelander hooks you in the steel grip of one hand, fingers digging into your waist and he finds you yielding. Soft and giving as your lips. He should have expected that given your size, but he finds that he likes it. He can dig his fingers in a little deeper with no fear of snapping ribs with the slightest of pressure.

Homelander is kissing you back. Fucking Homelander! You half expected to get thrown across the elevator shaft for your action, but he was almost holding you gently. Almost. This close you can feel the restrained power of him that all but hums through the supe’s body. It should frighten you, but it’s thrilling having a monster yield so readily to you of all people.

You need something to ground yourself because this can't be real! You grab for Homelander's hair, sliding your fingers through it. Idly, you muse at the softness. It wasn't gelled and hard to the touch as you expected. Leave-in conditioner, that must be it. The thought makes you smile into the kiss, tightening your hold on Homelander's hair with a playful tug to coax his mouth closer.

You don’t expect the needy moan Homelander releases against your lips at the gentle tug. Would have never expected such a sound from a man like him. You greedily swallow it up, using it to your advantage to slide your tongue over his lips. They part under the pressure and then you’re kissing Homelander deeper. This is far from an innocent, impulsive act now. He’s meeting your fire, consumed by the flames as much as you are. More so because now Homelander seems intent on devouring you as he fits his lips to yours, bruising them while his tongue slides slick over your own within your mouth. He growls. Homelander fucking growls into the kiss and you feel that tremor down to your toes, arousal a white hot flash through your system. Thus it really can’t be helped when you mold your curves into the hard lines of his body, fingernails scraping at Homelander’s scalp while you try to taste every corner of his mouth. His free hand even comes up to take an ample handful of your ass as he pulls you flush against him properly, and is that- Holy fuck.

The chime of the elevator hitting the ground floor snaps you both out of the moment. You jerk apart and even in his surprise, Homelander’s grip is loose enough for you to step away safely. You stare up at him a beat, taking in Homelander’s flushed features and how he pants.

You did that. You did that to the most powerful supe of the Seven, possibly the most powerful supe in the world. Smug satisfaction settles on your shoulders for a moment.

You can see the rage building in his eyes, disgust twisting up Homelander’s features and there’s even the glaring threat of red sparking in his gaze. Holy shit. Your heart squeezes as the smugness shifts to the instinct to survive. It’s time to flee or die.

Homelander sneers at you and you know he’s about to say something scathing to put you in your place before he obliterates you. Instead of cowering, you flash him a thousand watt smile. The sort you’ve employed on dates with hapless men to get them giving dopey grins right back to you. It works well enough.

He blinks, the red glare vanishing from his eyes. People in this tower never smile at Homelander like that. Another surprise. You exit stage left before he recovers, almost running into someone on your way out of the elevator. It’s Ashley. CEO Ashley this time, with tablet in hand.

Her gaze flicks up from the screen as she gives a little start before suspicion tinges her features. “Weren’t you fired?” She whispers the words under her breath, brushing past you before stiffening up at the sight of the supe still within the elevator. “Homelander! There you are!” She chirps out with faux cheerfulness and a dead smile. “I’ve got fantastic news on your latest numbers!” That gives you enough time to slip away, with Ashley crowding up to Homelander eagerly to stroke his ego so he’s kept calm for another day and no one dies. You certainly didn’t die. Personally, you think the supe’s mind will be occupied by other things today. You turn your badge in at security’s front desk with a self satisfied smirk.

For his part, Homelander silently steps out of the elevator with eyes fixed on your retreating frame. He doesn’t register Ashley’s yammering as she tries to tell him the good news about a ten point boost. No, Homelander’s mind is too busy contemplating what he will do to you. Little bugs like you can’t get away with taunting gods.

A wide, shark-like grin spreads Homelander's lips now that he has revenge on his mind. He snaps his attention to Ashley, voice sharp as Homelander lifts a finger in her face for silence “Ashley. That woman. Give me her name, now.”

[thesassypadawan]

💙Hayden (Hockey Loving DILF)🤍

Puck Slut .5 (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: After meeting at a local sports bar, Hayden and you hit it off over your shared love of hockey. What starts off as an innocent friendship, soon progresses into a few casual dates. Which some, to no surprise, involve watching your teams face off against one another. Tonight’s date is a bit different. Even though your usual bet is in place, loser buys the winner dinner the next time you two go out. There’s a new, more interesting twist this time of… spice it up more.

Puck Slut 1 (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s yours and Hayden’s favorite time of the nhl season, when your teams faceoff against one another.  The usual bet is in place, loser wears the winner’s team shirt and makes breakfast tomorrow.  This time though there’s the new, more interesting twist of…fun and cum. (Hope you enjoy Puck Slut .5!)

Puck Slut 2 (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s yours and Hayden’s favorite time of the nhl season, when your teams faceoff against one another. And, as usual, you two have a bet in place, loser pays for the tab. Along with yet another interesting little twist…squeeze and tease. (Hope you enjoy Puck Slut .5 and Puck Slut 1!)

Puck Slut 3 (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Cumming Soon

Puck Slut 3.5 (Hayden x FemReader) *Blurb, Smut*

Summary: It's just a harmless Devil's Night prank...what's the worse that can happen? (Hope you enjoy Puck Slut .5, Puck Slut 1, and Puck Slut 2!)

Relaxing (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: Hayden’s been working out hard to get that Daddy Vader bod once more and boy does it show!  You just want to help him ‘relax’ after a long day of bulking up and what better way than a nice, steamy, hot shower.

Big Boy (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: Thinking you did a good enough job hiding your ‘little’ thing for ‘big boys’, you’re not only surprised when Hayden discovers it…but that he’s also totally into it too.

Morning Wood (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: What better a way to start the day than having a good fuck with some morning wood…especially when it’s Hayden’s.

Missed You (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: You miss your big dork badly, so when he comes home…  Well, you just gotta make up for lost time.

Not A Date *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader) *Fluff*

Summary: You never thought you would get an opportunity like this! Not only are you doing your internship on the set of Revenge of the Sith, but you also get to work one-on-one with Hayden. Who you can’t tell if he’s just being nice or if it’s something a little more than that.

So Proud *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader) *Fluff and Smut*

Summary: (Takes place during the filming of ROTS) You’re so proud of Hayden and you feel like words aren’t enough…that maybe you should show him instead. (Hope enjoy part 1!)

Broke The Internet...Again *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader) *Fluff*

Summary: Just a silly, little drabble about the whole Empire photos being released. Just thought it would be fun to share.

Broke The Internet...Again *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader) *smut*

Summary: Part 2 to my silly, little drabble about the whole Empire photos being released. )Hope you enjoy part 1!)

Chocolatée (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: All you want is to make Hayden some special treats for Valentines Day, but he has better ideas of what to use that gooey, melted chocolatée for.

Come Clean (Hayden x FemReader) *Fluff*

Summary: You finally get to go along with Hayden to a con!  And you, being the little dork you are, insist on getting a pic with your bf…just like everyone else!  Everything is going smoothly, but this one sleemo in line just won’t leave you alone.  It’s almost like they know about what’s going on between you two.

Fat Bottom *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: Hayden was never really an ass man until he met you. Especially now that your ‘happy weight’ has set in, and that booty be popping…out of them leggings.

Sweater Stretchers *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: Hayden was never really a curves enthusiast until he met you. Especially now that you ‘happy weight’ has found its way to that booty and them boobies…just more for him to love. Hope you enjoy Fat Bottom *part 1*!)

His Hoodie (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s too damn early… It’s too damn cold… Lucky for you though, Hayden left his hoodie behind today. The one that’s oh so warm and smells so deliciously of him.

Little Red Dress (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: The low cut little red dress and matching heels, they just drive Hayden wild. So much so that he can’t wait to get you home and…enjoy a little show.

The Master (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: Saying that Hay is good at edging is a SEVERE understatement…the man is the master (bad joke) when it comes to it.

Like Rabbits *part 1* (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: After realizing that Hay and you share the same desire, you two have been acting like a pair of horny rabbits. ‘Hopping’ all day and night long.

Maple Flavored Sausage *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s all you want…the one craving you want the most…Hayden’s maple flavored sausage. And, of course, he isn’t even around to help ‘satisfy’ it. Hopefully he comes home soon and ‘gives’ you as much as you like…and then some. (Hope you enjoy Like Rabbits!)

Take Charge (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: There’s this one thing you’ve been wanting to try for some time now. A thing that really peeks your interest, but makes you so freaking nervous. Because, well, how the hell does a hamster go about wrangling a damn moose?!

Birthday Boy (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s your man’s birthday! A day filled with all the love, presents, and…special ‘treats’.

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader) *Fluff and Smut*

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Feel The Force (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: It’s May the Fourth and what better way to spend it than with your big dork of a boyfriend, the dark lord himself, Hayden! Even though you two aren’t able to see each other all that much during the day…you still manage to squeeze in some quality time to ‘feel the force’.

Daddy's Girl (Hayden x FemReader) *Smut*

Summary: All right, you’ll admit it. You’ve called Hayden it multiple times before…just never to his actual face. Because you’d either die of embarrassment or…who knows, maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Halloween Costumes (Hayden x FemReader) *Headcanon, Smut*

Summary: A certain moose decides to help you celebrate your favorite night of the year right.  By fulfilling one of your corniest horniest dreams.

[totaly-obsessed]

Work-Life Balance

Georgia Stanway x reader fic

-> Reader is very much overworked, Georgia tries to convince her that it doesn't need to be that way

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Georgia was not a fan of early training sessions, coming home at 2 in the afternoon just felt wrong, so it was safe to say, that she was especially happy when the session was pushed to later in the day.

It gave her the possibility to spend her morning with you, her girlfriend. And usually, the Brit was happy about that, but today was not one of them – The day started completely wrong. 

She was alone. Sure, the two of you did not live together but you usually stayed at her place, and you had been there when going to bed last night. In her kitchen she found breakfast already made, a little note attached to it ‘picked up an early shift. See you tonight! -ly!’.

This was not how Georgia wanted to start her day. 

Everybody at training noticed how off the usually bright and cheerful character was, especially Lina. “Hey, what’s up with you? Did your Wifey break up with you?” The German tried to lighten the mood, but seeing her friend's deep frown, she realized something was wrong. 

With a defeated sigh Georgia continued packing her bag while avoiding eye contact. “She picked up another early shift.” 

Lina’s head snapped over, knowing about your working history and all you did “Again?” The brunette continued to stare at her football boots, “Yeah, and after that she has to study all night.” 

To be able to study at university and be able to afford an apartment was quite the feat, especially with no help from your family, so you worked two jobs, as a cashier in the early mornings or incredibly late evenings as well as at an elementary school in the afternoon. There you helped the kids whose parents worked later with their homework and played with them. Added on top of that were Lessons in University, homework and studying.

You had been doing both jobs just fine for a while, but upon meeting Georgia at your internship at Bayern, which was already stressing you out, more things were added to your calendar. Obviously, you wanted to be with the Brit but it was hard with the life you were living. 

“I will see her tonight, if she comes to my place.” Lina's heart hurt a little seeing her friend so done with life. 

“She really needs to give up that supermarket job.” Everyone knew that you hated working there, being yelled at by rude customers before ten in the morning was a blow to the day. But in your mind, having grown up with money insecurities, you needed to make as much money as possible, and this was an easy way to do so while being in Uni. 

“Yeah, but if she quits, she can’t stay in her apartment. She is at my place all the time anyways but she will feel like a burden and she is scared of being dependent on me.” Georgia knew how your mind worked, even if she wasn’t happy with it. You moving in with her, was something she currently wished for with incredible fervor. 

“She won’t be dependent on you though, she’ll still earn money. And when she’s got her degree, she can just start at Bayern, they already have a contract up for her.” Just like that the Brit had a new Goal in mind, and this one wasn’t on a football pitch. 

Upon returning to her apartment, she almost missed your presence, if she hadn’t fallen over your shoes in the hallway. “Babe?” 

No answer. 

The apartment wasn’t big enough that you couldn’t have heard her, so where were you? The brunette didn’t have to look all that hard – a sock-clad foot could be seen peaking out from in front of the couch. “Baby?” 

She still didn’t receive an answer and she quickly saw why – your study materials were distributed on her fluffy carpet with you asleep on your stomach on top of it all, face first into a book. With a chuckle Georgia picked up your materials, sorting them just how you liked it, the only thing missing was the book that was cushioning your face.  

Even though the midfielder titled herself as “heavy-handed” she was ever so gentle with you, coaxing you out of your uncomfortable sleep, slowly but surely. 

Just a few minutes later you were sat on the couch instead of in front of it, your girlfriend feeding you biscuit after biscuit. 

“There you are, baby! Welcome back.” Your blurry eyes finally found her cute face. 

“Need to study Gee.” As softly as the Brit could, she grabbed your hands and held them in her lap, as you tried to reach for your folders and notes. “Not right now Baby. We need to talk.” 

Your tired mind went from zero to a hundred real quick. Wide eyes staring deep into Georgia’s. “Not like that baby. We need to talk about your work-life balance.” 

You couldn’t help laughing. The only thing you kept thinking about were those IKEA ‘work–life–sleep’ advertisements that were all over Germany just a couple of years ago. “I’m serious.” 

She was. The usually goofy grin on her face was gone, instead, she was quite expressionless. With a deep sigh, now knowing that she had your attention the midfielder started to explain her view. 

“I think you should quit your second job and move in with me…” With a warm hand, she shushed you before you could even make a noise. “Just hear me out, okay?” 

A small kiss was pressed to the corner of your mouth – the brunette hoping to convey, that she wasn’t mad or anything, that she just wanted the best for you. “Okay, your apartment is just a waste of money, you are here most of the time. We can put your desk and work things into my spare room, so while I work out you can keep me company while you work.” 

You did that anyway, but usually, you just dragged a chair into the nearly empty room, trying to balance your books on your legs. “And then all my stolen hoodies are back in the closet, and you can just pick whichever one you want. We can cuddle every evening, and we can cook together. And we can-“ 

Now it was you who shushed Georgia with a soft kiss on her lips. The Brit could feel your smile, making her stop her rambling. “Alright – Sold! What else?” 

The Bayern player was thankful that you listened to her. “Quit your job. You don’t need the money when you live here, and when you are done with Uni, you can work at Bayern.” 

The silence in the room was heavy. Georgia could see your brain working overtime. “Fine. I’ll quit the hob at the supermarket, but I’ll continue working with the kids! I will not live here for free, I will contribute to the rent.” 

The midfielder would never let you pay rent, but you didn’t need to know that, at least not now. “So we have a deal?” 

Back was the goofy grin as the brunette stared at your extended hand, which she grabbed just to pull you closer and press a giggly kiss on your lips – “Deal.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by linamagull and 44.330 others

stanwaygeorgia: New roomie is kinda invading my personal space. Not sure if I like it...

buehlklara: 'not sure if I like it' - Sure...

-> leahwilliamsonn: I am not convinced

user01481: I need that sweater!

-> y/n: kindly lent to me by @stanwaygeorgia

linamagull: 'roomie' huh? So you did it?

user27231: Who even is that?

[struggling-with-drivers]

No Red Flags - Oscar Piastri

⋗ Pairing - Oscar Piastri x Mechanical Engineering Student!reader

⋗ Summary - Oscar comes crashes back into your life, quite literally when he barrels you down on the paddock, bringing with him all types of unwanted feelings and a whole slew of problems.

⋗ Word count - 11.2k words, fluff, Oscar being emotionally unavailable

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, I hope y'all don't mind this long fic, this was a reminder to myself that I hate type-setting texting, feedback and reblogs are appreciated

Oscar has never been the type to keep a girl for long, a mix of not having the time, and focusing all his efforts on karting, which has finally turned fruitful and given him a contract in F1. 

A series of events has led him to exchange the girl on his arm just twice this year, one for another. His feelings just seemed to change, he tells you. 

And you? You aren't much better, never able to hold onto a relationship, never falling fast, but always falling hard. The havoc the last guy left you in is still fresh in your mind, even if the guy isn't. 

You're doing your internship at McLaren for their mechanical engineering department, and Oscar is in and out of the factory constantly to get ready for his debut next year. There aren't a lot of people around your age in the department, most are a lot more than a few years older. You would be as well if you managed to get a job when you're done with your master's. But that is years into the future, and you’re still writing your bachelor's. 

It leaves Oscar to gravitate towards you, still not used to all the people constantly trying to get him to do this, do that, stand here, stand there. You're asking none of those things of him, mostly because you're stressed out of your mind with the looming deadline, and that you know you're behind on your bachelor. 

But you get talking, a few words at first, which turns to exchanging weekend stories, turns to deep conversations when you're the only ones left in the department that one Tuesday afternoon. And you show him what you've been working on for your bachelor. 

Oscar is intrigued, seemingly asking the right questions, admitting he would probably have been an engineer if he hadn't become a driver. 

You mention offhand that you don't want to go home because you have to eat leftovers again, and Oscar pipes up with "I like food."

"What?"

"I like food, I can eat the last of your leftovers."

The already long Tuesday turns longer as you find yourself heating pasta and tomato sauce for this guy. Both are things that are definitely not on his dietary plan, but you're not complaining. Just happy to finally be rid of the last of your leftovers from the week before. 

Oscar starts to talk about himself and tells you he used to go to boarding school, and you slowly realise you have quite a few things in common as the evening progresses. You tell him about your own short stint at a boarding school while your parents lived abroad. When the topic comes to past partners, Oscar tells you of how he kind of met his current girlfriend while being with his past one, how that was a dick move that he broke up with her 2 weeks after telling his ex that he was up for the long distance. 

You tell him of the guy that fucked you up, how he had promised the world, only to go ahead and break your heart, and like a fool, you had taken him back when he apologised, only for him to go ahead and cheat on you, not just 1, not 2, but 3 times within the summer months. How he had wrecked your self-esteem, as he hadn't left quietly but wanted to tear you down as he left your world. 

Then you sober up a bit and ask Oscar "Does your girlfriend know that you're here?" 

Oscar shrugs, and goes "She doesn't have to if you don't tell her." The air shifts and it all feels wrong. He is sitting too close. You’re feeling nervous. A look of worry flashes on his face. You tell him he should get going.

“It's getting late, and I have work early in the morning.” 

Oscar doesn't understand why you're kicking him out, and why you've suddenly closed yourself back up. 

Once you've practically shoved him out of the door, you realise that you've fucked up. That was not what was meant to happen. That was not how you needed the last few weeks of your internship to be used. 

But here you are, with Oscar in your vicinity at work, and he’s not understanding why you're so curt with him, why you aren't having the same kind of conversations with him anymore. And then one day you're gone, and he's told that your internship is over. 

You become a passing thought in his head, and he becomes a distant memory in yours, something that happened during your internship. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

2 years later, you’re in the beginning stages of your master's degree. Oscar has had an amazing first year driving for McLaren and is still living his best life, although his relationships only seem to become even more short-lived than the last one. His current girl won't stick around for long, he knows this, it doesn't take an intellect to see that she's here for the travels and followers she gets on Instagram, and Oscar doesn't really care. 

But then he sees you in Silverstone, at least he thinks he does. He tries to unsubtly turn around and walk past the Mercedes garage again. Instead, he ends up turning around and just staring straight into the group of students who are talking to the engineers. And sure enough, right by the group of guys you stick out. 

"Oscar, what are you doing?" The PR manager asks, "We have places to be." 

"Uh, yes, coming." Oscar turns away and catches back up.

"If you're going to steal secrets, don't do it so obviously,” his PR manager jokes, before rambling on about all the interviews he has to do after free practice today.

Oscar doesn't get why he can't get the image of you out of his head. He had honestly forgotten about you, but here you are, wearing Mercedes clothes, and for some reason, it unnerves him. You had always worn your own clothes or something with McLaren branding back 2 years ago. But now you're sporting an ever-usual ponytail and Mercedes clothes. 

You stroll past the McLaren garage, hopeful to spot familiar faces from your internship. Instead, you find yourself halting, taking a moment to point out details on the car that you saw being worked on to your classmate – a reminiscent gesture from your internship at the McLaren factory. Unintentionally, your eyes briefly catch Oscar's. Witnessing a moment of hesitation, he pauses his conversation with Lando Norris, the first seater at McLaren. Choosing to move forward, you leave the scene as Patrick wants to see the Red Bull team before the qualifier kicks off.

Instead, Oscar comes barrelling out of the garage, yelling your name after you, causing you to flinch and stop. You turn around slowly, fully aware of the hundreds of eyes that have turned onto you.

"Hey." Oscar breathes out, his lips gracing a small smile. 

"Hi?" You question back before your classmate sticks his hand out.

"Hello! I'm Patrick," your classmate says, waiting for Oscar to take his hand, and a few seconds too long passes before Oscar does. 

"I'm Oscar, the driver for McLaren."

Patrick smiles wide, "I know! Can I take a picture with you? I'm sorry, I've just been a massive fan the last few years, tried to get in to write my master's degree but there weren't any slots open for our year and-"

"Yeah, sure." Oscar cuts him off, with a nod and a pr practised smile. Patrick fishes out his phone and quickly makes you snap a picture of the two. 

"Thank you so much!" Your last lifeline, says as he's hurrying down the paddock ready to brag that he got a picture with Oscar Piastri. 

"I thought you were a McLaren fan at heart." He tries to joke, as you shrug your shoulders. 

"You heard him, there weren't any spots for our year, and I was lucky to get a foot in the door at Mercedes. I wasn't going to turn that down,” you tell him, looking around awkwardly, fully aware of how it looks to have what looks like a Mercedes engineer talking to the McLaren driver. 

"You could have asked me?" The two of you aren't sure who's the most surprised by those words. Oscar for saying them, or you for hearing them. 

"What?" 

"I mean, you could have, eh, asked me?" Oscar realises how it sounds as he tries to defend his previous question. How could you even do that? You two never exchanged info, you were only friendly at work, and then you just stopped talking to each other. 

"I will... I will keep that in mind?" You say although it comes out as another question, the surrounding air is turning awkward, and you know you should probably leave. "I will see you around. I just have things to do, and you know, Mercedes... Yes." You make a weird hand gesture before hurrying off down the paddock. 

Oscar waves after you awkwardly, before stopping himself, realising that you aren't turning around to look at him.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The next time you see Oscar, it’s a lot less you see him, and much more you barely hear him calling out your name before he rams straight into you, sending both of you tumbling to the asphalt of the paddock. 

“I’m so sorry!” Oscar is quick to apologise, as you’re trying to untangle yourself from the surprise attack. “Hello to you too.” You run a hand over your left elbow, you’ve scraped it. Oscar finally gets up on his feet, staring at you as you sit on the ground. “If I get blood on my shirt, I’m definitely sending you the invoice.” 

You crack a small smile at his dumbfounded look, nodding to his hand before he reaches forward and you grab it. You let him help you up. 

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you were gone,” Oscar repeats himself. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to get the chance to give you my number.” He hands over a piece of paper. Chicken scratches in a surprisingly neat row, spelling out what you can barely decipher as a phone number. 

“Thank you… Oscar?” 

He smiles for a moment before the silence falls and his face seems to as well. He’s openly searching for a response, and you aren’t sure what it is. Apparently, thanking him wasn’t what he was hoping for. 

You bite your tongue, before sighing. “You shouldn’t hand out your number to other girls when you’re in a relationship.” 

Oscar blinks at you, “I’m not?”

“Then what about her?” You nod at the girl standing by the garage, wearing a hoodie with Oscar’s number on it. She’s looking more and more uncomfortable by the second as Oscar turns around and looks at her. 

“Oh that… Yeah.” Oscar shrugs. It sends a shiver down your spine, his dismissal tone mixed with his indifferent facial expression. All of it screaming to you, he’s a walking red flag. Don’t do this to yourself. 

You take a step back, your scraped elbow forgotten in the sudden surge of discomfort.

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, not wanting to linger any longer in this awkward exchange. You glance at the girl by the garage, whose eyes briefly meet yours before she looks away. It's clear she's caught in the middle of something she probably didn't sign up for.

"I... I thought..." Oscar stammers, seemingly at a loss for words.

You shake your head, deciding it is best not to delve into the intricacies of his personal life. "It doesn't matter. I have to go," you say, tucking the paper with his number into your pocket, the weight of it feeling surprisingly heavy.

As you walk away, you can't help but replay the brief encounter in your mind. It's a strange mix of nostalgia, irritation, and a newfound realisation that some things never really change. Oscar seems to be stuck in the same patterns, and you don't want to be a part of that cycle.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Days pass, and you find yourself torn between dialling the number and simply discarding it. The rational part of your mind screams at you to let it go, but there's a small, persistent voice that wonders if people can truly change. Another one telling you that you won’t be part of whatever cycle he’s going through if you just keep him at arm's length.

Eventually, curiosity gets the better of you, and you type in his number. Chuckling to yourself at his contact name, before you decide to send a brief text. 

You: Hey finally deciphered your chicken scratches how have you been?

The response is almost immediate. 

Os🚗: Hey! I've been good. Any invoices I need to pay? You: Invoices? Os🚗: Yeah, for your team shirt, I know the first few ones are special. You:  Ah no got it out with cold water and soap You: Thanks for that btw

You wait a minute before sending another text.

You: My elbow is all healed up as well  Os🚗: Good to hear 👍 You:  You text like my dad Os🚗: 👎 You:  Skill issue

You laugh to yourself, before realising half your lecture is now looking at you. It pulls you right back to reality. You only texted him because it seemed slightly more fun than listening to a guest lecture on spring physics. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The days pass, and your interactions with Oscar continue sporadically through text. The initial awkwardness fades, replaced by a casual banter that surprises you. It's almost as if the past is being overwritten by a new script, one in which you're just two acquaintances catching up.

Yet, in the back of your mind, the warning signs still linger. The memory of that awkward encounter with the girl by the garage and Oscar's dismissive attitude towards her. Then add on all those years ago in your apartment where he told you to keep quiet, it all sits as a constant reminder. You find yourself treading carefully, keeping the conversations light and steering clear of anything that could lead to future problems.

As you're scrolling through your phone during a break, TikTok seems to think you’ve found a sudden interest in the edits of Oscar. A notification pops up. It's a message from the man of the hour.

Os🚗: Hey, I have a weekend off, and Lando has me coming to the UK. Do you have time to meet for some time?

You hesitate, considering the invitation. A part of you is curious about how a casual meeting would unfold, but another part is wary. Oscar has been very clear in every single one of your interactions that he wants to get closer to you, in a way that’s intruding on all your thoughts, will only bring you trouble, unwanted complications, and unneeded problems. You know he will try to mask any advantages with the simple gesture of just wanting to be friends. 

But friends don’t look at each other the way Oscar looks at you, and it’s weird, you don’t want to find out why he does look at you like that.

You: Thanks for the offer but I've got plans this weekend. Maybe some other time

Oscar's response is swift.

Os🚗: No problem. Just let me know when you're free.

When you’re free? You really shouldn’t, you absolutely shouldn’t be considering it. 

As the days pass, you find yourself contemplating the situation. The cautious voice in your head warns against getting too involved, while the curious side wonders if people truly can change. It's a delicate balance, and you're not sure which way to lean.

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The allure of a face-to-face meeting lingers, but so does the memory of that uncomfortable encounter at the paddock. Oscar keeps pestering you through texts as the months pass, you’re making up excuses as you go, yet your reasoning keeps running thinner until you’re left with nothing to justify your rejections.

You're sipping coffee and reviewing some notes, as your phone buzzes with a call from Oscar. Why would he be calling you, he never calls, he only ever texts in that dad-type of way. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you answer.

"Hey, it's Oscar."

A small laugh slips past your lips, "Yeah, I know, caller ID was invented half a century ago."

"McLaren has me in London, well, south of it, and I was thinking we could grab a coffee or something. Face-to-face, you know?"

“Oscar… Why are you so insistent?” The question blurts out of you before you seem to realise you actually said it out loud. 

“Because we’re friends?” It’s meant to sound like an answer, but to you, it sounds like he’s inquiring about the most obvious thing in the world. And for a moment you feel like an asshole.

A small moment of weakness shows in the way you say, “I don’t have the time to come to London, but if you find yourself in Brackley on Thursday.”

You never mention a time or a place, yet he agrees so easily, and you wonder if you’re going to regret this. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

Thursday arrives, and you’re nervously glancing at the clock as the appointed time approaches. Your work at Mercedes keeps you occupied, but there's a subtle anticipation building in the background. The decision to meet Oscar has left you in a state of conflicting emotions, and you're not entirely sure what to expect.

As the clock strikes the start of your lunch break, you're surprised to see Oscar approaching the entrance of the Mercedes facility. His casual demeanour contrasts with the high-security surroundings, but he seems unfazed. You meet him at the entrance, exchanging a brief nod.

"Hey," he greets you with a warm smile.

"Hey," you reply, feeling a mix of uncertainty and curiosity.

Oscar suggests grabbing a coffee from a nearby café, and you agree yet again. The conversation flows more smoothly than you anticipated. It's easy and casual, and you're reminded of the times when you first met at McLaren. The awkwardness seems to have dissipated, replaced by a shared understanding of each other's worlds.

As you discuss work, life, and everything in between, you notice a genuine interest in Oscar's eyes. It's a stark contrast to the distant look he had during your internship. Maybe people can change, you think, or at least, they can show different sides of themselves.

As the coffee date comes to an end, you both stand outside the café. There's a moment of silence, and you can sense a question lingering in the air.

"Look," Oscar starts, "I know things got weird back then, and I probably should've been more upfront. I just want you to know that I genuinely enjoyed our conversations, and I'd like to keep talking, don’t… run away again, please."

You appreciate his honesty, and for a moment, you contemplate sharing your reservations. But you decide against it, choosing instead to take things one step at a time.

"I appreciate that, Oscar," you reply, offering a small smile. "But let's just see where things go."

The two of you part ways, and you can't deny the subtle warmth that lingers. Maybe, just maybe, this time around will be different. As you return to your work at Mercedes, you can't help but wonder how the next chapter of your story with Oscar will unfold.

That voice in the back of your head is screaming that Oscar is going to cause you problems, yet you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. And as much as you know you should agree, you find yourself ignoring it. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You're not quite sure how Oscar ended up in your apartment once again, however, you can not find it in yourself to complain. Nor do you want him to leave. The smile that rests on his lips has your heart fluttering, despite your mind knowing Oscar is nothing but trouble. 

The soft hum of a familiar tune plays in the background as you move around your kitchen, gathering ingredients for a simple pasta dish. Oscar sits at the small dining table, watching with genuine interest as you go about your culinary routine.

"Do you cook often?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder. "Well, I try. It's therapeutic, you know? I want to say it's cheaper, but we both know in this economy nothing is cheap."

Oscar smiles, appreciating the casual atmosphere that envelops your apartment. The aroma of garlic and tomatoes begins to fill the air as you start chopping vegetables.

"Need any help?" he offers, standing up and joining you at the counter.

You hand him a knife and a bell pepper. "How about you tackle this? Just chop it into small pieces."

Oscar nods, mimicking your chopping technique. The rhythmic sound of knives against cutting boards fills the kitchen, creating a comforting melody. As you work side by side, a gentle ease settles between you.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the silence, "what's the secret ingredient in this pasta?"

You wink playfully. "That's a trade secret. But I'll give you a hint – it starts with 'herbs.'"

He laughs, and the genuine warmth in the sound makes your heart flutter. As the vegetables sizzle in the pan, you find yourself caught in the simplicity of the moment. The soft glow of the kitchen lights, the shared laughter, and the anticipation of a homemade meal create a cocoon of tranquillity.

Once the pasta is perfectly al dente, you drain it and add it to the simmering sauce. Oscar takes a step closer, his eyes fixed on the creation taking shape before him.

"Looks delicious," he remarks.

You grin, handing him a fork. "The real test is in the taste."

Together, you sit at the table, savouring each bite of the pasta. The flavours dance on your taste buds, and you can't help but appreciate the quiet joy of sharing a meal you have prepared together.

The dinner table is adorned with the remnants of the delicious pasta, and the two of you sit comfortably, basking in the warmth of shared food and easy conversation. The soft glow of the kitchen lights casts a cosy ambience.

Oscar looks at you, a gentle smile on his face. "This is really good, you know. You've got some serious cooking skills. It's even better than last time when I got to eat your leftovers."

You return the smile, appreciating the compliment. "Thanks, Oscar. I'm glad you like it."

There's a brief pause, and Oscar's expression becomes more contemplative. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

Oscar hesitates for a moment before speaking. "I've noticed that things have been a bit... different between us. You seem to be, I don't know, running away or avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?"

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "It's not that you did something wrong, Oscar. It's just that... it feels like you're set on making things complicated for me."

His brow furrows in confusion. "Complicated? What do you mean?"

You chuckle, a hint of irony in your tone. "Oscar, you're a walking enigma. You come into my life, seemingly wanting to be friends, and then there's this underlying tension, this feeling that you're here to stir up trouble."

He looks genuinely perplexed. "Trouble? I don't want to cause trouble for you. I just want to get to know you better."

You meet his gaze, sincerity in your eyes. "I appreciate that, but there are moments when it feels like you're intentionally making things challenging. Like you enjoy the chaos."

Oscar leans back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I genuinely don't want to complicate things for you. If there's something I'm doing that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."

You sigh, realising the complexity of the situation. "Let's not dwell on it too much. It's just a feeling I get sometimes."

He seems about to press further, but you change the topic with a light laugh. "Anyway, did I tell you about the time I accidentally set off the fire alarm at University? We were trying to test out this new engine, but it caught on fire. Disaster in the garage, trust me."

Oscar chuckles along, as you make a point to ignore the way he's staring at you. You can feel his eyes searching for your face for something you won't give to him. Instead, deep inside of you, you realise that little voice in your head has been quiet the entire time Oscar has been in your apartment. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You’re neglecting your book about fluid physics as you and Oscar are talking over Facetime. The idea of going clubbing has just been tossed into the conversation, and Oscar, ever the persuader, leans closer to the camera with a playful glint in his eyes.

"Come on," he says, a charming smile playing on his lips. "Even university students need a break, you know? It's all about finding the right balance between work and play."

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical but intrigued. "Balance, huh? I do have assignments due next week."

Oscar chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "And that's precisely why you should take a break. Trust me, a night of dancing and fun is the perfect way to recharge those academic batteries. Besides, Lando and I have been planning this for ages, and it wouldn't be the same without you."

He glances towards something out of the camera's lens, you aren't sure what, yet you can sense the anticipation in his demeanour.

"I'm not sure," you admit, considering the proposition.

Oscar leans in again, adopting a more serious tone. "Look, I get it. University life can be hectic, but you deserve to have some fun too. It's not just about the grades and deadlines; it's about creating memories and enjoying the journey. Tonight, let's forget about responsibilities and just live in the moment."

His words resonate with a certain truth, and you find yourself swaying toward the idea. Still, a hint of hesitation lingers.

"I promise it won't be an all-night affair," Oscar reassures, sensing your wavering resolve. "Just a couple of hours of music, laughter, and good company. You won't regret it."

You weigh the options, glancing between Oscar's earnest expression and your open book about fluid physics. A sigh escapes you, accompanied by a smile. "Alright, fine. But just for a couple of hours."

Oscar's face lights up with triumph, and he gives you a playful wink. "That's the spirit! Trust me; you won't regret this."

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the club as you, Oscar, and Lando immerse yourselves in the vibrant atmosphere. The dance floor is a sea of moving bodies, and the colourful lights create a kaleidoscope of patterns.

Lando, with his infectious energy, is already lost in the rhythm, leaving you and Oscar to navigate the crowded space. The bass thumps in your chest, and you sway to the music, caught up in the electrifying ambience.

Oscar, with his hand on the small of your back, guides you through the sea of dancers. The touch is subtle, but the warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but notice how close he is, the proximity making your senses come alive.

As the music intensifies, Oscar pulls you into a spontaneous twirl. The movement is fluid, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. The chemistry between you two on the dance floor is undeniable, a magnetic pull that defies logic.

You catch a glimpse of Lando, who's thoroughly enjoying the night, his carefree spirit infectious. But your attention keeps drifting back to Oscar – the way his body moves in sync with yours, the fleeting touches that send sparks, and the undeniable connection that lingers in the air.

Amid the chaos, you try to remind yourself of the reality. Oscar has a girlfriend, and this moment on the dance floor should be nothing more than a carefree escapade. Still, the pull between you two is undeniable, and your mind can't help but wander to places it shouldn't.

The bass drops, the lights flash, and the intensity of the music amplifies. Oscar's hands find their way to your hips, the touch sending a surge of electricity through your veins. It's intoxicating, and for a fleeting second, you forget the boundaries that should exist.

As the night unfolds, the three of you lose track of time on the dance floor. The chemistry between you and Oscar continues to spark, creating a tension that hangs in the air. Each touch, each movement, is a delicate dance on the fine line between desire and restraint.

Finally, as the music winds down, you catch your breath, the thumping beat still echoing in your ears. Lando grins, thoroughly pleased with the night's festivities, while Oscar's gaze lingers, a silent acknowledgement of the shared energy on the dance floor.

You step away, the cool air outside the club hitting you, offering a momentary respite from the heated atmosphere within. As you take a deep breath, you can't shake off the lingering sensations – Oscar's touch, the rhythmic dance, and the unspoken tension that hangs in the air.

You remind yourself once more, that you're just friends. You're just friends. You're just friends. You repeat this as your mantra.

You are not a homewrecker. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

You're engrossed in your studies at the university library, and your defence of your master's degree is around the corner. You need every moment you can get to study your thesis when a voice interrupts your concentration.

"Hey there."

You glance up, and to your utter surprise, there's Oscar standing right beside your table, a grin on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, a mixture of shock and concern in your voice.

"Thought I'd surprise you," he replies casually.

You cast a wary glance around, acutely aware of the studious atmosphere in the library. "Oscar, you can't just show up here. People will talk."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Let them talk. What's the big deal?"

You lower your voice, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "The big deal is that you're dating someone else, and it's not a great look for either of us if you're seen here."

He glances around, noticing a few curious stares. "Come on, it's not a big deal. Let's grab some coffee or something."

Despite your protests, Oscar leads you out of the library, and you can't shake off the feeling of eyes following the two of you. As you walk through the campus, people start recognising Oscar, and the camera shutters start clicking.

"Oscar, seriously. This is a bad idea," you insist, glancing nervously at the onlookers.

He brushes off your concerns. "Relax, it's just a few pictures. No one will care."

But you know better. You can already feel the whispers and stares, and you're caught in the uncomfortable spotlight of a situation you never signed up for. As you enter a nearby café, the buzzing of conversations seems to rise.

"This is not how I imagined spending my afternoon," you mutter, frustration evident in your voice.

Oscar, however, seems unfazed, ordering coffee as if everything is perfectly normal. "It's just people taking photos. It'll blow over."

You glance at the coffee cup he hands you, the whole situation feeling surreal. "Oscar, you're dating someone else. This is not fair to anyone involved."

He chuckles, dismissing your concern. "Let them speculate. It's not like we're doing anything wrong."

Despite his nonchalance, you can't shake off the unease settling in your stomach. As the two of you sit in the café, surrounded by curious glances, you realise that Oscar's surprise visit has turned into a spectacle – one that you would have preferred to avoid.

"Oscar, be honest. Why are you here?" you ask, watching his facade of nonchalance crumble.

"I missed your cooking?" he tries, but the way he winces completely gives away any chance that the lie might have worked.

"You're supposed to be, like, in the US," you say, your gaze making him squirm in his seat.

"Brazil, actually," he corrects, avoiding eye contact and glancing around at the spectacle he has unwittingly created. Phones around the two of you are noticeably pointing in your direction. "Maybe we should leave?"

"Oscar–"

He grabs your hand, tugging you along with him. Your coffee, still hot and now abandoned, sits on the table inside the store. As he leads you away from the prying eyes, you can feel a mixture of frustration and confusion bubbling inside you.

"Where are we going?" you ask, trying to keep pace with his hurried steps.

"Anywhere away from here. Let's find someplace quiet," he suggests the urgency in his voice betraying the fact that he recognises the magnitude of his misstep.

The two of you navigate through the campus, Oscar leading the way with a determination that seems at odds with the careless attitude he had displayed earlier. As you distance yourselves from the buzzing crowd, he finally slows down.

"I didn't think it would be this... chaotic," he admits a touch of regret in his voice.

"You didn't think? Oscar, you're dating someone else. This isn't just about me. What were you expecting?" you say, frustration lacing your words.

He looks genuinely remorseful. "I just wanted to surprise you. I didn't realise it would turn into this."

"Well, surprises come with consequences, especially when you're in the public eye," you reply, your tone firm.

Oscar sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I'm sorry."

You stop walking, forcing him to face you. "This isn't just about today. It's about everything, Oscar. You're dating someone, yet you keep showing up, making it complicated."

He looks down, seemingly at a loss for words. After a moment, he meets your gaze. "I don't know what to say."

You take a step back, disentangling your hand from his. "Maybe it's time to figure that out. For both of our sakes."

The weight of the situation hangs in the air, and you realise that this unexpected encounter has unravelled more than just a quiet afternoon. As Oscar searches for words, you can't help but wonder how he thought this could have ever been a good idea. 

“Why can't you let me be your friend?” He asks. Oscar has the audacity to ask that? As though he didn't fly across the world to surprise you on a race week. 

“Because friends don't act like this, and I don't want to be a home wrecker.” You tell him, frustration bubbling in your blood as he seems to keep missing the point.

Oscar looks at you, a mix of confusion and perhaps realisation in his eyes. "Home wrecker? We're just friends hanging out."

You can't help but scoff at his apparent obliviousness. "Friends don't cause scenes, Oscar. Friends don't make grand gestures across continents when they're in a committed relationship."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration. "I just wanted to see you. What's the harm in that?"

"The harm, Oscar, is that you're not being fair to anyone involved. Not to me, not to your girlfriend," you reply, your voice carrying the weight of your exasperation.

He looks at you, a hint of defiance in his eyes. "She doesn't have to know every little thing. We can just enjoy our time together."

You shake your head, feeling the need to make him understand. "It's not about keeping secrets. It's about respecting boundaries, about being honest with yourself and the people around you. I can't be a part of something that feels like it's headed for disaster."

He seems to be grappling with your words, his expression shifting between frustration and a realisation that maybe this situation isn't as casual as he thought.

“I didn't mean to complicate things,” he finally admits, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

You take a deep breath, the frustration in your blood now replaced with a sombre resolve. "Oscar, sort things out on your end. I need to focus on my studies and my life. I can't keep navigating this uncertainty."

He nods, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't mean to make things complicated… For you."

“You keep saying that, and then… You– you do things like this.” You take a deep breath, “I'm going home, I have things to study, and you have somewhere to be across the– god, Oscar… You're supposed to be halfway across the world.”

You tighten the grab on your bag as you watch his eyes flicker over your face, before turning and walking away. Leaving him standing there. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦ 

The world is cruel, horrifically cruel in fact. Your nerves are all over as you wait outside the set of doors that's going to decide the fate of your master's degree. You're about to go defend your thesis when your phone flashes with the words. 

Os🚗 is calling… 

You're quick to swipe it, the last thing you need is to talk to Oscar after 2 months of silence. Especially not right now, not before you're going to defend your thesis. 

Os🚗 is calling…

Flashes once more, you glance up at the clock. 15 minutes before it's your turn. 

You deny the call. 

Os🚗 is calling…

Fuck. 

“What?” You hiss into the phone. 

“I broke up with my girlfriend.” His voice is slightly chipper, as though the news is supposed to make you rejoice with glee. 

“Good for you? Oscar, I don't know what to say, what do you want me to say? I don't have time for this!” You're stressed, the clock reads 14 minutes till your defence. You're pacing the floor, unable to stand still, your nerves are eating you from the inside out. You wish this could all just be over with, you need it to pass you by in an instant. 

Oscar's voice on the other end remains unnervingly nonchalant, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions stirring within you. "I thought you should know. You know, in case you cared."

"Oscar, this is not the time," you snap, the urgency of the ticking clock amplifying your frustration. "I have my master's thesis defence in a few minutes, and I can't deal with this right now."

There's a brief pause on the line before Oscar continues, seemingly undeterred. "I just thought you should know since, you know, we're friends and all."

The word "friends" echoes in your ears, a reminder of the blurred lines that have caused so much turmoil in the past. You take a deep breath, attempting to centre yourself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions.

"Oscar, please. I appreciate you letting me know, but I can't handle this distraction right now. I need to focus on my defence," you plead, trying to convey the urgency of the situation.

"Right, right," Oscar says, the realisation in his tone belated. "Good luck with your defence. I'll, uh, talk to you later?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "Later, Oscar."

As you end the call, you glance at the clock – 12 minutes left. The weight of impending judgment looms over you, but you shake off the distraction, determined to face the panel and defend your thesis with the focus it deserves. The world may be cruel, but you're not about to let it derail the culmination of your hard work and dedication.

The defence room is a blur of questions, explanations, and nods of approval. Somehow, you manage to navigate the academic minefield, answering each query with a precision that surprises even yourself. As the last question concludes, the panel members exchange satisfied glances, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. The defence is over, and you've held your ground.

Exiting the room, you're greeted by the smiles of your family, the relief in their eyes mirroring your own. You share a moment of celebration, the culmination of years of hard work and determination. The weight on your shoulders begins to lift, replaced by the joy of accomplishment.

Just as you're about to immerse yourself in the warmth of your family's congratulations, a familiar voice cuts through the air. "Congratulations!"

You turn, and there he is – Oscar, standing in the corridor, an awkward smile on his face. The shock of seeing him here, especially after the phone call just an hour ago, momentarily freezes your elation.

"Oscar, what are you doing here?" you ask, a mix of surprise and confusion in your voice.

He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture. "I wanted to congratulate you. I mean, you just defended your thesis, right? That's a big deal."

Your family exchanges curious glances, and you can feel their unspoken questions. You take a deep breath, deciding to focus on the achievement at hand. "Thank you, Oscar. I appreciate that. But I'm with my family right now, and we're celebrating. Maybe we can catch up later."

His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. "Of course. I just wanted to say congrats. I'll see you around, then."

As Oscar walks away, you turn back to your family, their expressions a mix of understanding and concern. The elation from your successful defence is now tempered by the unexpected encounter with Oscar. You push the lingering questions to the back of your mind, choosing to savour the joy of the moment with those who have been with you through thick and thin.

Your dinner out with your family is nice, but your mind is solely on Oscar. You didn't know he was in town, not that you wanted to know when he was. A headache works its way through your head, as you put on a smile and cheer with your parents and siblings. Brushing off questions about the cute guy who came to congratulate you, forcing you to call him a friend. That stupid word still doesn't sit right in your mouth, it never does when it comes to Oscar. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

You find yourself unable to think about anything but yesterday, your phone is in your hand as Oscar’s contact is pulled up. Why did he call you about breaking up with his girlfriend? Why did he then show up? What did he expect you to do? To say? To… You’re frustrated, pacing the floor once again, as you can’t figure out whether or not you should call him. Instead, the universe seems to decide for you, as his contact flashes on your phone, mirroring yesterday. 

Os🚗 is calling…

You stare at the screen, contemplating whether to answer or not. The events of the past 24 hours have left you emotionally drained, and you're not sure if you have the energy to navigate through another conversation with Oscar. However, a part of you, perhaps against your better judgement, decides to answer.

"What now, Oscar?" you answer, your tone a mix of exhaustion and frustration.

"Hey," his voice sounds through the phone, and you can almost picture the casual smile he might be wearing.

"What do you want?" you ask bluntly, not in the mood for small talk.

"I just wanted to check in. You know, after your defence and all," he replies, feigning innocence.

"Save it, Oscar. I don't need your checking in," you snap, the irritation is evident in your voice. "What happened yesterday was unnecessary. I was celebrating with my family, and you just had to insert yourself into the moment."

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line before he speaks, his voice carrying a sincerity that catches you off guard. "I genuinely wanted to congratulate you. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"Well, you did," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. "And I don't need your congratulations. I need you to respect my boundaries."

Another pause follows, and when Oscar finally speaks, his tone is more subdued. "I get it. I messed up. I'm sorry."

Sorry. It's a word you've heard from him before, and each time it feels less convincing. You take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. "Oscar, I don't know what you expect from me, but we can't keep doing this."

"I know, I know," he says, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to associate with his moments of frustration. "I just... I thought we were friends, and I wanted to be there for you."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Friends? Oscar, friends don't complicate each other's lives like this. We've been through this before. I can't keep playing this game with you."

There's a heavy silence, and you wonder if he's even listening or if he's already moved on to the next distraction. Finally, he speaks, his voice softer. "Then let me be more…"

"Oscar, let me be clear," you assert, the frustration evident in your voice. "I need you to get your shit together. This constant back-and-forth, the unexpected appearances, it's not fair to anyone involved, especially not to me. Figure out what you want, sort out your own life, and maybe then we can talk about what 'more' means."

His silence hangs on the line, and you take a moment to collect your thoughts. This is a conversation long overdue, and the weight of the words you're about to say carries a gravity you can't ignore.

“But once you do…” You are already regretting the next words you are to speak. "I will not wait around for you, but... But I wouldn't be completely opposed to finding out whatever ‘more' means."

“Okay, okay I can do that.” Oscar sounds, not happy, but rather optimistic and hopeful. “Do you think you would want to… Maybe let me cook for once?”

“Yeah…” You breathe out, “I think I would like that.”

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The hum of machinery fills the air as you make your way through the bustling Mercedes factory, a stark contrast to the chaotic world you left behind. The engineering department is your sanctuary, a place where the precision of machines and the logic of design bring a sense of order to your life.

You sit at your desk, surrounded by schematics and blueprints, immersing yourself in the intricate details of your work. The rhythm of your routine is comforting, and you've come to appreciate the stability your job offers. As a mechanical engineer, your skills find their purpose in the assembly and improvement of high-performance engines, a far cry from the unpredictable whirlwind that was Oscar Piastri.

Today, a new intern, Gabbie, has joined the team, bringing with her a fresh enthusiasm that seems almost infectious. She approaches your desk, curiosity written all over her face.

"Hey there! I heard you're one of the seasoned engineers around here. Mind if I pick your brain a bit?" Gabbie asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

You offer a friendly smile, welcoming the chance for a break from the monotony. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

Gabbie hesitates for a moment before blurting out, "Oscar Piastri! Do you know him? The McLaren driver?"

Your eyes narrow slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected mention of Oscar in this professional setting. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"

Gabbie grins, oblivious to any subtleties. "I heard he's a pretty cool guy. You know, being a Formula 1 driver and all. Any interesting stories or insights about him?"

You take a deep breath, contemplating how to navigate this conversation without delving into the complexities of your history with Oscar. "Well, he's certainly talented on the track. As for stories, you might want to focus on the engineering marvels we're creating here. That's where the real excitement is."

Gabbie seems undeterred, pushing for more details. "Come on, there must be something. What's he like in person? Is he as cool as he seems on TV?"

You lean back in your chair, trying to redirect the conversation. "Look, we're here to work on groundbreaking technology and push the limits of performance. If you want insights into the world of Formula 1, maybe you should visit a race or something. But around here, let's focus on the engineering challenges ahead of us."

Gabbie, slightly disappointed but still eager, nods and scurries off, likely in search of a more willing source of gossip. You return to your work, the hum of the factory providing a comforting backdrop.

As you refocus on your work, another colleague, Tom, strolls over, his friendly demeanour evident. He glances at Gabbie retreating in the distance and raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

"What was that all about?" Tom asks, nodding towards Gabbie's disappearing figure.

You can't help but smile, the memory of Oscar and the whirlwind of emotions he brings resurfacing. "Oh, she just wanted to know something about a friend of mine."

Tom chuckles, sensing there's more beneath the surface. "Friend, huh? Spill the details. You've got that mysterious smile on your face."

You shake your head, a playful glint in your eyes. "Nothing scandalous, just Oscar she's curious about. You know how people get star-struck."

“Ah, Piastri, right? I forgot you know him.” Tom laughs, "Well, since you mentioned that you're friends with an F1 driver, you've got to share some perks with the rest of us, right?"

“Shut up Tom,” you roll your eyes at him, as he wiggles his eyebrows. “What did you drop by for anyways?���

He waves his iPad in the air. “I got the analytical data back from the stress test, and I need you to go over it before this afternoon.”

Your thoughts of Oscars are washed away in an array of statistics and equations. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

Despite not being on the best speaking terms with Oscar for the moment, you truly can’t seem to escape him. Twitter has become obsessed with a recent interview with Oscar. You try not to follow his life through the media, an attempt to respect him enough to let him tell you what he wants you to know about him. That said, sometimes the internet makes that an impossible feat. 

In the interview clip circulating on Twitter, Oscar sits comfortably in the studio, a backdrop of sponsor logos and racing memorabilia behind him. The interviewer, armed with a charismatic smile, delves into various aspects of Oscar's life, from his recent races to his off-track interests.

As you scroll through the snippets, you can't deny the pang of curiosity that tugs at you. The dichotomy between the Oscar you know personally and the one presented to the world through interviews is stark. It's a reminder of the deliberate distance he maintains, carefully navigating the narrative of his public persona.

The interviewer grins, steering the conversation towards personal anecdotes. "And what about love, Oscar? Any new special someone in your life?"

Oscar squirms in his seat, as a blush spreads across his face. “Well…” His eyes flicker around the room. “No, not recently.”

“Oh really? That’s a surprise, you’re otherwise known for changing it up quite a bit.” The interviewer winks, as though that statement wasn’t wildly inappropriate. 

Oscar chuckles nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. "Yeah, well, I've had my fair share of changes. But, you see, there's someone… someone I've known for a long time. And, uh, I guess I messed up. Big time."

The interviewer leans forward, sensing a potential scoop. "Care to share more about this mystery person?"

Oscar hesitates, glancing at his hands for a moment before meeting the interviewer's gaze. "We've been through a lot together. I've known her for years, and I can honestly say she's the one who knows me best. But, you know, life happens, and I've hurt her more than I care to admit."

The revelation hangs in the air, leaving an unspoken weight. Your heart skips a beat as the pieces click into place. The cryptic words, the veiled references – it's about you. The interview, unbeknownst to the public, has become a confessional, a subtle admission of guilt and remorse.

The interviewer, sensing the delicacy of the situation, shifts gears. "It sounds like a complicated story. Do you think there's a chance for reconciliation?"

Oscar's gaze falters, a mixture of regret and uncertainty in his eyes. "I don't know. I hope so. But I've got a lot to figure out, and it might be too late."

The vulnerability in his admission is palpable, and the internet, now buzzing with speculation, picks up on the emotional depth of Oscar's words. As you close the app, a whirlwind of emotions engulfs you, surprise, sadness, and an unexpected twinge of hope as your phone pings with a text message.

Os🚗: Don’t open Twitter.  You: Good morning to you too Os🚗: I’m serious. Os🚗: Remember that old picture from a few years ago? You: What picture? Os🚗: When I ran into you, and we both ended up on the ground, that one. 

You snort, you absolutely remember both the picture and that day.

Os🚗: I gave an interview, and I might have mentioned you by accident? You: You don’t sound sure   Os🚗 is calling…

You’re quick to accept the call, as you twirl your coffee. A long day of work ahead of you, and now a mess that Oscar has apparently dragged you into it seems. “Okay, so I just wanted the interviewer to change the questions, and I mentioned you, and I’m sorry, and then someone started digging online, and that you’ve been around me for years, and that stupid picture from back then got dug up, and someone else then found out that you’re still working for Mercedes, and please let me pick you up Friday?” All the words come rushing out of Oscar's mouth at once. 

“I’m sorry what?” Your head is already spinning. 

“Go out with me,” Oscar repeats. “Friday, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, okay, okay, okay, I got that part. Now back up. What about the rest?” You suck in a deep breath, as you prepare yourself for what the hell Oscar just said. Oscar takes a moment to gather his thoughts, realising he might have split too much in a rush of anxiety. "Look, I messed up during the interview. I didn't mean to bring you into it, but then people started connecting the dots, and now it's all over social media. I didn't want you to be dragged into this mess, especially considering everything."

"Considering everything? Oscar, what did you say?" Your tone edges towards frustration. “I saw a few clips on Twitter.”

“I thought I said not to – never mind.” He sighs, "I might have hinted that you're someone important to me and that I've messed things up with you. It wasn't supposed to be like this, and I'm genuinely sorry for bringing you into it without your consent."

Your mind races, both with irritation at the situation and a surprising warmth at Oscar's unexpected admission. "Okay, I appreciate the apology, but fuck, I don’t need my job jeopardised because of something online. What if someone reaches out, I mean my supervisor is already not ecstatic about the fact that I’m good friends with you. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m dating you.”

“But –” Oscar starts before you cut him off. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” You tell him. 

“So you’ll let me take you out on Friday?” He asks, anticipation hanging in the air, a soft smile on your lips. One he can’t see, and one you would not admit to if he were to ask. 

“Yeah, yeah…” You breathe out, “I want you to bring the ugliest bouquet of flowers though, that’s the only thing I ask of you.”

“The ugliest?” 

You hum in approval. “We’ll figure out the rest later, I have to get back to work before I get too far behind on my assignments for today.”

“I’ll text you the details,” Oscar says before hanging up, you keep the phone against your chin as you take a long slurp of your coffee. You can’t believe you actually agreed to go out with him, especially in the middle of the mess he has just created. 

Oscar drives you insane, and it seems to be in the best way possible. You smile as you finally put away your phone and start up on your first assignment of the day. 

◦━⇜━❈━⇝━◦

The anticipation builds as you wait outside, glancing at your watch and then at the passing cars. It's Friday evening, and Oscar is supposed to pick you up. Your attire is casual, as per his instructions, but you can't shake off the lingering nervousness and excitement.

Finally, you spot his distinctive car approaching, the engine's low growl hinting at its power. Oscar pulls up with a confident smile, and you can't help but notice how his presence seems to fill the space around him.

He steps out of the car, wearing a simple yet stylish outfit. "Hey," he greets you, his eyes reflecting a mix of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Hey," you reply, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nice car."

Oscar grins, clearly proud of his choice. "Thanks. Ready for an adventure?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Is this going to be an adventure?"

He chuckles. "Well, let's just say, it's a night of surprises."

As you get into the car, you can't help but wonder what exactly Oscar has planned. The tension in the air is palpable, a mix of unresolved emotions and the promise of something new. The drive is filled with light banter, both of you carefully avoiding the elephant in the room – the mess created by Oscar's interview.

The car pulls to a night school, you look over at Oscar, a smile on his lips. Secrecy in his eyes, as he’s quickly out of his door. Walking around the car to help you out of it, a hand in yours. 

“I promised I would cook for you,” he reminds you, as he leads you through the hallways of the school, before reaching the kitchen, “except I would like for it to be edible, so I got us into a cooking class.”

He opens the door, and two other couples are already inside the kitchen, including what you’re guessing is going to be your teacher. 

“Oscar Piastri,” He tells the teacher, who notes it down before remarking on there still being a couple missing. She points you and Oscar to stand at the front right kitchen island. 

“You’re so stupid.” You whisper to him, as he eagerly drags you over to the island. Helping you get your apron on. 

He leans in, his breath hot on your neck as he’s tying your apron. “You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”

As the class begins, you find yourselves surrounded by the aromas of various ingredients and the lively chatter of the other couples. Oscar seems surprisingly excited about the cooking class, and you can't help but be swept up in his enthusiasm.

The teacher, a seasoned chef with a no-nonsense attitude, introduces the menu for the evening – a complex dish that involves a delicate balance of flavours and precise techniques. As the instructions are given, you exchange glances with Oscar, both of you silently agreeing to tackle this challenge together.

Oscar takes charge of the first step, expertly handling the knife as he chops vegetables with precision. You observe his focused expression, the playful glint in his eyes occasionally surfacing. The air between you carries a comfortable warmth, a stark contrast to the earlier tensions.

As you work side by side, the occasional laughter and banter with the other couples create a communal atmosphere in the kitchen. You can't help but be grateful for the distraction – the opportunity to focus on something other than the complexities of your relationship with Oscar.

The cooking process unfolds smoothly, and soon, the kitchen is filled with the enticing aroma of the dish coming together. Oscar steals a moment to glance at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "How are we doing so far?"

You return the smile, genuinely enjoying the experience. "Surprisingly well, considering your questionable reputation in the kitchen."

He mockingly gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "Ouch, right in the culinary skills."

The teacher makes her rounds, offering guidance and checking on each couple's progress. As she approaches you and Oscar, you brace yourself for scrutiny. To your surprise, she nods approvingly. "You two seem to have a good handle on things. Impressive."

You share a triumphant look with Oscar, the sense of accomplishment strengthening the connection between you. The dish is finally plated, and the class gathers to taste each other's creations. The blend of flavours is exquisite, a testament to the collective effort of the participants.

With the cooking portion complete, the teacher commends the class and invites everyone to enjoy the fruits of their labour. You and Oscar find a quiet corner, plates in hand, and sit together.

As you take the first bite, the rich flavours dance on your palate. Oscar watches you, anticipation in his eyes. You meet his gaze, a silent acknowledgement passing between you. Despite the chaos and unexpected twists, this evening has become a shared memory, a moment of unity amidst the complexities of life.

"So," Oscar begins, breaking the comfortable silence, "how would you rate my cooking skills?"

You savour another bite before responding with a playful grin. "I'll give you a solid eight out of ten. Surprisingly, you didn't burn anything."

He feigns offence, but the smile on his lips betrays him.

You lift your fork to let him taste a part of the elderly couple’s dish. You expect Oscar to take your fork. Instead, he leans in, keeping eye contact with you, as he eats from your fork. Your breath hitches, and his eyes are staring into yours intensely. Warmth spreads from your neck and up. Then he pulls back, finally chewing on the food.

He uses the back of his hand to dry off his mouth, still keeping his eyes locked with yours, as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “That was delicious.”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, as you look away. Why did he…?

Then the teacher claps her hands, telling everyone it’s time to start doing the dishes, and your small intimate moment is broken and forgotten as Oscar springs to his feet. Already holding his hand out to help you up, no need for you to tell him this time. 

The scene replaying in your mind as you’re going through the motions of washing up, it’s still fresh on your mind as Oscar is thanking the teacher for the great lesson. Even when he slides his hand into yours, and you walk out to his car.

He once again opens the door for you, helping you get into the car.

“Oh, before I forget.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts completely as a bouquet of the ugliest flowers you’ve ever seen is presented in front of you. Oscar smiles proudly at you, happy that he has taken you by surprise. 

“I didn’t…” You trail off. The flowers are horrendous to look at, an absolute horror show in floral form. “They’re hideous.” 

“Just like you asked.” He finally slips into the driver's seat, smiling at you, waiting patiently for a bit of praise, as you can’t seem to find the right words to describe the warm feelings inside of your heart. 

“Thank you.” You settle on, “Thank you, Oscar. You did good… You are good.” 

You look over at him, and the flowers in your hands are quickly abandoned and forgotten, when his face is right there. You place your hands gently on each of his cheeks. He leans in close to you, placing his own hand on your cheek. You close your eyes, as his lips finally meet yours. 

The car falls away, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, the taste of rich food lingering on your lips. His lips move against yours with a tender rhythm, a silent language conveying emotions that words have struggled to express.

His hand, warm against your cheek, sends a shiver down your spine, and you tighten your grip on his cheeks, deepening the kiss. The connection is familiar yet different, a blend of shared history and the uncharted territory of something new.

Time seems to stretch, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips, the warmth of his touch. It's a kiss that holds the weight of unspoken apologies and the promise of something more. At that moment, the complications and uncertainties fade into the background, leaving only the raw, honest emotion exchanged between two people on the precipice of change.

As the kiss finally breaks, you find yourself breathless, a silent understanding passing between you. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, the vulnerability mirrored in both your expressions. There's a question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air, waiting for acknowledgement.

The taste of the kiss lingers, the sweet aftertaste of a decision made, of boundaries crossed. It's a moment suspended in time, a threshold crossed, and you can't help but wonder where this unexpected journey with Oscar might lead.

"Wow," he breathes, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "That was..."

You finish his sentence with a soft smile. "Unexpected?"

He chuckles a sound that resonates with shared joy. "Yeah, unexpected. But good. Very, very good."

The shared laughter dispels any remaining tension, replaced by a newfound ease. As you sit there, still holding each other's gaze, you realise that the evening has become a turning point. The kitchen adventure, the banter, and now this shared kiss – it's a series of moments that have rewritten the script between you and Oscar.

The reality of the situation lingers in the air, but instead of feeling weighed down, you find a sense of lightness, a subtle shift in the atmosphere between you two. The kiss becomes a symbol, a bridge between the past and a future that holds the promise of understanding and growth.

With a contented smile, you break the silence. "Well, I guess we've officially moved past the 'friends' territory."

Oscar grins, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Yeah, we have. And I'm looking forward to wherever this takes us."

Your worries about your supervisor and what it might mean for your job at Mercedes fade away as Oscar leans in again, capturing your lips once more. You can get used to this. 

Oscar might be someone who only brings chaos and problems into your life, but you’re all too prepared to deal with that now. Willing to deal with it all, and happy to have him by your side as you do.

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, shout out to @pucksandpower for making me not kill Oscar, and for them to actually end up together. Also my beta readers Fari and @thisismeracing for editing this.

[h00nerz]

law of attraction!

masterlist | 1k celebration

pairing: fem!reader x choi soobin

genre: angst kinda, rivals to lovers, law student!soobin, law student!reader, pining, kinda fluffy at the end

word count: 3.6k

warnings: soobin is a lil mean sometimes, veeerry suggestive, but that’s it i think

prompt(s): #33 — “i can’t pretend anymore.” #34 — “you’re all i can think about.” #49 — “i can’t get you out of my head.” “…thanks?”

requested: “hii!! i hope ur doing well <3 could i req 33, 34, 49 and 50?? thank u <333333333” �� anon

authors note: haha another enemies to lovers! tbf it’s not my fault most of the requests were enemies to lovers themed. anyways i had been wanting to do a law intern thing for someone for a long time and i thought it would fit for soob! i got a lil carried away while writing this LOL i hope u enjoy!!

IN LIFE, THERE WAS ONLY THREE THINGS YOU WERE SURE OF. First, sparkling water is stupid. Just drink soda or water instead, there’s no point in pretending you’re better than anyone else when in reality it’s just that you can’t pick a side! The second thing you knew was you were born to be a lawyer. Arguing was in your blood, there was no doubt you were going to make an incredible attorney one day. The third and final thing that you knew for certain was that you hated Choi Soobin.

Freaking Choi Soobin. In the past, you never thought you’d be the kind of person to have a nemesis. The whole concept of having an enemy seemed childish, and like something that only happened in movies. But, then you met Soobin, and everything changed. You hated him, and his smug little attitude, and he hated you, too.

You know, there was actually a point in time where you didn’t hate Soobin. It sounds crazy, but there was actually a time you might have called him a friend. Back when you were just a baby-faced girl, fresh out of high school and filled with excitement for your first college course. Soobin sat next to you, and you bonded over your desire to one day go to law school. But, then he betrayed you when he told the guy you liked, Hwang Hyunjin, that he saw you kissing the TA for your class, and from that moment on, Choi Soobin was your enemy.

And of course, as your enemy, he just had to apply to intern at the same firm as you. He had followed you to the same law school, so it was no surprise he followed you there, too. But you were starting to grow tired of his ever looming presence. After you graduated, you wouldn’t be surprised if he got a job at the same place as you, just to piss you off.

After a long morning of sorting through the mess of files in the basement of the office, it was finally time for your lunch break. You had been standing with your shoulders hunched over for hours, and you were positive your back was about to break from the stress.

“Y/N!” One of the only other interns in the office, and your only friend in the office, Sumin, called out to you once you appeared back upstairs. “I thought you were out sick or something, where have you been?” She stood up from her desk and wandered over to you.

“I was exiled to the basement. There’s files from like, 20 years ago down there, it’s a mess.” You groaned as she followed you towards the break room, rubbing your shoulder as you walked.

Sumin winced. “Ooh, yeah. Sana was telling me about how when she was an intern here, she had to go down there once, and found a rat skeleton.”

“What?!” You gasped in horror, a little bit louder than you meant to. “That was like, ten years ago though, right? It must have been cleaned up since then, right? Because I don’t think I can work around dead rats, no matter how bad I need this internship.”

You heard a laugh from the corner of the break room, and felt yourself become filled with dread. With your jaw clenched tightly, you slowly turned to face the direction of the noise. There he was, sitting at the little table with a cup of ramen in front of him and his phone propped up in front of him.

“Soobin.” You glared at him. Sumin, bless her heart, tried to pretend she couldn’t sense the tension as she slowly opened up the door to the fridge.

“You know why they sent you to the basement, right, Y/N?” Soobin asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” You rolled your eyes, turning to the fridge to fish out the salad you brought for lunch.

“Because they don’t trust you enough to do the important stuff.” He told you with an amused tone to his voice.

You spun around, slamming the fridge door behind you. “Really? Remind me, who did Taemin pick to help him with the Park case? Me! Not you!” You snapped, jabbing your finger in his direction pointedly.

“Y/N!” Sumin hissed your name scoldingly, as though he wasn’t the one who started it.

Soobin’s smug smile twisted into a scowl at your reminder. “That’s just because I had the flu and wasn’t here. You were just his second choice.”

You had successfully managed to get under his skin--which wasn’t very hard--and were satisfied as you sat down at one of the other tables with Sumin. “Sure, Soobin. Keep telling yourself that.”

He started to raise his hand, like he was going to make some sort of rude gesture at you, but flinched and tucked his hand beneath the table when someone else walked into the room. You furrowed your eyebrows together, and turned in your seat to see who it was. His ears must have been burning, because Taemin himself had decided to join the three of you.

“Oh, hi, guys.” He smiled at you as he walked over to the fridge. You glanced over at Soobin over Sumin’s shoulder. He was staring back at you, with his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

That was another thing about Soobin that had always bothered you. Especially in moments like now, where he looked like he was seconds away from murdering you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, he was extremely attractive. You had always thought so, even back a million years ago when you were friends. His dark eyes and his perfectly shaped lips just did something to you that you were slightly ashamed of.

You swallowed hard, diverting your attention down to your salad. You could already feel your skin becoming hot, and there was absolutely no way you could ever let Soobin get even an inkling that you might be attracted to him. It was just all so humiliating.

“Y/N, Soobin, I actually need to talk to the both of you. Could you meet me in my office after you finish lunch?” Taemin asked, and you immediately looked back over to Soobin to see if he knew what it was about. His eyebrows were furrowed together, though, and he looked just as confused as you.

“Um, do you mind me asking why?” You asked hesitantly, looking over at your boss.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I just need your help with something.” He reassured the two of you wish a smile.

When he left the break room, you could hear Soobin grumbling in his corner. You wanted to ask him what he’d done to get you both in trouble, but you were also not in the mood to fight with him. Not when you had to go and face Taemin in just a few minutes. He said it was nothing bad, but you weren’t sure you believed him.

While you finished eating your food, Soobin stood by the doorway, huffing dramatically as he waited for you. Just for that, you took the smallest bites you could, which just made him even more annoyed. Sumin was clearly feeling very awkward as she ate her food, eyes flickering between you and Soobin like she was waiting for one of you to attack the other.

Once you had taken the final bite, Soobin stomped over, and grabbed your wrist to tug you out of your seat. “Clean up for her, will you, Sumin? I’m sure you already do that a lot.” He asked your friend, before dragging you out of the break room before you got the chance to protest.

Finally, you snatched your wrist free from his grip, rubbing the sore spot as you trailed after him in the direction of Taemin’s office. “Ugh, you’re such an ass, you know that?” You murmured.

“Me? You’re the one purposefully taking forever when our boss is literally waiting for both of us.” He snapped at you.

You don’t say anything else, worried that someone else in the office might hear your childish squabble.

When the two of you finally reached Taemin’s office, Soobin opened the door, and you’re shocked when he gestured for you to walk in first. Then, you remembered how much of a suck-up he is, and that your boss was on the other side. You shot him a glare as you walked in.

“Oh, good! You’re here!” Taemin greeted the two of you. “Please, sit.”

You obliged him, sitting down on the small couch across from his desk. Soobin sat down as well, and you immediately noticed his leg pressed up against your own. The same heat you felt before spread across your skin like a wildfire, and you cleared your throat.

“So, as you know, the Kang vs. Choi trial is happening next week. Now, Jun was supposed to be in charge of sorting through all the files and compiling them into binders, but his appendix burst and he had to get surgery.” He rolled his eyes, as though Jun was just being dramatic.

“So, now I have fifteen boxes full of papers that need to be sorted through… And I need to get them to the Court tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” You blurted out, eyes wide.

Taemin nodded. “I know, it’s short notice, but Jun claims he had been ‘busy’ and was ‘getting around to it’ before his appendix burst. So, I was hoping you two would be willing to stay late tonight and finish his work.”

“Tonight?! But—“ Soobin started, but was cut off by Taemin.

“You don’t have to do it. I’m more than happy to ask one of the other interns. I figured you two would just like the opportunity to help me out with this…”

“Absolutely yes, Taemin! I can’t speak for Soobin, but I would be delighted to help you with this!” You might as well have held up your hand in salute from how militaristic your answer came out.

Soobin glared at you. “Yes, I am also very willing to help you.” He said as formally as possible, but he couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in his tone.

Taemin smiled. “Great! I’ll have Jisung bring up the boxes, then you can get to work later!” He told you, which you took as your cue to leave.

Soobin trailed after you as you left the office and started to return to your desks. “I can’t believe he’s making us work all night to sort through a bunch of boxes.” He muttered.

“What, did you have a hot date tonight, or something?” You teased, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you jealous?” He asked, and you immediately scoffed in response.

“Why in the world would I be jealous? If anything I would feel bad for whatever poor soul has been tricked into a date with you.” You quickly snapped back at him.

“Whatever you say, Y/N.” He said with a sigh.

You hated that a small, minuscule part of you was happy he didn’t have a date.

BY THE TIME EVERYONE ELSE HAD CLEARED OUT OF THE OFFICE, you and Soobin had managed to get through seven boxes. It was nine o’clock at night, and the exhaustion, as well as the hunger was starting to hit you. You still had eight boxes to go through, and you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the night.

“God, I’m so hungry.” You muttered as you picked through the papers in the box you were currently working on.

You expected him to make some snarky comment or something, but he didn’t. Instead he just let out a small hum in agreement. “Me too. Should we try ordering some food?” He suggested.

You nodded, then made the mistake of glancing over at him. At some point during your sorting, he had lost his tie, unbuttoned his shirt down to the middle of chest, and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. His dark hair, which had been meticulously styled when he came into work that morning, was now a disheveled mess. There was a thin sheen of sweat that glistened against his skin. He looked way too good under the soft glow of the office lighting.

“Sure. If anywhere is even open.” You replied, eyes flickering back down to your box.

“I know a good place. I order from there all the time when I’m working late.” He said plainly.

“You work late a lot?” You asked as you pulled out a thick stack of papers.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I just… I dunno, assumed that you had other things to do besides work…” You shrugged.

He leaned back against the table he was working at as he worked on ordering food on his phone. “Why would you assume that?” He glanced up at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought that a good looking guy like you would have a bunch of girlfriends and friends to hang out with.” You felt your face grow warm as you worked, once again avoiding his gaze like it was the plague.

He laughed. “Yeah, I wish. I’m way too busy for that…” His voice trailed off, and you could feel him look up from his phone to look at you. “You think I’m a good looking guy?”

You shook your head, while you started tapping the papers against the table to straighten them out. “No, I didn’t mean it like I think you’re good looking. Just, like, you’re objectively a good looking guy. I think. Sumin thinks you’re good looking. Not me, I definitely don’t—“ Your hand got too close to the paper, and you felt the edge slice straight through your palm.

You hissed loudly, dropping the papers onto the table. “Stupid fucking paper.” You muttered to yourself, and Soobin wasted no time rushing to your side.

“Did you cut yourself? Do you need me to go get a bandaid or something?”

“No, it’s fine. I just need to go and rinse it off.” You told him, trying to push past him in the direction of the bathroom. He pressed one of his big hands against your shoulder to stop you.

“Just let me get you a bandaid.” He rolled his eyes at you. “I think Sana keeps some in her desk…” He mumbled as he started digging through the said woman’s drawers.

You huffed, turning around to lean back against the desk. “You better hurry. I think I’m about to bleed out and die.” You called out to him.

He glanced up to give you that same annoyed look he always seemed to wear around you. “Maybe I should let you. Then I wouldn’t have to put up with you everyday.”

“But then who would keep you on your toes?” You asked pointedly. He finally found a bandaid, and started walking back over. “Admit it, Soobin. You need me.”

He didn’t say anything, instead focusing on opening up the bandaid. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to put yours in, which you did hesitantly. He had really soft hands.

You watched as he gently pulled off the tabs of the bandage, then laid it across your palm. He used one of his long, slender fingers to smooth it down and make it stick.

It wasn’t until he glanced back up at you when you realized how close he was to you. His dark eyes met your own, and you had the instinct to look away, but something about his gaze had you entranced, and you couldn’t look away, no matter how hard you tried.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, hanging his head down. He took a step back from you, and it felt like a warmth had disappeared. You blinked at him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t pretend anymore, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, although you had a feeling you knew exactly what he meant, because it was the same thing you were thinking.

“I can’t pretend like you’re not all I can think about. At work, at home, at school, I can’t get you out of my head.” He confessed, and for a second the insecure part of you thought he might have been saying all of this as some sort of cruel joke, but the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t.

“Thanks…?” You played stupid, tilting your head at him. You needed him to just come out and say it, to confirm you weren’t crazy, and what was happening was really happening.

He let out a frustrated sigh. “When we were freshmen… And I told Hwang Hyunjin you were kissing the TA…”

Your ears perked up. Was he finally going to explain what that was all about, after all these years?

“It was because Hyunjin told me he was planning to ask you out. And I got jealous because I wanted to ask you out, but was too scared to do it.”

Oh.

“You did?” You asked quietly.

He nodded. “Of course I did. You were smart, funny, and gorgeous, of course I wanted to ask you out.” He was avoiding your eyes now, his cheeks tinted pink.

“And… How do you feel about me now?”

“I feel like you’re incredibly annoying, and sometimes you’re a bit of a know-it-all, and some days you dress sort of like a grandma—“

“Hey!”

“—but I also think you’re smart, probably smarter than me. And you still manage to make me laugh. And even though you do dress like a grandma…”

Your heart jumped up into your throat when he started walking back over to you, getting just as close to you as he had been before. But then he got even closer, leaning down so his lips were aligned with your ear.

“…You look like a sexy grandma.” He whispered in a low, sultry voice.

You immediately burst into laughter. “Oh wow, Soobin, you really know how to get a girl going.” You told him with a laugh, and he leaned back to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Shut up.” He murmured while you continued to giggle.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done, okay?” You wrapped your fingers around the collar of his shirt, and gave it a tug so you could lean in close to him. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting yourself catch your breath.

“Are you just going to breathe in my ear the entire time?” Soobin asked in an irritated tone.

You shook your head. “No. I’m going to tell you, that right now, with your sleeves rolled up…” You gently dragged your fingernails against his bare forearms, and you felt him shiver. “And your shirt unbuttoned…” Your hand traveled upwards to trail across his exposed collarbone. “And your messy hair…” You reached around to brush your fingers against the hair on the nape of his neck.

“You look incredibly sexy.”

He leaned back and immediately bent back down to connect your lips to his. He kissed you harshly, like you were the only thing that could cure his hunger. His big hands found home on your hips, while your own nestled themselves deeper in his hair. Just like you had predicted, his lips were perfect for kissing.

One of his hands let go of your waist, and you heard a scuffle behind you. For a brief moment, you pulled away from the kiss to see what was going on, just to find he had slid everything off of your desk. With it all clear, his hands wrapped around your thighs, and he lifted you up onto the desk and slotted himself between your legs.

He went back to kissing you like a mad man, using one arm to hold you close against him by your waist and the other to stabilize himself against the desk. Your fingers moved quickly across the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one until the shirt was completely open. As you started to trace your fingers against his abdomen, he slid the hand that was wrapped around your waist under your shirt, practically burning against your bare skin.

Just as he was starting to prod at your lips with his tongue, there was a loud banging noise, which caused you to help and immediately cling onto Soobin.

“Oh my god! We’re gonna die! The killers always go for the people making out first!” You wail, digging your fingers into his collar to keep him close to you.

He rolled his eyes. “I take back what I said about you being smart.” He said with a sigh, and you gasped loudly.

“Shut up, you ass!” You hissed at him, smacking his chest and pulling away from him.

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Kidding. Anyways, I’m pretty sure it’s just our food.” He told you with a sigh, staring down at you while his thumb brushed against your swollen lip.

You shivered. “I guess we can always… Finish this later, right?” You asked quietly. As much as it pained you, you were still starving, and had lots of work left to do.

He pouted. “Promise?”

You nodded, then sat up to gently press your lips against his. As you sat back, you smiled at his dazed expression. “I promise.”

permanent tag list: @jakeshands @exohclipse @ttyunz @i1l0-n4 @mazeinthemoon @luvsoobs @n0-thisispatrick @arizzu @cosmicuwu @naveries @yeonboy @blaaiissee

other tags: @haohyo @gyumibear @heartsforhyunjin

[octuscle]

this is an urgend call for help! I'm a 29yo teacher in europe and I have a problem with one of my students. He's 18yo, the star of the soccer team and of the whole school. he's looking at me and talking with me in a very special way. So I think he has a crush on me. I've to give him a lot of detention but he seems to enjoy it. Last time he says at the end: "soon you're one of us - your countdown is on...' pls tell me he hasn't used your program. If he has, stop this countdown immediately

According to a scribble in the student restroom, you are supposed to be the school's sexiest teacher for the third year in a row. Someone has sketched your cock next to this note. Obviously life-size, because the doodle is impressively large.

Well, you can't be the sexiest teacher for the third time because you've only been here at the school for two years. Before that you were at university. First in Milwaukee. Then actually only for two semesters in Lund, Sweden. But you fell in love with Sweden. And now you are very happy to have got a job as a sports and math teacher at the sports high school in Malmö. Sport here at the school usually almost automatically means "soccer", but as a native American you have less to do with it. Your sports are badminton, athletics and windsurfing in the summer.

You almost despair of the soccer star. A stinking lazy pupil. Certainly not stupid. But really lazy and uncooperative. According to his coach, he is the most disciplined person imaginable on the pitch. Here in math class, he's definitely not. Absolutely not! "Soon you'll be one of us - your countdown is on". That was yesterday… Today, once again, he didn't even show up for math class. Shit, he's ruining his whole career. Besides, you kind of miss him… He's not just a student… He's also kind of… A buddy! Damn, you can't have thoughts like that with a student!

You are looking for your student on the soccer field. Of course he's there. Of course he doesn't have a guilty conscience. Shit, of course you can understand him. After all, soccer is your life too. It was always your dream to become a professional soccer player. But unlike him, you were simply never good enough.

You try to talk him into his conscience without being such a bourgeois. You want to come across as cool. But on the other hand, you also know that you have to assert yourself as a teacher. It's your last traineeship. You'll graduate next year. Now you're still somewhere between the teachers and the students. It's a shitty situation. And the jock just laughs at you when you reprimand him. He says you'll soon be in detention together.

You are actually a really hard-working student. You are very keen to do well in your exams. You definitely want to work as a teacher at this sports high school. Soccer and math. That would be exactly your combination of subjects. But you can't study tonight. The day as a volunteer at the school was really exhausting. Before you go jogging for another hour, you look in the mirror as you change into your sports clothes. The fucking spots just won't go away. You still look a bit like you're still in puberty. But you finally seem to be growing hair on your chest. Maybe you will become a real guy after all. Whether the soccer star likes hair on his chest. Or if he has any himself? The thought of him gives you a boner!

When you wake up the next morning, you pick up where you left off yesterday. With a boner. My goodness, since you've been doing the internship here at the school, you've been kind of hard all the time. Of course, you've got a whole lot of damn tight guys among the other freshmen at your university… But the boys here at the sports high school are in a different league. They wank wherever they go and wherever they stand. And since you've been here, you've joined in.

You've been given a single room at the sports boarding school for the duration of your internship. You have a washbasin in your room, but you share the toilet and shower with the boys from the upper school. You're 21, hardly older than the guys who will be graduating this year. But you're still not allowed to fuck them. Even as a freshman and an intern, you are formally a member of the teaching staff. What a load of shit! How you'd love to let the star of the soccer team fuck you in the shower. It's obvious he wouldn't be averse either.

The internship sucks. Sitting in class without being able to shape it but already knowing everything is even more stressful and boring than it is for the students. Nevertheless, you try to look like you're paying attention and taking notes. This is actually more of a strategy to avoid falling asleep. You can hardly wait until soccer practice finally starts. You can just play along. You're more of a pupil than a teacher. The coach praises you and says that you're wasting a great talent as a sports teacher. He asks you to take the team star under your wing for a while. He could certainly learn a lot from you. Hehehehehe, you think to yourself. I'm sure you could from him too!

After training, you go to the gym for a bit of strength endurance training. Suddenly the soccer star is standing behind you. He runs his hand under your sweaty jersey and plays with your nipple. Thank God you're alone in the gym. You take off your jersey and he sucks on your nipples like a puppy on its mother's teats. Shit, his smell of wet grass and sweat alone is driving you crazy. With one hand you take your boner out of your pants. With the other, you push his head down. He blows like the devil. And you cum like a fire hose.

A delicate fuzz appears on your upper lip. That's the only good thing about fucking puberty. Your voice is cracking. Your pimples are annoying. And every other morning you wake up in a huge mess in your bed. Every morning that Lars hasn't blown you first. Or you blew him. You're congenial on the soccer pitch. Whatever congenial means. But the coach always says that. You think you're totally congenial in the shower and on the toilet and in all sorts of other places too. The fact that Lars and you met here at the boarding school is damn lucky!

You've been inseparable since you were 18 at the latest. During the week at Intermat, at the weekends either with your parents. Or at his. Your parents are cool. Although you're not sure if they know what you're up to.

Lars and you both think school sucks. You're here to become professional footballers. You don't need fucking math or history for that. Your coach predicts a glorious future for both of you. The man is cool. He's ancient, probably already 30 or so. But much more relaxed than your other teachers. And he'll cover for you if you skip math again. But only if you've used the time for fitness or technique training. If you don't show full commitment, the coach has no mercy.

It is an honor to have been accepted at this school. You have no intention of disgracing the school!

It's a common saying that the two of you only exist in a double pack. Your classmates have turned 'Lars' and 'Zlatan' into 'Latan'. It's no coincidence that your name is Zlatan. Your parents are huge fans of Zlatan Ibrahimoviv. And the fact that you made it to school here in his community, that you are the second Zlatan to become a national player from Rosengård, makes your parents proud. But if you become a national player, Lars will also have to play for the national team. That's a matter of honor. You look at yourself in the mirror. The fuzz on your upper lip isn't quite ready for a cool beard like the one your role model has. And your parents never allowed you to have long hair. But since you've come of age, you've let it grow. It won't be long before you look like the great Zlatan!

You don't like it when Lars and you are put on opposing teams in tournaments. But Coach is right, of course, he needs to train your killer instinct. An opponent is an opponent. Even if you occasionally get shagged by the center forward. And how you get fucked. Shit, your cock is already famous in the changing rooms near and far. But against Lars' beast… You're nothing…

It's pouring with rain. The soccer match was a mud fight. But you won. "As we agreed, the loser has to blow the winner" you tell Lars after the final whistle. "I can't wait to suck your cheesy boner clean" Lars replies with a grin. Even though almost everyone knows that you are a couple, you are usually rather reserved in public. But today… Fuck it!

[peppermint-pearl]

Free will !!!

It has come to my attention that I can do literally whatever I want , so here’s a Mouthwashing OC !

Her name's Hope , she's another mechanic intern on the Tulpar (my justification for this is that an internship under Swansea was always part of the plan but Pony ended up saddling him with two--) .

She was in college for aerospace engineering but after tuition prices increased she was forced to drop out and find work , which lead her to the position at Pony Express . So she's decently qualified for the position but she's like . bitter about it because it's a mere shadow of the dreams she once had for it herself .

She acts pretty jaded / tries to be pessimistic about everything because she believes her life is over and she's afraid of further disappointment , but still holds a bit of that same naivety she thinks she stomped out of herself . I think maybe she tries to act a little like Swansea but it doesn't really land the same way because she's got literally none of the life experience to justify how completely over everything she is KASLHFJ - she's like . 'ah yes . kindred spirits' but still gets flustered at making little mistakes in a way that makes it obvious she really just wants to be liked and do a good job .

I think she's most comfortable around Anya partially because she'd be the only other girl on the ship , and partially because Hope sees her as an older woman (older than her at least SDKHJ) still working to achieve her dreams (getting into medical school!) and feels better knowing there's still time for her to do what she wants . Maybe also Hope had an older sister at home Anya reminds her of ? that one's a little up in the air but I'm thinking thoughtfully of it !!

I think she'd also be close with Daisuke because he's her age and she's able to see him more as a peer than an authority like she does everyone else on the ship (and what if they kissed . just a little bit . for my happiness .) . She probably tried very hard not to like him at first due to his general lack of ability with . internship things . but pretty quickly warmed up to him just because of how earnest and well-meaning he is . I think they'd speak to each other in niche pop culture references no one else on the ship knows ASFLHJ

Swansea and her would constantly be insulting each other but in a way that feels familiar if that makes sense ? I think she does get under Swansea's skin a lot but 'at least she can get the job done' . He definitely thinks it's funny to point out little imperfections in her work to get her a little panicked -- like 'ah , you scratched the reflection here , unacceptable . we'll need to throw you into space for this .' and then laugh at the split second Hope actually believes it ALSDJKF.

I think she holds some respect for Curly and Jimmy as authority figures , but would probably feel better being friendly with Curly just because Jimmy is . unfriendly . and horrible KLJHSD

When the crash happens , she probably slips deeper back into the doom spiral she'd been on before - if she thought her life was over before , it's suPER NOT LOOKING BETTER BY THIS POINT ,, Taking a leaf from Swansea's book , she'd probably try getting absolutely blasted off the 3498239478 Dragons Breath bottles they'd been transporting .

As for how she dies , I think . as pathetic as it is . she either drinks too much of the mouthwash or she chokes on her own vomit from it . Which also makes me think that if she was actually in the story she'd be maybe the first to die ? Like it's maybe the least directly violent / most unrelated to the final spiral of events that leads to everyone else's death but it IS also partially a result of negligence and another sign of what's to come . Jimmy would probably have tried to sweep it under the rug , saying it was her own fault , but it super would noT have helped tensions on the ship .

UHH YEAH that's all I have brainstormed , I might do some stuff with her later -- if you got this far thank you for humoring my brainrot ASDFLJH

[panda-writes-kpop]

twin flames ~ yours is bright, mine is smoldering - ng. y.

a/n: apologies for the thirteen day wait between the two fics - within that time, I got obsessed with and then finished one route of Fire Emblem: Three Houses (golden deer house my beloved), got sick and had to call off one day of work, had a family member experience a medical emergency, and then had to prepare for another college semester and an internship as well. I'm... tired to say the least. gonna take a few days to mentally regroup and then I'll get to requests and anon asks, I swear. ❤️ also last pirate! aespa fic wooo!! loved writing these four fics so much 🥹

tw: mentions of alcohol, violence, and weapons, but reader doesn't partakes in anything, reader is bad at their job but it's kind of charming, reader's a jailor but one that's actually doing their job of reforming their prisoners

related fics: Oh Captain, My Captain, Second Chances, your home is the sea, my home is you

summary: ningning, the famed mercenary, is caught by winter's pirate crew after a botched attempt on winter's life. after she's caught, she's your prisoner - and you're nothing like she expects.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Bombs away!”

The sound of revelry, fighting, and pirating comes from the upper deck as you sit, alone, in one of the lower deck cabins. You sigh, fidgeting with the key in your hands, as you admire the empty jail cell across from you.

Being the ship’s only jailor could be considered a lonely, miserable job, but you didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t like you weren’t a fan of your fellow crewmates, but combat was not your strong suit; therefore, your Captain, Winter, had found a suitable job for you.

“I need someone to watch any captives that we take.” She explained as she took you to the lower deck, where the holding cell was.

“And you want me to do this? What if I have to physically restrain them, or if they try to escape-”

“-they’ll be disarmed before they get to you, I’ll make sure of it.” Winter reassures you with a hand on your shoulder. “You belong here, just as much as the rest of my crew. I want to make sure that my crewmates are in suitable positions for their talents. If this doesn’t work out for you, then we’ll look at other options.”

You scoff at the memory, as if any of Winter’s other options were any better - scrubbing the decks and scrounging dinner from food scraps weren’t jobs that you were keen to take.

She was right, however, this position suited you, oddly enough. Most of the prisoners, if you could call them that, weren’t particularly violent. They were resigned to their fates, and you often found yourself trading stories with them once they realized you wouldn’t rip their tongue out for looking at you the wrong way.

Cruelty wasn’t your style, anyway. It might be the way of the pirates, or your Captain at times, but it didn’t have to consume you as it did to some of your other crewmates. Sure, Winter course-corrected when they went too far, but those occasions were few and far between.

Somehow, through meaningless chatter, you managed to convince a few prisoners to join your crew - with your Captain’s permission, of course.

“I knew you were made for this,” Winter offers you a proud smile, “and I knew my plan would work. It was never simply about holding them in a cell, after all.”

“I’m not just a jailer to you, am I?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Nothing would prepare you for the woman who would be carried through your door on this night, after the fighting above you had ceased.

~

“Let me… go!” Ningning weakly cries out as a pirate holds both of her arms behind her back.

She struggles against their iron grip, but they don’t even budge as another pirate ties her hands together with a spare piece of rope.

Think, Ningning, you’ve been in worse binds than this. How can I make it out of this in one piece?

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite rogue mercenary!” Winter says with a bit too much cheerfulness in her voice.

“Minjeong.” Ningning growls as she stares at a plank on the main deck.

I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me beaten and bruised, within her clutches.

“No one calls me that, not anymore.” Winter shakes her head as she approaches Ningning from the captain’s quarters. “How much did your guild pay you for my head?”

Ningning stays quiet as Winter places her hand on the mercenary’s cheek.

“Don’t touch me!” She yells and thrashes around, but it’s no use.

That pirate must be inhuman, to resist someone of my strength and fighting prowess!

When she tires herself out, Winter roughly grabs Ningning’s chin and forces her to look her in the eyes.

“You’ll talk soon enough, believe me.” Winter smirks to herself. “Take her downstairs to see my friend.”

“You won’t get anything out of me!” Ningning yells as she’s carried away. “I’d rather die than give away my secrets!”

“Death is the easy way out, Yizhuo.” Winter chuckles as Ningning shivers at the mention of her name. “What? You’re not the only one who’s done a bit of digging.”

“I will have your head one day, I swear!” Ningning screams before she’s dragged down to the lower deck.

To meet my torturer, of course.

~

You find yourself nearly falling asleep as a loud knock on your door brings you back to the world of the conscious.

“What is it?” You mumble as you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“We have a prisoner!”

“Fuck.” You grumble as you quickly open and clean the cell in front of you. “You may enter!”

You nervously stand by the door as two of your crewmates enter with a black-haired woman in their grip. Her hands are tied behind her back, but they’re still holding on to her for dear life.

She must be an assassin or a mercenary of some sort. The crafty type, by the look of her.

The woman looks you in the eyes for a moment, trying to read your emotions and intentions in one go.

Good luck with that.

“You…” She mumbles as the two pirates set her in the cell and close the door behind her.

“Yes, me, that’s who you’re stuck with.” You crack a small joke as you lock the cell door from the outside.

“I could kill you.”

“Let’s hope you don’t, huh?” You smile as the key slips into your pocket. “Oh, and don’t try to escape, this cell was built by our genius Captain.”

“Genius?” The mercenary looks astounded. “She’s a liar, a thief, a murderer-”

“-Everyone’s done those first two things once in their lives, and Winter, to my knowledge, has not murdered anyone that hasn’t tried to kill her first.” You feel the need to defend your Captain, as she would fiercely defend her crew without hesitation. 

The mercenary pauses as an argument dies on her lips – she’d be a hypocrite to argue any further, as someone who has done quite a bit of lying, thieving, and murdering.

As the two of you talk, the two pirates quietly exit the room. You find yourself enjoying the comfortable silence as you look back to your dinner. It hadn’t struck your fancy, especially since the ebb and flow of the ocean waves made you a little nauseous, so you decide to extend an olive branch to the imprisoned woman in front of you.

“Here, take this. It’ll be a long night for the both of us.” You hand her the plate along with a wooden fork and knife (one that couldn’t be used as a lockpick, you and Winter had both tried and failed).

She lets out a dry laugh as she grabs the bars of her cell.

“Why would you do this? Why would you offer me food when I just tried to kill your captain?”

You stand, unwavering, with the same brilliant smile as always.

“Everyone deserves kindness.”

~

Everyone deserves kindness.

Ningning was scared of you. When she looked you in the eyes, she didn’t see the hatred, anger, or disdain that most people held for mercenaries like her; instead, she saw empathy and the smallest shred of curiosity in your eyes.

Curiosity about a killer? Seems ironic.

That curiosity is what gets you killed in her line of work. You stick to what you know, and you get the job done.

Well, curiosity wouldn’t hurt her when she was already in prison, so she decided to indulge her curiosities for one night.

One night to stay here and plan my escape.

What intrigued Ningning the most about you was your behavior as a jailer. You weren’t trying to physically torture her with knives or water, as she was used to, nor were you trying to push her to mental collapse with starvation or a lack of proper rest. 

You, instead, were the least intimidating person she had ever met as you peacefully slept on your cot. She could’ve easily, if she had her knife and a hair pin, picked the lock, sliced your throat open, and then went on her merry way.

But you had the smallest bit of trust in her, enough to give her food when you had just met.

What is wrong with you?

She asks herself about you, as well as her own thoughts.

~

You chuckle as you spot the girl peacefully sleeping on the floor of the cell.

I’d offer her my bed if I was more sure that she wouldn’t kill me.

After a quick midnight nap, you had awoken to your hunger and the curious sight of a sleeping mercenary in front of you.

As to not disturb her, you carefully crawl out of your cot so as to not make a noise. Your feet gently brush against the ground before you fully commit and plant both of your feet down.

A small creak rings out in your cabin, but the mercenary shows no sign of waking up soon.

Good. She’ll need her rest if she’s not used to the sea life.

Someone knocks on your door once, pauses, then knocks three more times in succession.

A light smile appears on your face as you recognize the knocking pattern - a secret code for a friend who liked to visit you on occasion.

One knock, a pause, followed by three more knocks meant “Hello, may I come in?”

You respond with two quick knocks, a pause, then three more knocks: “Yes, you may, but I’m busy tonight.”

One knock. 

“You sure?”

You knock back.

“I’m sure as shit.”

You open the door to see Giselle grinning back at you.

“You remembered the code.” 

She looks pleased as you make room for her to enter.

“How could I forget? I helped you make it, after all.”

Giselle carefully observes the sleeping prisoner before softly chuckling.

“Hard to believe that this is the same girl that tried to kill Winter earlier.”

“I don’t think they are the same girl.” You quietly say as Giselle leans in to get a closer look at her.

“You think she’s putting on a mask?”

“It’s a hunch, really. You’d have to, in her kind of business.” You explain as Giselle nods along.

“Well, if anyone can get her to come around, it’s you.” Giselle presents you with a bundle of papers. “Here - it’s Winter’s research on the girl. Turns out that she’s been looking for Ningning for a long while. I just don’t see the merit in recruiting a girl who would happily remove your head from the rest of your body.”

“Winter’s mind works in mysterious ways.” You take the bundle of papers and set them on your cot.

A bit of night reading couldn’t hurt, I guess.

“I’ll drink to that.” Giselle shrugs before looking at the door. “I just finished polishing all of the weapons, and there’s a nice bottle of whiskey waiting for me in the my cabin-”

“-I’m alright, Giselle, but thank you.” You decline her invitation, but she doesn’t look surprised.

“A pirate who doesn’t drink, shoot a gun, or participate in any schemes. They should write a novel to dissect you because I certainly don’t understand you.”

You let out a hearty laugh before Giselle leaves you alone for the night.

“Be careful!” She says before closing the door.

“I will, I promise.”

~

“You’re strange.” Ningning comments as you stare out of the only window in the room. “What kind of pirate doesn’t carry a gun?”

“What kind of mercenary doesn’t know how to escape a jail cell without any help?” A teasing smile plays on your face as Ningning physically recoils.

Ouch.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear!” Your panic causes you to grab the bar cells in front of Ningning. “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this… jailer thing.”

“I can tell.” Ningning dryly says. “Why does Winter trust you with this job? Did you pay her off?”

You have to repress a snort as you hide your smile with one of your hands, as the other continues to hold onto one of the bar cells.

“There’s no amount of money that could make her change her mind. It’d take divine intervention for that to happen.”

I remember Winter being like that when she was younger.

Ningning softly smiles.

“I remember her being like that in her youth.”

Your mouth hangs agape as you take in her words.

Did they not know? I thought it was in that bundle of papers that appeared two nights ago.

“I thought she told you-” Ningning gestures to the papers behind you, but you shake your head as you close your mouth.

“I didn’t want to read anything about you - I want to hear it directly from your lips.”

Something stirs with Ningning - compassion and camaraderie, perhaps?

You think differently than I do - interesting.

“I still think you’re strange - your behavior and your way of thinking.” Ningning repeats her earlier statement, desperate to get the conversation away from the secrets of her past.

“I suppose I’ll never change your mind, then?” You tilt your head at her.

The rare smile on Ningning’s face only grows bigger.

“Never.”

~

“Come on, up you go.”

It’s been a week since Ningning has been entrusted to your care - a long yet fruitful week of trying to pull any information from the girl in front of you.

You do have that handy bundle of research papers, but even hours of research can’t explain why Ningning chose to be a mercenary, why she chose to attack your captain last week, or why she’s so tight-lipped about any information pertaining to her at all.

Odder still, your Captain won’t tell you a word about her past with Ningning. Any account of their earlier interaction when Ningning was captured would tell you that they seemed to know each other, despite referring to each other as strangers.

What’s going on here? Why won’t either of them tell me the truth?

If there was one thing you could do, despite any limitation, it was getting answers to unsolvable questions. You would get one of them to crack, Ningning or Winter, so you could figure out what was going on between them, or rather, what had happened between them.

A bit of shock therapy is in order, then.

Ningning looks at you in shock as you pull yourself out of your thoughts.

“What do you mean, ‘up you go’?” 

“We’re taking a trip around the ship, so you should prepare yourself.” You play with the keys in your hand for a moment. “Hope you have your sea legs.”

“You think I won’t kill you?” The surprise in her voice is evident as you unlock the door.

“It’s more of a hope, really.” You move out of the way as Ningning gets up from the floor and approaches you.

Her eyes meet yours as the distance between you closes. One of her hands lingers behind her back as she stands mere inches from your chest.

Have I made a mistake? Was I too trusting? Is this my bitter end?

“You’re lucky I like you.” She quietly confesses before pulling a wooden knife from behind her back and handing it to you.

“I…” You pause while looking down at the knife in your hand. “You didn’t?”

“Why would I?” She smiles softly. “You have somewhere to take me, right?”

~

“Winter’s going to fucking kill you.” Giselle emphasizes the potential murder that may happen, as if you weren’t aware of the potential risk of your plan.

“I need answers, and someone has to start talking.” You shrug before grabbing Ningning’s arm with your hand. “C’mon, it’s time that you, the captain, and I had a chat.”

Giselle chuckles as you climb the stairs to the upper deck.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Winter.”

“Don’t say you didn’t warn them about me?” Winter parrots as she stands at the top of the stairs.

“Nope, fuck this.” Giselle quickly gets out of dodge as you haul Ningning up the stairs.

You can’t read the expression on her face but you can tell that she’s hesitant about this.

She’s not used to her secrets being out in the open, out of her control. Can’t blame her though - secrecy is how she keeps her head as a mercenary.

“I can’t say I’m surprised at this.” Winter offers you a weak smile. “I thought you’d connect the dots and come to see me sooner.”

“I respected my captain’s privacy until I had concerns on behalf of my prisoner.” You look over to Ningning, who glares at Winter.

“I’ll talk to you,” She stares down Winter before looking at you, “both of you, in private. Not out here - there’s too many eyes and ears for my liking.”

“Alright, you have my word. I’ll lead the way.” 

~

Winter’s quarters are a bit cozier than you remember - an improvement made by their partner and first mate. A small candle that smells of lavender sits in the middle of Winter’s desk, along with a few maps scattered around the table.

You let go of Ningning’s arm as you sit down on the left of your captain, but her hand quickly finds yours as she takes a seat on your left. You bite your lip before hiding your interconnected hands under the table - you don’t need your captain getting the wrong idea, after all.

She won’t sit next to Winter. The bad blood between them runs deep.

“So…” Winter trails off before grabbing a glass of brandy. “Where do we start?”

“I don’t want to talk to you. I want to tell the truth.” Ningning harshly replies as Winter offers you a glass of brandy.

You shake your head before passing it to Ningning, who happily sips from the cup with her free hand.

She’s cute when she’s not insulting me or my friends.

You allow the thought to quickly pass by your mind - now’s not the time for those types of thoughts.

“You never were one to talk about your feelings.” Winter shrugs before taking a sip from her glass. “Why don’t I go first?”

“Why, so you can try to justify why you left me with those people?”

Your eyes widen as you look between the two girls. Ningning, who looks oddly justified by this reveal, and Winter, who’s trying to gauge your reaction as you’re trying to find hers.

Why is she worried about what I think? Is this about her past?

“Yes, your dear Captain,” Ningning spits out, “was a mercenary. A damn good one, before she up and left me. She stole from them too, and guess who took the blame for that? A person near and dear to her heart that she once called a friend.”

“I-” Winter looks away in shame as you look up to the ceiling.

I feel like I’m intruding on something that should be said in confidence.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what they did to you after I left.” Winter quietly says as she stares into her glass of brandy. “That’s why I left, you know. I couldn’t take the cruelty of it all. Satisfied, Ningning?”

“I should be,” Ningning takes a deep breath, “but I’m not. I imagined this exact conversation happening over and over, and yet-”

“-it wasn’t how you hoped it would go?” You finish her thought as she nods.

“I thought that it’d happen with a knife to her throat,” Ningning continues, “but I never could’ve killed her. Not you, Minjeong. No matter how much I hate you, I can’t find it in my heart to kill you. I had so many opportunities to kill you when I snuck onto this ship, but the only moment I could truly do so was when you turned your back. To watch life leave your eyes… it would’ve been torture.”

“I knew you didn’t want to kill me, and I didn’t want to torture you for your-” Winter pauses in thoughtful contemplation, “our betrayals of each other.”

“So what now?” Ningning asks as she squeezes your hand for comfort.

“We start over, as friends, and this all stays between the three of us.” Winter looks at you. “Has your curiosity been satisfied?”

“Most definitely.” You give her a teasing smile as she nods.

“I figured, but let’s make this all official.” Winter stands and walks over to Ningning.

She offers the mercenary her hand - an olive branch.

“Come join my crew. Start anew. You won’t have to go back to those mercenaries, I promise. We’ll take care of you.”

“You promise?” Ningning lets go of your hand before her hand hovers over Winter’s hand.

“My word’s as good as my gold.” Winter smiles as the other girl shakes her hand.

“I’ll join your crew, but there’s only one thing I ask.”

“Anything, Ningning, name it.”

“They,” Ningning points an accusing finger at you, “have to learn how to fight with weapons.”

~

“Did you really have to sign me up for fighting lessons?” You whine as Ningning settles herself in her new quarters.

“Can’t have someone I care about getting hurt, can I?” She chuckles to herself as you fold your arms in protest.

“First off, I can fight with a knife just fine, and secondly, when did you start caring about me?” You ask half-heartedly, hoping that she won’t joke with you just this once.

“When you started caring for me first.” She shrugs before walking towards you.

“I can’t believe I got you to care about me after you threaten to kill me.” You tease as her eyes meet yours.

“Neither can I,” She says before leaning in to whisper in your ear, “but fate must’ve had something different in mind for both of us.”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, Ningning leaves her room while leaving you in shock.

She… kissed me?

“Wait, that’s not how you did your work as a mercenary, right?” You call down the hallway, which only causes her to loudly laugh. “Answer me, Ningning!”

Although she’s (hopefully) tugging at your heartstrings, you can’t help but want to know more about Ningning. She’s a treasure trove of secrets and stories, waiting to be uncovered.

Maybe, in time, you’ll get around to telling her some of your secrets as well.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The Laws of Attraction (Lawyer!Higurnami x Law Student!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem!Reader x Hiromi Higuruma

Synopsis: You are a law school senior and intern juggling schoolwork and your job who attends your firm’s anniversary party one night. While there, Higuruma Hiromi and Nanami Kento, your bosses and the two sexy attorneys you’re secretly attracted to, help you celebrate your final grades and receiving a brand new position at their firm….just not in the way that they should. But who cares about what’s right or wrong when it feels so good?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Black-coded!Fem!Reader; Lawyers!Nanami x Higuruma; Law Student/Intern!Reader; Eye-Fucking; Secret Crush; Mutual Pining; Threesome; Coworkers to Lovers; Mild Power Play; Lowkey Flirting; Office Sex; CMNF; Dual Cunnilingus; Deepthroating; Doggystyle Over Desk; Spitroast; Facefucking; Dom/sub Undertones; Throatpie; Cum On Ass; Sneaky Sex; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had this idea rolling around in my head for DAYS now. I’m so happy I’m finally able to share it after finally writing it. I hope y’all enjoy! KISSES!! 💋💋 -Jazz

**********

You know that a second glass of champagne probably isn’t logical or practical.

But if you have to listen to your fellow intern and total preppy asshole drone on about his vacation stories, you’ll definitely blow your brains out.

You stand in a small circle with the other interns that started with you last year for the internship program. The firm has one that stretches all year long, starting in the spring and ending in the winter. You’ve known these people for months now and while you like some, there are others than you’d gladly avoid.

Like the preppy exchange student from Upstate New York who came to Japan to study abroad. Of course, he’s standing beside you in his Armani student, buzzed off of his second beer and oozing arrogance and ignorance. “My friends wanted to go to Bora Bora again, but I always found Bora Bora to be sooo overhyped,” he groans. “That’s why we went to Hawaii. It was cheaper.”

He takes a sip of his beer, dripping some down his tie. You don’t warn him. ”I heard Hawaiians didn’t want tourists anymore,” Yuki points out, standing next to you. “Something about them pushing natives out of their homes because of construction.”

She sips on her champagne and eyes you as she does it. You fight the urge to smile. “Well, that didn’t kick me out,” the exchange student chuckles. “I had a ball! Lotta beer on the beach and a lot of girls too.” He turns to you now, your worst fear coming true. “You ever been to Hawaii, Y/N?”

You force yourself to turn towards the young, blonde jock who only came to work here because his father has connections in the legal system as a hotshot judge in New York. As a young, Black woman, you worked your ass off to get into this program and into law school. As you can imagine, juggling both is a damn job in itself.

You purposely kept quiet for half of the night to avoid exerting energy in boring conversations, but to avoid dissociating for the fifth time tonight, you fix your mouth into a smile. “No, but I prefer Costa Rica. The water is prettier. Excuse me, I’m gonna fill myself up.”

Quickly, you excuse yourself from the group and walk over to the alcohol table located on the other side of the gorgeous ballroom. “Oh, pass me another beer if they got one,” the jock suggests. “We can share, if you want. I know you like a good beer too.” He gives you a lopsided smile that’s supposed to get you hot and bothered like it has to all of the other girls he’s screwed.

You stifle the urge to vomit and give him a tight lipped smile before quickly walking off…or as quickly as you can in your Jimmy Choo heels. Your friend and roommate forced you into them, telling you that only these shoes brought out your skin and meshed with your slim, strapless, black dress.

You will admit that you feel the sexiest you’ve ever felt in it. Even when you tried it on and had your friend tie the strings behind your neck to hold the slinky article of clothing up, you felt like the baddest bitch walking. As soon as you walked into the ballroom, you caught eyes….just not the eyes you truly want.

As you walk across the ballroom, nodding and smiling at guests (lawyers, politicians, city officials, etc.), you admire the beautiful decor of the room. The decorators rearranged cushioned furniture, added gorgeous white flowers as centerpieces, and polished the marbled floor so much that you can see yourself in it. The scent of cinnamon and cloves drift through the air along with the bitter winter breeze pouring in from outside as people come and go for cigarette breaks.

They truly went all out for this anniversary party.

Your firm is located on the sixth floor of a twelve-story building in downtown Tokyo, specifically in the business district. Every weekday you catch the train at 7AM with fellow bright-eyed, bushy-tailed workers in their uniforms and weary, hungover students preparing for an 8AM course. You’ve always loved the hustle and bustle of the city; the constant activity; the sense of determination and purpose in the air when you do your eight-minute route to the train station to work.

Maybe that’s why you decided to take the internship offer when you were picked last spring. You were a law student, a senior-to-be, in need of a legal position that would give you more experience and had a decent pay. Your job as a waitress could only do so much. After you were interviewed by the program director, she set you up for another interview with the attorney you would be working for. When you realized that you would be interviewed by two attorneys instead of one, you thought it was some kind of mistake.

But you were reassured by the director that Kento Nanami and Hiromi Higuruma, the top attorneys at their firm, wanted you specifically. “They picked you out from ten other candidates,” she gushed to you over the phone. “They’re so impressed with your resume and our interview notes.”

You smile to yourself as you take another glass of champagne. You can’t believe that this was twelve months ago. Now if you can only snag a full time position here and ace your final exams so you can graduate next spring, your life will be complete.

Yuki appears beside you, dressed in a red dress and wearing her blonde locks in waves. ”He likes you,” she giggles. You roll your eyes beneath your full lashes. “I could give less of a fuck,” you mutter. “I felt like shovin’ a cupcake in his mouth to shut him up.” Yuki laughs despite your deadass statement. “So where’s your date tonight?” she asks. “Since preppy white jocks don’t float your boat.”

No man floats your boat nowadays, it seems. Not when you’re in law school. What guy would want a girl who stresses over essays and exams every other week? “Well, my roomie has a cold and couldn’t come,” you explain. “I wanted to stay, but she forced me to put on this dress and come.”

“And it’s a damn good thing she did!” Yuki scoffs. “You look amazing!” You smile shyly, feeling your cheeks flush. “And I’d rather you be here celebrating the 10th year of the firm with me than at home. Intern or not, you’re a part of this team too, Y/N.”

Though Yuki’s words are sweet, you’d much rather be at home with your roommate watching Netflix in your sweatshirt and booty shorts, shoveling ice cream down your throat and maybe popping an edible to ignore the impending anxiety of your exam scores tonight.

Anything than being a room with a bunch of preppy folks and pretending to be interested in anything they have to say. But you got yourself into your pretty gown for two important reasons: one because this party is a good distraction from your incoming grades and two, you’re waiting for two guests in particular to show up. Your bosses…or as your friend would call them, your sexy lawyer baes, Nanami and Higuruma.

These are two names that pop up often at your firm and in the legal world. As two Harvard graduates and prominent lawyers in business and corporate law, they were among the original ten lawyers who started out at the firm when it was still very small and upcoming. Now expansive and holding over a hundred attorneys, Nanami and Higuruma are still the top in the game in their thirties.

They are intelligent. They are virtuous. They are calm, cool, and collected when needed in the court. And they are also fine. As. Fuck.

And you know all of this because you work underneath them and have been for over twelve months as an intern. You never knew why they hired you to personally work for them, but you jumped at the chance to take the offer when it was given to you after your one-on-two interview with them.

As unapproachable and cool they seem, the two lawyers are pretty lenient with you. They allow you to use their shared office to do your work, they work around your class schedule, and don’t make you work overtime. Most of your duties are fetching coffee for them in the mornings from the lobby cafe, editing and proofreading documents, delivering files to different departments, and drafting papers.

They truly make it easy for you. They aren’t hard or difficult like a lot of other lawyers in your firm who run their assistants ragged. They answer all of your questions and push you to give your all. “But remember to rest,” Nanami always tells you. “Burnout is a killer.” He is the softest of the two and a true sweetheart at heart.

Higuruma is more of the sterner one, always giving you constructive criticism with any underlayer of encouragement. He has a dry humor that reminds you of a boring dad and has you giggling while you’re doing your work. The two lawyers bounce off of one another, having disagreements and arguments but always coming together to win a case.

They are truly a duo made in heaven, especially in the looks department. It isn’t a surprise to you that the entire firm has their eyes on them as handsome as they are—soft-looking lips, firm stares, and eyes that make your blood run hot. Your dreams are often filled with hot visions of doing very nasty things with Higuruma’s nose and stroking Nanami’s cheekbones with your fingers.

As far as you know, they’re single and unmarried, but things can change. Not to mention that you’re their intern! There is a very clear line that you don’t cross at a job and that includes not fucking your bosses.

No matter how sexy they are in their suits, or how intoxicating their cologne is, or how you wish to feel their big hands on you, you can never ever destroy the work relationship you have with them and fuck up your entire life. Besides, how else are you going to get a job here when you graduate law school?

So you disguise your interest in them as kindness and shove your horiness away, never acting on your attractions to them. But sometimes, you do think that the feeling is mutual. Just in November before your final exams, your bosses graciously offered to help you study. You were studying from your self-made study guide over lunch with them in their office. You had five classes during your fall semester you had final exams for: four tests and one paper due the same week you took your tests.

“Well, I can tutor you for the tests,” Higuruma said, taking a peak at your guide. “Clearly, you need someone to break this shit down for you and test you.”

“And make sure you don’t completely blow your top over your grammar,” Nanami added, referring to your paper. “I was a 4.0 in Harvard, don’t you know?” As usual, you laughed. They always knew how to take your head out of your work with their teasing and dry humor.

That month, the three of you would meet during lunch and work. Higuruma would time you on definitions for legal terms, answering open-ended questions, and knowing which court does what. Nanami, in contrast, would take a look at your final paper and make alterations, highlighting anything that needed to be edited and giving suggestions.

It was the most help you got in your three years of law school. And unfortunately, it made you fall deeper for them. You weren’t even planning to attend the firm’s tenth anniversary party, but when you found out Higuruma and Nanami were attending through an invite to your work email, you knew you had to show up.

You smile at Yuki now, raising your champagne glass. “Well, cheers to that,” you giggle and clink your glass with hers. “You’re sweet, Yuki. Definitely makes this whole environment worth it.” The two of you giggle to each other and gossip about the other guests as you sip champagne and much on veggie sticks from the snack table.

At some point during your third glass, you hear a buzz come from your purse. Your heart skips a bit and you race to fish it out, thinkin that it may be Nanami or Higuruma texting you that they’ve finally arrived. But when you see that it’s your Canvas notification, your stomach drops.

Suddenly, the champagne tastes sour and all of the sounds of the party sound muffled like you’re underwater. All of your grades are in, including your final paper. You swallow hard as you stare at your phone screen, your vision becoming fuzzy. You feel like you’re about to faint. Oh, where are Nanami and Higuruma when you need them?

“…Y/N?” You turn to Yuki as if you just realized that she’s standing there. “Sorry, what?” You dumbly ask.

“They finally brought out the chocolate fountain!” She announces, pointing excitedly at the fountain bubbling chocolate fondue just a few feet away. “Let’s get some before we have to fight off the entire party.” You force a smile and wave her off, trying to hide your oncoming anxiety attack the best you can. “You go ahead. I need to powder my nose first.”

It’s enough to make Yuki agree, telling her that she’ll get you a plate. Once she’s strutting off in her heels, you make a beeline for the bathroom located down the hallway from the ballroom. You move as quickly as possible in your heels, scrolling for your friend’s contact at the same time. By the time you reach the bathroom, you feel like you’re about to throw up.

You barrel through the door, sighing in relief when you find it empty. Quickly, you shut the door and will your friend to answer the phone, gripping the sink for support. You feel as if your knees are about to buckle from the anxiety you feel bubbling inside of you. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you mutter. Finally, your friend does, coughing into the phone. “What’s up, babe?” she crokes out. “Did your lawyer baes come yet?”

“No, but my grades just came back and I’m in the bathroom so I don’t have a panic attack, but I am having a panic attack.” You face yourself in the mirror. You thought you looked so pretty with your Fenty Beauty foundation, plumping gloss, and long lashes framing your gold eyeshadow. But now? All you see is anxiousness.

“Okay, relax,” your bestie soothingly says. Only she knows the stress you’ve been under for three years. “Breathe. Tell yourself your affirmations. I already know you did amazing, Y/N. You already know that too. You studied your ass off, remember?”

You do. You had to. Only you have the power to make all three of these years of constant stress mean something. You need that degree. “Yeah,” you exhale before inhaling again. You do that a couple of times, egged on by your friend who tells you how smart and determined you are. Finally, you feel like you’re ready. “Here I go…I’m opening them now.”

You put the call on speaker, but your friend is silent as you shakily open the Canvas app. You check each one of your final grades, your heart damn near exploding one after the other. All high scores. Three As and one B. “Oh, my God,” you gasp.

“What?” your friend urges. “What’d you get?”

You nearly drop your phone as your body trembles from excitement and relief. “I passed,” you whisper. Then again, louder this time: “I passed!” you squeal. “I fucking passed!” You feel tears prick your eyes and you have to rapidly blink to keep from ruining your mascara.

You can’t believe it. You’re done! You’re going to graduate law school next spring! “Congratulations, girl!” your friend cheers. “I knew you could do it! Now go out there, turn the fuck up, and celebrate with your lawyer baes.”

You scoff, taking some tissue to tab at your cheeks and temple. “For the last time, they’re not my baes or boos or boyfriends.” She swears that Higuruma and Nanami are your future husbands. “Not yet!” she argues. “You just wait till they see you lookin’ fine as fuck in your dress and next thing you know, you’re going home with one of ‘em…or both!”

“Goodbye, you perv,” you giggle. “Thank you. I love you.” Your friend bids you farewell and tells you to text her later before you end the call. You take a moment to check yourself out in the mirror, admiring the bad bitch in your reflection.

Finally, you put your phone away and strut back to the party, feeling like you’re the sun and the moon. You feel sexy, exuberant, and like you’re on top of the fucking world. Nothing and nobody can get in your way.

You suddenly bump right into someone’s back, causing you to stumble. “Oh, excuse me!” you gasp. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Your words die in your throat when the stranger turns, revealing himself as your favorite handsome blonde attorney. Nanami is usually in suits for work, but this one is especially tailored. “Ms. L/N,” he says in his smooth, eargasmic voice. “I didn’t expect to bump into you so early tonight.”

You gape at him, unable to speak. You’re at a loss for words. Just then, before you can look any dumber, Higuruma appears with two champagne glasses in hand. He, too, is in a designer suit and red bottom shoes, looking so sexy that it should be illegal. “Oh, there you are. We were actually looking for you.”

His tired-looking brown eyes scale down your outfit. “That’s…some dress. You look nice.” Maybe you imagine it, but his cheeks look pinker in the light. Nanami clears his throat and awkwardly pushes up his framed glasses, snatching one glass from Higuruma and taking a sip.

”T-Thank you,” you stammer, finally finding your voice. You spot a passing waiter on your left with a tray and snatch a glass from it. You’ll need it. You clear your throat, conjuring that bad bitch from the bathroom. “U-Um, I’m actually glad you’re both here. I was looking for you too.”

The lawyers’ brows raise expectantly. “Oh?” Higuruma asks. “Why is that?” You break out into a smile, unable to contain your joy. “I got my grades back for my exams!” you excitedly announce. “All As and Bs!” You fish your phone out of your clutch and shove the screen into your bosses’ faces. “See for yourselves,” you proudly giggle.

Nanami takes your phone and peers down at it, squinting into the blue light. When he sees your grades, a slow smile creeps across his face that gives you butterflies. “Let me see,” Higuruma mumbles, snatching your phone from Nanami.

He mutters to himself, something he always does when reading. You find it so endearing. When he finishes, he scoffs in surprise. “Well, damn,” he huffs. “This is impressive, Y/N. You really locked in as the kids say these days.”

“You’re not that old, Higuruma,” Nanami scoffs, snatching your phone back and handing it to you. “Nice job, Ms. L/N. We’ll have to celebrate.” The two lawyers smile at you like you’re the best thing in the world. You feel it. Standing with them, you feel as if nothing can touch you.

Higuruma raises his glass, a small smile playing on his lips. “A toast to good grades and an even better future.” You all raise your glasses and clink them before taking a sip. You can already feel the effects of the champagne taking over. You feel bubbly and light as a feather. Beautiful and carefree. Sexy, even. Very dangerous.

“Thank you,” you happily sigh. “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help with the studying. I really appreciate you both for doing that.” The lawyers look happy hearing that kind of praise and gratitude from you. “Well, you can thank us by helping us make it through this party,” Higuruma sighs. “After all, we need to show our law school graduate around to all of these fine, fun folk.”

He looks around the room, looking like he’s thinking anything but nice things about the guests. You snort to yourself. “Don’t we, Nanami?” he asks, smirking at the blonde. Nanami sighs to himself, looking absolutely done with being here. “I barely even want to be here. I almost want to be back in traffic.”

He turns to you now, a small smile playing on his lips. “But hearing about your grades makes it worth it all.” If only he could know how that makes you feel. The butterflies in your stomach have gone haywire.

You swallow, feeling the confidence of the champagne taking over. “W-Well, maybe next spring when I graduate, you both can come to the ceremony,” you nervously suggest. “It’s only right since you’re my bosses and mentors.” You give them a shy smile, peering up at them through your lashes.

The two lawyers look at each other blankly and then back at you. “Mentors?” Higuruma parrots. “We’re your mentors?”

Immediately, your confidence slips. “Well, you did help me study and you’ve shown me so much about the legal system. I look up to the both of you.” You bite your bottom lip, feeling as if you’ve said too much. You’re moving too fast. You’re overdoing it! “I-I’m sorry I assumed—“

“Don’t apologize,” Nanami firmly interrupts. His eyes are all aglow with a quiet passion you’ve never seen before. “We’d be honored to be your mentors…if that’s what you want.” Higuruma looks just as interested in the position, looking ready to drop everything and sign up.

You feel a big, dumb smile split across your face, giddy and joyful. “Then I’d be honored to call you my mentors,” you giggle. “Let’s toast to that too!” You raise your glass to clink with theirs, leading to another joint sip. You open your mouth to say more, to keep them standing here with you, but everyone at the party is just as excited to see the two attorneys as you are.

“Oh, there they are!” someone announces. You turn, finding one of the firm’s oldest lawyers walking over to Nanami and Higuruma. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two! C’mon, the chairman wants to see you.” He practically drags them away, blabbering on about the many guests here who want to meet them.

You watch them leave just as they turn to give you one last look, an apology in their gazes. You feel an immense pang of disappointment inside of you and you feel stupid for feeling that way. It’s a party! This is their job! Of course, they need to mingle and talk to other important people.

Yuki luckily comes to your rescue, strutting over to you with more snacks. “Oh, Y/N!” she exclaims, taking your hand. “There you are! Come here, you have to try these white chocolate raspberry bars before they’re gone!” She drags you off in a different direction from Nanami and Higuruma, widening the gap between you.

For the next hour, the party wears on like this: you on your side and your bosses on the other, all of you stuck being pulled in directions other than each other’s. You watch as they chat with chairmen and CEOs; attorneys and paralegals; city officials and policemen. It’s honestly annoying…probably because of the champagne you drink.

With every passing minute, you sip a bit more, feeling even lighter and riskier than your first glass. You’re pretty sure you’re on about four ½ glasses at this point, so much so that you start seeing things. You believe you feel Nanami’s eyes on your ass from across the room or Higuruma’s gaze straying away from a guest to check you out. Your risky, reckless behavior makes you smile at them from across the party, not realizing how flirty it may come off to them or someone else watching. But the idea of that doesn’t embarrass or mortify you. In fact, it turns you on.

But nothing even comes from it. You never find your way over to your lawyers. Disappointed, sleepy, and exhausted from walking around in heels, you decide to give your dogs and the alcohol a break. You go up to the bar situated on the left hand side of the ballroom and take a seat on one of the stools, ordering a club soda.

“That’s the easiest thing I’ve made all night!” the bartender exclaims, making you laugh. “God bless you!” After they finish whipping up your drink, you’re in the middle of a few needed sips when someone sits next to you. You turn, finding a young man in a suit that looks like Tom Hiddlestone and Timothy Chatlane had a baby.

The wavy-haired man in his suit smiles at you. “Your Nanami and Higuruma’s paralegal, right?” he asks. You shake your head. “Intern. Not a paralegal…yet.”

He nods, chuckling at your humor. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the office before. I would’ve remembered a face like yours.” His tone is flirtatious and you pick up on it immediately. Usually, you’d disregard and ignore this, but tonight? You may just play along.

“Possibly,” you reply, lowering your soda. “I have one of those faces.” Feeling particularly chatty, you put a hand out for a shake. “I’m Y/N,” you blurt. “I’m an intern for the law firm on the sixth floor.” The man races to shake your hand, hanging on for longer than necessary. His palm is sweaty. “Ah, yes, the law interns,” he chuckles. “I’m Mark, an associate for an accounting firm. I’m up on the eighth.”

He flashes a pearly white smile that is probably supposed to make you swoon. “That explains why we haven’t seen each other,” you giggle. He laughs with you and you decide that he’s cute enough to waste time on at the party.

“Maybe this party is good for something then,” he flirtatiously says, his smile turning suggestive. “I was plannin’ on leaving soon ‘cause this crowd is dead, but you just might make me wanna stay.” And just like that, he pops the bubble on your fantasy plan. “Oh” is all you can say.

No doubt he is trying to get into your pants…or rather under your dress. You turn to sip your water in silence, trying to think of something to say to let him down easy. “Are you here with someone?” he asks and his hand goes crawling to yours again.

Now you really need to think of something fast. “Um” is all you can get out before a shadow descends upon you and him. You both turn to find Nanami standing there. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting, Mark?” he asks. He sounds apologetic, but you can tell he isn’t by the firm set of his lips.

The attorney beside you gives your boss a lop-sided smile. “Just my drink,” he jokes as the bartender passes him a whiskey. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Nanami?” He cocks his head to the side, drunk and cocky. “Sorry to cut in, but I need to steal Y/N away for a moment,” Nanami explains before turning to you. “We hate to do this now, but since you’re here, we’d like to plan out the schedule ahead of the holidays.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, your brain already switching into work mode. “Um…yeah, sure, of course.” You turn to Mark who looks less than pleased about being cockblocked. “It was nice meeting you, Mark. I’ll see you on the seventh floor one day.” The attorney only gives you a smile and side-eyes Nanami as you leave with him.

In silence, you two head to the elevators and Nanami presses the up button. You aren’t too sure why he and Higuruma are doing this now during a party, but you’ll wait to find out. When the elevator comes, Nanami lets you inside first and then follows behind you. When the doors close, you become hyper aware of him standing so close next to you. You can smell his cologne—spicy and musky like cinnamon. It makes your body react in very nasty ways.

“You won’t be seeing him,” he says. You blink, your fuzzy brain almost not catching that. “What?” you ask.

He turns to you, his eyes firm. “You won’t be seeing him,” he repeats. “Not to gossip, but the man is known to stick his dick where he makes his business. He’s slept with half of his department and a lot of his clients.”

You almost forget who the hell he is talking about until you remember (of course!) Mark. “Damn,” you scoff. “Well, thank you for the save…not that I was planning on sleeping with him or anything. He’s not my type.” You immediately flush, hot with shame and embarrassment. You shouldn’t have said any of that. ‘Fuck that champagne,’ you think.

However, Nanami silently chuckles to himself, finding it funny. But still, you beat yourself up. At least until you get to your floor. Nanami and Higuruma share an office space, their offices separated by a door where one can easily enter one room and exit the other. Nanami’s office consists of tan furniture, a plush couch where you often do your work, and his book collection while Higuruma’s office is all dark colors, polished Mahogany wood, and a mini bar. Some things they do share though are private bathrooms, personal thermostats, and a beautiful view of the skyline.

You walk down the hallway to the office with Nanami and enter his, finding Higuruma already there. “Took you two long enough,” he grumbles. Nanami’s office is dark, only lit by the full moon coating the floor in silver and illuminating Higuruma’s manly, handsome features.

Suddenly, your heart begins to pound. “S-So where’s the schedule?” you stammer. Nanami shuts the door behind you and walks up to stand beside Higuruma. “There is no schedule,” he confesses. “Sorry to bring you up here so randomly, but we didn’t want to do this in front of everyone.”

You scowl, confused. “Do what?” you ask, looking between them. The two give each other a look before Higuruma provides you with an envelope from under his suit jacket. “To give you this.”

You stare at the envelope, even more confused. Tentatively, you take it and look at them, unsure. “Open it,” Higuruma silently says with his eyes. Swallowing hard, you take a millisecond to mentally prepare yourself for what will be in the envelope and tear it open like you would a bandaid.

A folded letter flutters to your feet and you pick it up to read it. “On behalf of [the firm] and the departments of business and financial law, we would like to offer you a full time position as a legal assistant in the spring of 2025. Signed…” Your eyes grow big at the signatures. “Kento Nanami and Hiyomi Higuruma,” you exhale.

The two handsome men standing before you smile while you’re busy trying to resist the urge to pinch yourself. You have to be dreaming! You’ve gotta be! “Y-You’re offering me a job?” you softly ask. Higuruma smirks. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

Nanami nudges his partner in the arm. “We’ve noticed the work you’ve been putting in for us all these twelve months. Don’t think your hard work went unappreciated, Y/N. You’ve helped us a lot, even without us telling you, and for that, this is what we have to offer.” His gaze is soft, intimate. “This is just to get your foot in the door. Of course, you don’t have to stay forever and we’ll help you study for the BAR if you want to take it.”

Higuruma doesn’t add on, but he doesn’t have to. He, too, gazes down at you like everything Nanami is saying is true. You look down at the letter and then back up at them. “I….I don’t know what to say.” Higuruma’s smirk widens. “Say you’ll take the job.”

Finally, you break into a humongous smile and you jump up and down. “Yes!” you squeal. “Yes, yes, I’ll take it! Thank you both so much!” You go to toss yourself at them for a hug, but you make one misstep and nearly trip. You gasp, trying to find your footing.

Quickly, Nanami hooks his arm around your midsection, securing you in his arms. “Careful!” he exclaims, catching you. “That would’ve been nasty.” You should just tell him thank you and leave the comfort of his arms. You should just take the L now and leave before things get bad.

But you don’t. You make the mistake of staring up into his inviting eyes and soft, pink lips. His eyes gaze down to your mouth, his pupils dilating as if he sees something he likes…wants even. He leans down and so do you, and suddenly your lips are on his as you stand in the comfort of his embrace.

The kiss is short and gentle, but it’s sweet enough to steal your breath away. It is a kiss fit for a Disney movie ending. But just as soon as it happens, it ends and you both pull away, stunned. “Whoa,” he exhales.

Yes, whoa. Whoa, that was the best kiss you’ve ever had. Whoa, you just kissed your boss. Immediately, you jump back as if burned and over your mouth. “Oh, God,” you gasp. “I-I’m so sorry. I…oh, God.” You begin to shake, your eyes welling with tears. Regret and shame instantly fill you.

Higuruma steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. Nanami tries to come near you too, his gaze soft. “Y/N,” he softly says. You quickly side-step him and step away from Higuruma’s touch. “I have to go,” you sob. “I can’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.” You begin to panic, dropping the job acceptance letter in the process. You don’t try to pick it up.

“Wait, Y/N,” Nanami pleads. “Stay. It’s okay.” He walks toward you like you’re a wounded animal, gingerly and slowly. “No, it’s not!” you whimper. “I can’t believe I did this! I’m gonna ruin everything now! I-I—“

A hand grasps yours and pulls you close into his big, warm body. “Sweetheart, calm down,” Nanami soothingly says. “It’s okay.” He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. There, you begin to cry, big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and ruining your makeup. “It’s okay,” Nanami murmurs into your ear.

At the sound of his voice, you look up into his eyes and see that they are hooded and soft. Affectionate. When he leans in again, you don’t pull away. You let him kiss you, slow and deep, your lips moving in perfect tandem with each other. It is almost as if your lips are meant to kiss. Nanami’s big hand cups your face, tilting your head slightly to the side to meld your mouths together, earning a soft moan out of you. His hands slide down to your ass, caressing the bump made underneath your dress from it.

From the back, you feel Higuruma presses himself against you, his big hands sliding across your naked lower back and shoulders. His touch electrifies you. So do his kisses. When he begins to kiss your neck and shoulders, you pull away from Nanami, gasping. “H-Hang on,” you stutter.

He stops, his hands still on you. Questions flare in his hooded, brown eyes. “Tell us what you want, Y/N,” he says, his voice strained. “Tell us to stop and we swear to God, we’ll stop.” Nanami pauses too, slight pants leaving his lips. You want to apologize, to tell them that this isn’t right or proper or appropriate to do. This is so, so wrong.

But as you stand here in the dark sandwiched between your bosses, you’ve also never felt more right. “Keep going,” you softly beg. The lawyers descend upon you immediately, kissing, touching, and grinding their hips into you. You feel their hardened cocks press against your groin and your ass, giving you a taste of how you’re making them feel…and have made them feel for months now.

“We wanted this for so long,” Higuruma whispers into your neck. “You have no fuckin’ idea, Y/N.” His thick lips press down your spine, peppering your skin in wet kisses. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to pull your ass aside and do this to you.”

“So many times,” Nanami growls, his hands sliding up to your hips to indulge in them. “You make it so hard to control myself, darling.” You’re feeling the last of your self-control slipping, the pleasure too much to handle. You moan at every touch and kiss, loving that you can feel their defined muscles through their suits.

“Take it off,” you whisper and motion to your dress. The lawyers share a surprised look with each other that quickly melts into lust and need. “You tell us if you want us to stop, you understand?” Higuruma sternly asks. You nod, but that isn’t enough. “Words,” he states. “Give me your words. Speak up.”

Your nipples harden at his firm tone, loving how he puts you so effortlessly in your place. “Yes, sir,” you reply, the words feeling so natural to you. Higuruma sharply inhales, greatly affected by this. He quickly snatches one string out of the perfectly-tied knot at your neck, loosening your dress in one single act. The front slips off of you, revealing your hardened brown nipples and ass only covered by a black thong.

“Shit,” Nanami exhales while Higuruma chuckles. “So that’s why that ass looked so good tonight,” he murmurs, taking a handful of it for himself. “You should be forbidden from wearin’ dresses and pencil skirts around us, y’know. You make it very hard to concentrate on much.”

One of his big hands glides down your asscheeks to slide between your inner thighs. “But you know that, don’t you?” he whispers. His thick fingers slide against the wet cloth of your thong while Nanami feasts on your tits, molding and massaging them while his lips coat your nipples in saliva. “Oh, fuck,” you moan, tilting your head back at their ministrations.

“Naughty little thing,” Higuruma tuts, still rubbing you. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. You must’ve needed this from us, hm?” He presses his fingers up, rubbing your clit in circular motions. Your moans grow louder, leading Nanami to capture them with his mouth.

“You need to quiet down, baby,” Higuruma says, humored. “You’ll have the entire party comin’ up to see why our good little intern is makin’ so much noise.” Nanami pulls away to hold your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I bet she wants that,” he whispers. “Bet she wants everyone to know what she’s doing to us.”

“I’m sure they do,” Higuruma chuckles. “This ain’t the first time we’ve walked around the office hard as rocks for her.” He rubs you a little harder, making you bite your lip at the sensations. Jealous, Nanami glares at his partner. “That’s enough, Hiromi,” he growls. “You need to share. You’re not the only one here.”

Higuruma glares back, but allows the blonde to take over. You watch with shaky breath as Nanami slowly kneels down, staring up at you as he does. “I wanna taste you,” he confesses. “I wanna make you feel good. Will you let me?” Delirious from the foreplay, you nod and in an instant, your leg is hiked over his shoulder and he is sloppily French kissing your pussy.

“Now look who’s bein’ fuckin’ greedy,” Higuruma growls, impatient. “I need a taste too. Scoot over.” “We’re both gonna tongue fuck that pussy now,” he whispers. “When you need to cum, you let yourself do it, got it?”

Once again, you gush at the tone of his voice, much to Nanami’s enjoyment. “Y-Yes, sir,” you whimper. Then all words cease to exist when Higuruma kneels behind you. For the next couple of minutes, your world is blinded by pleasure as you receive dual cunnilingus from your two bosses. “Oh, shiiiit!” you groan, grasping Nanami’s head and Higuruma’s hand on your hip just to hold onto something.

You feel as if you’re on a rollercoaster, getting pulled this way and that, your stomach fluttering from the bumpy ride and the rush. Your stomach flutters and your heart pounds with every grip of Higuruma’s hands on your ass holding you steady; every lap of Nanami’s tongue against your clit. Higuruma is busy sliding his tongue along your slit, his nose rubbing against your ass…which feels oddly good too!

Everything they do feels good. Your juices and their spit collide, mixing together and making everything way more stimulating and sensitive than normal. You grip Nanami’s blonde hair, pushing him closer to your clit, your breathing coming out in huffs. You can feel that knot in your core tightening the more your lawyers lick, lap, and suck at your sloppy, juicy little pussy, drinking away as if they’re both starving for you.

You don’t realize how loud you are until you hear yourself moaning throughout the empty office. “O-Oh, fuck!” you wail. “I’m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me—“

“Wait,” Higuruma hisses, suddenly shooting a hand up to cover your mouth. He stands up so fast that he scares the shit out of you, almost as if he teleported. “I hear footsteps.” Your heart explodes in your chest and Nanami immediately stops his pussy-eating to listen too.

There, outside in the hallway, you hear footsteps and muffled laughter. Neither one of you moves or even breathes, standing still as statues in the dark. Luckily, the voices and footsteps disappear when a door opens and closes, leaving you in silence once more. Higuruma looks down at Nanami, still shaken but also very horn. “Let’s get her on the desk,” he suggests, his gaze lustful. “She needs somethin’ for that mouth if she won’t shut the fuck up.”

A smile that you’ve never seen before grows on Nanami’s face, his glasses foggy and nearly falling off of his face. Quickly, he stands and scoops you up without a word, wrapping your legs around his waist. You squeak as you’re picked up, your heels dangling from around his hips. He is fast transporting you from the floor to the desk that is luckily free of any files or papers.

Nanami places you on his desk and takes off his glasses before proceeding to duck between your thighs. As he begins lapping at your cunt again, Higuruma comes over to your side, his groin at eye level. Ziiiiip goes his fly and out comes his big, thick, hard cock. Your body and pussy throb at the sight of him.

He stares down at you, lustful and demanding. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” he demands, taking off his suit jacket. “Put those pretty lips on me.” He rapidly begins uncuffing his sleeves and unbuttoning his top, revealing his mouthwateringly broad, hairy chest you want to nuzzle. You do as he says and wrap a hand around him to stroke him as you wrap your lips around his shaft.

Higuruma smiles…and he barely does that, so you must be doing a good job. “That’s it,” he groans. “Such a fuckin’ slut for me.” He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls you closer as he uses his other hand to pull his pants down farther, exposing his firm, plump ass. You become handsy, using one hand to feel up his body and delicious happy trail while you use the other to run your fingers through Nanami’s blonde locks.

You feel like a princess and a slut all at once, receiving the best of both worlds. Finally, that urge to release comes again and you whimper and slobber all over Higuruma’s cock as you get close. “Cum for me, darling,” Nanami groans into your pussy. “Do as you’re told. Cum all over my fuckin’ face right now.”

With a high-pitched squeal, you do, leaking and creaming all over Nanami’s tongue. He greedily laps you up as you write and shake on his desk, much to Higuruma’s enjoyment. He loves watching you ride out your orgasm with his dick in your luscious mouth, but fuck, is he jealous watching Nanami eat you out. “Don’t be greedy, Nanami,” he growls. “Give me some.”

Nanami rises from between your thighs, his hair a mess and his lips coated in you. Higuruma grabs him from the back of his neck and smashes their lips together. Right in front of you. You gape at them, shook and totally confused as they sloppily kiss, swapping spit and your cum between their mouths.

You had no idea they had a “thing” going on, but then again, you wouldn’t think you’d know. Nanami and Higuruma are very private people. But shit, is it hot to see them make out in front of you for only your eyes only.

When they pull away, Higuruma smirks down at you. “Look at this naughty girl gettin’ off to us,” he snorts. “You won’t go tellin’ people about us, right, baby?” You shake your head as best as you can with his cock still sliding in and out of your mouth, making him groan at the vibrations.

Nanami watches, quickly stripping off his jacket and shirt to expose his beautiful muscles and chest pebbled in fine, blonde hair. “I can’t fuckin’ take much more,” he huffs. “I need to fuck you now or I’ll lose my mind.” He begins toying with your tits, massaging one while Higuruma plays with the other. “Tell me you want that too. Tell me what you want, Y/N.”

Higuruma pinches one of your nipples, causing your mouth to open wide on a gasp and his big cock to slip out. “Need you,” you gasp out. “Both of you. I don’t care how! Please just fuck me!” You’ve never been so fucking horny in your life. You feel as if you’ll die if you don’t cum again now.

The two lawyers look at each other, both contemplating how to maneuver this as if you’re a case they can’t quite figure out how to win. “You go first,” Higuruma suggests. “I wanna fuck her throat a little more.” Nanami doesn’t need to be told twice, his eyes molten with lust. “Bend over,” he demands and you do, assuming the position.

The two groan at the sight of your plump ass exposed over Nanami’s desk, your heels still on. They both give your ass an open-palmed smack, making you gasp at the pleasurable sting. “So good at taking orders,” Nanami murmurs in your ear. “I like that. That’s what good girls do.” He gives your cheek a peck before finally, he slides his cock against your pussy and slowly slides himself inside of you.

You both gasp at the sensations, your pussy walls squeezing around him as they become accommodated to his size. He is thick and long, making you feel so full and so stretched. Nanami murmurs sweet nothings in your ear as he coaxes you to rub your clit, making you wetter. Once you’re finally relaxed is when he proceeds to grab your hips and fuck your shit up.

His desk shakes slightly as he pistons into you, his hips slamming into your ass, causing the sound of skin slapping against skin to echo throughout the room. Your moans and cries are loud and clear, possibly audible even to the party. “Fuck!” you loudly moan. “Oh, my God, yes!”

Another cock slaps against your mouth and slides in, not stopping until it is in your throat. “Uh-uh, baby,” Higuruma chuckles. “Too loud. Little slut just can’t help herself, can she, Nanami?” His partner is too busy ramming your cunt to answer, doing his best to hold back his moans and gasps.

Higuruma snorts. “Neither can you, apparently.” Nanami glares at him, silently telling him to fuck off as he presses his front into your back, pushing himself deeper. “Push back on me, darling. Fuck me back.” You do as he orders, tossing your ass back into him and pushing yourself farther onto his wonderful cock. “Good girl!” he moans. “Needed this for so long. Needed you so bad.”

He murmurs and babbles into your shoulder, suckling on it as he pounds into your wet heat over and over again. It doesn’t take you long for you to feel the urge to cum again as Nanami’s balls slap against your needy clit, stimulating you further. “M’cwumming!” you whine around Higuruma’s cock just as that second intense wave washes over you.

“Good girl,” Nanami grunts, holding your shaking body close as your pussy walls grip and stroke him. “Such a good, good girl for me.” He slows his pace but continues to fuck you, edging you and making your orgasm last even longer. Your head feels dizzy and your thighs are slick with cum, but they’re not done yet.

“Let’s switch,” Nanami tells Higuruma. “I need to feel her mouth.” Higuruma looks ready to fuck a hole in a wall with the wild look he has in his eyes. They slowly pull out of you and switch spots, Higuruma now behind you while Nanami is in front. Just as quickly as they switched, they slide back into your holes again.

“Shit, baby,” Higuruma hisses, gripping your hips in his big, calloused hands. “You’re so fuckin’ wet. I can get so deep.” His hand wraps around your throat while Nanami fucks it, groaning at its tightness. “You want it deeper, don’t you?” he teasingly asks. “You want me to fuck this pussy till it cums again?”

“Mmm-hmm!” you desperately whine. Nothing sounds better to you right now. You are drunk off of the pleasure and these two sexy men, needing their cocks and cum like you need air to breathe.

The two begin to fuck you in tandem with each other, one pulling out while the other pushes in, filling up one of your holes. You have never loved being used before, feeling like an office slut for them. Maybe this can be one of your duties—sucking and fucking them when they are stressed at work. Wouldn’t that be so nice? Your body certainly thinks so.

Higuruma’s heavy balls slap against your clit as he pistons into you, making the desk shake. “Fuck, baby!”he grunts. “You’re gonna make me cum soon.” Nanami lets out an agreeable moan, fucking your throat. “M-Me too,” he stammers. “You’re gonna be our good little assistant and take our cum for us, darling?”

Before you can even think about answering or trying to, you hear something. Knock, knock, knock. “Um…Mr. Higuruma?” someone calls outside the door. “Mr. Nanamin, are you in there? It’s Itadori!” Instantly, the two lawyers grow still and anxiety pushes your hormones out the door.

“Shit!” Higuruma hisses. He clears his throat, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t just pumping you full of his cock. “Y-Yes, we’re in here,” he calls. “Do you need something, Itadori?”

Yuji Itadori is by far one of the cutest and sweetest interns in the firm, so you don’t feel too angry about being interrupted. Just extremely sexually frustrated. “One of the lawyers sent me up here to fetch you,” Itadori explains. “They’re about to start the anniversary speech in about fifteen minutes!”

Slowly, Higuruma and Nanami begin to fuck you again, moving tortuously slow. You can feel yourself growing closer to orgasm and do your best to keep quiet, glad to have something in your mouth. “We’ll be down soon,” Nanami replies. “Thank you, Itadori.”

“You betcha!” Itadori chirps. “Oh, and if you see Y/N, tell her that the cake is out! I saved her a slice!” Then off he goes, his footsteps disappearing down the hall and the ding of the elevator slicing through the silence. Once he’s gone, you all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“Now then,” Higuruma growls, “let’s make this little slut cum before we get caught.”

Your bosses make do with the time they have and fill your holes with each vigorous, pounding thrust that makes both your mouth and pussy salivate. The office is filled with the sounds of your hushed moans, creaky desk legs, and the light slapping of skin as Higuruma fucks and fucks and fucks your pussy like a machine.

When he finally feels you squeezing around him, he slides one hand down between you to rub your clit. “Cum for me,” he urges you. “Give it to me, baby. Cum on that dick now.”

Maybe it’s the way he talks you through it or how Nanami sounds fucking your face or the fact that you’re on a time crunch, but the third orgasm quickly crashes down onto you as despite its slow buildup. It is just as tense as the first two, making you whine around Nanami’s cock as your cunt massages and strokes Higuruma off.

“Fuck!” he grunts. “I’m about to cum too. Where you want it, baby? Tell me now before I make the decision for you.”

“O-On me!” you gasp out, still in the throes of your orgasm. “Do it on me! Anywhere you want!”

Quickly, Higuruma pulls his cock, sobbing wet with your cum, out of you while Nanami ruts into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. Their sexy, deep moans and grunts of release fill the air as each hot load of cum coats your ass and your tongue.

You shudder and deliriously giggle as they cum, feeling all of that pleasure and the high from your orgasm collide. As your orgasms pass, you three pant and huff in the darkness, recovering from the activity.

Clearing his throat, Nanami pulls out of your mouth, allowing you to swallow his load. Meanwhile, Higuruma takes some tissues from the desk and sops up his cum up from your ass. Though it is sweet, it is also very, very awkward. ‘Of course, it is, you slut!’ you critically think. ‘You just fucked your fucking bosses!’

Once Higuruma finishes, he tosses the tissues away and steps away to allow you to freely move. You stay laid across the desk, not wanting to look up and see the regret in their eyes. You clear your throat, trying to ease the awkward tension. “Well, that’s one way to celebrate a job offer,” you breathlessly say.

It works. The two lawyers begin to laugh, their deep, rumbling chuckles appealing to your ear. Finally, you look up and find them smiling. “Yes, it is,” Nanami chuckles, eyes and cheeks aglow. “You were amazing, darling.” His pet name and the praise makes your stomach flutter like a school girl’s when she sees her crush.

“Hope you don’t go givin’ that to any other employer in your future,” Higuruma chuckles, his body and forehead glistening in sweat. Your eyes drink in his body, committing his and Nanami’s to memory.

Your stomach flips, glad to see that things aren’t awkward or weird anymore. You move to sit up on Nanami’s desk, facing both of your bosses. “Oh, trust me…I won’t. I doubt I’d have any employers as sexy as you two.” You stare up at them through your lashes, earning two sweet kisses on the lips in response as if they are your boyfriends. Not your bosses.

”The feeling is mutual,” Higuruma sighs. “You have no idea how long we’ve wanted to do that with you.” Nanami hums in response, gently moving a strand of hair behind your ear, but it’s really just an excuse to touch you. Despite the tenderness, you can’t keep denying the pink elephant in the room. “So…what now?” you ask.

The two lawyers stare at you blankly, obviously not quite getting what you mean. Higuruma laughs, already buttoning up his shirt. “Well, if you mean in the present tense, I suggest we all get cleaned up and go back to the party before someone comes lookin’ for us again.”

Nanami pulls his pants up, fastening his belt. You watch, doing your best to swallow that lump in your throat. That isn’t what you meant….but what else could you mean? Surely, you don’t think this can be anything real or official. Friends with benefits or fuck buddies, sure. But actually dating your bosses? Your employers and mentors? That would be a tale for the entire firm to gossip about.

So you hang your tail between your legs and push away your disappointment. “Oh…yes, of course,” you softly say. “We definitely should. Uh…can one of you help me with my dress?”

You stand and turn around for Nanami to help you tie your dress behind your neck. You do the rest, hiding your face from them as it flushes with embarrassment. You don’t want them to see you cry if you do. You can’t tell what you’ll do off of the Brüte champagne. After you finish dressing and checking your hair to make sure it doesn’t look too suspicious, the lawyers first check the hall to see if it’s empty.

Then they lead you down the hall to the elevator. None of you speak. The air is tense again with silence and your shoes clicking across the floor, the gravity of your decision swirling in the air like cigarette smoke. Pungent, heady, and inescapable. You feel regretful of your decision immediately despite how good and right it felt in the moment. You wouldn’t be surprised if Higuruma and Nanami revoked the job offer tomorrow morning.

You press the elevator button and the box luckily comes pretty quick. The lawyers let you in first before moving in behind you. Higuruma presses the button to the lobby and the doors close. Now in close proximity to them again, you’re aware of both men standing on either side of you, facing ahead. You clutch your purse to your stomach, biting your lip to avoid blurting something dumb.

“If you meant “what now” as in what about us, I hope you realize that this isn’t just a fling for us,” Higuruma says, his deep voice filling the tight space. “It can be if you want it to be, but if you’d like this to be more official, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” Your mouth falls agap as you gape at him. He stares back, his eyes intense and unmoving.

“Me either,” Nanami adds. “Excuse my language and call me a selfish motherfucker, but I can’t say the idea of seeing you with another man other than my partner doesn’t tick me off.” His fingers dance across your lower back, giving you shivers. Delicious shivers that only grow as the fact of the matter processes in your mind: this is real now.

Better say this now than never then. You slowly take their hands in both of yours, your heart stuttering. “I’d like that too,” you shyly admit. “But maybe we can keep this on the low for now? Just until I start my new job, at least.”

Ding the elevator goes as you finally arrive to the lobby. Nanami smiles, running his thumb along your knuckles. “If that’s what you want, Ms. L/N,” he teases. “See you after the speech.” Higuruma gives your hand a squeeze before he releases it and fixes his tie just as the doors open onto the lobby.

As you walk out of the elevator, you feel two hands open-palm smack you against your ass. You squeak, hiding your smile as the two lawyers stride away to the stage entrance to the ballroom as if nothing happened.

You take another entrance, walking through the one that cuts into the middle of the ballroom. You immediately find your intern group standing by the stage waiting for the speech to begin and strut over to them, unable to keep your hips from swaying. It is as if your lawyers amped your confidence up to about one hundred.

Yuki turns to you, a slice of cake in her hand. “There you are!” she announces. “Look, Yuji’s cute ass left you some cake! Where the hell have you been?”

You give her a smile and take the plate from her, needing something sweet to end your night off right. “I just got a job offer.”

THE END.

[rootedinrevisions]

The Tribal Pull: Part 1

SUMMARY: You are a young, ambitious intern who is beginning her six month stint with WWE. Your only focus is making a lasting impression to jumpstart your career - until you catch the eye of Roman Reigns, the dominant and enigmatic Tribal Chief. What starts as professional interactions quickly turns into something more, as Roman's attention becomes impossible to ignore, and the lines between business and personal interactions blur. With each encounter, the tension between you rises, leading to a moment of no return when circumstances force them to confront their undeniable chemistry.

OTHER PARTS: PART 2 I PART 3

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who sent the request for this one! I hope you enjoy it! I had originally planned on this being a one-shot and then it kind of spiraled so we are going to break it up into a few different parts! The rest of the parts should be coming soon!

WARNINGS: None for this part.

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

The moment you step through the doors of WWE’s headquarters, you feel the weight of the opportunity pressing down on you. This isn’t just another internship—this is your chance to make up for lost time. At twenty-six, you're about four years older than most of your peers, having changed your major twice in college. First, it was marketing, then communications, before finally settling on business management. Every switch has set you back, making you feel like you’re constantly running behind while everyone else sprints toward their futures. 

But this internship could change all that. If you play your cards right, it could be the launchpad for the career you’re dreaming of. No more second-guessing. No more indecision. This internship–if it goes well–with a top multi-billion dollar company like World Wrestling Entertainment could set you up for a career in any company you want.

You remind yourself to stay focused, avoid distractions, and make a lasting impression. WWE is a massive company, and though you’re not particularly familiar with its product, that doesn’t matter. You’re not here for the spectacle—you’re here to work. Blend in, complete your tasks, and show your superiors that you’re someone worth remembering.

The first week is a blur of meetings, paperwork, and learning the ropes. You’re assigned various tasks: running errands for the media team, organizing files, and shadowing a few producers during rehearsals. It’s exactly what you expected—grunt work—but you don’t mind. Everyone starts somewhere, and you’re more than willing to do whatever it takes to prove you belong here.

As you navigate your way through the office halls, you can’t help but overhear snippets of conversations. The name Roman Reigns keeps popping up, accompanied by hushed whispers and the occasional laugh. Whoever this is clearly commands a lot of attention, but the name means nothing to you. You’re not a wrestling fan, and the WWE roster is still a mystery. Between juggling schoolwork and the internship, the last thing on your mind has been catching up on WWE programming.

But there’s something about the way people speak of him–what they call him. The Tribal Chief. There’s a strange reverence in their tone, mixed with awe and maybe a little fear. It piques your curiosity, though you don’t dwell on it long. It’s not your place to get caught up in the backstage drama. You’re an outsider, after all, and you plan to keep it that way.

The rest of the week continues in the same vein. You keep your head down, stay out of everyone’s way, and focus on the tasks at hand. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of the superstars as they pass through the hallways, but none of them stand out to you. They’re just part of the job—nothing more.

It isn’t until Friday that things begin to shift. As you finish sorting through promotional materials in the media room, you overhear two producers discussing Roman Reigns’ next big segment.

“He’s unstoppable right now,” one of them says. “The way he’s taken over as the Tribal Chief... it’s like he’s on another level.”

“I know,” the other replies. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The fans love to hate him, but you can’t deny the guy is magnetic. He’s in control of everything, and you can feel it when he walks into a room.”

You pause, fingers stilling over the stack of flyers. Whoever this Roman Reigns is, it’s clear he isn’t just another wrestler. He’s something more—something bigger.

“Heyman’s got him booked solid for the next few weeks. No one even gets near him without going through his advocate first.”

You file the name away—Paul Heyman. You’re not sure who he is, but it seems like Roman Reigns operates on an entirely different level than anyone else here.

“Yeah, but when Roman sets his sights on something, he always gets it. No questions asked.”

Your fingers hesitate for a moment before continuing to organize the materials in front of you. You’re not sure what all the buzz around Roman Reigns really means, but one thing is clear—this man commands attention. Still, it has nothing to do with you. You remind yourself that you’re here for your career, not to get wrapped up in the WWE’s larger-than-life personas.

* * * * *

It’s been a whirlwind first week, but by now, you’re starting to settle into the rhythm of things. Your tasks have become routine—picking up paperwork, running production errands, and assisting wherever you’re needed. Today, you’re making your way through the winding corridors backstage, arms full of press materials that need to be delivered to the media team. You’ve learned to navigate the chaos without getting overwhelmed. Talent is everywhere, crew members buzz around, and conversations fill the air. But you keep your focus, reminding yourself that you’re here to make an impression—not get swept up in the spectacle.

You turn a corner, narrowly avoiding a group of production assistants hustling by, and almost run smack into a wall of people. You stumble back, catching your balance just in time, and your eyes quickly scan the group in front of you.

It’s a small crew, only four men—one of them an older man in a sharp suit, who catches your attention first. He looks important. The others are large, athletic guys, no doubt wrestlers. You know the type by now—intimidating at first glance but not as impressive once you’ve seen dozens of them throughout the week.

“I’m so sorry,” you say quickly, stepping aside to let them pass, still balancing the stack of papers in your arms.

The older man in the suit smiles at you—kind of. It’s more of a smirk like he’s amused by your near collision. 

“No harm done,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying a certain gravitas that makes you think he must be someone important. “You look busy.”

“I am,” you admit with a polite smile, shifting your papers in your arms. “Just trying to stay out of everyone’s way.”

Before he can respond, one of the wrestlers steps forward, standing directly in front of you. He’s taller, broad-shouldered, and clearly commands the space around him, even with the casual way he holds himself. You glance up at him briefly, feeling the weight of his presence. But instead of fawning over him like you’ve seen others do when they cross paths with talent, you brush it off. You’re here for work, not to be starstruck.

“Let’s move,” the man says simply, his voice low and authoritative. His eyes flicker to you for a moment, studying you with a curious intensity. But you don’t catch it. You’re too focused on the papers in your arms and the fact that you’re already running behind.

You nod politely and start to step around them when the man in the suit—who you now recognize as Paul Heyman, a name you’d overheard several times this week—gives you another smile. “Quite the dedicated intern we’ve got here. Keep up the hard work.”

“Thank you,” you reply, your voice polite but rushed. You can feel the weight of the stack of papers in your arms pulling at you. “I’ll try not to run anyone over next time.”

Paul chuckles lightly, and the group moves past you. You keep your head down, moving on quickly, not giving the interaction much thought. Just another group of wrestlers, another task on your never-ending list for the day.

But as you continue down the hall, something tugs at the back of your mind. There was something different about that group. The way the crew members in the hall stepped aside for them, the quiet murmur of conversation after they passed, and the way the tallest man in the group carried himself—like he owned the place.

You shake the thought from your head. Whoever they are, they’re just another set of people in this never-ending circus. You’ve got more important things to focus on, like delivering these materials and staying on top of your workload.

But as you head back toward your desk, you catch snippets of conversation from some crew members in the distance. “Did you see him?” one of them whispers.

“Of course I did. Roman Reigns. The Tribal Chief himself.”

You pause mid-step. Roman Reigns?

The name echoes in your head, and suddenly it clicks. The tallest man, the one who barely said anything but still managed to dominate the space without trying—that was him. The Tribal Chief. The one everyone’s been talking about all week. And you... you just brushed him off like he was any other wrestler.

A small pang of embarrassment flickers through you, but you push it down. You didn’t know. And even if you had known, it’s not like you would have acted any differently. You’re here for work, not to get wrapped up in the allure of superstars, no matter how big they are.

Still, as you sit down at your desk and try to focus on your tasks, you can’t help but feel like you’ve missed something. Like maybe—just maybe—Roman Reigns noticed something in you too.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

You shake off the thought, refocusing on your work. For now.

* * * * *

Weeks pass in a blur, and by now, you’ve found your footing in the chaotic world of WWE. Your internship has been nonstop—shuffling between production meetings, running errands, and assisting with anything that needs an extra hand. You’ve gotten to know a few more people along the way, even some of the talent, but you always maintain your focus. You’re not here to make friends; you’re here to build a career.

The days bleed together, marked by long hours and endless tasks, but you don’t mind. Each day brings you one step closer to earning that glowing recommendation from your supervisors. You’ve even heard your name whispered in the halls once or twice, people complimenting how quickly you’ve adapted, how you’re always reliable. It’s rewarding, but you don’t let it get to your head. There’s too much to do, and too much riding on this internship to let your guard down now.

But amidst the hustle, you’ve started to notice something. A shift, small but noticeable if you’re paying attention. Roman Reigns—the name you now know well—has been around more often than before. The Tribal Chief himself, the man everyone is constantly buzzing about, is always nearby.

It started off small, just brief sightings backstage. You’d pass by the hallway, head down, focused on where you needed to be, and catch a glimpse of him with his entourage. He rarely traveled alone. Paul Heyman, his ever-present Advocate, was always by his side, along with a few other towering men who appeared to be related. The aura around him was impossible to ignore—people parted for him like he was royalty, which, considering his status, made sense. 

But to you, he was just another face in the sea of talent.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You brushed it off, assuming his presence around you was a coincidence—after all, this is WWE, and you’re bound to cross paths with the wrestlers eventually. You had no reason to think otherwise. But after the third or fourth time, something clicked. You’d feel his gaze linger on you as you walked by. Not every time, but often enough for it to make you wonder.

One day, you’re in the catering area, grabbing a quick bite between tasks when you catch him looking at you from across the room. His arms are crossed, posture relaxed but still commanding. He’s surrounded by his crew, but his eyes are on you. You glance up, meeting his gaze briefly, but quickly look away, dismissing the moment as nothing more than curiosity on his part. Maybe he’s just bored. Or maybe you’re just imagining things. Either way, it doesn’t matter—you’ve got work to do.

In the days that follow, the pattern repeats. A glance here, a brief look there. You’d be walking through the hall with a clipboard in hand, passing a group of wrestlers, and you’d feel his eyes on you. It’s never anything overt, nothing that disrupts your focus. But it’s there.

More than once, you overhear people mentioning him as you work. Production staff and crew members talk about his rising power, his influence, his utter dominance as the Tribal Chief. You don’t pay too much attention to it—it’s background noise to you, as you’re more concerned with making sure your tasks are done right and on time. Still, his name is everywhere, even when you aren’t directly crossing paths. You’ve caught bits of conversations about his latest storyline, his matches, his undeniable star power.

But you? You’re here to do your job. You’ve worked too hard to let any of this distract you.

You even overhear one conversation backstage between two other interns—both a little too eager to gossip—about how lucky you are. They’d seen him glance your way once or twice too and speculated, voices low but not low enough, about why he seemed to pay attention to you.

“Did you see the way Roman looked at her during that meeting?” one of them whispered.

“I know! She’s so lucky. If that were me, I’d totally play it up,” the other intern replied, laughing. “She probably doesn’t even notice. She’s so busy working.”

You had noticed. But you weren’t playing into anything. You were here for yourself, for your career, for a shot at making it in this industry on your own terms. Roman Reigns might be the biggest name in the company right now, but that doesn’t change your priorities.

Still, the thought of his lingering glances sticks with you more than you’d like to admit. You don’t fawn over him like the others, don’t treat him with the reverence most people seem to reserve for him. In fact, you barely interact with him at all. That one time you spoke to Paul Heyman was the closest you’d come, and even then, it was business as usual.

Yet, there’s something unshakable about the way he looks at you. It’s not predatory, but it’s not dismissive either. It’s like he’s observing, watching, but waiting for something. You shake off the feeling each time, burying yourself in your tasks and ignoring the strange awareness that hums in the back of your mind whenever he’s nearby.

And as the days turn into weeks, you continue to keep your head down, completing your assignments with the same dedication that got you noticed in the first place. Roman may be watching, but you refuse to let it distract you. After all, this internship is your one shot at proving yourself—and nothing, not even the Tribal Chief himself, is going to get in the way of that.

* * * * *

Another week passes, and your workload only seems to grow. As you rush through the hallways, your mind is focused on everything except the gossip around you. There’s a big event coming up, and the production team has ramped up its efforts, pushing everyone to their limits, including you.

You’ve just wrapped up a meeting and are heading backstage, still clutching your notes, when you hear someone call your name. 

You pause, turning slightly to see none other than Roman Reigns standing a few feet away. This time, he’s not surrounded by a crowd of people, it’s just him. Your heart skips for a second, but you steady yourself quickly. He’s just another wrestler, you remind yourself.

Roman steps forward, his stride purposeful, like every movement he makes is calculated. “I thought it was about time I introduced myself properly,” he says, his voice smooth yet authoritative. His eyes are locked on yours, and there’s something in his gaze—an intensity that seems to pin you in place. “Roman Reigns.”

You nod, giving him a polite smile, but keep your tone professional. “I know. Everyone’s been talking about you.” The understatement of the century, but you aren’t about to admit that.

He chuckles softly, clearly used to hearing his own name everywhere. “I figured. But you seem different. Most people around here don’t exactly keep their heads down like you do.”

Before you can respond, Roman gestures to his left where the three men you usually see with him approach. They each give you a nod and a smile, though theirs are a bit more playful, mischievous even. There’s a lightness to them, an ease that contrasts Roman’s more commanding presence.

“These are my cousins, Jimmy and Jey,” he says. “The Usos.”

You nod again, acknowledging them with a polite “Nice to meet you.” They seem friendly enough, but the weight of Roman’s presence keeps your attention locked on him.

“And you’ve met Paul before, right?” Roman adds, turning to his Advocate, who steps forward with that same knowing smile he always seems to wear.

“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths in a few meetings,” you reply, remembering the brief conversations you’ve had with Paul Heyman. He was always polite, sharp, and insightful during meetings. You respected him for his reputation and the way he carried himself in the industry. He gives you a small nod, the same reserved yet thoughtful expression he always carries.

“Yes, we’ve shared some insightful talks,” Paul chimes in, his voice smooth as ever. “I must say, I’m impressed with your work ethic. You’ve been standing out.” There’s a slight gleam in his eyes, like he’s already reading you like an open book.

You shift slightly on your feet, trying to remain focused. Compliments are nice, but they aren’t why you’re here. “Thank you. I’m just trying to do my job.”

Roman’s eyes flicker with something—interest, amusement, maybe both. “You’re doing more than that,” he says, his voice lower, carrying a weight that makes it impossible to brush off. “I’ve noticed.”

You feel the subtle shift in the air between you, but you keep your response calm, professional. “I appreciate that. I’m just here to help where I can.”

He tilts his head slightly, as if studying you. “You don’t get fazed easily, do you?” There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, a hint of admiration in his tone.

You shrug lightly. “I’ve learned to stay focused. This is a big opportunity for me.”

Roman steps a bit closer, his towering presence making it hard to ignore him even if you wanted to. “I can respect that. You’ve been doing good work. People are talking.”

You feel your heart rate pick up slightly, but you keep your composure. Compliments from Roman Reigns may be a big deal to most, but you’re determined to stay grounded. “That’s kind of you to say. But really, I’m just doing what’s expected of me.”

Jimmy chuckles from the side, elbowing Jey. “Man, she’s not like the others, is she?”

Jey smirks, watching the exchange with clear amusement. “Not at all. Got nerves of steel, this one.”

Roman doesn’t break eye contact with you, his smirk softening into something almost approving. “Well, keep doing what you’re doing,” he says, his voice smooth but with an undertone of authority. “You’re making an impression.”

You smile politely, grateful for the acknowledgment but not lingering on it. “Thanks, I’ll do my best.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you glance between the four men, all of whom seem to be watching you with varying degrees of interest. It’s a little overwhelming, but you maintain your composure. Roman is the last to look away, nodding once before finally stepping back.

“Good to meet you,” he says, and there’s a finality to his tone, like he’s just checked something off his mental list. 

He and his cousins start to walk off, but before he’s out of earshot, you hear him murmur to Paul, something low and quiet, but with a hint of intrigue. You don’t stick around to analyze it. 

Instead, you turn back to your task list, pushing aside whatever strange tension had bubbled up in the brief exchange. He might be Roman Reigns, Tribal Chief, leader of the locker room, but to you, he’s just another talent in a long list of people you need to stay professional around.

Even if his eyes lingered just a little too long, or his words seemed to carry more weight than they should, you brush it off. You have bigger things to worry about than what Roman Reigns thinks of you. After all, your career is on the line, and no matter how much attention he pays to you, you refuse to let it pull you away from your goals.

[yoon-kooks]

playtime & punishment | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au, this specific chapter is pwp

⛓️summary: You decide to push Jeon Jungkook's buttons until he snaps and puts you in your place like the little slut you are.

⛓️word count: 2k+

⛓️warnings: catdilf!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, daddy kink, good girl kink, nudes, hickeys, oc is a lil horny brat, jk puts her in her place, degradation, "slut" is used a lot, boobie squeezes, begging, she wants his cock so bad🥵, masturbation, oral nerd fantasy, fingering, edging, orgasm denial

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

⛓️a/n: this is the dirtiest p&p drabble yet🥴 can be enjoyed without reading the previous drabbles!

It’s another one of those long days where Jungkook has class all day, and you’re sitting around his place doing homework while keeping an eye on his mischievous kitten. The only reason you’re not procrastinating on your assignments is that your hot nerd friend refuses to let you near his tattooed cock until all of your school stuff is done. Thankfully, today’s homework is simple enough to finish before he gets home.

After submitting your last assignment of the day, you stretch your arms out and check the time. Jungkook should be on his way home in about half an hour, so that gives you plenty of time to soak in a nice bubble bath. You may or may not have been dying to send him some naughty nudes to look at while he’s in class. And a bubble bath is the perfect backdrop for your steamy photoshoot.

Once the tub is all set up with a sea of cotton candy bubbles, you slide your body in and make sure every part of it is nice and wet. If Jungkook wasn’t going to be back soon, you’d be tempted to slip your fingers down between your legs. But you might as well wait a little bit longer for him since it’s been a minute (aka less than 48 hours) since the last time the two of you had sex.

Just as you’re about to snap a pic of your naked body, a notification pops up from Jungkook.

dilf🥴 [4:32PM] “Can you feed Lucy her dinner?”

dilf🥴 [4:32PM] “I have an interview after class”

He must be talking about an interview for that fancy tech job he mentioned a few days ago. If he gets an offer, he’ll be all set and working full-time after graduating this summer. You, on the other hand…

You’d rather not think about it. You were given the opportunity to turn your last internship into a whole-ass career as a software engineer, but it just didn’t work out. The internship was great, the job would’ve been great, but your would-be boss apparently only wanted you on his team because you’re pretty and not because you’d earned it. That was the big rumor floating around throughout the last week of your internship. And that’s why you declined the offer for what would’ve been your dream job.

You just hope Jungkook doesn’t have to deal with any bullshit like that. Probably not.

Y/N🍒 [4:33PM] “ah yes lucys eating good tonight😌🤝🐱”

Y/N🍒 [4:34PM] “good luck with your interview✨”

Then you send him a pic of you with your wet boobs squeezed together between your arms “for extra good luck.” Not that the nerd needs luck to land any job he wants.

dilf🥴 [4:39PM] “👁️👄👁️”

dilf🥴 [4:39PM] “Y/N”

Y/N🍒 [4:39PM] “yes daddy?🥺”

You snicker at your phone screen. Is it bad that you hope he passes his interview with the biggest boner bulging out of his pants? If he’s mad about it, he can punish you when he gets home. Perhaps he’ll slap his hard cock against your cheeks or shove it down your throat. You won’t complain. You like it rough like that.

dilf🥴 [4:40PM] “It’ll be hard to focus on the interview after seeing that”

dilf🥴 [4:41PM] “Wait until I get home”

Y/N🍒 [4:41PM] “👼”

He’s so silly if he thinks you’re actually waiting until he gets home. You were willing to wait until his class ended, but all bets were off when he said he’d be home even later thanks to the interview. 

As soon as you climb out of the tub, you feed the kitten her gourmet meal, hop on the boy’s bed, and pull your sweatpants down to your thighs. 

Your fingers waste no time in making their way into your panties. You wish Jungkook were around to pleasure you himself or at least watch, but that doesn’t mean the boy isn’t contributing here.

The mere thought of him gets you so wet. Ever since you slept with him the first time, you can’t stop thinking about him. Like, he’s not only someone you click so well with but also the one your body craves 24/7. 

Oh what you’d do to have his cock inside you, his tongue on you, and his nerdy ass here with you right now.

You kick your sweatpants and panties off, slowly massaging your clit and imagining it’s Jungkook eating you out. Like his tongue is lapping you up and making you all hot and bothered in an endless cycle. You’d never really craved to be on the receiving end of oral sex until Jungkook had gone down on you the first time. He’d hooked you in for life with a single flick of his tongue.

Your fingers obviously can’t compare to the real deal, but you’re still thoroughly enjoying your little oral nerd fantasy. Plus, you love the idea of sneaking around and doing something naughty on his bed while he’s gone. Especially when he told you to wait for him. 

You can’t always be a good little girl for daddy.

As you continue to pleasure yourself, the post-bath warmth and lazy pace lull you to a sleepy state even before you’ve had a chance to orgasm. The least you can do is wait for your boy friend to join in before hitting your high.

It’ll be worth the wait.

You feel your eyelids getting heavier as your fingers slow down. Before you know it, you’re out.

“Someone’s been naughty.” A low voice wakes you from your nap as the boy’s weight sinks into the mattress beside you.

Your eyes flutter open to Jungkook unbuttoning his dress shirt. What a great view to wake up to. His gaze, however, is locked onto your fingers resting on your clit with your legs spread open on his bed like such a little slut.

Knowing he’s watching, your fingers start to move again. You’re still quite wet despite the long nap break. You must’ve dreamt of him tying you up and torturing your body for hours with his fat cock. That’ll keep you wet for weeks.

“My bad, I got impatient and couldn’t wait,” you say, swirling your fingers against your slippery center. You’re not sorry at all. “Bad girls need to be punished, don’t they?” You suck the coating off your fingers one at a time.

“Wouldn’t that just be giving you exactly what you want?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Don’t sluts love to be degraded and put in their place?”

You nod, wanting nothing more than to be manhandled and used as his little plaything.

“Sure you can handle the punishment?” He tosses his shirt and glasses aside but leaves his trousers on. Ah fuck. He knows how badly you want your holes to be filled with his cock, so he’s not giving it to you. That’s your punishment. Despite how torturous it sounds, your submissive little head nods again.

With a sinister chuckle, he gets behind you, tears your tank top off your body, and leans your bare back against his hard chest. You can feel his erection digging into your ass through his pants. Great.

His hands slide around and grab your breasts, squeezing them together and making your nipples all perky. You let out a squeak like a stuffed dog toy with each squeeze.

“You’re so weak to my touch, you know that?” he whispers into your ear. “It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Mm,” you squeak again. He’s right. You really do love it when he degrades you like that.

With one hand still on your boobs, he pulls your head back and angles it to give him full access to your neck. His lips find the most sensitive spots on your neck and suck each one until you’re covered in his marks. You’re definitely going to need to wear a turtleneck for the next few days.

You try to turn around to get his mouth on yours, even for just a second to taste him, but he pulls back and shakes his head. “Bad girls have to earn that back.”

Jeon Jungkook is evil. The worst, even. You’ve never been denied a kiss in your entire life. And he knows you’ll do anything for a taste, anything for touch, anything for more pleasure. You love it.

“Jungkook, please, anything,” you beg softly, pulling his hand toward your wet center. But instead of getting straight to it, he grabs both of your wrists and holds them together behind your back. Apparently, he doesn’t approve of the way you tried directing him to your core. He’s the one deciding your punishment here. Not you.

“Brats like you need to learn to be patient,” he hums against your neck. “Will you wait for me this time, baby?”

You’ll say it again. Jeon Jungkook is the worst. You’d rebelled against him and got caught touching yourself earlier out of impatience, and now he’s gonna make you wait even longer for any sort of pleasure or release? Just to teach you a lesson and punish you for your actions? He’s the definition of torture. No other guy has ever challenged you the way he does. But that’s why you’ve stuck around with him these past few months.

“Yes, daddy,” you whimper. Your horny little body will wait as long as he makes you.

“Good girl.” Still holding your wrists captive with one hand, he slips two fingers between your legs. He’s moving slower than your fingers earlier. “And you’re not going to cum until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy.”

He rewards your submissive behavior with a quick flick over your clit. The sudden jolt of pleasure snaps you into a pathetically horny state. Your body starts squirming on its own for more stimulation. Your brain shuts off. Your mind melts into pleasure.

For a while, all you can hear is your moans and the slick sounds of his fingers rubbing against you, pumping in and out of you. So wet and helpless. So close, and yet, your body knows it can’t orgasm until daddy says so.

“Are you close?” he asks. You hate how calm he is compared to the horny mess he’s made of you.

You nod. “Cum… please…”

“Not yet, baby,” he warns, digging his fingers deep inside you and hitting you where it feels best. Meanwhile, his thumb toys with your swollen clit, rubbing circles around it and bringing you so close to your breaking point. “Keep edging for me.”

You need to cum. You need it so badly. You bite your lip and squirm around to fight off the wave of pleasure waiting to wash over you. The need for a release is at an all-time high, but Jeon Jungkook’s hold on you is stronger. Because you know it’d feel so much more satisfying to be rewarded by him with an orgasm after waiting so long like a good little slut. You just have to be patient.

He lets go of your limp wrists, knowing you’re too lost in the pleasure to move your own fingers. You like his better anyway. His now free hand takes over your pussy, while he holds up his other fingers to your face. They’re perfectly glazed by your lust.

On instinct, your mouth opens with your tongue out. You’ve already accepted you aren’t getting his cock today, so his long veiny fingers will have to be the consolation prize. He kindly allows you to wrap your lips around his fingers and cleanse them of your milky glaze.

While you suck on him, he rubs you faster, adding more pressure to your clit all swelled up with pleasure. You let out a violent stream of muffled moans as if you’d actually orgasmed. If he doesn’t let you cum soon, you’ll go mad.

“Do you want to cum now?” He pulls his fingers out for you to answer.

“Yes… daddy…” you whimper between gasps. Your body aches in anticipation. Finally.

“Have you learned your lesson today?” He uses that stern dilf tone you love so much. “Will you be a good girl from now on?”

“Yes, daddy.” Nope. As soon as you’re done here, you’re not against being a brat and doing it all over again. Because when you really think about it, this “punishment” comes with what you know will be the most intense and rewarding orgasm of your life. That’s why you’ve endured the torture for so long. And that’s why you’re eager for plenty more in the future.

“Good,” he slips his fingers out of your pussy and gets up from behind you. Looks like you’re getting cock after all. It really does pay off to be a good girl.

But then he hands you your tank top that he’d flung across the room. And your panties and sweatpants. Still in a bit of a horny haze, you sit there and blink at the boy. He needs to hurry his ass back over to you and tend to your poor clit. It’s so swollen and aching for that release.

Then he looks back at you with a big fat smirk. “Oh, did you think I’d let you cum today, baby?”

Seeing how your little brain still isn’t comprehending his words, he helps you back into your clothes and lays your body down next to him on the bed. “Wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you cum, would it?” he chuckles as reality sinks in for you. You immediately pout.

“You were supposed to shove your cock down my throat and let me cum,” you mumble, wiggling yourself closer to him. “That’s what a punishment is, Jungcock.”

“Hey,” he frowns at your petty nickname for him when you’re sexually frustrated. “You’re the one who asked to be punished. I was down for the usual.”

He’s right. You really did bring this upon yourself. And honestly, despite the lack of an orgasm and cock, you can’t deny that Jungkook still managed to make it amazing. Plus, the longer you go without hitting your high, the better it’ll feel once you finally do. So you’ll just have to accept your fate and wait another day.

“By the way, how’d the interview go?” You try not to stare at the bulge in his nice trousers. After the hell he just put you through, you really do hope your bathtub pic forced a huge boner on him during his interview.

“They gave me an offer, so I took it,” he says nonchalantly. You know he’s downplaying it after you’d told him about how awful your first job offer had gone. He doesn’t need to, though. It’s something he earned and worked hard for. The two of you should celebrate.

“Oh yeah?” You smile and give him a peck on his lips as you roll on top of him. “We should have new job sex.”

He lets you finally get a taste of his tongue before rolling you back beside him. “Nice try.”

You frown but steal another kiss from him. “You’re really mean, you know that?”

“You’ll thank me later,” he promises. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

[artificial-transmutations]

Anger Issues

When Owen first came to this new city, in this new and foreign country, he was full of hope. A fresh start in an unfamiliar land. It was an adventure! The world was his oyster, and the possibilities were endless! He had just finished university and had a degree in art history, which should make it easy for him to find work.

As it turns out, that was a lie.

For three long, grueling months, Owen tried everything to make a living in the big city. The truth was that his degree often wasn't recognized, and even when it was, he wasn't considered qualified to do the job, often without any obvious reason. The financial reserves he had were draining quickly and his hopes of finding good and fulfilling work in the new city were getting smaller and smaller every day.

"You need experience to get a job, and you can't get a job without experience". Owen never realized how true this saying was until he had stumbled into that very situation. Desperate to get out of it, he finally found an unpaid internship in a museum for ancient art. It was a really interesting field for Owen, but it turned out his tasks were mundane and not related to the exhibits at all. Instead, he was confined to a small office room to scan and sort invoices - a tedious job and hardly what Owen had studied for.

So, one day, in his break, when he went through the exhibition as usual, a wooden figure caught his eye that was apparently brought here this morning. It depicted the torso of a man, showing a sculpted chest. The figure was cut off below the upper arms and above the legs. The face of the man was symmetrical and angelic, although frowning. Above the hair, it showed either a thick halo or some kind of hat.

Owen was inexplicably drawn towards the figure. It was well-preserved and Owen couldn't quite assign it a region or time period. Looking at the sign, Owen realized it had no information about this either. Clearly a curiosity!

Driven by his own desire for knowledge, Owen stepped closer, hoping to get a more detailed look. It was as if a faint whisper was coming from the grim statue, but that must have been his imagination. He reached out with his hand to touch the wooden surface, only to hesitate again. It was, of course, forbidden to touch the exhibits, but perhaps feeling the structure of the wood would help him understand the piece more.

As soon as he touched the surface, the whispers grew louder all of a sudden, and his fingers felt a slight jolt - but both sensations stopped immediately again.

Someone behind him was clearing his throat.

"Ahem. Owen. Do I need to remind you not to touch the exhibit?", Mr. Hastings, the director of the museum, said, looking sternly at Owen.

"Oh, no, Sir, I just thought... it might give me some better understanding..."

"Rules are rules." Mr. Hastings said, but he was smiling again.

Owen however felt a most unusual feeling bubbling up in him. At first, he didn't quite know where to put it, but it soon became very clear to him. He was angry! The rational part of his mind tried to understand why - there was no real reason. Mr. Hastings was right of course and judging by his smile, Owen really didn't have a problem. Regardless, he felt as if he had just been insulted the worst possible way. Before he could stop himself, he burst out:

"Do you know where you can put your precious rules? Fuck them! Fuck you! Fuck this whole place! You don't want me to do real work here?! Fine! I quit!"

Head steaming, Owen removed his museum badge from his jacket and threw it to the ground with such force that the plastic shattered. With another loud "Fuck you!", he ran off, leaving the befuddled Mr. Hastings behind, as well as the museum.

Only after he had walked a few blocks, Owens anger subsided somewhat. What has he been thinking? He should turn around and apologize at once!

Then again, it was an unpaid internship. Even though the way to quit this job hasn't been too professional, what was done was done - and perhaps for the better, too. He could focus on finding a better job now. There surely had to be something.

There wasn't. Owen had no better luck then before, but inexplicably, his tolerance for frustration had diminished. After the third denied application, Owen had become so angry that he actually punched a hole into the thin walls of his apartment. Alongside the anger, there had been some changes to Owen's body, as well: He seemed overall fitter and filled out his clothes better. He also found his libido increased somewhat. Where before he had jerked off perhaps once a week, he found himself hard now more and more often, and his hand was drawn to his cock even more.

Jerking off helped to cool the red hot anger somewhat that he found himself quite often in, so it was quickly becoming a daily thing. However, being constantly torn between being angry and being horny didn't leave much space for patience. His money was running dry, too, so, Owen finally accepted a job in a field that was far below his academic standards: He started a job as a fast-food cashier.

The red "FST" uniform, as the fast food chain was called, was tight on Owen's chest, when he started his first work day. They had probably given him a smaller size, even though they said it was XL. Owen was already feeling angry about that obvious mistake, but he swallowed his anger and let himself be introduced to the cash register.

The system was overwhelmingly complex. It had like a hundred different buttons, and Owen quickly felt his head swimming. It shouldn't be so hard to understand a fast food cash register, but apparently, this one was extra complex. Just his luck!

At some point, he just nodded as the manager showed him the functions of the device. The introduction wasn't very long, only ten minutes, but Owen didn't understand a thing. You really needed a degree for that monstrosity! Still, he was expected to serve his first customer right away, pure insanity.

The first order was easy enough, a plain hamburger and a coke, and after searching the right buttons for a good two minutes, Owen managed to put in the order. However, the second customer wanted a milkshake, too, and that was the final straw. They really couldn't expect Owen to juggle such complex orders in his mind AND put them into the machine. Angrily, he shouted out in frustration and let his fist come down on the cash register with full force, again and again. Of course, the thin metal and plastic yielded to his rage and the machine broke.

"FUCK THIS FUCKING JOB!"

This was the breaking point for Owen. Everything had gone wrong since he had moved to this fucking city. No job, no money, no nothing! He tried to wriggle out of the way-too-small uniform top but ended up ripping it apart instead.

The manager ran over and pulled him from behind.

"Stop that! Stop that right now!"

"LET ME GO! I QUIT!"

"You're going nowhere! You can't leave after what you've done!"

With an angry roar, the now half-naked Owen shoved the manager against the counter with full force and stormed off. He didn't care if the manager wanted to call the police, or sue him, or whatever.

As soon as he arrived at his shabby apartment, Owen took out his laptop and started looking for jobs. He didn't get very far, though. The computer was confusing, and Owen was still feeling angry from his last job. He finally managed to pull up his favorite porn site and started watching videos.

The normal porn he usually consumed didn't do a good job of calming him down today. He needed something rougher, something more primal. The female porn stars were too weak for the sex to be stimulating, he decided.

After clicking through a few more videos, he spied a thumbnail of two guys getting at it roughly. Brilliant. When there were only men involved, the sex would be much better. They wouldn't take shit from the girls, and they'd be strong. Much more satisfying.

Seeing two men having sex brought back his cock to full erection and soon enough, Owen splattered his cum all over his muscular torso.

As the post-nut-clarity set in, Owen realized he had a problem. He needed something to channel all that rage into before it destroyed his life entirely. After some research, he decided to join a Krav Maga club.

The raw brutality of the sport helped Owen to tune off the complicated world around him and made him feel happy for the first time in weeks. He trained often and hard, quickly stacking even more muscles on his already impressive frame. Of course, Owen wasn't clever enough to grasp the techniques of the sport, so he just substituted it by raw strength. A lot of kicks and hits found their way into his face, but he was healing quickly as well. Over the course of a few weeks however, the brutality left its marks in his face. His nose looked crooked as if it had been broken and his jaw looked manly, but not exactly beautiful.

Still, joining the club was the best decision he could have made. He met some new friends, who set him up with a new job as a warehouse worker. Carrying crates and heavy barrels from one place to another was the perfect job for Owen. He didn't need to understand what he was moving, nor did he have to do any paperwork (not that he would have been able to - Owen had his trouble with letters and numbers, which left him pretty much illiterate). He just needed to do what his manager said, and he was happy for it.

Besides the Krav Maga, he found another outlet for his anger issues. Since he couldn't afford his flat anymore, Owen moved in with a couple of garbage workers he met at the warehouse. As it turned out, they, too, were gay and enjoyed it quite a lot when Owen split their cheeks roughly, not holding back one bit.

[emo-batboy]

i'd like the chart thanks!

Also, there's another person who wants to rp Leo, can they?

Okay a few people are asking for the chart so here’s the current chart!! (I took out some characters that are still not as fleshed out. That includes Nathan, Ria, Nina, Ashley, Zoe, Ray, Maggie, and the hater and Metropolis characters, but they’re all filler characters rn)

A Wild Battinson Character Lore Continuity

- Felicity

- Oldest of the bunch, right between Millennial and Gen Z

- Works at an office, besties with everyone there. Corporate girlie (does use the term girlboss)

- Like if a Gothamite/Bruce Wayne fan was swiftie-coded?

- She has a pet pitbull, you know that kind of white girl

- Tatum

- Goth U, Comp Sci major

- Keeps everyone he knows online at arms length so we don’t know much, has a small close knit friend group irl but he’s also mutuals with everybody on twitter because he’s that kinda guy yk?

- But they’re slowly convincing him. He’s getting there

- Marzia

- Oh god poor Marzia

- Italian, born in Northern Italy, English is her second language but you wouldn’t be able to tell if it weren’t for her slight accent

- Biggest Bruce Wayne stan, will go feral, but only gets replies from him at the worst moments possible

- *snorts like cocaine* “Please don’t do cocaine” is my personal favorite

- Goth U, she gives art major vibes but tacked on a double major in psychology last minute so now she’s staying a fifth year

- Reads smut, writes smut, part of the poetry club, def on booktok, you know the type

- Alejandro

- Runs an ice cream stand in the park on the weekends when it’s warm enough

- Bi, Dating Leo (pfp is them holding hands because he’s a whipped son of a bitch)

- He’s like if that normal-looking kind of athletic guy who always wore sweatshirts and basketball shorts to class just suddenly mentioned he had a boyfriend one day.

- He’s straight-coded but more specifically “the straight guy that gay guys have crushes on against their better judgement”-coded

- Knew the whole time he was bi but never REALLY liked a guy until Leo 🥺. whenever he looks at Leo, he’s got those madly in love eyes

- Thinks Batman is hot and suffers constant torment from Leo (who has a crush on Bruce) because of it

- Ale just wants to be bench pressed is that too much to ask? But It’s his fault he’s a twunk dating a twink so—

- Goth U, Really interested in tech stuff but he’s actually a sports medicine major. He wants to be a physical therapist for athletes

- Cannot hold his liquor

- Smile Watch

- Who knows

- It’s a mystery

- Lela

- Goth Girl

- BFF’s with Nico (goth girl, e-boy solidarity)

- Also good friends with Natalie, they lined up all their gen Ed’s together

- Chill in a Morticia Addams kinda way. She is Morticia Addams actually

- Mom owns a convenience store, she helps out after classes a lot

- Studied for the MCAT, did pretty well, she wants to be a doctor (probably neurosurgeon but it depends on what internship she gets)

- Currently completing the undergrad to grad program at Goth University with a masters in public health

- Natalie

- Former intern, now ASSISTANT at Wayne Press

- Got the job because she impressed Bruce with her good reporting skills, now works mostly on organizing press releases and maintaining Bruce’s public image

- Great at her job because she knows social media and Bruce Wayne Stans the best (she is one obv)

- (Babysits Bruce when Alfred is busy, how did this happen, why is this her job now? She’s tired of his shit lol)

- Still technically working part-time because she hasn’t gotten her degree yet, but she’s set to work full time after she graduates Goth U in May

- Sometimes while sitting at her desk she just gets that perspective shift where she’s like “how did I get here” Bruce Wayne Stans’ dreams do come true

- Caleb 🤡

- Literally 18/19 but aging faster than humanly possible with the stress he’s under

- Used to work at Bat Burger, left because the babysitting gig required more time

- Lives with his aunt who’s already retired (used to live alone, she never had kids or a husband so she’s loaded) He’s staying cuz his parents are super busy and travel for work :) and guess what crime-filled alley their window overlooks? I’ll give you one guess

- Babysits Tim, used to be a less serious gig but his parents have been out of town a lot lately (just vacationing without their child ��) and thankfully Caleb lives right across from their swanky apartment so he’s practically a nanny now (read: older sibling/third parent)

- Took a ton of childcare courses for this job and now he’s kind of interested in working at a daycare maybe? If Tim doesn’t kill him in his sleep first

- Recently graduated Goth High, now takes online classes at Goth Community College while deciding what to do with his life

- Jarod

- Recently graduated Goth High, now taking a gap year before starting GothU in the fall. Him and Caleb were always in the same classes so they’re super close (they’re the youngest)

- Future Comp Sci/English major (he wants to be a video game writer)

- Has a younger sister, and technically the oldest child but spiritually he’s the middle child.

- His parents and Priyanka’s parents are close friends so he kind of grew up seeing Priyanka as an older sister. That’s why they’re Like That.

- Literally so fed up with Priyanka, it’s not even funny (yes it is) but the second you’re rude to Priyanka, he will deck you, watch yourself

- Katie (Sweater Thief)

- ER Nurse at Gotham General Hospital, mostly does night shifts

- Gives chronically online energy when she’s online, but everyone in real life wouldn’t suspect a thing because she’s so good at having her life together (the code switch will give you whiplash)

- Surprisingly older than most of the others despite being Like That.

- Literally graduated with a 4.2 GPA how tf?

- BFF’s with Leo then became BFF’s with Ale too after they started dating (she is slowly corrupting Ale and I think that’s beautiful)

- Creator of the Babygirl Bruce Wayne Agenda and PROUD

- Priyanka

- Works at coffee shop owned by her mom called Caffe Mood. She plans to run it one day. Currently a barista

- Goth U, business major (accounting)

- Bilingual, knows Hindi

- LESBIAN QUEEN

- Despite being gay, She is allowed to think Bruce Wayne is hot, that is her Right

- Mad fucking crush on Georgia, calls her Georgie. Intends to never tell a soul. Will fail miserably

- Dead fucking set on the idea that Batman’s a vampire

- But she thinks everyone’s a vampire so—

- Her parents and Jarod’s parents are close friends so she kind of grew up seeing Jarod as a younger brother. That’s why they’re Like That

- Jarod is constantly on her nerves, wtf Jarod (but be mean to him and she’ll kill you)

- Leo

- Works at bookstore called Gotham City Bookstore

- Gay, Dating Alejandro

- Twink (derogatory)

- Swears his gaydar is the most accurate there is (always wrong)

- Made being gay his entire personality because he had an identity crisis in middle school and proceeded to have a massive crush on some straight guy all of high school (that guy was Ale, Leo’s gaydar is so off)

- BFF’s with Katie despite being a few years younger. They were in a high school production of Sweeney Todd together and the rest was history

- Calls every single celebrity gay as a joke, Ale reigns him in if he’s getting too out of hand

- Used to have a mad celebrity crush on Bruce, still kinda (definitely) does

- Attends GothU, undecided for a while but ultimately settled on mathematics because it’s ironically his best subject

- One of those mf’s that needs to be held back at all costs, god help Ale

- Rose 🌹

- Works a tailoring job full time

- Good friends with Felicity, she’s like the black cat to Felicity’s golden retriever

- 70% super nice and chill, 30% wild card party girl

- Gets drinks with friends a lot, tweets when drunk but no one can tell the difference. It’s amazing

- Does not seem horny, is horny. But like normal about it? If that’s a thing

- Nico

- Kinda plays the straight man of the group if the straight man was emo

- BFF’s with Lela (e-boy, goth girl solidarity)

- KING of twitter roasts. He makes memes to end lives.

- Pansexual, single, and probably writing bad poetry in his diary about it but don’t tell anyone

- Goth U, actually dunno the major. Probs public health with Lela but doesn’t want to be a doctor. More like research parallel to social sciences

- Has a 8/9yo sister named Madelaine whom he would die for despite not expecting to be an older brother so late in the game (what were his parents thinking)

- Has tea parties with her and all that jazz. She steals his eyeliner and chain accessories all the time, also she’s friends with Dick and Barbie (yes, Barbara Gordon) so sometimes he watches over their play dates

- He’s a “tough emo boy” so he totally doesn’t laugh at Madelaine’s puns. He’s a bitch ass liar

- Kellyanne

- GothU, marine biology. Transferred from GCCC with an associates degree to save money but now she’s got a full ride cuz of the WE higher education fund

- More recent Bruce Stan

- Pretty poor upbringing, that’s how she met Bruce Wayne. He bought her whole family groceries one night after her card declined at the convenience store trying to buy dinner

- Now she’s in it for the long haul :)

- Lia

- GothU, fashion merchandising

- A GIRL’S GIRL

- Older sister also attends Goth U, but she’s in med school

- More recent Bruce Wayne stan, still not particularly in with the culture and jokes but getting there

- Friends with Georgia and Elizabeth irl. Elizabeth was in the same sorority before graduating first. Got to know Georgia after Lia found her dog with Bruce at the park outside GothU. They party together now

- Elizabeth

- Graduated GothU last May and worked an internship at LexCorp, immediately regretted it but snagged a job at WE (thank god)

- Now works as a research assistant at Wayne Tech in the R&D department for commercial products

- Didn’t really get the whole Bruce Wayne Stan thing until Bruce Wayne personally wished her a happy birthday?? The man is so sweet?

- Absolutely loves her job but still screams at rubber ducks over faulty code in her little cubicle, but that’s the industry she chose so it’s a give and take

- Met Natalie through Stan twitter and now they DM each other about working at Wayne Enterprises

- Doesn’t post much on twitter but follows the main Bruce Stan accounts, irl friends with Lia and Georgia

- Georgia

- Has a dog named Bean

- GothU, majoring in like three languages, polyglot (including Hindi 😏)

- Works at a retail home decor kinda store (home goods?)

- So lesbian-coded, but does not know it yet. Priyanka is her gay awakening. She is now a regular at Caffe Mood (She thinks she just likes the coffee (yeah right))

- Works at Goth U’s admissions department over the summer too

- Once got drunk and locked herself onto a roof by accident, ended up hanging out with Batman (he offered to break into her apartment for her but she said “nah”)

- Jane

- Works at Wayne Enterprises

- Runs bring your kid to work day (idk what her actual job is but she’s an Essential Worker, okay?)

- Very sweet, 10/10, looks on the bright side but never in a toxic positivity way

- Super social too, became work friends with Bruce because she’s nice but not draining to his social battery? They have lunch on occasion

- Watched the Graysons die with Bruce, call that trauma bonding

- Watched her toxic ex’s car burn to a crisp after a joker spree and took a selfie with it (she can have a little revenge, as a treat)

[tmpestuous]

moth to a flame - 7

series masterlist

summary: bucky barnes was the love of your life, and you were his. there was no denying it. but after two years of dating, you found yourselves on different paths and decided it was best to go your separate ways. the only problem was how drawn you’d always be to him even after moving on.

pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

warnings: blackmail, angst, toxic relationships, arguments, cheating/infidelity (all over the place..)

word count: 6.5k

a/n: this is a long one… a few time jumps but the next 3 chapters will be a lot closer in timeline. enjoy!

Sleep struggled to reach Bucky in the past week; he found himself tossing, turning, and ultimately resolving to staring up at the ceiling until his brain decided to turn off and let his eyes shut. His anxiety had been through the roof, and though it was not a new feeling for him, it felt a lot worse with you at the forefront of his worries.

Natasha and Bucky were the only ones who decided it was worthwhile trying to make amends with you. Well, and Pietro. But their plan to talk to him fell short every time Wanda placed a barrier between her brother and her two friends with the most intense glares.

“He’s not up for talking.”

“Wanda, please,” Natasha pleaded. “You can’t seriously believe that Y/n would be capable of doing something this outrageous.”

“I don’t,” Wanda retorted. “But what else am I supposed to believe? Regardless of if she wanted to keep it a secret or not, she decided to do the former. She didn’t tell anyone. We could have prevented this.”

“But shouldn’t that tell you she’s in this situation a lot deeper than she wants to be?” Bucky questioned.

“It tells me that she still felt the need to protect herself over all of us.”

Bucky sighed to himself at the memory, rubbing his face as he prepared to face the day with yet another 3 hours maximum of rest. Not even a cold shower could wake him up enough, the resolve of shutting his eyes while leaning his head against the shower wall tiles cut short by Steve’s knocking on the door.

Alerting his best friend that he’d be out of the bathroom soon, he shut the water off and quickly made his way back to his room after wrapping his towel around his waist. Thankfully, Bucky knew Natasha would be brewing coffee in the kitchen as the redhead succumbed to a similar path as him. 

After getting dressed, he walked out, seeing the steam of the coffee come from his mug on the kitchen counter, Natasha already sipping on hers.

“Have you checked your email yet?” She asked as Bucky blew into the mug.

“No, why?” 

“Bucky, the Stark Internship acceptances went out yesterday and you’ve been holding all of us in suspense.”

“Shit,” Bucky said after a sip before setting his mug back down and pulling out his phone, quickly opening his email.

Natasha watched as Bucky scanned his phone, his face looking more disappointed than relieved.

“Well?”

“I- um,” Bucky stammered, shaking his head before putting his phone away. “I didn’t get it.”

“Bucky–”

“It’s okay, Nat,” he cut her off. “I did get that job with Y/n. I guess I’ll just take that one.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Steve interjected as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing his own coffee mug that Natasha had left him. “Wanda isn’t gonna be happy.”

“I need a job, Steve. That’s it.”

As much as Bucky wanted to get close to you again and keep an eye on you, he had worked so hard for the Stark Internship. Part of him hated that he had to go work for you instead, especially since it also added to your uncomfortable situation with your boyfriend. It was a lose-lose for the both of you, but he needed an internship. He didn’t want to beg his dad to bend some rules and give him a spot in the family business. This was his only option.

But Steve was right. Wanda wasn’t happy. The group had met up for lunch later that week when she found out and Bucky heard every inch of it. About the lies, the betrayal, about how she can’t imagine even looking you in the face again. Luckily for Bucky, he had to head out for his first day anyway, and ended up leaving during her lecture. 

Bucky could tell from Pietro’s face that he didn’t agree with his sister, but Bucky also hadn’t had the chance to have a conversation with him about you. It was no use asking him there. Natasha had texted him all about her calling Wanda out for being insensitive about the situation, though Bucky didn’t have the energy to reply before walking in to see you.

It had been a week and a half since the incident, and his nerves were eating him alive. Half of him felt the way Wanda did — confused, hurt. He agreed that he would have believed you’d set your pride aside for your friends. But the other half of him knew you wouldn’t just betray everyone like that. After your conversation outside of the hospital—the tremor in your voice, the fear in your eyes behind all of the tears.

“Because it would only make things worse for him. For me. For you.” 

God, he wished you had just told him everything. You immediately shut him down upon his question on what Atlas was holding over you. He knew you.

After calming his racing heart, Bucky got out of his parked car and walked towards the entrance of the building he was told to meet you at. The receptionist was nice enough to let him in even though he was half an hour early, but only because you were already in your office. 

He took a deep breath after making it to your closed door. His closed fist ghosted the air, waiting for the knuckles to press on the frosted window of the door, but his gaze was set on the shadow moving behind it that hadn’t even noticed his presence. Bucky knocked ever-so-lightly, not wanting to test how impossibly expensive the glass was, and the shadow behind the door froze before making its way towards the door. 

Once the door was opened, Bucky was greeted with your gaze, a slightly confused look on your face before you looked over at the clock on the wall.

“You know you’re early, right?” You asked as you turned your attention back to him, but Bucky couldn’t stop looking at you like he couldn’t believe you existed. He hadn’t forgotten anything about you but he had never spent so much time without seeing you, whether in front of his face or across the room. “Bucky…?”

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled himself out of his thoughts, though still staring at you. “Yeah, I know I’m early but I’ve had a really rough morning—well, week— and just kind of really need to dive into some work to distract myself so I thought maybe I’d make a good impression of being overly punctual so you’d let me in.”

Bucky wasn’t usually a rambler. He was a one-liner kind of person, never having too much to say out of fear of saying more than he needed to. You could tell he was anxious, so you nodded and stepped aside to let him in the lab.

It was bigger than what Bucky imagined—open space save for a few tables and some computers atop them. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows and your desk planted in front of one, papers scattered all over.

“I hadn’t really gotten started on anything yet,” you broke the silence. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to take the offer at all if I’m being honest. I told them to keep you as a last resort since I knew how much you wanted the Stark Internship and that you’d probably take that.”

“I didn’t get it,” Bucky said as he faced you, his back previously to you while he took everything in. Your face was now riddled with more confusion than when you saw him outside your door. 

“What do you mean you didn’t get it? You were a lock for it, Tony even talked you up to his dad.” Bucky shrugged, looking away from your gaze on him. He honestly didn’t want to talk about the dark cloud that had been looming over him since he read the rejection email. Part of him wanted to reach out to Tony and ask what went wrong, but he had felt so defeated lately with everything going on that he didn’t even bother. “Are you okay?”

Pulled from his thoughts for the second time today, he looked at you again and nodded. “I will be.”

You nodded once in return. “Guess we should get started then.”

Bucky was grateful you weren’t being distant with him, but rather the contrary. After you explained all the research directions to him, detailing every instruction on how to collect, analyze, and sort all of the data coming in, everything seemed normal. Your banter was normal, you offered small talk here and there. It was like Bucky finally had his best friend back. 

He hadn’t realized how long it’s been since the two of you had a normal conversation that wasn’t teetering on the feeling of walking on eggshells. He knew he shouldn’t get comfortable given the current circumstances, and was further reminded of that when you spoke up again after a decent pause in your conversation. 

“How is everyone?” 

Bucky looked up from the binder that had his attention to see you hadn’t looked up from your computer screen, probably out of anxiety.

“They’re alright, just… navigating things, I guess,” Bucky answered sincerely. “We all haven’t really talked much about anything, honestly.”

You nodded without saying anything else.

The last thing Bucky wanted to do was to tell you how Wanda’s feeling about him working with you, or about how Natasha and Steve have been more distant with each other than usual given their disagreement on the situation, or how Sam barely likes to be in the room after he hears your name. Everyone in the group was on edge, and unfortunately, it had to do with you. But he wasn’t going to let you beat yourself up over it. It was the last thing you needed. 

You had removed yourself from the group without a word. You packed all of your things when Wanda and Natasha weren’t in the suite, taking everything to what Bucky now knows was your new apartment. It wasn’t cheap by any means, but your parents did agree it was better than paying thousands of dollars for a shared dorm. 

Bucky could tell you were at least content that you weren’t forced to stay with Atlas, whether at his stupid frat house or his own dorm. You never enjoyed it even when you were on good terms with him, so Bucky could only imagine the disdain you held for it now. 

The rest of the day went smoothly, and so did all of the following days Bucky worked with you. He felt back in his element, even though he only got to spend time with you for a few hours in a day. But they were the best hours of each of his days; he cherished them a lot more than he anticipated. Bucky was also grateful he could at least give Natasha updates on how you were doing, given how open you’d been about everything and your halted communication with everyone else. 

Not only were you doing great work with your research, but you were slowly getting your relationship with Bucky back. Having those moments to catch up kept you both so sane.

For instance, on the week of Halloween, you both were talking about costumes and plans, as this was your final Halloween in college.

“I didn’t change my plan for my costume, though,” you said as you highlighted a completed task in your planner. “With everything going on, I didn’t have the time to think of anything else but it’s not like Catwoman was a bad idea to begin with.”

“I guess we’ll still be matching then,” Bucky responded with a chuckle as you looked at him with a surprised face.

“Batman and Catwoman come out on top,” you grinned. “Are you guys even going out this year?”

“Same old party at the sorority house on Kirkland,” Bucky leaned back in his chair. “You going?”

You nodded. “Guess I’ll see you there, Batman.”

And you did. Bucky honestly had to control himself as the sight of you in the hottest Catwoman costume he’d ever seen in his life. Atlas was there, much to Bucky’s dismay, but it didn’t stop him from grinning at you from across the room when the guy wasn’t looking and Sharon wasn’t paying attention. It was a grin you also had no problem in returning before looking away with a face that let Bucky know you were definitely blushing underneath that mask. 

He liked that he still had that effect on you.

More weeks went by and before everyone could process it, it was the week before Thanksgiving. Bucky knew the holidays always made you excited, but your joy was nowhere to be found this go around.

Bucky obviously knew why, with the Friendsgiving tradition you all had coming up, without your attendance. It was bugging him all day to the point that he didn’t even want to go, but he’d never hear the end of it if he bailed. 

3 days before the dinner, Bucky promised Natasha he’d pick up all of the cooking tools and ingredients to take to his place where it’d be happening. He knew she’d only asked him given she and Steve weren’t currently on the best of terms. Bucky usually hated being put in the middle of things, but he let it be for the sake of everything else currently happening in his life.

Bucky and Natasha had also built a much stronger bond in a few weeks than they’d ever had in years of knowing each other, so he tried to see it more as a favor to her instead of her avoidance of Steve.

Natasha wasn’t in her suite, but she let Bucky know the door was open so he wouldn’t have to knock. As soon as he entered, he saw Pietro sitting at the dining table, typing away on his laptop before looking up at him.

“Just the person I wanted to see.”

Bucky chuckled, “Are we gonna talk or is your sister going to banish me again?”

“She’s not here, but she’ll be back soon. What are you doing here anyway?” Pietro lowered his computer screen.

“Picking up some things for Nat then headed to the lab,” Bucky sat across from Pietro. “But I’m in no rush, so tell me everything.”

For the sake of time before Wanda made her way back to her dorm, Pietro kept everything concise. He didn’t hold back, though, telling Bucky about the tape, about him being dragged from the internship fair and his dorm the following night, about you keeping everything to yourself out of fear of putting everyone’s lives in danger. He also mentioned Atlas threatening you with hurting Bucky if you got close to him again, making Bucky realize what you were talking about outside of the hospital.

“There has to be something we can do,” Bucky asserted, his chest aching as the realization sunk about how much you’d been suffering.

“Not yet,” Pietro lifted his computer screen again. “But I have already thought out a plan. It is not going to be easy for you or me at all, but it is the only way.”

Understanding what Pietro meant, Bucky nodded. “I’ll do anything for her, Piet.”

“I know. She won’t like it, but we have no other options. But you absolutely cannot tell her, Barnes.”

Bucky sighed and nodded. Ever since he started working for you, with you, you two were closer than ever. You cracked jokes together, you ate lunch together. You confided in each other about your days, your current stressors. You were best friends again. As much as Bucky wanted to know you weren’t alone, he knew Pietro was right.

Almost as if on cue, Wanda walked through the front door, Natasha right behind her.

“I smell trouble in here,” Wanda spoke up as she set grocery bags down on the kitchen counter. 

“No trouble,” Bucky shook his head and stood up from his seat.. “Was just keeping Pietro company ‘til you came back. I’m gonna take all the things for tomorrow and head out now.”

Natasha eyed Bucky before he whispered to her, ‘I’ll text you’. She nodded in response before helping him grab everything and walking him out to where he was parked outside. Bucky assured her once more that everything would make sense very soon before getting in his car. 

The entire drive to his apartment, the time he spent dropping off the ingredients, then the drive to the research building — he couldn’t take his mind off of you. Bucky, of course, was somewhat relieved that he wasn’t projecting his thoughts about Atlas onto you; but he felt sick to his stomach knowing that you had been suffering for these past few weeks, that you trusted Pietro and not him to know your secret, that you would throw your freedom away to protect him.

Yes, you were protecting yourself as well. You were keeping your job, the work you’d spent so much time and effort on for so long. You weren’t uprooting your research. But there were ways for you to get out of this. He could have helped you, he could have saved you.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to look you in the face and tell you he knew everything. That he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe. But Pietro made it very clear he couldn’t tell you, and he couldn’t go back on his word. Not when it would ruin everything.

So as he sat in his car, mulling over how he was going to play pretend in front of you, Bucky devised a plan of his own. He just needed to get through the next few days.

Once he was calm, Bucky walked into the building, smiling at the receptionist who had told him you had just come in a few minutes ago. With a small ‘thank-you’, he walked to the elevator and headed upstairs.

Once he reached the sixth floor to make his way to the office, Bucky saw the last person he wanted or expected to see.

“Bucky Barnes,” Atlas said with a smug grin. “Been a bit since I’ve seen you, how’s your friend holding up?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I have work to get to. See ya around.”

As he walked past the blonde, Bucky shook his head. He could do so much to him. He could beat the smug look off his face and the ego out of his personality. He could ruin his life. But he wouldn’t.

“You know, the Stark Internship is amazing.”

Stopping in his tracks, Bucky looked at Atlas from his peripheral vision. “What?”

“The Stark Internship that you applied for. I’ve only been there about three weeks after someone dropped out, but it is the best professional experience I’ve had,” Atlas chuckled. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t tell you. Quite a shame you’re missing out, but I can’t say I’d be thrilled working with you.”

And then he was gone. While Bucky was left shell-shocked in the hallway, left to face you. 

Walking into the office, you looked up from your desk, your eyes softening from a more irritated look once you’d realized it was Bucky in the room.

“Bucky, hey,” you said with a half-smile. “You came just in time, I have something to tell you.”

“I saw Atlas outside.”

Making your way in front of your desk which you were standing behind, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I figured, considering he just left. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually.”

“So you did know,” Bucky said softly, the familiar ache in his chest from earlier making a reappearance.

“Knew what?”

“That your boyfriend got the Stark Internship I wanted.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going to tell you—”

“Just because I saw him outside and you knew he’d rub it in my face? Would you have told me if I didn’t see him or would you have kept that from me too?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stared at Bucky in disbelief before letting a scoff out, tears welling up in your eyes immediately.

“Wow.”

“Y/n–”

“I don’t know why I would ever believe that we moved past everything,” you shook your head, going back to your desk. “I found out that Atlas has been working at Stark today. That’s what I was going to tell you as soon as I saw you walk in the door. I didn’t know he was working there or I would’ve told you from the first second he stepped through Stark’s doors, Bucky. And I can’t believe you would stand there and think that I’d do otherwise when we’ve been so… normal.”

Bucky exhaled a deep breath before rubbing a hand over his face, his gaze then fixated on his shoes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he looked up at you as you were trying not to cry, making his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders as you avoided his stare. “I’ve had… a day, filled with information that has been tearing my brain apart but that is no excuse for accusing you of lying to me. I’m sorry, dragă.”

Sniffling, you looked up at him with a soft smile. “It’s okay. Maybe we should get to work, okay?”

Bucky was surprised you even forgave him, watching as you walked back to your desk and sifted through some papers. 

But he didn’t press on the issue. Not even the next day. Or two days after. 

It was the morning of the friendsgiving dinner that Bucky had been more than dreading the whole week. Sharon was talking his ear off about outfit choices as he got ready for the day, having to work then rush back to his place and help prepare for the god forsaken dinner. 

But all he could think about was you and the distance you held between you and him for the past four days.

He couldn’t blame you at all. He overstepped, he lashed out and he couldn’t be upset if you didn’t trust him anymore. After weeks of blind confidence in him, he brought you back to square one. Alone. 

“Bucky, are you even listening to me?” Sharon said with blatant irritation, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts. 

“Sorry,” he said before pulling a sweater on. “I have to head out.”

“Seriously?”

“I have work and then the dinner with everyone and I’m just— I’m sorry, Sharon. I’m stressed. You can stay here and get ready, wear the blue dress.”

Before she could respond, Bucky was rushing out of the door, ignoring everyone swamping his apartment after finishing their responsibilities for the day. 

Anxiety had a way of rearing its head for Bucky at the most inconvenient moments, but this, by far, was one of the worst cases. He was counting his lucky graces that he made it to work in one piece, though his anxiety would only get worse the second he had to work alongside you while you were upset with him.

He caught a bit of a break when the building’s receptionist told him you were running late, though it was so uncharacteristic of you to be late to anything. 

Maybe traffic was shitty. Your route from your new place was different from his. 

Even then, you were always early. Usually an hour or two before your clock-in time. Taking a leap, Bucky texted you.

Bucky: Everything okay? Monica told me you were running a bit late.

No response. Bucky rubbed his eyes, knowing he really didn’t need something to add to his list of anxiety triggers at the moment. Deciding it was best to throw himself into work as a distraction, Bucky kept himself busy for an hour.

He’d worked with you long enough that he knew how you ordered all of your research virtually. Color-coding, organizing all of your results by order of the universities they were coming from, ranking the results in order of responses by question.

This research was huge, a study done through an intense survey of students from some of the biggest and most prestigious universities in the country. Being backed by a company as big as Oscorp among others had colleges falling at your fingertips for a chance to be included. Beyond just wanting to work with you, he was so immersed in your work. The least he could do was advance it a bit more for you as you were running late. 

So he did. And an hour and 20 minutes after Bucky walked into the office, you were outside of the door cursing to yourself as you rummaged through your bag in search of your key to the office. Bucky walked over and opened it for you, leaving you staring at him with your hand frozen in your bag and tears in your eyes.

“The door was open,” Bucky said softly, taking in your frazzled state. “Are you okay?”

Wiping your eyes and smearing your mascara as you rushed inside the office, “I had this stupid lunch with Atlas and his parents and it was awful and all I wanted was to leave but I sat there like the good girlfriend I’m supposed to be and listened to him goad on and on about everything at Stark Industries and then diminish everything I’m researching like he’s—”

“Hey,” Bucky shut the door and pulled you into a hug. He noticed you stopped yourself, about to spill everything to him but for the sake of keeping his and Pietro’s plans, he just held you. “You’re okay, I promise,” Bucky looked down at you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs as you sniffled. “I know how much you hate being late so I started on some work. I got through analyzing about 80 results when you came in, color-coded and organized them how you like, all by each school.”

New tears made their way onto your face, Bucky immediately worried he hurt you though you assured him otherwise. After a few beats, Bucky was taken by surprise as you quickly leaned up and kissed him, letting both of your mouths move against each other with unspoken adoration and love before you pulled away breathless.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back out of Bucky’s grasp, his lips a brighter red now and his cheeks flushed as he looked at you. “I know I hate my ‘boyfriend’,” using your fingers to make air quotes, “but you still have a girlfriend. I’m sorry, I let my emotions kind of take over.”

“I kissed you back, you know,” he said without hesitation.

“Bucky, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He asked as he stepped towards you. “I kissed you back. I kissed you back when you kissed me at that party. I kissed you back now.”

“You still have a girlfriend, Bucky. I just got overwhelmed because nobody’s… cared for me, like that in a while. It’s been so long and I kind of forgot how it felt. But I overstepped and I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t love her,” Bucky admitted. “I have never loved her, I won’t ever love her. Hell, I didn’t even ask her to be my girlfriend.” 

He stepped near you again, back in your personal bubble as he inched his face closer to yours. He caressed your face with one of his hands once more, before leaning down and kissing you again like it replenished the air in his lungs.

Leaning you against the wall, you wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, kissing him back with every ounce of energy you could give as he used his free hand to grip your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist. After a few minutes, you both pulled away, catching your breaths as you stared at each other with longing eyes.

“I don’t think you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that again,” Bucky said as you giggled a bit. “I’d continue but it’s probably not best to christen our place of employment that way.”

“Shut up,” you said playfully, pushing him back softly, keeping your hands on his chest. “I still kind of feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Bucky shook his head, placing his hands on your waist. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, not fully convinced. “I know how long it took for you to move on and I’d hate to ruin that.”

“I promise. I’ve been racking my brain on how to end things with her anyway,” Bucky reassured as he rubbed your waist softly. You nodded without a word, running a hand through his hair, your attention suddenly elsewhere. “Where’d you go, prinţesă?”

“The dinner’s today,” you said softly, still not looking at Bucky. He could hear the melancholy in your tone. “Are you going?”

“Nat might kill me if I don’t,” Bucky joked, which made you smile a bit. “Why do you ask?”

“I wish I could be there.”

Bucky pulled you back against him, kissing your forehead. “Me too.” 

After you and Bucky decided it was best to get back to work, the rest of the day moved swiftly; you and Bucky were back to your normal dynamic once again, though clearly slightly different. 

Bucky was anticipating going through a myriad of situations before he could truly savor your lips on his again. When you kissed him all those weeks ago at that party, it was more solemn—an apology for what was about to come. Though your kiss came out of whatever impulse you had, Bucky had been feeling all those urges too. 

He wasn’t the cheater type at all and, honestly, the thought of it did make him feel like shit. But he didn’t want you to blame yourself for his actions. He wasn’t lying when he said he was trying to break up with her, but something about ending things right before the holidays also made him feel shitty.

As the day moved on, Bucky’s anxiety creeped up on him again. The looming dread of walking into his apartment and having to sit at this dinner pretending like nothing was wrong wasn’t going away anytime soon. Bucky could tell you sensed he was off with the way you were staring at him as he put his jacket on.

“Everything okay?” 

He looked at you and shrugged. “In theory.”

“The dinner will be fine, Buck,” you offered him a smile, somehow knowing how to read his mind as always. 

He felt bad leaving you here at work to attend the dinner you were always excited about. He insisted on grabbing something together, so you at least had enjoyed food with him. However, you warned him of the wrath of the Russian redhead if he showed up to dinner on a full stomach. He couldn’t help but chuckle because he knew you were right. 

You gave him a tight, warm hug before he left. He knew you needed it, even more than he did. He wanted to tell you then and there that he was going to help you, that he’d get you out of the situation you were trapped in. He debated so hard internally, but, once again, he told himself he had to keep his word. 

Once he left the office and made it back to his apartment, Bucky took another moment of silence in his car after parking in his assigned space. A calm before the storm, he convinced himself. After taking a few deep breaths, he got out of the car, locked it, and walked to the entrance. He did his best to quiet his mind as the elevator made it to his floor, as he twisted his keys in the locks, and entered his buzzing apartment.

“It’s about time!” Sam exclaimed from the couch, seated with Steve, Thor, and Pietro in the living room. “We were about to play poker without you.”

“You can go on ahead, I gotta shower,” Bucky said as he shrugged his jacket off. “But when I get back, you’re all getting your asses kicked.”

Smirking at his friends’ complaints as he walked down the hallway, Bucky made his way into his room, seeing Sharon still getting ready.

“Hi,” she said monotonously, sighing when Bucky responded with a ‘hey’ in the same tone. “How was work?”

“Fine,” Bucky responded shortly again, putting his shoes in the closet and grabbing his towel for a shower. As he headed out the door, Sharon stopped him with a question.

“Are you upset with me or something?” Her tone was clearly one of frustration, which Bucky wasn’t in the mood for. “You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

“I’ve had quite a shitty week,” Bucky admitted, knowing it wasn’t too far from the truth. “I just need this dinner to be over with and some time to decompress before we have a talk.”

“A talk? About what?”

“Us,” was all Bucky said before heading to the bathroom. 

He made sure to take an extra long shower, needing a moment to relax before the thing he was dreading all day. He noted Sharon wasn’t in his room when he came out of the bathroom, and he was kind of grateful for it. 

Once he was dressed, Bucky checked his phone as it buzzed, seeing a text from you.

Y/n: hope the dinner goes okay. Still wishing I was there ):

Bucky: Me too. I promise everything will be okay soon.

Y/n: I hope so. 

Y/n: can’t quite stop thinking about earlier.

Bucky knew what you meant, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. It was the only thing on his mind, the taste of having you back was consuming his entire being. 

He had to tell Pietro the plan needed to start. Soon.

Bucky: Me neither. You still at the office?

Y/n: might sleep here if I’m being honest

Bucky: I’ll stop by later tonight.

Y/n: no christening the office

Bucky chuckled at his phone.

Bucky: No promises. See you later.

After putting his phone to charge, Bucky stepped out to the living room. The boys were all outside on the balcony, while Wanda and Nat were in the kitchen. He didn’t see Sharon at first but then she stepped out of the half-bathroom and turned her gaze away from Bucky immediately.

“Bucky, would you mind setting the table? Ask Pietro to help you.” Wanda asked from the opening in the wall to see through to the kitchen.

“Yeah, no problem,” Bucky said as he turned towards the dining area after grabbing the plates, seeing Pietro walk in, assuring Bucky that he had already heard his sister. “I guess twin telepathy is a thing.”

Pietro chuckled. “How is she?”

Bucky waited for Pietro to place the table mat in front of a seat before placing a plate. “She’s alright, but I can tell she’s hurting.”

“I was thinking that we should get a start on the plan soon,” Pietro spoke quietly, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “I would hate for this to drag into the new year.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Bucky grabbed the utensils once all of the plates were set, passing half to Pietro. “This weekend?”

“That would be optimal. There is a party at their house on Saturday.”

“How do I get their attention in just two days?”

“You will,” Pietro reassured. “Trust me. After tonight.”

Deciding not to pry further, Bucky thanked his instincts as Natasha and Wanda walked into the dining room with the food. Bucky and Pietro helped free their hands and placed everything on the table, the girls calling out to everyone else.

Bucky could sense Sharon’s tension as she sat next to him, but he opted to do his best to ignore her. He needed to break things off sooner than later.

Once everyone dived into their food and made conversation, Bucky didn’t say much. He hadn’t even realized how empty his stomach was until he started devouring his plate.

“Slow down, Barnes,” Sam joked from across the table. “I know you hate talking but you still gotta chew before you swallow.”

Bucky shot him a glare before resuming his task at hand.

“I think he isn’t talking for other reasons,” Sharon spoke up, surprising everyone at the table, especially Bucky who now stared at her incredulously. “What? You clearly invited me here as a placemat for your missing traitor.”

“Excuse me?” Natasha said before Bucky could retaliate.

“I don’t know why I’m here when Bucky so obviously wishes Y/n was here instead. That’s why you’re cheating on me with her, right? That’s what your silly little job is? Become her lapdog again?”

Bucky chuckled. “You should stop talking.”

“Why?”

“You should stop talking,” Pietro interjected, Wanda silently urging him not to get involved. “Since we are bringing up accusations, why don’t we speak about you cheating on Bucky?”

If Bucky could get whiplash from how fast he turned his head towards Pietro, he would have. “What are you talking about?”

“I have been holding my tongue for a while,” Pietro started. “But I do not think I can sit by and watch you stay with this woman as she is involved with the man ruining the life of the woman you love.”

Bucky was very much confused 30 seconds ago, but he was even more confused now.

“Pietro, I don’t know what you saw—”

“But you do know what I saw, Sharon,” Pietro interrupted. “You and Atlas outside of the fair, kissing. Plotting against Bucky and Y/n. He and his friends took me forcefully while you warmed up to Bucky like nothing happened. Like you didn’t know why I was injured that night. Like Y/n was the traitor when you have been the parasite this entire time.”

“Pietro, why would you not tell us this?” Wanda asked, in as much disbelief as everyone else at the table. 

Pietro stared at Bucky, though Bucky was racking his brain trying to process what the fuck he just heard.

“Y/n is being blackmailed by her boyfriend. I couldn’t admit anything without jeopardizing her safety. But I’m sure it will be jeopardized now,” Pietro threw a smug look Sharon’s way before calmly turning back to his food.

“Bucky—”

“Get out.” 

Sharon pleaded with him, but Bucky cut her off once more.

“Get the fuck out before I throw you out of here.”

With tears in her eyes, Sharon rushed out of the apartment, Bucky standing up to lock the door behind her before walking back into the dining room.

It was so silent, Bucky once again became self aware of his racing thoughts, needing to break the ice—a rarity for him.

“Is there anything someone wants to say?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rubbing Nat’s shoulder while she was trying to process everything and staring at his best friend. “How do we kill this asshole?”

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day One: Long Distance Surprise @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // AO3

Notes: drabbly and quick (poor edits), most of my energy went into different prompts, haha. But I wanted to write for as many as I could this year!

Warnings: none, ~1k words

.*.*.*.*.

Thinking of You

A chill clung to the air as Aelin stepped from the English Department building.  It was late and cold and all she wanted to do was go home and change into her pajamas and not have any type of responsibility until next week.  Unfortunately for her, she was in Grad School and taking a break didn’t exist in her routine functions. In fact, she probably wouldn't know what a break was until she was graduated with a degree in hand.

Adjusting the strap of her backpack, she took off for the other side of campus.  If she kept a quick pace, she could be safe inside her apartment in under half an hour. She didn’t live too far from the school, something she’d insisted upon when moving to Adarlan.  While she refused student housing, she still wanted to be close for events, classes, and her internship.  Thankfully, she’d gotten all her wishes.  Well, all except one.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she fumbled for it.  She caught it on the third ring, pressing the screen to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Fireheart.” Rowan’s voice was a balm to her soul, washing over her with warmth and affection.

“Hi,” she said again, trying to fight off the emotion that burst in her chest just by hearing his voice.

“Are you back at your house yet?” Rowan asked.

He always called her around this time, knowing it was when she got out of her last workshop of the day and was leaving campus.  He always said it was a coincidence but Aelin suspected he didn’t like her walking alone and in silence.

“No, just left,” she sighed. “Things ran long.”

More words threatened to spill out, but Aelin bit them back.  It wasn’t worth bringing it all out now.  She ducked down a path that cut between the administration offices and south parking lot.  The path was lined with maple trees, their canopies hanging low with gold and yellow leaves.  It would only take another sudden drop in temperature before all the leaves would fall away leaving behind bare and empty branches.

“How was your day?” she asked, hoping to push any attention away from her. “Did you get funding for your project?”

Rowan, over a thousand miles away, had accepted a prestigious job at a museum in Terrasen.  With his degree in Ancient Slavic History and Languages, he was invaluable to his team.  He was working towards his own master’s degree with this internship. Which meant different schools.  It was remarkable what he’d been working on over the last few months.  And even though she missed him more and more each day they were apart, she as insanely proud of him.

“Yeah, I did,” he said.  Aelin could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re going to be able to work on a new display with access to those journals from Germany I was telling you about?”

Aelin couldn’t help her own smile as she listened to him talk about his project.  It always sparked warmth in her chest to hear him talk about his passions.  It was a comfort to, just hearing his voice.

They’d met on their first day of undergrad classes in a biology course.  Despite their names being on opposite ends of the alphabet, they’d been partnered together through the entire semester.  It had gone horribly from day one.  They hadn’t gotten along, in fact, all their lab assignments ended in an argument and a threat from the TA to flunk them both.  Why they weren’t separated, Aelin would never know, but she was grateful for in nonetheless. 

Somehow in the chaos of it all, they’d become friends.  And then more.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s gentle prodded broke her from her revere.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said.

She made it to the main road, streetlamps bright as day.  This side of campus was always well lit, even as it neared ten.

“You sure you’re alright, Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “I know the start of a new semester is hard.”

“Yeah,” she said again, “yeah, I’m fine.”

She tried to lighten her voice and stay upbeat, she didn’t want him to worry.  Rowan already had enough to worry about.

“Aelin.”  Rowan shifted on the other side of the phone and Aelin heard a door shut and what sounded like a beer opening. “I know you.”

Aelin blinked back the tears that started burning behind her eyes.  She would not cry.  She hurried through the courtyard of her apartment complex, cutting a direct line to her apartment.

“Hold on, I’m almost to my door,” she said.  She really just wanted a second to collect herself, especially while on the phone with Rowan.

“Good,” Rowan said, “there should be something waiting for you.”

“What?” 

His words didn’t register until she was hurrying up the stairs that led to her door.  As soon as she reached the landing she found a large box waiting on her welcoming mat.

“What did you do?” she asked.  She unlocked her door, pushing it open so she could toss her bag in. “Hang on, I need two hands.”

After dropping her phone on the couch, she returned back outside to grab the box.  She carried it to the kitchen before returning for her phone.

“Buzzard, what did you do?” Aelin pressed again.  She put the call on speaker so she could open the box a little less chaotically with a pair of scissors.

“I thought you could use a pick-me-up,” Rowan said.

The box wasn’t a simple little thing either.  Aelin started pulling things out—fuzzy socks, candles, bath salts, and chocolate.  So much chocolate.  In fact, most of the box was chocolate.

This time, Aelin couldn’t hold back the tears. Hot tracks rolled down her cheeks as she stared at the items now laid out across her counter.  It had been ages since anyone had done something like this for her since she’d felt loved.

“Ro—” she began.

“I wanted to come down myself but we got the approval—”

“Rowan,” she chuckled, shaking her head as she lifted the phone closer to her mouth. “I know.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the collar of her shirt.  Dealing with emotions had never been her strong suit.  It had taken nearly a year to tell Rowan she loved him for hells sake. 

“I know you won’t listen, but try not to eat all that chocolate tonight, yeah?” he said.

“Ha-ha,” Aelin mocked.  She rolled her eyes and cracked open the hazelnut truffles. “I make no promises.”

Rowan let out a laugh. “Hmm.  You going to tell me how your day really went?”

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

And it didn’t.  because now at least, she could talk to him.  She could listen to him ramble on about whatever new quirk he’d learned in his studies.  She could listen to his steady breathing.  She could simply spend a few minutes with him. 

It wasn’t until she was drifting off to sleep with the phone tucked between her ear and her pillow that they finally disconnected, Aelin whispering a soft I love you and Rowan promising to see her soon.

She hated this routine of theirs but soon…soon they’d be reunited.