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jobean12-blog · 3 days ago

Text

Sunshine

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 6.4K

Summary: It's a beautiful day that turns even more beautiful when you run into the most handsome man you've ever seen...and the grumpiest. Will his good looks be enough for you to stick around and get to know him?

Author's Note: I love a grumpy!Bucky and a reader who just won't give up on him! Kind of sunshine/grumpy trope with enemies/lovers mixed in a little too. This was fun to write and I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 🥰

Warnings: fun, flirty tension, a tiny bit of angst, grumpy!bucky, fluffy sweetness too

Waiting in line at your favorite coffee shop is always worth it and today, after a restless night, you really need the extra boost. Even though you’re behind schedule the stop is a necessity and despite the busy morning rush the line is moving quickly but apparently not fast enough for the person behind you who lets out a loud and frustrated huff.

Trying to be discrete you turn and look out of the corner of your eye.

The sight of him strikes you in a way you’re not prepared for.

Then the barista calls your name. You blink, dazed but thankfully able to recover well enough to give the barista a warm smile and thanks.

As you grab your napkins and gather your things you can’t help but steal glances at the man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, wearing a leather jacket that shows his biceps shaping the fabric, his long legs are clad in well fitted dark denim, and he’s the perfect mix of masculinity and male beauty.

His brooding expression doesn’t falter as he retrieves his drink order, but he does say ‘thank you’ and to your continued surprise, ‘excuse me,’ to whomever he passes.

With one last longing glance you head for the door, walking out into the sunshine and crossing the street to your favorite bench to enjoy your coffee before work.

You’re focused on your phone while you sip slowly so at first you don’t notice the dark shadow looming over you. But the rumbly and gruff voice startles you.

“You’re in my seat.”

You look up, shielding your eyes from the sun to see nothing more than a large shadow.

“What?” you ask, feeling discombobulated.

The shadow shifts and your eyes widen when you see the man from the coffee shop, his glower ferocious despite your now big smile.

“This is your seat?...It’s a whole bench.”

“Yeah…well.”

You look at the open space next to you and offer out a hand. “There’s more than enough room for both of us.”

His eyes narrow but he sits.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” you say brightly.

“I’m here almost every day,” he answers.

You keep your smile in place.

“Well, I’m running late so that must be why I haven’t seen you before.”

“Then why are you sitting on this bench talking to me?” he asks.

You bristle inwardly but your smile doesn’t falter.

“I still have time. I usually get in early, so it won’t be a problem.”

He stares at you, the breeze catching his scent and blowing it your way.

You try not to inhale, focusing on the fact that he’s super grumpy instead of the fact that he’s super hot and smells really good.

“I enjoy sitting out in the sunshine. It helps me feel grounded before I really start the day.”

The words tumble out unprompted but under his narrowed gaze you find yourself feeling less confident than usual.

He just “hmphs” in response and looks away, taking a sip of his drink.

“You say you sit here every day so what’s with all the…” and you motion to him, “grumpy? Is the sunshine not good enough for you?”

He turns your way again, lips pressed together but his eyes flaring with surprise. Before he can respond his phone rings. He looks at the screen with another mild puff of air then swipes his thumb over it.

“Wilson,” he says gruffly.

His voice drops low, and you look down at your phone, trying not to listen. Most of the conversation on his part is a series of grunts and mumbled responses so it’s hard to follow anyway.

After hanging up he stands abruptly and looks down at you, his gaze lingering before he gives you a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement and starts to walk off.

You yell after him, “I hope you find some sunshine!”

He doesn’t turn around but you’re sure you see his steps falter for just a second.

It’s only after you finish your drink that you stand and start the short walk to work, surprised to catch sight of the grumpy stranger across the street at the local VA, squatting down in front of an older man with a dog.

The grumpiness is gone, replaced by a warm smile that crinkles his eyes. All the air goes out of your lungs.

He looks up at that moment, noticing you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk across the street. His smile fades and you drop your head, speed walking away.

It’s Saturday morning and you’re standing outside the bakery, texting your friend to get their donut order. The door opens and you barely have time to register the whiff of familiar scent that floats by you when you look up and lock eyes with Mr. Grumpy himself.

You smile in greeting.

“You,” he answers.

Your grin widens. “Me. What are the chances? Your favorite bench stealer!”

He sighs heavily and glances back at the door to the bakery before pinning you with his stare again.

Now that the sun isn’t shining in your eyes you have a better chance to see the color of his. They’re blue. A gorgeous ocean colored blue framed by long, dark, and thick lashes.

His attention strays down your body and you feel tingles everywhere his eyes touch.

“Here for something sweet?” you ask.

He never gets the chance to answer because a man comes up behind him and grabs his shoulder, giving him a slight shove to move in front and say hi.

“Barnes! Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful friend here?”

You smile warmly.

“Sam. Sam Wilson,” the friend says in introduction.

“Hi Sam!” you greet and give him your name.

“Barnes didn’t tell me he made a new friend,” Sam says.

“Barnes?” you repeat.

You direct your question to Mr. Grumpy whose been standing there silently murdering Sam with his eyes since he appeared.

Sam smiles triumphantly. “This here is James, but his friends call him Bucky.”

“Hi Bucky. Nice to officially meet you!”

Your tone is light and airy, and you wave.

“Hey,” Bucky answers, then turns to Sam. “Let’s go, the guys are looking forward to these donuts.”

“Is he always this grumpy?” you ask Sam.

Silence falls between you all, but it only lasts a moment, broken then by Sam’s loud cackle.

“Oh, I like her already!” Sam says.

Ignoring your comment-and Sam’s-Bucky repeats, “let’s go Wilson!”

Sam returns the favor, ignoring Bucky and focusing on you. “You should come down and visit us at the VA sometime. He’s never grumpy around the guys.”

“So just me then?” you ask with a laugh.

“That’s just because he thinks you’re beautiful,” Sam winks.

You steal a glance at Bucky and note the slight pink color that paints his cheeks.

“It was nice meeting you Sam. And you too Bucky.”

With those last words and a smile, you skirt past them and walk into the bakery. After placing your order you’re shocked to find Bucky standing at the pickup counter, hands in his pockets and shuffling on his feet.

“Miss me already?” you tease.

He doesn’t answer and instead hands you a business card. You take it and look down, reading the information for the VA and Bucky’s name.

“Thanks,” you say, meeting his eyes again and noting the pink still coating his cheeks.

He doesn’t answer but you think you see his lips lift into what might be a small smile before he casually strolls off.

His jeans are molded perfectly to his perfect ass, and you sigh.

“Are you going to go visit him?” Diana asks through a mouthful of donut.

“Nah,” you answer.

Diana’s eyes bug out of her head with a gasp.

“Um you said he was insanely hot. I don’t’ get it. You don’t NOT go visit.”

“You do if he’s a grumpy jerk.”

Diana laughs. “Maybe he needs to eat more of these donuts!”

You roll your eyes. “He had a whole box of them. He was with his friend Sam who was also hot. I should go visit him.”

“Ohhh make Mr. Grumpy jealous. I like it.”

You shove the card into your bag and grab a donut.

“I think we need more donuts for this day,” you retort.

After a long donut filled debate with Diana you decide to make the call to the VA office. To your happy surprise Sam answers.

“Hi Sam,” you say and tell him your name, thrilled he remembers you.

“I was just thinking I’d like to bring some treats down to the office this week. Is there anything in particular I should get?”

You can practically hear Sam’s smile through the phone. He rattles off some orders and then tells you the days and times that would work. When you hang up you feel lighter just knowing you could do something kind.

You’ve never been in the VA building before even though you’ve passed by it many times. The interior is warm and inviting and has a large walnut desk and matching benches nearby.

At the sight of the benches, you laugh to yourself, wondering if Bucky claimed these seats too.

“Hey.”

You barely catch the quiet greeting but look up to see Bucky standing by a doorway. You suddenly feel hyperalert, every inch of your sensitive tingling and awake. You almost forgot how gorgeous he is, his light blue henley fitted around his broad chest and his dark jeans showing off those long and muscular legs.

Your heart flutters as he crosses the hallway, hard expression on his face, before he stares down at the box of donuts.

“You can’t eat them all!”

He gives you a quelling look, though you’re sure you catch a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“I can actually,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone, “but when I’m here I share.”

“What if I want one?” you ask, feeling brave and maybe a little flirtatious.

It takes him a moment to answer as he holds you under his keen regard, sweeping his gaze down your body before it lingers on your lips and finally returns to your eyes.

“Maybe,” he grumbles, then turns on his heel. “Follow me.”

You enter a room with tables and chairs set up and one long counter and cabinets in the back where you see a coffee machine, refrigerator, and small microwave.

“Do you have a favorite?”

His question surprises you and it takes you a minute to realize he’s referring to the donuts.

“OH, yeah definitely. The Bavarian cream is the best!”

“Hm,” he replies.

He doesn’t indulge you with his favorite, so you decide to ask.

“What about you?”

“Glazed,” he says, then adds, “with sprinkles.”

You stare at him for a beat then a laugh bursts out of you.

“I was not expecting the sprinkles!”

You’re too busy laughing to notice his smile.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I visit,” you tell him when you finally catch your breath.

“You want to come back?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

You don’t have a chance to answer because Sam enters the room with a boisterous greeting.

“There you are!” he says. “So glad you stopped by to see us.”

“And I brought donuts!”

“Perfect,” Sam says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You look back at Bucky as Sam leads you out of the room. “Don’t eat any of those!”

Bucky’s scoff is the last thing you hear before you step out into the hallway.

After Sam gives you a tour you meet some of the veterans while you share donuts. It’s wonderful to talk with them and make them laugh and you’re happy you made the visit.

Right before you leave you run into Bucky who’s hovering over the last of the box of donuts.

“Slim pickings huh?” you say as you look into the mostly empty box.

“Yeah,” he huffs with a scowl.

“Lucky for you,” you say and open the cabinet above your head, “I stashed one in here earlier before we gave them out.”

You pull out the paper plate and take the napkin off to reveal a glazed donut with colored sprinkles.

He studies you in such a way that your thighs press tightly together in reaction. His expression is irritatingly unreadable as your eyes meet again.

He shifts as if he’s uncomfortable, an awkward silence hanging between you, before he blurts out, “thanks doll.”

His expression morphs into one of surprise and it matches yours, but you recover quickly enough with a warm smile.

“You’re welcome Bucky. Thanks for having me.”

You’re just getting situated with your book on the couch, rain pelting the window outside, when your phone rings.

Sam’s name lights up the screen and you answer with an excited, “Ghostbusters, whaddya want?”

The silence your met with is unexpected as you were hoping for one of Sam’s bright laughs.

“Tell me that’s not how you answer your phone normally.”

At Bucky’s weary comment your smile falls. “Bucky? I thought it was Sam?”

“You sound disappointed,” he points out.

“Only because you seem bothered by my amazing phone answering skills. I’m sorry that one got lost on you. Sam would have loved it.”

“So, if you knew it was me calling what would have said?” he asks.

“Uh…hello?”

“Uh hello?”

“No…just, hell, ugh! Why are you calling me from Sam’s phone.”

Silence again.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah…I didn’t have your number and wasn’t sure you’d answer if I called from mine so…”

“Ok,” you say. “And now that you have mine just text me and I’ll have yours.”

He’s quiet again before he continues in a rush of words.

“So, we’re having our annual fundraiser gala soon and Sam mentioned that you said you’d like to volunteer more, and we could use some help planning.”

“I’m definitely interested,” you cheer. “When should I come by?”

You get all the information you need from Bucky and then hang up, his conversation stilted when you started getting more excited and telling him that you were looking forward to working with him and helping. He hung up with a mumbled goodbye and never text you to give you his number.

It makes your thoughts of his disinterest solidify and you try to let it go and focus on the good you’ll be doing.

The week moves slowly but when Friday comes around you feel the same lightness from the last time you visited the VA. It gives you renewed energy, and you open the door with a smile, searching for the familiar face of Sam or Bucky.

You don’t see either of them, so you head down the hallway to the small dining room. Sam is at the front by one of the windows. He waves, pointing to his phone to signal he’ll be right off, and Bucky is at the counter.

He turns to face you, and you walk over.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hiya doll,” he answers.

Confusion washes over you at his sweet endearment, but you push it down and focus on what he’s holding.

“More donuts!” you exclaim.

“We always have them,” he says lightly. “I got you a Bavarian.”

At your silence you feel his eyes on you, and you drag them away from the perfectly powdered and filled deliciousness in the box.

“Why didn’t you text me?” you ask without thinking.

“What?” he says, his brow furrowed.

“You never text me to give me your number.”

His attention never leaves you, his gaze drifting from your head down to your feet. When he reaches your face again he stares and pulls his phone from his back pocket.

“Can I have your number?” he asks quietly.

“Sure,” you say and take his phone to program it in.

“Thanks,” he says.

“And thank you for my donut,” you finally say. “That was really thoughtful.”

He nods and grabs a glazed before motioning for you to follow him. The rest of the day is spent pouring over invites and food orders as well as any little detail that needs to be squared away before the event.

Most of the time it’s you, Sam and Bucky seated at a table, but Sam leaves occasionally to take a phone call or manage something in the office.

During the down time you learn more about Bucky, asking questions and mostly getting abridged but not unfriendly answers. He seems genuinely interested in what you have to say and that, again, confuses you more as to his intentions-if he has any at all.

Once the sun has set and you’re worn out you help them clean up then gather your things.

“How are you getting home?” Sam asks as you walk together to the door.

“I think I’m gonna walk,” you tell him.

Bucky makes a sound of disapproval behind you.

“What?” you turn and ask.

“It’s late,” he states.

“And?” you answer.

“It’s not safe.”

“I appreciate your concern but after sitting most of the afternoon I want to walk.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

At Bucky’s statement both you and Sam give him a wide-eyed look.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell Bucky.

“Nah, he’s right,” Sam chimes in. “He should go with you. I would offer but I’m in the opposite direction.”

Sam tries to hide his smirk, but it’s written all over his face, so you just smile and accept Bucky’s kind and gentlemanly offer.

“Just gimme a sec. I want to grab something from my bike.”

“Bike?” you murmur as you track his movement toward a sleek black motorcycle parked at the curb.

Holy shit.

He doesn’t say a word as he walks back toward you.

“I didn’t know you had a motorcycle,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says while running a hand through his hair. “You know…easier in the city.”

“Smart and badass. It’s beautiful.”

That’s when he smiles at you, a real smile, for the very first time.

You nearly swoon.

“Yeah?” He looks boyishly pleased about your reaction.

You nod and give the bike one last look before you fall into step beside him. You chat about everything from the upcoming event to how he met Sam and even find out more about his motorcycle. He’s more open and comfortable and indulges you with more details about anything you ask.

As you pass by a bar a large crowd of young people come out, clearly drunk and rowdy as they sway and swerve as a mass toward you.

Bucky links your fingers together and deftly slides you out of harms way. Your skin tingles, little sparks of feeling shooting up your arm and it’s all you can concentrate on until the group passes by and continues down the street in a clamor.

“They seem like they’re having fun,” you giggle. “Thanks for the save there.”

The corner of his mouth starts to tilt upward and then he remembers he has a hold on your hand and his eyes drop and widen and he quickly let’s go, clearing his throat and mumbling, “no problem.”

“Did you ever go out like that and get wild?” you ask after a beat, hoping to lighten the mood again.

“Who me?” he asks and blows a raspberry. “Nah. I’m not really into big crowds much.”

“Then you should really enjoy the gala next week,” you say wryly.

“Right?” he answers. “If it weren’t for such a good cause and important to me, I’d skip it all together and stay behind the scenes.”

“Well at least you’ll have Sam!” you say in support.

“Actually…he’s usually caught up in everything since I leave all the talking and canoodling to him.”

“Canoodling,” you repeat and cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I can’t imagine you not wanting to canoodle.”

Your delivery drips with sarcasm, and he throws you another killer smile.

He has the sexiest smile ever. Of course he does. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t smile a lot, because of its killer effect? Or is he really just Mr. Grumpy? One or the other.

When you reach your apartment you walk toward the double doors, thanking him for walking you home. Searching for your keys in your bag you end up dropping your phone, bending to pick it up at the same time Bucky does.

You bump heads and he immediately apologizes and rests his hand gently on your forehead.

“You ok?” he asks, rubbing his thumb soothingly.

“Yeah,” you say, slightly breathless.

His gaze drops to your lips and lingers before coming back to your eyes.

“Hey um…” he starts, those beautiful blue eyes studying you, sweeping over your features, as if tallying every little detail he finds.

“Yeah?” you ask, giving him a sweet and reassuring smile.

“Uh, thanks, for the help today. I’ll see you soon.”

You deflate at his quick departure; telling him it was “your pleasure and you’ll see him later.”

You’re not even to your apartment door when your phone chimes. You retrieve it from your pocket and see Bucky’s name on the screen.

You open the text and nearly drop your phone again.

'Do you want to be my date to the fund raiser?'

Like sunshine bursting through a cloud, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, a fluttery warning that you’re way in over your head.

“What are you going to wear?” Diana asks as you stand in front of your closet.

“I have no idea!” you sigh. “I asked for a dress code, and he said ‘formal’…and that’s it. Then I asked what he was wearing, and he said, ‘a tux.’”

“Not very chatty, is he?” she mutters.

You shrug at stare at your closet that has nothing appropriate in it.

“Looks like we’re going shopping,” Diana says as she jumps off the bed and grabs her bag. “Come on, we’re gonna find you something that will knock his socks off.”

Bucky picks you up in a town car, and you smile graciously as he opens the door for you, your internal nerves wild as you wait for his reaction to your appearance.

Unfortunately, his reaction isn’t worth the nerves because he stares blankly at you before giving you an abrupt nod of greeting.

All the while you try not to drool over him in a tux.

When you arrive inside you can’t hide your beaming smile. It looks beautiful. All the details having come together perfectly to create an elegant yet comfortable atmosphere.

“You’re really doing wonderful work here,” you tell Bucky.

He holds out his arm for you and smiles. “Thanks doll.”

“You’re here!”

You turn at the familiar voice. Sam hurries over and takes you in.

“Wow,” he says, raising his brows. “Lucky man Barnes.”

He claps Bucky on the shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be around if you need me.”

Bucky places his hand on your lower back and leads you across the room to the table. Your breath catches at the sensation of his hand on your bare skin, but you try to shake it off.

His hand presses deeper into your back, and you follow his guide. People greet him and he says hello, but he doesn’t stop to chat.

“Shouldn’t you be taking the time to talk with these people?” you ask.

“Probably,” he says as he pulls out your chair.

You snort because he sounds like he couldn’t care less.

You’re the first people at the table and you stare at the fancy centerpiece.

“It really does look amazing in here.”

Bucky glances over it all, bemused.

“It does. I guess it’s necessary.”

“What do you mean,” you ask.

“I come to these events for Sam and the veterans. I want to raise money and help but if it were up to me it would all be quiet and low key. This kind of socializing isn’t my first choice.”

Turning to study his handsome face, you smile. “Is any kind of socializing your choice?”

He throws you a dark but amused look. “You’re funny”

You hold back more laughter and touch his knee, giving it a soft squeeze. His eyes meet yours and you swallow around the sudden sensation of your racing heart.

Needing to break the intense eye contact, you turn to observe the room, noting that more people are heading to their tables.

You spot Sam talking to a lovely woman and you feel Bucky’s smile.

“Sam likes her,” Bucky says quietly.

“Who is she?” you ask in a whisper.

He leans into you, his breath tickling your cheek as he murmurs, “the daughter of one of our veterans. They’ve met a few times, and I can tell he’s totally taken with her.”

You turn your head slightly, bringing your faces just inches apart. “She’s lovely. I’m sure she likes him too.”

His attention moves from Sam to you, and his eyes narrow as he realizes how close you are. But he doesn’t move back. Instead, he searches your eyes.

Your heartbeat skips and you’re almost afraid to breathe.

Needing to break the tension once again, you wrench your gaze away and find Sam shooting you a quick glance.

“I have the sudden urge to run over there and embarrass him,” you say with a devious smile.

Bucky’s answer is to move away but only because he throws his head back in laughter.

“I’d pay to see that,” he replies, mischief dancing in his eyes.

Before long, your table is filled, and Bucky introduces you to the people he knows. The older couple sitting nearest to you is just smitten with both you and Bucky, peppering you with questions and hanging on your every word.

They tell you their life story too, how they found each other and fell in love and have been together ever since. It warms you and you give his thigh another squeeze under the table.

He places his hand over yours and brushes his thumb across your knuckles.

The food comes and you turn his way, lightly tugging on your hand.

“I need that to eat,” you giggle.

“Oh, right,” he says with one more sweep of his thumb before he releases you with a soft expression.

The food is delicious, and you find yourself smiling between every bite.

“You two look like you’re having a good time.”

Bucky stiffens next to you, and you wait for his move before following his gaze to the older woman standing behind you.

“Don’t you look handsome as always James,” she comments then flits her eyes to you but doesn’t say anything more.

Bucky smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mrs. Whitman. How are you?”

“Fine, just fine. Now I need to steal you away for a moment.”

Bucky’s eyes lift over Mrs. Whitman’s shoulder and his lips turn down in a frown.

“I can’t, sorry Mrs. Whitman. I’m here with someone.”

He looks at you and smiles.

Mrs. Whitman sighs, clearly annoyed.

“You can’t spare just a moment?” she pleads, trying to appear genuine.

“Sorry,” Bucky says as kindly as he can.

Without a goodbye she huffs off and you wait until she’s far enough away before looking at Bucky. His frown melts away as your gazes lock.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Her husband was a veteran, and he recently passed. She’s been trying to set me up with her daughter since, but I’m not interested.”

“I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble,” you tell him.

“No. Not at all doll. She can be rude sometimes, but I think she’s just struggling with grief and doesn’t know what to do with herself. I feel bad, but like I said. I’m really not interested.”

You smile reassuringly then excuse yourself to the bathroom, needing a little air. When you return, you see Bucky hasn’t moved from his seat and his gaze is zeroed in on the hallway to the bathroom.

As you cross the room toward him, his eyes drift down your body. His gaze lingers on your bare shoulders and the sway of your hips and by the time you reach the table, you need another restroom break to cool off.

He doesn’t move out of the way, so you have to brush up against him to sit back down. When your eyes meet, his are heated. You stare at each other, the music and chatter around you fading away.

The lovely old woman next to you breaks you out the haze when she asks where the restroom is. You point her in the right direction, telling her you’ll happily escort her, but she refuses kindly and slowly makes her way through the crowd.

Once she’s safely down the hallway, you look away and find yourself staring at Bucky. His face is close.

Too close.

Or maybe just close enough depending on how you look at it.

His eyes search yours and you ignore the rushing in your ears as you close the distance between you and gently brush your lips over his.

Your mouth tingles from the brief touch as you pull away.

He scowls hard at your mouth, but you’re not sure if it’s because you kissed him or because you barely kissed him.

“What…?” he starts to ask roughly, but a loud banging at the front of the room, startles you and pulls your attention away.

Sam stands at a small podium, a smile on his face as he greets everyone.

Nice timing Sam.

��How’s work today?’

You smile at you phone and Bucky’s name on the screen.

‘It’s going…’ you type back. ‘How about you? I know you said your day was going to be busy.’

‘Up and down. We made some really good progress with one of our veterans today, but we lost one of our oldest members to cancer.’

‘Oh Bucky. I’m sorry it’s been a tough day. Do you need anything? I can come by on my lunch break.’

‘Thank you doll, I appreciate it. But it’s unfortunately something I’ve gotten used to. Comes with the territory.’

‘I’m here if you need anything.’

‘Thanks.’

You’re just clearing your desk at the end of the day when your phone rings. You smile at the sight of Bucky’s name, and you’re not surprised considering you’d received a text to inform you that your delivery had been successfully made.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hey.” His voice is low, a little hoarse. He clears his throat. “You sent me donuts.’

You grin at how confused he sounds. “I did and cookies.”

In fact, you sent him a dozen glazed- with sprinkles of course- donuts and a box full of assorted cookies from your usual favorite bakery.

“I wanted you to have a little treat after a long day. I know you might be used to it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard on you.”

He’s quiet so long you have a horrible feeling that you may have crossed a line. But then he speaks.

“Thank you doll. I really appreciate it.”

You smile and try to quell the butterflies dancing around your stomach. “You’re welcome!”

“I’ve never had so many glazed donuts to myself!” There’s a teasing tone to his confession.

“But you have to share the cookies!” you tell him, trying to sound stern.

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” he laughs. “But really, thank you.”

“It was nothing,” you say trying to shake off the giddy feeling he’s giving you with a shrug he can’t see.

His voice is gravelly when he promises, “it’s not nothing to me.”

You teeter on your feet. “Well, I’m glad it cheered you up a little. I’m just heading out of work so…”

“So, I’ll let you go.”

Did you hear a smile in his voice?

“I’ll see you this weekend for Sam’s BBQ?”

“Yes! Looking forward to it,” you say.

“Great doll, see you then and I am too.”

With that, he hangs up and you stand at your desk and try to slow the rapid beating of your heart.

Bucky picks you up on his bike and you’re barely ashamed at how excited you are to ride with him.

He revs the engine when he pulls up at the curb where you’re standing and settles the bike with his leg on the sidewalk.

“No helmet?” you ask with a wave.

He sucks in a breath and his eyes are glued to your legs.

“Wrong outfit?” you say as you track his gaze. “I can go…”

“Nope,” he says quickly.

He hops off the bike and offers a hand to help you get on, squeezing his eyes closed when you get close to him and your shoulder brushes against his chest.

“Are you ok?” you ask him, looking up into his blue eyes.

“Yep. All good,” he says, voice strained.

You narrow your eyes at his sharp tone but take his offered hand and help onto the bike. Once you’re wrapped around him and pressed to his back you lean up and say, “what’s going on? You seem grumpy today?”

“Nothing,” he replies before revving the engine and pulling away from the curb.

It doesn’t take long to get to Sam’s and when you arrive Bucky parks his bike and hops off lithely and you wait for him to offer his hand to help you off.

To your surprise he takes you by the waist and lifts you off the bike in one easy movement. Your body is plastered to his as your feet slide to the ground.

You shiver at the contact.

“You cold?” He frowns at you.

“Nope,” you answer, looking away and straightening the bottom of your dress.

Over his shoulder you see Sam walking your way.

“There you two are!” he yells.

You wave and smile.

“You look gorgeous as always,” Sam says.

Sam leads the way to the backyard and Bucky places a hand at your lower back. Your brain fritzes and it’s all you can think about as you walk through the yard saying hello to people as you pass.

When you reach Sarah, Sam’s sister, you greet her with a warm hello, having met her once before at the VA. Bucky joins in the conversation, his fingers still warmly pressed into your skin when he starts to draw little circles on your lower back.

You suck in a breath and trip over your words and then he splays his palm and slides it around to your hip, drawing you into his side.

Your heart stops.

Sarah doesn’t seem to notice or if she does she doesn’t make it known and when Sam calls for her help she rushes off with a promise to come back and chat after.

“You seem to be in a better mood now that we’re here,” you say as you turn your eyes to Bucky.

His eyebrows draw in. “I…you look gorgeous.”

Your lips part and your mouth falls open.

“You always do. You did at the fund raiser. You do today. It’s just…I’m not good at…”

He trails off, his words dying on his lips and his cheeks turning your favorite shade of pink.

His words fill you with relief and you swear that it’s the lingering heat of that barely there kiss from the gala that you can’t seem to forget because the next thing you know you’re grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling his lips down to yours.

You intend it to be a quick kiss, but he brings one of his hands to the back of your neck and the other presses deep into your back as he takes over. Your small gasp turns into a moan, and it ignites him. He deepens the kiss, hungry and desperate and it sets every inch of you on fire.

“Uh, there are children present.”

Sam’s voice cuts through the moment like a bucket of cold water and you move back. Bucky’s hand flexes at the back of your neck as if to stop you from moving away from him. You breathe hard and state at each other.

Best. Kiss. Of. Your. Life.

Bucky appears dazed enough for you to believe maybe it was for him too.

The party around you comes back to life and Sam’s broad smile fills your vision. He claps Bucky hard on the back. “I knew ya had it you Barnes!”

Sam saunters off with some extra pep to his step and you watch him walk back into the house. Bucky’s fingers close around yours and he tugs you away from the crowd.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer but just holds tightly to your hand until you reach a small garden enclosed by a low white fence. At the back there’s a wrought iron bench just big enough for two.

“This is so pretty,” you whisper as he walks you through the garden.

When you reach the bench he turns your way.

“You’re really going to share the bench with me?” you ask playfully.

His answer is to lift his hand to cup your jaw, his eyes dropping to your mouth. You hold your breath as he leans in. The first contact he makes is just a brush of his lips over yours. The briefest sweep.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass that first day we met,” he whispers against your lips. “I was having a rough day but it’s no excuse.”

“It’s ok,” you breathe out. “I forgive you.”

He does it again. Sweeps his lips along yours and you hear the quietest moan escape his throat as he leans in closer, pressing his soft, strong mouth to yours and taking your top lip between his.

With a smile forming against your mouth, he tilts his head and kisses you with a heat that rivals the one only minutes ago. His free hand slides around your waist and smooths along the curve of your spine, dragging you up against his body.

Without an audience he kisses you long enough to have you pulling back for need of air.

“Bucky,” you whisper, grabbing his biceps for support.

“I really am sorry,” he murmurs.

“You’re good at that.”

“At what?” he asks, distracted by your mouth again.

“Kissing.”

He hums. “That’s only because I’m kissing you. And I plan to keep kissing you. For as long as you’ll let me.”

“Forever sounds good,” you whisper at the feel of his lips hovering over yours.

“Won’t be long enough but it’s a start doll.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #grumpy and sunshine #enemies to lovers

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gf2bellamy · 3 days ago

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I just want to say that I love all of your fics! They are so sweet and cute and 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Can I please request reader meeting Penelope at like a pottery club or art class or cafe or something and the two of them hit it off and become really good friends and reader mentions that her boyfriend is coming to pick her up and just gushes about how sweet he is and how much she loves him. And then Spencer shows up and Penelope is like “oh my god!!!”

coffee — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: absolutely loved this idea tysm for ur request ! <3

You took the last sip of your coffee, laughing loudly at the story Penelope had just told you.

“I cannot believe you actually said that,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief, still grinning.

Penelope simply shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Someone had to say it,” she quipped, smirking as she took another sip of her now nearly empty cup.

You had met Penelope purely by accident—a mix-up at the coffee shop when the barista had mistakenly switched your orders. You could have just exchanged cups and gone on with your day, but somehow, the two of you ended up talking. And talking.

One thing led to another, and suddenly, you were sitting together at the same table like old friends.

Now, as you noticed her cup was empty too, you felt reluctant to let the moment end.

“We should do this again,” you said, tilting your head at her.

Penelope’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes. Yes. Most definitely yes,” she nodded enthusiastically, already reaching across the table for your phone before you could even offer it.

“I’m going out tonight with some friends from work,” she explained as she tapped her number into your contacts. “They’re wonderful people, and we’d have so much fun. You should totally come with.”

She handed your phone back, her enthusiasm contagious. You smiled, appreciating the offer, but you shook your head apologetically as you glanced at your screen.

“Can’t,” you said. “My boyfriend’s picking me up and we're grabbing dinner together.”

At that, Penelope’s brows arched with intrigue. “Boyfriend?” she echoed, her smirk returning.

You nodded, feeling warmth creep into your cheeks. “Yeah.”

Her grin widened as she leaned in slightly. “And? Tell me about this mystery man.”

You laughed softly at her curiosity, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well… he’s kind of the sweetest person I know,” you admitted, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Like, the kind of person who remembers all the little things—my favorite snacks, the way I take my coffee, even the books I say I want to read but never get around to.”

Penelope let out a dreamy sigh. “Okay, I love this already. Keep going.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s ridiculously smart, but he doesn’t act like he knows everything. He’s just… thoughtful, in a way that sneaks up on you.” You glanced at your phone again, checking the time. “Like, this morning, he woke me up with pancakes. He burned the edges a little, but he still insisted on making them.”

Penelope gasped dramatically. “Okay, I’m officially obsessed with him. He sounds like a dream.”

You laughed, nodding. “He really is.”

Before Penelope could press for more details, your phone buzzed in your hand. You glanced down at the screen, your heart skipping a beat at the name flashing across it. “That’s him,” you said with a grin, slipping your phone into your pocket.

Penelope’s smirk grew as she crossed her arms. “Well, now I have to meet this perfect man of yours.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Yeah,” you admitted, checking the time. “He should be outside right about now.”

And with that, the two of you stood up, walking out of the coffee shop together.

There he was—Spencer—standing just outside with his back to you, hands casually tucked into his pockets. The familiar sight of him sent a warm flutter through your chest.

“Spencer,” you called softly, excitement bubbling in your voice as you walked toward him, a wide smile spreading across your face.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his own smile instinctive—warm, genuine. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, his expression faltered. His shoulders stiffened, his smile slipping away.

Your steps slowed. “What?” you asked, brow furrowing, your arms—once ready to wrap around him—now hanging uselessly at your sides.

His gaze wasn’t on you. It was locked onto Penelope.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, and the atmosphere shifted dramatically. Spencer wore a shocked and worried expression, while Penelope’s face was a mask of smug satisfaction.

“Uh…” you said, glancing back and forth between them, trying to decipher the sudden tension. “Spencer, this is Penelope. I met her at the coffee shop today. And Penelope, this is Spencer, my boyfriend.” You lightly touched his arm, hoping to draw his attention back to you.

And then—

“Oh my god,” Penelope suddenly squealed, her eyes practically glowing with excitement.

You turned to her, utterly bewildered.

“Spencer Reid,” she announced dramatically, planting her hands on her hips. “How dare you hide this from me?”

Spencer, whose face had somehow turned even redder, mumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Penelope, however, was having none of it. She spun toward you, pointing at him. “This?! This is your boyfriend?”

“…Yes?” you said slowly, the confusion growing.

She gasped, clutching her chest as if she had just heard the most scandalous news. “The Spencer Reid you’ve been gushing about? The one who makes you pancakes and remembers every single detail about you ?”

Your mouth opened slightly as realization dawned. “Wait. You know Spencer?”

“Oh, honey.” Penelope let out an exaggerated sigh. “Know him? I work with him. He is my Spencer.”

You blinked. “Your Spencer?”

Spencer finally let out a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Garcia…”

“Reid,” she shot back with a gleeful grin.

You took a step back, looking between them, still processing. “Wait, you’re Garcia?”

Penelope gasped again, looking mock-offended. “He didn’t tell you my name? I thought we were friends now!”

Spencer rubbed his temple. “I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think?” she interrupted, feigning shock. “Did you not think I would love her?”

He sighed, defeated.

You, meanwhile, had fully shifted from confusion to amusement, the situation far funnier now that you understood. “In his defense, I only knew you as ‘Garcia.’”

“Well, that changes now!” Penelope declared, looping her arm through yours as if you had been best friends for years. “Come on, we have so much to talk about.”

Spencer sighed again, but there was a small, fond smile pulling at his lips as he watched you two.

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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kissylec · 1 day ago

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LOVE YOU GOODBYE — rafe cameron, 18

pairing . . . rafe cameron x pogue!reader in which . . . being a secret is hard, and even more when prince kook himself is the one hiding you. a bittersweet wheel of emotions comes to you when you decide to put an end to a situationship that is hurting you, not taking into account how difficult it would be to get away from the oldest of the cameron siblings. ch warning .ᐟ . . . curse words, jealousy

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

LOVE YOU GOODBYE. — 17 . 18 . 19

kissylec says . . . im feeling a little silly guys 😛😃🤩🤩🥰🥰😃😍😛🤪😍

taglist . . . @lil-sparklqueen @pillowprincess4him @ihydeja @drewstarkeyslover @angelicameron @stylestarkey @frankoceanluvr11 @thepopcultureaddict @luvrclub @wtfisastiles @faephoria @maybankslover @yktayy9669 @bucksbvck @bee-43 @drewrry @harryzcherry @bsenpai @dreamybabbyy @ggyuslovie @magicalflowerstranger @wintercrows @rafeysbabydoll @starsval @maddiebaddie1 @mrsdrewstarkeyy @giouvarlakia @jjmaybankmylovee @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not @sleepiibunniiii @lolasangelz @bananaminn @glitterandviolence13 @scream4mami @delayeddrabbles @niaunffical @ijustwanttoreadlols @ethanthequeefqueen @emmiesummers @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @vanessa-rafesgirl @kaiparkerwifes @enchante-starkey @drewsdirtyslut @hannieskzzz @dontknow3m @rafesdrew

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sometimesanalice · 1 day ago

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Viv, you gem!! 🥰🥰 oh it makes me so happy that you enjoyed this fic! The flirting and the banter definitely got away from me on this one, but I’m a maximalist so more is more, hahahaha!

More for you!

Ohhhhh this was so sweet and such a perfect Valentine's Day fic! I'm obsessed��

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life. - unfortunately i have had many a nightmare about this exact scenario— literally a girliepops(gn) worst nightmare! I loved the idea of having her kind of throwing caution to the wind and having it backfire so totally and completely (at least in the beginning), lol. I tried to fold in things where it showed that she was usually a planner and would check things out in advance (like her internal debate about what to order from the bar). But truly a worst case scenario for poor miss ma’am.

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.” - a valid choice if I do say so myself — like he is truly The Mustache Man™️

Oh. - OH— nothing hits quite like an italicized oh!

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?” - He's so forward I'm obsessed— that man is all gas and no brake! I liked him being a bit full on considering how out of place she was feeling to not only make her feel comfortable, but show her just how genuinely interested he was in her.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?” - only calling Jake Malibu Ken from now on thank you sm— she was so cheeky for that! It’s as he deserves too for being an all around general nuisance. He’s totally a Leo and I stand by that lmao

The second thing he does is pull out a chair for you. Not with a fanfare, not with a flourish. But like it’s something that’s innately ingrained in him. You get the sense that the gentleman thing isn’t an act with him, it’s who he is. - thank you carole bradshaw 😇— there was no way she wasn’t making sure he was raised right! I loved this bit in particular because he’s been pulling out the moves with her, but this one isn’t. It’s just the type of person he is. Being a gentleman isn’t a move for him, so it makes it all that much more 🫠

The scrape of his mustache against your upper lip sends electricity racing along every nerve ending in your body. In that moment you are Midas touched, the blood thrumming through your veins feels like liquid gold. It’s unhurried, like he’s been waiting to savor the feel of your mouth against his. Exciting and new as you learn the taste and touch of him. You knew it was going to be good, but even so, it’s better than you could have expected. - i love love love this paragraph it's so descriptive and warm and fuzzy and ahhhhhh— first kisses are always so much pressure to write, but there’s just so much fun to be had trying to capture all those feelings in the moment! But also, I just know that that kiss had been on his mind from the moment she’d ranked him second mustache, and was waiting for the right time to convince her to pop him up into that top spot 🤭 she just beat him too it 🥰

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps. - after that date I would also be giving the title to bradley— the right mustache on the right man!! Lolol, there was no way that man was resting until he claimed that #1 title, lol

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 - thank god hahahaha— THAT MAN VOTES BLUE! A LIBERAL AND A FEMINIST! Any other answer and she would have blocked his ass so fast, amazing date or not.

Not now that you’ve met him. - SWOONING this was so so cute— love is in the air! 🥰 I liked the hope and potential of it all!

and the fact he downloaded the app just to message her?? 😭😭 (this was a last minute idea that popped in my head, and I’m so glad I went with it because how swoon worthy is that?! Like he was ready to dunk on the guy who stood her up, but also he was definitely curious about which app she was on. I liked him going that extra step to show her just how serious he was, in case there was any lingering doubts about the pity date of it all. A man of many moves!)

For the Plot

Summary: Things aren't looking too good for you, sitting alone at the Hard Deck waiting for a man who might not show. Until Bradley Bradshaw sits down across from you and turns your entire night upside down.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Length: 7.7k

Warnings: fluff, so much flirting, and an italicized oh

Going on a first date on Valentine’s Day is unarguably the worst possible idea that anyone has ever had.And while the sure to be terrible, no good, horribly bad idea hadn’t been yours, you weren’t entirely sure what you were thinking when you’d even agreed to it in the first place.

The guy you were planning to meet tonight was cute enough, even if you were still undecided about the mustache. And while the chats between the two of you had been pretty good as far as it goes getting to know a literal stranger, you were hopeful that it could be even better in person. The fact he was in the Navy was still a bit of a consideration for you, but not a deal breaker.

In retrospect, the name of the bar should have been your first clue and the location paired with the causal beachy exterior covered in planes should have been the second.

You had been expecting to see more than one girl all done up in pinks and reds tonight, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. And you swear to god, somewhere you hear a record scratch as you step into the Hard Deck, because you are surrounded by nothing but a sea of olive green and khaki and denim.

And you have never been so clearly out of place in your entire life.

There was nothing about your ensemble that was even remotely fitting for the literal Navy bar you’d found yourself in.

The ice pink mini slip dress you’d dug out of your closet was admittedly a little much for a first date, but since it was Valentine’s Day you figured why not lean into it a bit. And well, if your date didn’t appreciate it, then that was a him problem.

Or so you’d thought at the time, because now it was a decidedly you problem.

The silhouette was simple enough, with the gentle drape of the cowl neck and the barely-there spaghetti straps, but the shiny sheen of the fabric made a statement of its own. It wasn’t something you got to wear very often for as much as you loved it.

But then you’d gone ahead and paired it with the tallest, most ostentation heels you had. The effort had been worth it though because the pearl encrusted block heels made your legs look like they went on for days. Even if it had been a feat trying to get the dainty buckle done with the way you’d been rushing out of the house with your beaded bag in tow.

The whole look was something you’d sure would come with Cher Horowitz’s seal of approval. However, the patrons of the Hard Deck you were less sure about. And even though there were civilians- like yourself- scattered about the bar, none were anywhere near as dressed up as you.

There are more than a few pairs of eyes on you as you stand there with your feet glued to the uneven wooden floors, as the door with its porthole-shaped window slowly closes behind you with a squeaky creak. The twinkle lights above your head felt more like a spotlight, illuminating how out of place you are in this moment.

Your hand is still clutched on the handle unsure whether you’re going to make a run for it or not. You are more than a little tempted to hightail it back to the parking lot and text your date to claim a bout of food poisoning from the safety of the driver’s seat in your car.

But chances are if your date is here then he has already seen you. A bright beacon of pink amongst varying shades of brown and woodgrain.

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, trying not to panic. Officially a victim of your own bad decision making.

You take a quick scan of the room, trying to decide what your next move should be. There’s a woman behind the bar with kind but clearly inquisitive eyes. A blonde with a wolfish smile eyes you from where he stands next to a man with broad shoulders bent over what must be the pool table, hidden behind the paneled half wall. By a dart board, there are a couple men with their heads turned towards you, the game seemingly forgotten as they discuss the spectacle that is you.

There are hundreds of planes dangling over the bar, patches and plaques littering the walls and rafters, rounders suspended from the ceiling laden with too many ceramic mugs to count. It was all done with a heavy-handed, maximalistic approach that you’d take a moment to appreciate under any other given circumstances.

When you spot an open table tucked away in the corner of the room it feels like life raft to the iceberg of a situation you’ve put yourself in. Mindful of the scuffed, uneven floors- because the last thing you need is to eat shit or twist an ankle in front of room full of curious onlookers- you hustle over to the spot in hopes of having a moment to regroup.

Once you’re situated- shrugging off the ivory cardigan you’d topped your outfit, trying to keep the nervous sweat that wanted to break out over your body at bay- you pull out your phone and check the time only to realize you’re devastatingly on time. Five minutes early, to be specific.

So you wait.

And check your phone again and the notifications in the dating app, just in case you missed something.

And wait.

You try to play it cool, skimming posts on Instagram and replying to some overdue texts. Finding anything you can to keep yourself occupied to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach the longer you sit there. Alone.

Now you’re not just simply embarrassed, you’re mortified.

You can still feel the eyes, the energy steadily shifting from curiosity to sympathy over the last thirty minutes you’ve been waiting all alone in the corner of a Navy bar you had no business being in for a man who clearly wasn’t going to show.

So much for doing it for the plot, you think to yourself with a shake of your head.

Another minute ticks by with no message and you decide you’re more than ready to hightail it out of there. Fully aware that you’re about to become a topic of conversation that won’t have to be restricted to only covert glances and muffled whispers. But hopefully, they’ll at least wait until the door closes behind you before the chatter starts up for real.

With a sigh, you reach for your beaded bag, just as a large body slips into the chair across from you, with an ease that is in contrast to the bulk of muscles you catch in your peripheral vision.

“You look like you’re in need of a date,” a warm, raspy voice offers.

It’s the smile that you catch first. Not quite a grin, but something familiar and friendly and charming in the way it crookedly pulled to the left. Followed closely by the rich chocolate brown eyes that were squarely trained on you with a look that was just as earnest as it was playful. But what surprised you the most was the way he was sitting in the stool across from you just as comfortably as if he was supposed to be there all along.

There was no way you could have prepared yourself for the sheer level of attractiveness of this man.

He was in a league of his own with those curls and wide shoulders. The white and olive green stripped crochet shirt he was wearing didn’t hurt either, especially the way the top buttons were undone giving you glimpse of a chain around his neck and the chest underneath it. He didn’t need to be in uniform- or even in a Navy bar- for you to tell he was a military man. Not with the confident way he held himself.

Even if the mustache he was sporting made it feel like the universe was playing tricks on you, but he more than wore it well.

You huff out a self-deprecating laugh. “What gave it away?” you ask. “The way I’ve been watching the door? Or just the general look of regret and embarrassment?”

“Embarrassed? What do you have to be embarrassed about?” His eyebrows pull together, perplexed. He shakes his head like he disagrees with even the suggestion of it. “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is the guy who is missing out on sitting across from you right now.”

You give him a soft smile of your own in return for the cinnamon sweet words. There’s a genuineness in his tone that makes some of the tightness that had settled in your shoulders from the moment you’d walked in release.

“That’s kind of you, but I think I’m going to head out,” you say, nodding to the door you never should have stepped through in the first place.

He gives you a teasing tsk. “And let a dress like that go to waste? Now that would be a shame.”

The appreciative look in his gaze that sets off a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. And then his eyebrow ticks up, just a little. Part invitation, part dare. And you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

There’s a decision to make.

You could leave now and cut your losses. There was a reason you had a back-up pizza in the fridge and had left you well-loved copy of You’ve Got Mail sitting out on your coffee table.

Or you could stick around and see what happens next.

You tilt your head at him, just as teasing. “Would it now?”

“It would,” he states, sincerely.

Before you can reply, your phone lights up with a new notification, pulling you out of the whisky haze you’d found yourself in.

His eyes dip down to your illuminated screen. “Is that him?”

“It is,” you confirm, almost regretfully. You open the app and skim the message. And then read it again.

There’s no sorry, no apology for cancelling a half an hour after the time for the date that had been his idea in the first place. And then he’d even had the audacity to tack on a cavalier maybe another time at the end.

Unbelievable.

He lets out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“Apparently, I should have been the one to remind him that the fourteenth of February is a calendar holiday and a fan favorite day of the greeting card companies.” It’s so ridiculous you’d laugh if you weren’t so annoyed by the lack of consideration and the not-so-subtle blame he’d tried to shift on you. “Even though I did double check if he was sure about meeting up today, I guess I didn’t realize I actually needed to spell out ‘Valentine’s Day’ for him.”

The man across from you doesn’t bother holding back the less than impressed look on his face. And you decide you like that about him, that he wears his thoughts so openly. It’s refreshing.

“Do you mind if I take a look at his profile?”

You shrug and pass your phone over. You were planning on blocking West the second you had a moment anyways. You see him roll his eyes and guess it has something to do with the amount of shirtless gym selfies.

He snorts as he scrolls, “Please, his mustache has nothing on mine.”

An amused laugh escapes you. “Are we ranking mustaches now? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to say that I’d have to give it to Selleck.”

“Fair enough,” he concedes good-naturedly, as he hands you back your phone. “But am I at least a close second?” There’s no mistaking the flirtatious tone in his voice.

You hum and take full advantage of the opportunity to look at him unabashedly, mapping the contours of his face because you can.

To simply call him handsome would be an understatement.

The way the golden light of the sunset is hitting him you catch some sunkissed strands in those soft looking waves of his hair. There’s the beginning of some crinkles around the edges of his eyes. You notice the scars on his face, some that look long healed and others that are still a light pink- like the one on the side of his neck and beneath is ear. And that mustache on him worked for you, one hundred percent.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he lets you assess him that leaves no question as to whether or not he’s been flirting with you. You like the way he’s looking at you and the way he’s easily made you forget about being overdressed and how uncomfortable you were even just five minutes ago. You’re having fun. And while you still haven’t answered his question from earlier, you have no doubt that he’d show you a good time if you let him.

“Maybe not a close second, but yours is certainly up there,” you tease.

He grins. “I can work with that.” There’s something about the way he adds on for now that has a spark dancing up along your spine. And then he sticks out his hand, “I’m Bradley.”

It’s a good name. It suits him. It’s one you think you’ll enjoy the way your tongue will curl around the letters of it in your mouth.

When you give him yours in return, he sits up straighter in his seat, like he’s won a small victory.

You don’t doubt that he’s the chivalrous type, the fact that he’s gone out of his way to come over to try and turn this evening around for you says more about him than any dating profile with nonsense questions and overthought answers ever could. But with a man like him, one who’d swoop in to save the night of a stranger because she looks like a damsel in distress, there’s an answer to a question you need to hear first.

“Bradley, this isn’t a pity thing, is it?” You were right, you like the way saying his name feels. You drop your hands into your lap, as you search his eyes. “Because if it is, that’ll make me feel worse than being stood up did.”

The way the words were sitting out and open on the table between the two of you made you feel vulnerable in a way you didn’t like. But you’d rather know now before anything goes further. Doing it for the plot or not, your ego could only take so much bruising in one evening.

He pins you with a look so serious that you feel it down to your toes. “Trust me, this is furthest thing from a ‘pity thing’, as you put it,” Bradley says, his tone slipping down a few gravelly notes. “Because if I’m being honest, if that asshole had actually shown up, I don’t know if I would have played fair.”

Oh.

A thrilling rush of warmth courses through you as your cheeks heat up.

You nod, trying to not look as affected as you feel. “Ok, I believe you.”

“Good,” he smirks, his gaze dropping down and lingering on your lips. You didn’t realize you’d trapped your lower lip between your teeth, you release it immediately. “Because you should know, I would have come over sooner- the second I saw you, actually- if I’d known. That’s some dress, sweetheart,” Bradley continues, “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but be curious, so you lean in closer. “Oh, how so?”

Bradley mirrors you, crossing his thick forearms over each other and leans in that much closer. “I haven’t had a Valentine in years,” he says it like he’s letting you in on a secret.

For the first time all night, you don’t regret wearing the dress. You don’t regret the ostentatious shoes or the glimmering beaded bag. You don’t regret walking through that creaky door. You don’t regret showing up tonight.

How could you when you’ve just been served the best plot twist you’ve possibly ever experienced? A meetcute you never could have seen coming.

You realize just how close your faces have gotten and lean back in your seat, from fear of thinking you might do something stupid, like kiss him. “Will you stop with the big cow eyes, if I agree?”

Those crinkles around his eyes deepen, “Good to know they still work, I wasn’t sure if I still had it.”

You press your lips together trying to hide your smile, all too thoroughly charmed, but the corners of your mouth curl up all the same.

“Trust me, you have plenty.”

And Bradley’s own smile gets even wider.

Anyone in the bar can see how pleased with himself he is at your words. It rolls off of him in steady waves and swirls around your shins and ankles.

He makes a show of settling further into his seat, now that it is officially his seat. “What’re we thinking? One milkshake, two straws?”

You play along and pretend to ponder the offer for a moment. “That seems more like a second date type of activity, does it not?”

“You’re right, something to look forward to for next time,” he responds, not missing a beat. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

There wasn’t a menu or anything on the table when you sat down, so you aren’t sure what all is offered here. You thought you might have caught a glimpse of a laminated stack near register when you’d first walked in, but you hadn’t wanted to draw any more attention to yourself at the time by getting up again and wandering around and reminding people just how out of place you’d been.

You look around and see a mix of ceramic steins, pint glasses, beer bottles, and a few stems of wine on tabletops and in the hands of the other patrons.

The noise of the bar had become a faint white noise in your ears as the two of you talked, but it comes back in full force now.

“If they have rosé, I’d take a glass of that.” It isn’t hard to miss the hesitation in your voice, feeling a little silly defaulting to your usual go-to. You don’t imagine they go through a ton of pink wine here. “But, uhm, anything on tap would be fine too, if they don’t.”

Bradley’s lips twitch up. Not in a smirk, but something caught between amused and something else you can’t quite describe.

You try not to fidget under his warm gaze, “What?”

He slides out of his stool and rounds the table, setting a big hand on the armrest near your elbow, “There’s something you should know about me, sweetheart.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, more than a little breathlessly. Feeling a little high off of the smell of his leather and vanilla cologne, and something underneath that that reminds you of kerosene in a way that makes you want to breathe him in even more.

Bradley dips down close, his lips just a whisper from your ear, and murmurs, “Pink is my favorite color.”

Your head tips back on its own as you laugh. Its unabashedly loud and bright and delighted thing that fills the nooks and crannies of the corner you’d tucked yourself away into. And if a few heads turn your way because of it, that’s alright with you.

You don’t believe him, not one little bit. But that’s part of the fun. The back and forth, the flirting, the banter, the teasing. He’s so quickly turned this night around for you, you already know your cheeks are going to hurt by the end of it.

The sound of Bradley’s own laughter chases after yours. It’s warm and raspy and boyish, and you like the sound of it. You like him.

“One rosé, coming up,” he says, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before he steps out of your space. “There’s nothing I like more than a girl who commits to a theme.”

You catch his wrist, his skin warm under your palm. “Wait, what’s it really?”

“Red,” Bradley says, then gives you a slow once over, making your pulse spark in your veins. “But you’ve got me second guessing myself now.” He gives you a wink and then heads towards the bar.

You watch stunned as he saunters away, admiring the way the light wash jeans he’s wearing form to his long legs, before taking a moment to send a string of words punctuated with more than a few exclamation points to the group chat.

When he comes back, only a few minutes later, he has glass of familiar pink wine in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. And oddly enough, a straw tucked into the pocket on his shirt.

“It’s almost a perfect match,” he notes, when he sets it in front of you.

“At least I won’t have to worry about staining if I end up spilling on myself.”

Bradley chuckles and moves his stool in closer to yours, sitting back down with more smooth grace than a man with his build has any right to move. He tips the neck of his beer towards you, and you lightly tap your wine glass against it.

You take a sweet sip. “So.”

“So,” he repeats, with a teasing lift of his eyebrow.

“What’s your move?” you ask, running a glossy tipped finger around the rim of your wineglass.

“My move?” And there’s that grin again, one he doesn’t try to hide as he takes a sip of his own. “‘m pretty sure I’ve been showing you my moves since I sat down. I’ve never been good at being subtle.”

Bradley pulls the straw from his pocket and taps it a few times against the shellacked woodgrain table top. He takes the flimsy wrapper carefully starts twisting it, a little furrow of concentration forms between his brows, spiraling it until it’s pulled taut against itself.

You set an elbow on the edge, resting your chin on your hand as you study him. “But what’s the big move? I know you have one,” you press further.

His hands are big, calloused and rough, but capable. You want to know the story behind the scar that’s near the base of his thumb. You note that he wears his watch on the right instead of the left, and you pocket that new discovery for yourself the way a kid enthusiastically collects rocks in a park.

Bradley takes that piece of paper and folds it in half before twisting it again.

You watch in fascination as that pleased grin transforms into a confident smirk, like he’s enjoying even just the thought of showing you his big move. He looks like good trouble.

Bradley’s eyes slowly lift to yours, his hands pausing whatever he’s doing with that wrapper. He shoots a thumb to the left towards the end of the oval shaped bar. “You see that piano over there?”

“Mhm.” It’s an almost purr.

“That’s my big move.”

You feel your eyebrows lift in surprise. Bradley gave off such hometown golden boy vibes, you’d never have expected that he’d be the musical type too. The idea of seeing those hands fly over a set of black and white piano keys made your stomach tighten deliciously in anticipation.

“Am I going to get to see it?”

His gaze is steady on you when he replies, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’ll show you my move.”

A grin stretches across your face and you feel downright giddy, as you wiggle your shoulders in triumph.

Bradley shakes his head amused, and then refocuses his efforts on the task he’d started with the straw wrapper. He struggles only for a moment- those large fingers getting in the way- as he tries to open the end just enough to slip the tail though. He gives it one more final twist, securing the loop, before inspecting his handiwork.

“Now, since we’re valentines and all, it seemed only fitting that I get you- well, make you- a little something.” Bradley gives you a soft, boyish smile as he holds out his palm towards you, and in the center of it is a perfectly crafted paper ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you a Ring Pop on short notice.”

The words escape you for a moment at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.

Gently, you take it from his outstretched hand, and slip it onto the pointer finger of your right hand, adjusting it with care until you have it situated just right.

“I usually wouldn’t be able to accept something so grand on a first date. But for you, I’ll make an exception,” you say, liltingly. “Thank you, Bradley.”

You look down to appreciate it again, more than a little tempted to take it off and tuck it securely into your purse for safekeeping. For as much as you liked your dress and bag and your shoes, that little paper ring was now your favorite piece of the outfit you were wearing.

When you glance back up at him, his cheeks have the faintest pink hue to them. The little nonchalant shrug he tries to give you does nothing to hide how pleased he looks. “I make a mean daisy chain too. We might have to wait a couple months for Spring, but I’m good for it.”

Your mind flashes with an image of you and him in a park with a picnic basket sat between the two of you, and those large hands of his threading celery green stems together. It’s a pretty picture.

“Well, aren’t you just a regular modern day Renaissance man.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he rasps, silky smooth. It makes goosebumps raise along your arms. “Now, I’ve told you mine. Can’t say I’m not dying to know what your big move is. Am I going to get to see it, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you muse, lifting your glass to take another sip, “If you’re good.”

Bradley hooks a foot under you stool and tugs you just a few inches closer. “Just out of curiosity, what’s your position on kissing on a first date?”

You bend forward towards him and think you hear his breath hitch, you smile. “I’ll keep you posted.”

You’re still looking at his lips when a shout from across the bar startles you both.

“Bradshaw!”

Bradley mutters a string of curses and then blows out a breath, giving you a smoldering look that tells you that the conversation is far from over. You’re more than willing to let him try and change your mind about where he lands in the mustache rankings.

You look over your shoulder to see the with the sharp smile from earlier waving your date over to the pool table. “I take it you know, Malibu Ken?”

“Unfortunately.” A mischievous look coasts over his face. “But I’ll get you all the Ring Pops you could ever want if you say that to his face.”

You laugh. “I’m holding out for that daisy chain.”

Another holler rings out from across the room, the same Southern drawl as before.

“Seems like he wants your attention. Is he a Leo?”

He snorts. “You know what, he just might be. But more like he’s been waiting for the right moment to annoy me since I ditched him to come talk to a pretty girl instead.”

You try not to preen at the compliment.

“The relentless type, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I think I’m about thirty seconds from him queuing up “You Make Me Feel So Young” on repeat just to fuck with me,” Bradley explains. There’s a story there and you want to know more. “I know I still owe you the big move, but is it alright if I try to show off a little for you now? Just to get off my back for the rest of the night, then I’m all yours.”

You feel like you’ve just pulled an ace from your pocket.

“What are the stakes?” you ask, intrigued.

“Two hundred dollars and a whiskey,” Bradley replies.

You let out a low whistle, trying to school the catlike grin that wants to overtake your face. “That’s a lot of Ring Pops.”

The corners of his mouth curl up. “I was thinking dinner for our third date,” he says. “I’m buying for our second, of course. But it’s only right that we split the spoils of war.”

The sound of a brass band rings out over the staticky speakers and Bradley hangs his head down and lets out a long-suffering groan. You playfully pat his shoulder in faux commiseration.

You pretend to consider it for a moment, but you already know your answer. “Okay,” you agree, “Just as long as you’re okay with a little respectful ogling. You like my dress, and I like those jeans you’re wearing.”

He laughs, it’s a throaty rich sound. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

You gather for you purse and sweater as Bradley stands. His hands come to your waist, helping you off the chair, your bodies closer than close. It’s a forward move- he knows it, you know it- but with him, you don’t mind at all.

Bradley offers you his hand and you take it in yours; his fingers slip between yours easily like the two of you have already done this before.

The two of you only make it a few steps before you tug on his hand, waiting until he looks at you from over his shoulder before asking, with a lifted brow, “Bradley Bradshaw?”

He huffs out a not-so-exasperated sigh, “I blame it on the 80’s.”

“Whatever you say, Brad-Brad.” It’s the one and only time you’re ever going to say it, you decide. You like saying his name too much to shorten it. And his back may be turned to you now, but that now familiar chuckle still makes its way to your ears.

Bradley leads you to the bar first, where he buys another glass of rosé and a beer for himself. When you try to pass your credit card to the woman behind the counter, he takes it, and rasps into your ear, “Let me.”

He tucks it right back into your purse as the sound of brass instruments starts up yet again.

“Like a dog with a goddamn bone,” you hear him mumble. And you press your lips together to keep from laughing. Sure, you’d rather be seeing his big move, but you can’t claim not to be amused by all of this.

He nods to a group of people in the corner near the popcorn machine when the two of you enter the alcove with pool table. Some of his other friends of his you assume.

You send them a little wave, one that they return in greeting. You can tell they’re curious, but you’re grateful when they resume their conversation instead of making you feel like your date with Bradley had become a spectator sport for their viewing entertainment.

The first thing Bradley does is introduce you to his friend. It’s a little thing, but he does it without prompt or awkwardly leaving you to take the initiative yourself. You appreciate the way he is still prioritizing your comfort the way he’s been doing it since he first sat down across from you.

Jake rests a hip against the table. “Sorry to interrupt your date, but Bradshaw and I had some unfinished business.”

You wave him off, it’s not a big deal. Not when you’ll have the rest of the night with Bradley. Plus, you’re eager to watch this play out between them, curious about their gameplay.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with,” Bradley rumbles, as he arranges the balls in the rack. And you wonder if he lost the lag before he’d made his way over to your table for one.

He comes back over to you, and leans on the ledge next to you as he chalks his cue. You’d thought about slipping your sweater back on, with the outside chill pressing against the line of glass windows at your back, but Bradley had more than enough warmth radiating off of him that you didn’t need to.

“You that eager to be out a couple hundred, Bradshaw?” Jake grins, as he leans over the side of the table. He turns his gaze to you and sends you a wink right before he breaks, sending the cue ball barreling into the others with a resounding clack, scattering them across the table.

And then they’re off.

It’s a rapid fire of back-and-forth banter between the men as they take their shots. Mostly good natured, but undeniably competitive. Smirking when they land their shots, and snarking over fouls. Clear that neither of them wants to lose.

Jake is all confident posturing, playing low over the cue with a lightly too tight grip. It’s the only thing that gives him away that he’s not the easygoing player as he wants people to think he is. Choosing higher risk shots that would highlight his ability versus some of the more straightforward options laid out for him, and skilled enough that it pays off most of the time. But after a couple rounds you note he’s too quick to stand up after taking his shot, not enough follow through because he’s too eager to see if his gamble pays off.

Bradley is all loose-limbed ease, clearly comfortable in both his skin and at the table. You can tell he’s probably playing quicker than he normally does, clearly trying to hurry up the game for your sake, even though he doesn’t need to. Although he does take his time as he positions himself around the table, only adjusting his bridge every now and then. Always with a 1-2 shot, a warm-up stroke followed by a steady hit. Watching him you catch his tendency to throw out his elbow of the follow through.

The two are pretty well matched in skill, you observe with keen eyes, as the balls skate across the Top Gun insignia, against the rails, and into pockets.

When Bradley’s not up to play, he’s by your side, right at your elbow. And when he is, it’s your eyes he’s looking into the moment he stands back up, seeking out your reaction. But more than once you feel his eyes on you as you watch them play.

True to your word, you to admire him in those snug fitting jeans. And when he catches your appreciative gaze, he sends you a wink before lining up his next shot.

Jake sinks another solid into the pocket he’d called only moments ago, and turns his dimpled smile at you, “You still sure about your date with the old man, chickadee? I bet I could show him up in that department too.”

The way he says it, you know he’s just teasing, probably just to rile you date up and get a reaction from him.

“Unfortunately for you, I think I have a thing for mustaches now,” you toss back, unbothered. And Bradley smiles into his drink.

You watch as Jake lines up his next shot and hits the white with a compact stroke.

“Double hit,” you declare.

“Dammit,” Jake curses.

You look over to see Bradley looking at you with a focused look on his face. Like there’s a theory clicking into place, one he needs the answer to. Wordlessly, he hands you the cue.

“You sure?” you ask.

“Two hundred dollars sure,” he states.

You take it from him with a sly grin.

Bradley’s thighs brush against the front of your knees, you know if you parted them even a couple inches, that he’d fit just right between them. His hands landing on your waist again as he assists you off the stool you’ve been perched on. And you’re starting to think he just likes an excuse to touch you, not that he needs one because you already more than like the feel of his hands on your body.

You walk the pool table, running a finger around the rails as you do. Evaluating the balls on the table like they’re chess pieces. The slow clip of your heels on the floor like the tick of a clock as you take your time deciding your approach.

“You’re the stripes,” Jake offers helpfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll even let you have a free shot.”

And you can’t help but laugh because this is going to be fun.

“Bradley?” you ask, leisurely chalking your cue.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Do you mind?” You gesture to the spot behind you, and he catches on quick with a not-so-subtle glance at the short hem of your skirt.

He sets his beer down and comes to stand behind you, there’s just enough space between the two of you that you don’t have to worry about hitting him with the cue, his broad from proving you the coverage you needed to bend over the table. While you don’t think you’d mind Bradley seeing the silk thong you had on underneath your dress, you weren’t exactly up for flashing the whole bar.

You haven’t played in a while, but it’s a muscle memory at this point, as you map out your moves. Seeing the lines and angles and arcs in your mind’s eye before anchoring your bridge.

You look at Bradley from over your shoulder, only to see his eyes are trained on the ceiling with his tongue pressed against his cheek. A gentleman, albeit not an unaffected one. A tendril of smokey gratification curls its way along your spine. You turn your head back to the pool table looking between the cue, target, cue ball, target.

It’s a smooth stroke with a satisfying crack. A clean three-rail shot that lands the striped five into the pock you’d intended for it.

“Damn” is all Jake says. His eyes you up, clearly impressed.

“You sure about that free shot, Jake?” You stand up and smooth out your dress, just for the show of it. “Or do you want to make it double or nothing instead, Malibu Ken?” You hear Bradley snort from behind you.

And just like you thought, he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, “Deal.” Jake turns to Bradley. “I just let your girl hustle me, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Bradley says with a grin, but his eyes are on you.

Neither are surprised when you sink your next shot too. The six sailing into the left corner pocket.

On your next shot, you may or may not deliberately foul. A tactical choice that sets Jake up with a less than ideal position on the table, knowing it’ll be a difficult shot for him to make.

“Now you’re just toying with me, aren’t you?” Jake grouses.

You just smile and take a sip of the rosé that Bradley hands you, neither confirming or denying.

Surprisingly, he banks it. But his good luck only lasting through that one play. Because on his next, the ball glances off the side rail at too acute an angle to reach the intended pocket and he groans.

Not quite ready to be done, you ease off a little. Enough that they both know you’re going easy on him to extend the game longer, just so that he can catch up to you.

But soon enough, soon there’s only your eight ball left on the table.

“Looks like you’re about to be out four hundred dollars, Jake,” you say with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just put me out of my misery already.”

You turn to Bradley, who has been carefully positioning himself behind you the whole time. You hold out the cue to him and ask, “Do you want the honors?”

He shakes his head. “Go on, finish him off, sweetheart. I’m enjoying the show.”

And when your final ball tips into the side pocket, Jakes resounding groan is drown out by the whistle Bradley lets loose between his thumb and pointer finger, as you turn towards him beaming.

“The atm’s by the restroom.” Bradley sounds only too happy to remind Jake as he closes the gap between the two of you.

You look over his wide shoulder, “As for the whiskey, something expensive please, Malibu Ken.”

Jake huffs a grumble but nods all the same as he goes to round up your winnings.

“Scored four hundred dollars and a valentine, that’s not too shabby, if I do say so myself,” you preen to Bradley.

“Think that might have been the best thing I’ve seen all year,” Bradley announces. “The hottest too, if I’m being honest.” You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze. His finger slips under the thin strap of your dress that had fallen off your shoulder somewhere along the way. He slides it back up and into place, treating it like some delicate thing the same way he did that paper wrapper. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Normally, this is when you’d rerack, but you’ve never had a Bradley Bradshaw looking at you before.

“I took a class in college over the summer as an elective credit, and it turns out I had a knack for it,” you explain with a playful little shrug.

“I’ll say.” He takes another step closer. “Did you just show me your move, sweetheart?”

“One of them,” you grin.

You don’t have to press up to his height, not with your pearly heels.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his lips to yours for a kiss. A sound of surprise escapes from his throat. You feel the curve of a smile before his hands slide around your waist to pull you closer.

“Think you just snagged that number one spot of my list of favorite mustached men,” you say against his lips.

“Suck it, Selleck,” he rasps.

You inhale the amusement of his light chuckle, letting it go to your head like champagne bubbles, before he slips a hand around the base of your neck and pulling you in close once again.

A couple hours later, you find yourself at home on the couch. Your cheeks a little sore from how much smiling you’d done tonight, as Tom and Meg trade words over a plate of caviar on screen.

It was only much later that night you’d gotten to see Bradley’s big move.

He’d surprised you with his voice and the talented way his fingers glided over the white and black keys. An expensive glass of amber colored liquor sitting atop the old piano as he played, and four hundred dollars tucked safely away in your purse.

You’d given him your number when he’d walked you to your car, only distracting you for a few extra minutes with his mouth, before you’d left for the night, hoping that you’d hear from him soon.

A notification lights up your phone, and a ribbon of thrill unspools through you.

You sigh when you see that it’s a notification from your dating app. You’re wary to open it, not wanting anything to color your night, but you figure now is as good of time as any to block the guy who had nothing on the one you’d spent your evening with.

When you see the name of the person who’d sent you a message, you click into his profile with lightning-fast fingers, skimming all the details to things you hadn’t had a chance to learn yet.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰

𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟑𝟓

𝐉𝐨𝐛 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥: 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬: 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫

There is a picture of him in uniform, grinning to someone out of the frame. And another one of him shirtless on the beach, surrounded by some of the faces you’d seen tonight at the Hard Deck.

But it’s the answers to the prompts that he’d picked, that set your heart fluttering.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲. (𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫.)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬: 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.

𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭: 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬.

That one makes you laugh.

You open the message from him, one that had been sent with a rose.

𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧? 𝐈 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐈 𝐨𝐰𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐨𝐩.

You don’t even have to think.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝?

And you can’t help but grin to yourself as look at that paper ring still on your finger. Because you know, this app won’t be on your phone for much longer.

Not now that you’ve met him.

Happy Hearts Day, friends! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#ahhhh I’m so happy you liked this!!#thank you for reading and reblogging!#the babe with the big move

1K notes · View notes

katiascraft · 2 days ago

Text

﹙CL16﹚ ── ❝ let's fall in love for the night ❞

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc just made a post

liked by lewishamilton, taylorswift, billieeilish and 1,345,965 other users

charlesleclerc: happy to announce my new single will be out in a week 🙂‍↕️ excited for you to hear it! see you in a bit…

view more comments

── ♬⋆.˚

summary - charles finally drops his frist ever sang song and unsurprisingly for the fans it's about you <3

warnings - none at all it’s all just pure fluff and cliche romance!

blog masterlist

¡ tap to continue reading ू♡ ࿔ ۪

yourusername made a post

liked by billieeilish , ferrari, arthurleclerc and 823,510 other users

yourusername: so excited that finally the weirdest kid on my block it’s about to become a worldwide superstar 🥳

view more comments

charlesleclerc: was it necessary to humiliate me in front of the world?

⤷ yourusername: I thought you looked cute and kissable 😔

⤷ charlesleclerc: THOSE pics???? Are you blind?

⤷ yourusername: blindly in love with you? yes sir 🙂‍↕️

⤷ charlesleclerc: I can’t fight with you

⤷ carlossainz: bro you can’t be so weak BE A MAN

⤷ charlesleclerc: first of all, don’t shout at me. And secondly, you’re not part of this conversation.

⤷ carlossainz: then don’t comment a public post on Instagram for the world to see.

⤷ yourusername: @/rebeccadonalson take your shit out of here

⤷ carlossainz: mean.

⤷ yourusername: don’t shout at my man.

maxverstappen: I know it’s gonna be the best song in the whole world

⤷ yourusername: and you haven’t seen the video yet!

⤷ oscarpiastri: is he naked?

⤷ yourusername: no.

⤷ oscarpiastri: thank god I thought I was about to be traumatized

⤷ carlossainz: would be traumatizing if she was in it

⤷ yourusername: then call a therapist.

user235: HOW’S THAT THERE’S GONNA BE A MUSIC VIDEO? Omg Charles never did a music video

⤷ user123: and apparently y/n it’s gonna star in it!

user12: can’t wait to watch it

landonorris: let’s goooo that kid would stop being ugly to be sexy and important! I’m so here for it

⤷ charlesleclerc: i’m already sexy and important I drive a Ferrari

⤷ landonorris: you’re irrelevant dude you drive cars puff BORING

⤷ charlesleclerc: is it because i’m the hottest driver on the grid and you aren’t?

⤷ landonorris: you’re not taylor swift and i’m sure your song will suck plus WHO WON LAST YEAR CHAMPIONSHIP?

⤷ charlesleclerc: oh you’re so 🐍🐍🐍🐍

⤷ landonorris: baby now we got bad blood

billieelish: so excited to be the one who produced this masterpiece 😋

⤷ yourusername: love of my life you’re so perfect and talented 😍

⤷ charlesleclerc: so you don’t want to get married with me then?

⤷ yourusername: i just gay panicked

⤷ charlesleclerc: we broke up.

⤷ billielish: I don’t like girls dude

⤷ charlesleclerc: LIES YOU CAN IT THEM FOR LUNCH

⤷ yourusername: you need to get off the internet asap

⤷ charlesleclerc: and who are you?

⤷ yourusername: the love of your life

⤷ charlesleclerc: I thought she was the love of your life how fast the night changes 🚩

⤷ yourusername: she is my love but you are my LIFE

⤷ charlesleclerc: let’s get married now my chérie 😍

user0863: i think I’m more excited about this insane comment section than for the song tbh but I’m here for all of it

⤷ yourusername: I promise the song it’s even better

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: im the boy that your boy hoped that you would avoid cuz I know better that to call you mine ❤️ only two more days to go!

view more comments

user22: wait…

user716: if this is promo for the song… then those are lyrics…

user763: OMG HE IS GONNA SING FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

user66: the man that you are Charles

user917: the man of any girls’ dreams

carlossainz: if she’s not yours then what she is? Make it make sense

⤷ maxverstappen: not a possession or an object for sure 🥰

⤷ user123: lestappen ♾️

yourusername: you need a pick me up? I’ll be there in 25

⤷ charlesleclerc: I like to push my luck so take my hand let’s take a drive

⤷ user1299: LYRICS LYRICS LYRICS

landonorris: last time I heard you sing leo didn’t like it

⤷ charlesleclerc: using my child to insult me talks a lot about you.

oscarpiastri: i’m so excited omg

rebeccadonaldson: my fav people! So excited for this new era @/charlesleclerc !

⤷ charlesleclerc: thanks rebe ❤️

yourusername: you’re my whole entire life Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc ❤️

⤷ charlesleclerc: im crying 🥹

⤷ yourusername: baby

⤷ charlesleclerc: 🙄 no fun for the next month.

⤷ yourusername: EVIL

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: alright my first ever single it's out now everywhere! feedback is very welcome! it took me six months to learn the choreography 🙂 but it was so cool to have a car made of people :)

view more comments

user163: IM CRYING IM SCREAMING IM GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET

user973: you’re a real superstar now

⤷ yourusername: I told you’ll

user98: didn’t disappoint

user9174: YOUR VOICE ITS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL

⤷ yourusername: he is in fact heaven sent

⤷ user976: y/n we love you 😭

user7653: play me a song that you like you can bet I know every line 😭

user711: I wanna be in love like he is in love with y/n

yourusername: I know my ex is crying like a baby rn :)

⤷ charlesleclerc: he was ugly anyway he deserves it

⤷ landonorris: once a cheater always a cheater

⤷ user7653: let’s burn that asshole alive

user9764: I want what they have

user9874: charles it’s such a green flag like can we clone him please?

user9175: god created men and then created Charles as an apology

⤷ yourusername: I can confirm this theory is real

yourusername: WHY WOULD YOU SAY I WONT STAY IM NEVER LEAVING YOUR ASS YOU IDIOT

⤷ charlesleclerc: J’ai peur que ça ne dure pas pour toujours (i’m scared that what we have doesn’t last forever)

⤷ yourusername: Je me moque de l’éternité, ce qui m’importe, c’est chaque jour à tes côtés et qu’il paraisse infini (I don’t care about forever, I only care about everyday with you by my side and that that feels like an eternity together)

⤷ charlesleclerc: 🥹🥹 Je t’aime, amour de ma vie

⤷ yourusername: still waiting for the ring on my finger

⤷ charlesleclerc: dont rush me I’m still a kid 😭

⤷ carlossainz: loser

⤷ charlesleclerc: get out of here

user8365: love how supportive y/n is 😍 such a queen

user55: a part of me wanted y/n there :(

── ♬⋆.˚

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: NEWS‼️ fórmula one driver Charles leclerc has just dropped his first ever music video! Here’s a pic of him and his girlfriend y/n in the behind the scenes of the music video. What do we think about it? We can’t stop listening to it!

view more comments

user81653: to have what they have 😭

user9726: I don’t know Charles had a girlfriend!

⤷ user254: she is @/yourusername, and they have been together for like 7 years now. She’s been with him since almost the beggiging of his formula one career!

user88623: the way she looks at him so proud and in love I want that 😭

user8652: we know Charles is beautiful but can we talk about y/n???? She has like the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen in my life

⤷ user615: she is gorgeous

⤷ user33: and so caring as well. When she said like she tried since 2020 to convince Charles that the song was more than good enough to drop it bc he felt so insecure about his voice 😭 charles so insecure sometimes FOR WHAT he is perfect omg

⤷ user9164: we can say that she really loves him and cares for him by the way she always is hugging him, asking him if he feels fine, making him laugh

⤷ user177: we love our assertive queen

user8144: am I the only one who didn’t know y/n was a writer and helped Charles with all of this???

⤷ user199: she is a producer, composer and songwriter! She works for artists like madison beer and selena gomez!

⤷ user453: omg she is so talented like wow im really surprised that I didn’t know!

⤷ yourbff: she is a woman of many super powers!

user123: they are the perfect family WTF 😭

user8864: love how Charles looks at her it have me butterflies and im not even either of them 🥰

⤷ user334: Charles it’s obsessed with her no doubts

⤷ user8874: he knows he is a lucky man to have such a queen by his side

⤷ user97634: I love them sm like the way she always supports him at the garage almost every single race weekend and how he always shares into his stories all of the songs she writes and the pic he uploads with her saying the cutest things ever like 😭 and now THIS just get married already

⤷ yourusername: that’s exactly what I said!

⤷ user9715: OMG QUEEN

⤷ user996: AAAAAAAAAA

⤷ user91753: @/charlesleclerc JUST GIVE HER THE DAMN RING

── ♬⋆.˚

yourusername just made a post

youusername: ‘let’s fall in love for the night and forget in the morning’ means how love can be so frightening we tend to think nothing can’t last forever because we don’t we believe we deserve that love. It’s means that just a moment can mean a lot to you. It means that love can happen in just one second and that forever actually means everyday. It means love it’s mundane and average and typical and ordinary. And that it’s actually what makes love so beautiful. I didn’t believe in love till I found you my Charles. I didn’t know love can have so many shapes and forms and times. You taught me it all. and love is this, loving every single flaw, mistake, past, present and future of one person, embrace them and make them feel loved and worth it and important. I will forever hold you tight in my arms my love and I will never let you fall. Im so proud of you Charlie, keep on being the Angel you are to this world. You’re the most talented human I know and the most loving and sweet and thoughtful. You deserve the entire universe and nothing less <3

view more comments

charlesleclerc: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

charlesleclerc: I can’t text properly cuz I’m actually sobbing 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

charlesleclerc: wtf 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

francolapinto: fan de su relación ❤️

carlossainz: thank you for writing this about my Charles. I feel like a proud mom right now. You two are so beautiful and disgusting 💙

⤷ landonorris: specially disgusting

⤷ charlesleclerc: you wish it was you don’t you?

⤷ charlesleclerc: I love you @/carlossainz

⤷ user7544: we still waiting for the wedding

user76: like im sobbing and it’s not even about me tf

user7753: so this proves that y/n it’s actually a writer

yourbff: thank you @/charlesleclerc to make my girl so happy I love you both so freaking much! (I swears if you don’t choose me as your maid of honor I will kill you)

⤷ yourusername: 🤫🤫🤫

charlesleclerc: I can’t not even think straight to find the words to tell you how I feel every time I wake up next to you. What I know it’s that im sososo lucky that you love me. My life would be miserable without you. You’re the light I need to keep on carry on. Thank you for being the most wonderful human being there is to exist. You make life be so easy. And love feel so gentle and kind and amazing. Thank you for making me happy my love. I love you.

⤷ yourusername: Je t’aime pour toujours, mon amour (I love you forever, my love)

⤷ charlesleclerc: Je t’aime pour toujours, mon amour

rebeccadonaldson: love you both ❤️

── ♬⋆.˚ melbourne 2025

f1gossipgirl made a post

f1gossipgirl: 📸 SPOTTED! formula one driver charles leclerc just arrived at the Australia gp 2025. He walked in the paddok along his girlfriend y/n and their dog son Leo. As always both were really affectionate and took pics with fans! Also, a few fans told us there was a ring on her finger with a huge rock on it 👀

view more comments

user7653: FINALLY

user997: omg omg omg omg

user615: im giggling and kicking my feet

user864: I don’t get why are all of you so obsessed with them they’re so basic and boring 🙄 and it obvious she is with him for money

⤷ user22: die

⤷ user654: actually she was already rich when they started dating and I would say that she was even richer bc she was already successful in the music industry. Inform yourself.

user765: she just wanted to be famous so I don like her hope Charles wake up asap 🤷🏻‍♀️

user2334: can’t believe the comments like why everyone out of nowhere is no negative about them getting married???? Pls check with a therapist the parasocial relationship it’s killing your neurons 🙄

user711: no matter what if he is happy them im happy he seems very in love let’s be supportive

user22: hope they invite me to the wedding cuz I’m here fighting bitches 👊

── ♬⋆.˚

yourusername just made a post

yourusername: rumors are true! Guess we hid it for way too long now. Finally, I can confirm I will be y/n leclerc real soon <3 dreams do really come true!

comments have been restricted

carlossainz: finally!!

rebeccadonaldson: so happy for you guys ❤️

landonorris: hope im invited

⤷ yourusername: no 🩷

⤷ landonorris: cruel

oscarpiastri: me and lili are so happy for you guys can’t wait to dance the night away celebrating your love!!

⤷ charlesleclerc: we love you child

francolapinto: congrats you two!!!

yukitsunoda: ❤️❤️❤️

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: mine all mine ♾️

comments on this post have been disabled

── ♬⋆.˚

charlesleclerc made a post

charlesleclerc: you aren’t ready for what’s cominggggg

view more comments

yourusername: 🤫🤫🤫

yourusername: til forever falls apart

⤷ charlesleclerc: till forever falls apart my love

user6443: OMG NEW SONG NEW SONG

user223: IS Y/n A SINGER AS WELL??????

yourbff: omgggg so excited!!!!! I just know it’s gonna be sooooo good

landonorris: can I produce it?

⤷ billieeilish: bro she is a producer

⤷ landonorris: and?

⤷ yourusername: we don’t need you darling

⤷ landonorris: could you stop hurting my feelings some day?

⤷ yourusername: you hurt you own feelings commenting shit 🥰

⤷ landonorris: how cruel

⤷ yourusername: I love you bestie

⤷ landonorris: I don’t

⤷ yourusername: 🙄

billieeilish: so excited for the world to hear this masterpiece

── THE END ♬⋆.˚

don’t forget to like, reblog or comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together)

251 notes · View notes

trolagygirl2022 · 3 days ago

Text

Future Lover PAC

Pile 1: 5 of Pentacles, Judgement, King of Pentacles, Page of Cups

Pile 1's Future Lover is someone that might not have been your original type? I'm sensing that this person is someone that you usually wouldn't go for to be honest. It might take some time for you guys to really adjust with your relationship, but when you do I see it being a very sweet and loving bond 💞. Your partner is someone that is caring and very sweet. They might be someone that is more on the emotional side so they can get a bit worked up sometimes but they really try to make their partner happy. Again I'm seeing some judgement so you might have a certain view of them in your head but when you actually talk to them you're like "oh wait this person is actually very nice and sweet". It's gonna be someone that you wouldn't expect at all.

Pile 2: The Hermit, 9 of Pentacles, 5 of Wands, King of Wands

Pile 2's future partner is someone that's more on the introverted side and doesn't seem to be quite chatty. I'm getting very nervous energy here? But they're someone that likes to chase after what they see. I'm envisioning a shy guy trying to go up to the girl he likes that he thinks is out of his league. Your partner might be seeing you as out of their league hahahah. I'm seeing them being quite insecure a bit because they see you being with maybe a more confident version of themselves. So once you're actually open to being with them they're going to really put in effort to impress you lololol. I'm seeing this person willing to invest their time into your connection and seem like a very observant partner? The energy I'm getting is a chatty partner with a quieter one. It's not like they're not engaging but they like to listen more and are naturally quiet haha.

Pile 3: Queen of Cups, Everything is Fine (bonus card!), Knight of Cups, Knight of Pentacles, The High Priestess

For pile 3 here, I see you having a partner that might be on the younger side? I dunno there's something about the energy here that's kind of giving youngish vibes so they could be a bit younger than you or might give off those traits. The young thing I could also be picking up on is that your partner doesn't seem to be someone that's very experienced when it comes to dating and all of that. I'm seeing them kinda freaking out after recently getting with you because they're like "umm okay what should I do know!??". I'm seeing them kinda freak out over many things but you won't even feel like it's that big of a deal haha. I'm seeing this partner sort of emotionally intelligent? Quite observant too, their little experience doesn't mean that they can't be a great partner! They're very empathetic and are the type to try putting themselves in other people's shoes. They're someone that you can rely on for emotional support 💞

Pile 4: Ace of Swords, 5 of Pentacles, The Empress, Ace of Cups

First of all pile 4, there's something about this person's aura that is so entrancing and enticing. I'm seeing this pile being very attractive to your future partner's appearance. It could be that they fit your standard of beauty or that they have something about them that can set them apart in a very large crowd. They might be a bit hesitant to start a new connection, I'm seeing that in the past they probably didn't have the best relationships and experiences with others so at first they'll be reluctant to really show their emotions and how they're really feeling. This person is very crafty and calculating hahah. But it's more so as a barrier to protect themselves from getting hurt. Once you show them that you care, they'll slowly start to show their more romantic and caring side they hide from others. Very cute 🥰!!

#pac tarot #pac reading #pac #daily tarot #free tarot reading #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #free tarot #kpop tarot #love pac reading #love tarot #love tarot reading

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jasmineandcedar · 2 days ago

Text

Beyond lust

I stepped away from the fandom for a few days to ponder the important things in life (elriel), the mysteries of existence, and at long last, I am ready to share my wisdom 🙃

I love how soft and sweet and precious Elain and Azriel are together. I could read an 800+ page book of them being sweet and fluffy together, and I'd die happy (it might actually be my one-way ticket to the afterlife). But, I'd like to take a moment to praise the lord our heavenly father for Elriel's lust--that beautiful, misunderstood thing--which entered the chat not a moment too soon nor too late in the most glorious slow burn of the ACOTAR series. That sweet and slow buildup is what makes the lust all the more glorious to me. Elriel--the gold standard of romantic pacing!

When some say Azriel is lusting after Elain, I say thou art not doing him justice! You do not give him enough credit for the boundless depths of his desire for Elain! Lusting doesn't quite cover how utterly, desperately, obsessively down bad Azriel is for Elain. Lust is but for mere mortals. Azriel has transcended mere lust. He has entered a new realm of yearning so intense it defies language. He is beyond lust. He is down bad in ways that should be studied.

His desire for Elain, the goddess, is so intense our guy went from lingering in doorways, stealing glances and brushing fingers, and then completely malfunctioned when he got to put one blessed hand on that absolutely immaculate neck. He was reduced to near groaning in her face from one sanctified touch.

And let's not forget about Elain, because she is to be equally credited for the unhinged tension here. Some like to pretend she was but a passive participant, but nay! She practically grabbed that blessed hand and placed it on her immaculate neck with that offer and permission. She was ready to go. She was saying yes with her whole bosom. And wouldn't Azriel like to get his mouth on that.

And it makes sense.

After spending so much time gravitating towards each other, after mutually clinging to each other for peace and quiet, after that one solstice night when elain gifted him that holy tylenoly and went, "have you seen my flower beds?" 🌸🥰🌸 past 3am and Azriel probably went, "bbg my knees buckle before your beauty" 🦇😍🦇 they are now so into each other that as soon as they got one single moment alone again and Elain went:

✨️yes✨️

They both went full on:

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, etc etc...

Praise the Lord.

#a revelation too vast for tags #elriel

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normalwomanontheinternet · 17 hours ago

Text

When i came out to my nan in a letter - nearly 15 years now - I'd not seen her in person in a few years. She was supportive but said one thing that lodged in my head painfully for years: "you'll make a pretty woman because you've always been skinny". She didn't know that since she'd last seen me I'd put on a lot of weight, that I'd gone from too-depressed-to-eat to eating-my-depression mode since I'd left home. I spent a lot of my early transition paranoid about my weight, feeling scared and disgusted at myself. I started obsessing over meal sizes and calories, berating myself for snacking, and feeling like I'd never be beautiful for being soft and round - especially having a big tummy, which I always saw as a sign of "male fat distribution" and therefore something that had to be purged as a part of transition. I decided that my ideal body type for me was muscle-woman, the kind of people you see in MMA and other combat sports, and I started trying to lose fat and gain muscle and started feeling more in control and more safe in my body.

But this also led to a huge amount of cognitive dissonance - because I'd always thought fat women were beautiful. Soft and round and voluptuous and cuddly. I'd watch BBW porn and feel horny and seen and simultaneously gross and uncomfortable for enjoying objectifying representations of fatness. My own nan, the woman who put the idea that women=skinny in my head, was herself short and fat and I loved how she carried herself. One thing that helped me make a lot of sense of what my nan said was a childhood memory of looking in her fridge/freezer for snacks and seeing a tub of ice cream with a note she'd written to herself: "not for you, fatty!". It's obvious looking back but she had a lot of gendered feelings of internalised fatphobia and was just projecting them onto me, her confused insecure fat faggot granddaughter.

These days I have a much happier and healthier relationship to my fatness. When I sit in a chair with armrests and feel my hips and butt squishing into it fighting for space, I think to myself wow, what luscious feminine shapes all the hormones and meals have given me together, how lucky everybody is who gets the privilege of seeing my ass and thighs. When I wear the thighs through in another pair of trousers, or have to stop wearing a cute top because it doesn't fit my soft tummy and heaving tits I think wow, truly my body is becoming more and more powerful that these clothes can no longer contain it, I am simply so much woman and my body wants to be out there for people to enjoy. When my wife rests her tired head against my swollen tummy I think wow, what a soft sweet pillow I make for her, I love how she finds comfort in me and my big round body.

One of the best parts transition is that you get to ask yourself what your body is for and you get to decide the answer for yourself. More and more my answer to that question is that I just want to be a site of joy and comfort and arousal for people around me. I feel a great sense of spiritual purpose being fat, like my mind body and soul are aligned. And thanks to my lovely supportive wife and the lovely supportive weirdos on Tumblr i feel less ashamed of admitting that I want to be like this. I want to be the friend that people just want to watch TV with while they fall asleep cuddling me. I want to be the woman walking down the street who lesbians walk past and fantasise about what it'd feel like for them to disappear their whole face between my immense thighs. I want to be the auntie, and hopefully soon the mother, who teaches all my little ones that it's okay to be whatever size you want to be, and that big and soft and round and deliciously feminine is a lovely way to be, and that nothing's unhealthier for you than shame. And i want to be the horny Tumblr lady who tells YOU that if you want to get fatter then you should! Come and join me on the jiggly side 🥰

PS. You absolutely don't have to stick to sweatpants for going out!!! For me I never used to like how skirts fit me but now I've got a crazy fat ass they suit me a lot better. And I got a bunch of plus sized thigh highs (the brand is Thunda Thighs) and they make my legs look so gorgeous and plump, and the short-skirt/thigh-high combo really beautifully frames a tantalising glimpse of my upper thighs, some of the most softest bits of me that I most want people to drool over and sink their teeth into. Learning to style my clothes to my new body has been a really fun learning experience (helped in big part by my wife who is a stunning and fashionable femme). Getting real fat has given me a lot of confidence to dress as slutty as I want outside!

There's something so hot about gaining weight on E as part of an mtf transition. It's like the ultimate act of self-affirmation.

You used to have enough muscle mass for everyone to say that you carried extra weight well, but now the estrogen is taking your muscle mass and it's all going flabby. Even at your heaviest, your arms never used to jiggle and now they're becoming big, wobbly pillows. Pretty soon you'll have to go up a shirt size just to accommodate how big they're getting.

Your calves used to be strong and defined, but now it's getting harder to tell where your calf ends and ankle begins. And those thighs! They've always rubbed together when you walked but never like this. They've gotten so huge you can't help but waddle a little bit when you walk, and people are starting to stare.

Finding chairs in public is getting harder and harder, because just when your hips were finally starting to fill out a bit, you got in the habit of eating everything you can get your hands on. Now your ass has gotten so wide that chairs with armrests are quickly becoming out of the question.

Your breast buds that were small and pointy not too long ago are getting round and starting to sag. They're going to start looking like udders in no time, seems fitting for the prized cow you're transforming into.

And who could forget, your once-proud cock has shrunk down into a cute little clitty, only for it to be buried in an ever growing fupa. There's almost no usable length left there. You'll be bottoming from here on out now, babe.

All your favorite outfits from when you first came out are way too tight for you now. It doesn't really matter anyway, because you're almost never dressed at home anyway. You just walk around in your underwear and a heavily stretched out t shirt most days. And when you need to go out, well, there's always sweatpants.

With every dose and every calorie, you're transforming yourself into the image of feminine decadence. Becoming smoother, and softer, and growing into your fattest, most womanly self and eating all the foods you love every step of the way .

#feeding kink #t4t feedism #wlw feedism

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minionsrulltheworld · 3 days ago

Text

Heyyy!!! Call me “Alejandro” — I really love it 😝

So… this is my little creative corner! I really vibe with this platform and the people here, so I’ll be sharing my art — mostly my writings for now, but once I level up my drawing skills, expect some of that too. Basically, this profile is a mix of everything that inspires me in one way or another 🥰

I’ll also be dropping some fun stuff like my outfits, accessories, and all that jazz — ‘cause I’m a stylish girl, you know?

My pronouns are she/her, and I have a gorgeous cat named Chertila 🐈‍⬛. I’m here to find my sweet audience and just connect with cool people.

Oh, and… I used to be a witch in the past life, but I’ve always been a writer — confidently walking this path, you get me?

Leave fun comments — I wanna hear from everyone! Also… check out my pretty nails tho 💅**

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satorus-princess · 2 days ago

Text

Smiles and Sandcastles

a/n: canon au but divergent - everyone is happy and no one turned bad okay 🥰 includes geto sensei which we were deprived of. beach day!!

fem!reader x gojo satoru

“where the hell are those three?” gakuganji asks, disgruntled. the higher-ups from jujutsu high are gathered in a meeting, which you, gojo and geto were expected to be there for as well.

little did they know that the three of you were currently lounging on beach towels as the sun beamed down. geto was lying back with his arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed as he soaked up the heat, and you had your legs stretched out with gojo's head resting on your lap, a pair of sunglasses sitting on his peaceful face.

“this is wayyy better than a boring meeting,” gojo murmurs contently. he peeks up through the gap in the top of his sunglasses and smirks. “and a much better view than that old man.”

you playfully flick his forehead at his comment, knowing that he's referring to your boobs. he yelps dramatically, rubbing the spot that you had flicked.

“even if you're being a perv, i agree,” you say, glancing up at the students messing around in the azure water, a smile on your lips. well, students, excluding fushiguro who was, now, scowling under his own beach umbrella after itadori had splashed salty water onto him. of course, eliciting a loud-ass laugh from gojo. “they deserve this.”

“mm, they do. and we do too...”

“don't forget the fact that we'll be scolded by yaga next time he sees us,” geto reminds you and gojo, though he doesn't seem to care either.

“hey, it's not our fault they decided to have a meeting the day we decided to come to the beach,” gojo defends jokingly, as you all know that this was planned after to avoid another boring, irritating meeting with the higher-ups. “besides, we aren't students anymore.”

“you say that as if you aren't getting into trouble at least once a week, satoru,” geto snorts, and you laugh in response knowing how true that is.

“hey! don't gang up on me. i'm always doing the right thing, they just don't think so.”

“of course, ‘toru. let's get some ice cream,” you suggest, patting his hair as his head is still on your lap. “do you want one, geto?”

“nah, i'm good, thank you.”

“alright, let us know if you change your mind," you say, taking gojo's hand when he stands up and offers it to you. you stretch a little before lacing your fingers with his again. you slip on your sandals and gently tug gojo with you towards the ice cream stand. “let's get some for the kids, too.”

“yeah, especially megumi. he needs one to get rid of that scowl,” gojo chuckles softly, remembering the earlier events. “and then, I'll drag him back to the water.”

“you're a menace, ‘toru. leave the poor boy alone. i think itadori would have more fun getting dragged into the water.”

“well, yeahhhh but that's what makes it less fun for me, if he enjoys it.”

you shake your head in amusement, laughing at his reasoning. “you really are a menace.”

you both wait in line at the ice cream stand, a few people ahead of you which was to be expected on such a sunny day. gojo's arms wrap around your waist and he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder while you wait in the queue.

“you look really pretty, you know,” he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. he turns his head to press a soft kiss to your neck before resting his chin back on your shoulder. “all tanned and carefree.”

“that's because of you. no one would've had so much fun today if you didn't suggest going to the beach. it really was needed.”

“probably one of the best ideas i've had. the kids get to have fun, we get to avoid the higher-ups, and i get to see you in this pretty little bikini.”

you snort softly in response. “well, i have to admit that you look pretty yourself. in your pretty little swim shorts,” you mimic his tone, but your words are sincere. he laughs, keeping his arms vined around you as you step forward when the queue gets shorter.

soon, you arrive at the front of the ice cream stand, ordering one for yourself, for gojo, and the students. gojo slips his card out of the pocket of his swim shorts to pay for the ice cream before he balances four of the cones between his fingers and you do the same with the other four.

“we might need to walk faster before these ice creams melt all over our hands,” you say, quickening your pace.

gojo smirks and suddenly runs towards the area where all your belongings are. “last one there is a loser,” he calls out to you.

you shake your head at his words, laughing before you run after him. despite laughing, your eyes gentle, knowing that he's genuinely having fun as he's able to let go of his duties for today.

he obviously beats you, grinning as he watches you catch up. you're slightly out of breath, simply wanting to collapse back onto your beach towel because of the heat. he watches you, amused, before he calls out to the kids to get the ice cream. you hand one over to fushiguro as he's already nearby under the beach umbrella and he mutters out a “thanks”. you give two of the other ice cream cones to nobara and itadori, while gojo gives the rest to the second-year students.

“thank you, sensei!”

as the kids sit and stand around with their ice creams, you settle back onto your beach towel, your knees bent as you sit up, beginning to eat your ice cream. gojo sits down beside you, half of his ice cream somehow already gone. he stares out at the ocean, which his beautiful eyes reflect.

he's relatively quiet and this makes a singular eyebrow of yours arch curiously and with a hint of concern.

“is everything okay, ‘toru? you're weirdly quiet,” you point out. it's only when he turns his gaze to you that you realise you don't need to be concerned. even if his eyes are mostly hidden behind his sunglasses, you can see the swirl of emotions in them.

a moment passes before he nods softly. “yeah... i'm actually just really happy right now.”

your expression immediately softens at his words, seeing the genuine smile on his lips and the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. he leans against you, watching the students enjoy their ice creams. he's glad he's able to give the students time to relax and be happy... to be kids.

as his head rests on your shoulder, you turn to give his soft hair a kiss letting your lips linger for a moment longer. you hear him hum contently at your kiss as he continues to eat his ice cream and you do the same.

both of you stay like that together, cherishing the joyous and carefree moments with everyone. it's peaceful even if it's loud. everything just feels right in this moment.

but after a while, the ice cream appears to give gojo more energy than before, not wanting to relax in the sun anymore. he stands up and stretches with a dramatic groan before he crouches down next to geto who is still stretched out on his beach towel.

“hey, suguru?” gojo says quietly, the mischief in his tone evident.

“what?”

“bet you can't build a better sandcastle than me,” he snorts. geto peeks an eye open, raising his eyebrow at the 28-year-old sorcerer.

“you're ridiculous, satoru,” geto huffs, closing his eye. then, he sits up. “... you're gonna lose that bet. i'd obviously build a better and bigger one.”

“no way, i already got it all planned out in my head. it'll be fit for my princess.” he throws a cheeky wink your way. you roll your eyes playfully but you can't help the small laugh that slips out.

“you're on.”

“you gotta buy me a supply of mochi when you lose,” gojo says confidently with that annoying smirk of his.

“when you lose, you have to put blue hair dye in principal yaga's shampoo.”

a shiver runs down gojo's spine at the thought of having to do that. but his confidence comes back a second later as they shake on it.

with an amused yet gentle smile, you observe them seeing their younger selves again. even if it was only for today. gojo was still smiling genuinely as he determinedly worked hard on his sandcastle; this time his smile was filled with youthful amusement and happiness.

if only things could stay this way.

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elixirfromthestars · 10 hours ago

Text

As if I wasn’t already over the moon with the moodboard you made and your previous comments, reading even more comments on the conclusion of their main story made me all giddy inside!! 🥰

Any iteration of idiots in love is my all time favorite to write. 😂💖 It makes me so happy to hear you loved the yearning and the tension because the amount of times I have contemplated rewriting the main story...I've lost count honestly 💀

I'm such a sucker for angst with a happy ending, and originally when he comes to the reader's apartment, the love confession was supposed to happen there, but I just couldn't get the idea out of my head that I needed like one more event to happen to seal the deal for the reader of not waiting for her happiness to come and that's how the ending happened lol 💖

Thank you so much for all the love you've shown this little collection, it means so much to me!! ❤️❤️ Love and appreciate you lots, Fayth!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I

You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back.

Eventually, you would have to face him.

Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

#comment reblog ❤️#fayth ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#lovely mutuals ♡🎀♡#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine

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oikarma · 6 hours ago

Text

sweetener

pairing: franco colapinto x reader

summary: time to start promoting your documentary about lewis hamilton. the best place for publicity is in the pit lane, but there seems to be another hamilton fan on the grid-nevermind, there might be new contender for franco colapinto's heart.

a/n: google translate. i don't speak spanish sorry 😭 here's a happy, cutesy one in celebration of franco becoming alpine's reserve driver!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by f1, lewishamilton, and 3,530,927 others

yourinstagram I'm sure you all know of his triumphs, but there are many struggles that have been forgotten.

tagged: lewishamilton SEVEN UP: THE LEWIS HAMILTON STORY out in theatres April 4th, 2025.

view all 149,103 comments

user1 who put her in charge 💀 hasn't she butchered enough projects

user2 hope the FIA didn't have a say on this one

user3 pfft watch half the documentary end up being an argument on why lewis should've won abu dhabi 21

user4 mother hard at work!!

user5 does this mean she's doing a press tour?? what's the equivalent of a press tour for a documentary

user6 on her live a while back y/n said she would be doing some promotional interviews with lewis and there was a rumor that she'll be showing up at the first few races of the year

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lewishamilton, francolapinto and 5,053,782 others

yourinstagram Now and then. We interviewed Lewis after his first day at Maranello and after his last race with Mercedes.

tagged: lewishamilton

view all 394,332 comments

user1 you can hate her but she got the GOAT scheduling interviews with her

user2 to be an oscar-nominated director and to work with lewis hamilton 🙏 life goals user3 It's literally just PR. It's his film of course he has to show up to talk to her about it user2 @/user3 hello?? he doesn't HAVE to show up or do anything most documentaries r released after the subject(s) pass/r in no condition to comment and neither lewis nor the film need pr it's all a matter of politeness user3 someone's defensive...

user4 he looks so much happier! shame he wasn't wearing red though it's almost like he's still repping mercedes

user5 love that for him but pls whoever picked that outfit needs to be talked to

francolapinto GOAT 🐐

user6 franco being a fan as always user7 SKDFJDS he's so unserious i love him

scuderiaferrari it was so cool seeing you on your factory tour 🤩

yourinstagram anytime, admin!

user8 well didn't merc fumble rather badly on that one

user9 😔 end of an era...but it was great while it lasted

user9 ngl i like the grey. it's still kinda jarring seeing him in BRIGHT RED.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by francolapinto, charles_lerclerc, and 340,771 others

scuderiaferrari Best director in our hearts! Academy-nominated director Y/N L/N graced our paddock today for the Australian GP ❤️

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 franco in the likes...ariana what are you doing here

user2 he better take the alpine seat permanently i NEED to see him on the grid

user3 admin have you watched we live in time yet?

scuderiaferrari have watched all of miss y/ns films at least twice. that one destroyed me. ☹️ user4 admin getting a little relatable here

user5 uh oh someone's salty about her losing to jacques audiard

user6 let's be fr though he totally deserved it more user7 but did you see how he snubbed cynthia during her nomination? rude asf at least y/n has class

charles_leclerc Consider yourself booked for my documentary

yourinstagram let's not get ahead of ourselves charles. alexandra on the other hand... alexandrasaintmleux what an honor 🥰 user8 LMFAO

user9 slayed the house (garage?) down

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by roscoelovescoco, francolapinto and 410,932 others

yourinstagram thanks for having me this weekend 😚 now say hi to the real star of the show

view all 30,814 comments

roscoelovescoco come back soon please

yourinstagram anything for you <3 user1 SHE MET ROSCOE IVE NEVER BEEN MORE JEALOUS OF ANYONE IN MY WHOlE LiFE

user2 jaw dropped

user3 the color is so cute!!

francolapinto blue looks good on you. wanna match sometime?

user4 franco trying to convince alpine to invite her LOL user5 he shot his shot and it fell flat to the ground yourinstagram sorry, i prefer red

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by alpinef1team and 673,410 others

francolapinto back on the grind 💪

view all 49,126 comments

user1 did he-

user2 i think- user3 what- user4 can someone finish their sentence please 😭 im so lost

user5 franco you could use me until my body and mind broke but all i'd ask is if tomorrow works for you

user6 my heart just stopped

user7 am i overreacting or is this a response to y/n's comment about liking red better

user8 THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT user9 right but mb he just wore a diff color shirt user10 this clashes w all his feed though he's either in light blue/white/navy

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

francolapinto has added to their stories

[ translation: i like my coffee bitter, but she's pretty sweet ]

replies

oscarpiastri you finally tried the swiss roll?

francolapinto it was so good 😋 i had two!

yourinstagram you literally called me sour and bitter

francolapinto all my teasing's in the name of love yourinstagram right.

user1 who's she franco??

user2 the only time i ever use google is to figure out wtf franco's writing on his stories

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies

lewishamilton how was he?

yourinstagram decent. did not yap as much about you as i expected lewishamilton i guess meeting me reduces a bit of the obsession yourinstagram it's okay lew, he DID ask me how you were doing, what you thought of him, and what it was like working w you lewishamilton maybe he just got sidetracked

francolapinto mi preciosa

yourinstagram okay. francolapinto you like me a bit more, no? yourinstagram you tell me franco

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 790,148 others

yourinstagram きれい

view all 61,493 comments

user1 no idea what she said but pop off queen!

user2 her feed...😭 it's so pretty

user3 y/n will we see you @ suzuka??

yourinstagram 🤫 user4 NO WAY I THOUGHT THEY'D WRAPPED PROMO BUT YAYAYAY

francolapinto no hablo japonesa pero te amo en español (i don't speak japanese but i love you in spanish)

user5 am i. seeing things? user6 franco we talked about this you can't be thirsting over random girls it'll make you look like a simp francolapinto @/user6 ¿simp? cualquiera estaría por ella (simp? anyone would be for her) user7 oh the way i will mourn when the pr team gets ahold of him user8 and the way she ignored him 💀

user9 my fatal flaw is thinking that if i had a camera i would be taking pics like these too

alexandrasaintmleux heavenly

yourinstagram muah muah user10 @/charles_leclerc your girlfriend is in love w someone else

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

francolapinto added to their stories

viewed by f1gossipofficial and 87,029 others

replies

user1 oh my GOD they're DATING??

user2 y/n folded

user3 franco how'd you bag a baddie like her

user4 one chance mi amor

yourinstagram who took the photo?

francolapinto may have asked a very nice vendor to take pictures of my gf on our first date 🥺 yourinstagram didn't know you had enough rizz to get a girlfriend francolapinto yeah me neither i think she likes me because i get awkward around her

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lewishamilton and 928,137 others

yourinstagram he likes it when i'm mean

view all 60,438 comments

user1 she hard launched him on her main?? omg y/n you are a changed woman

user2 his biceps...

francolapinto i like being degraded sue me

user3 HELLO? user4 franco never let them change you yourinstagram weak.

user5 he's such a puppy for her oml

user6 goals fr

lewishamilton pay up.

yourinstagram we didn't even make a bet?? charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram if you'd just waited ONE day yourinstagram @/charles_leclerc you bet on my relationship?? francolapinto i appreciate your confidence in me lewis yourinstagram @/francolapinto idiot. you don't even know what the specifics of the bet were

#franco colapinto x reader #f1 x reader #formula one #f1 #franco colapinto #f1 x you #f1 smau #smau #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 12 hours ago

Note

Hey!! Loved your work! ❤

Could you write something for Charles where reader and him are getting married in Indian culture (Maharashtrian if your comfortable) where he is mesmerized by seeing her in Indian attire 🥰 just a big fat Indian wedding with all the ritual like sangeet haldi.

If your comfortable with it!

only wedding ☄. *. ⋆

✳ cl x desi!reader ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

✳ fluff + humour ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

masterlist ☾☼

if charles believed a formula 1 weekend was intense, he was about to experience the biggest surprise of his life – an indian wedding. more specifically, his wedding. to you. and from the moment he stepped into this magic show of colours, sounds, and an ostentatious quantity of turmeric being thrown around, he knew one thing: he was completely, utterly out of his depth.

────୨ৎ────

“why do i feel so much like i’m about to be sacrificed?” charles whispered to arthur while staring at the enormous brass plate filled with haldi placed right in front of him.

“because you are,” arthur replied without any emotion.

you, sitting across from him, already had a golden shine because of the paste smeared all over your face. your cousins and friends were laughing, anticipating the moment they could escape to charles.

“don't look so frightened, meri jaan,” you said with a smirk. “it's only turmeric. very good for your skin.”

charles did not trust this at all. not even one bit.

at the very moment his side of the family stopped hesitating, your cousins seized the opportunity and jumped at charles with their hands full of turmeric and sauce.

“NO—”

he was already too late.

within seconds, charles, who was known for his quick reflexes, found himself tackled by giddy aunts and friends ready and excited to smear haldi on his skin. his face, neck, and arms. what a beauty.

arthur? useless. he was laughing too hard to do anything.

lorenzo? capturing the entire scene.

carlos, who had flown in for the wedding? he was loving this.

"welcome to the family, mate,” he called out while smirking.

“merci,” Charles cursed while spitting some haldi that had found its way to his mouth, laughing.

────୨ৎ────

it goes without saying that charles leclerc is a–fantastic sportsman, prince charming of monaco, and a romantic at heart –all in one.

but a dancer? not really.

and yet, here he is in the middle of a stage during what can only be described as an epic battle royal for dance off supreme, where he was pitted against his cousins, who are taunting him into the challenge dressed in a highly embellished kurta-pajama.

“charles! charles!” The audience shouted his name to amp him up.

“i did not sign up for this,” he grumbled to himself.

when he turned to look at you, however, the user in a lovely soft blue lehenga, and laughing while cheering for him, something clicked within him. if he could take eau rouge in bad weather, defeat a dance battle would be a walk in the park. so, he thought.

and so, ferrari's golden boy, charles leclerc, shamelessly attempted to butcher bollywood dance moves in the most charming way.

he did try to his credit. he started off trying to be as original as possible and mimicking what the rest were doing, but in the middle of it he was just pretending to do f1 victory celebrations and faux champagne splashes.

carlos was crying.

your mother, poor soul, was completely baffled.

but you? you are rolling on the floor in laughter.

in the end, Charles was drenched in sweat and exhausted. he was not a hundred percent certain his muscles would be sore the next day, but logically, there’s a highly likely chance of it being true.

regardless, when you embraced him and said, “best performance ever,” he thought it was all worth it.

────୨ৎ────

it was finally the day of the wedding.

the mandap was decorated with golden and maroon cloths along with marigold garlands. the scent of incense, jasmine, and tantalising food being made to serve at the wedding wafted in the air.

charles adjusted the pheta on his head for at least the hundredth time. he was wearing his regal cream shirwani and said, “arthur do i look good?”

"you look like an expensive pastry," arthur said, completely straight-faced to charles.

charles raged at him.

then the music changed. at last, all the guests were eagerly waiting for.

and there you were.

you was twinkling with mischief and was ethereal with gold jewelery, nauvari saree and your nath gracefully set on your nose.

for the first time in his life, charles completely lost it.

he stood, frozen in time, and stared at you as if you are a creature that fell from heaven.

"breathe, man," said arthur as he elbowed charles.

from the crowd, carlos called out to lorenzo “i think we lost him,” whispering.

you walked over to him, speckled gold jewelery twinkling with mischief whispering softy “so, what do you think?”

charles being short circuited very much went, “wow."

as he was right to assume that you were not looking blend anymore. you were looking elegant and changed everything for him.

"good wow or bad wow?" you asked with a gentle smile while fixing the shawl he was wearing.

"the best wow," he told you.

────୨ৎ────

in true maharashtrian tradition, your sisters and cousins snatched charles’ shoes during the ceremony.

and now?

now, they were demanding a ransom.

"okay, monsieur leclerc," your little cousin teased. "if you want your fancy ferrari shoes back, you have to pay up."

charles, always the competitor, narrowed his eyes. "how much?"

your cousin crossed her arms defiantly. "hundred thousand euros!"

carlos nearly spat out his drink.

"hundred thou—?" charles turned to you, eyes wide.

you smirked. "welcome to the family, jaan,"

arthur, the instigator, leaned in and whispered, "you could always just race them for it."

big mistake.

because charles, with his f1 instincts kicking in, grabbed his shoes and took off.

cue the great shoe chase of 2025, where a formula 1 driver was being pursued through the wedding venue by a group of determined girls in sarees.

carlos? capturing every moment on camera.

your father? laughing too hard to intervene.

you? just standing there, arms crossed, watching your husband sprint as if he were defending pole position in Monaco.

"do you regret marrying him?" your aunt asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.

you watched as charles yelped, narrowly avoiding a flying sandal.

with a fond sigh, you shook your head. "not even a little bit."

────୨ৎ────

later that night, when the excitement had settled and you and charles finally found a moment of peace, he took your hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your henna-stained fingertips.

"that was… quite an experience," he said softly.

you laughed. "you made it through your first indian wedding, mister leclerc."

"only wedding, periodt." he smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "i am never getting married again,"

you raised an eyebrow. "because it's too much work or because you love me?"

"can't it be both?" he whispered, leaning in to kiss you.

you laughed, before you kissed him back.

────୨ৎ────

i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this! i have been taking a bit of a break recently! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x yn #cl x yn #cl x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x desi!reader

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velnna · 2 days ago

Note

I just read all 9 chapters of your Under Garden comic and I love your drow boys (and girls), they are so cute! I really love your art style and how expressive you draw faces <3 I was wondering if you have an idea of how many chapters it will be in the end? Also do you have plans to release a printed version once you're done with it? (I love my PDFs, but I also love to have something for the shelf although I know shipping out printed stuff is a lot of work....).

Thank you!! Happy you like it 🥰

The comic has a sort of chapter < volume < tome (?? I guess "tome" works in this context) structure. Tome I is expected to have roughly 30 chapters split into 4-5 volumes, which means we're almost 1/3 through it (and about halfway through volume 2). All through this tome we'll be seeing the same scheme of flashback-present time events alternated, and by the end of it the flashbacks will essentially have caught up with present time.

All this to say technically this first "big story" arc is ~30 chapters long. HOWEVER all of it is basically a prequel to the part of the story that actually ends in the BBEG being defeated. Overall, I doubt the entire thing will cover 3 tomes but yeah in an ideal world we'd wrap it up in 60-70 chapters final. It could also be that we decide to work on tome 2 as a different type or media, or mix things up depending on where the whole thing stands by then. And I kinda want to get to a point where I put out one chapter per month to keep it within 5-6 ish years

We want to have it printed volume-by-volume for now! Already did a batch for volume 1 (chapters 1-6) that I had available for purchase through patreon for a bit to see how that would go (and took to conventions)

But for now it's not available anymore, we're regrouping and seeing what the best way to do it going forward might be. We do wanna do one of these for each volume though it's so nice to physically hold a comic c:

#ask #the under garden comic

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 days ago

Text

@beakaleak32

That is truly one of the worst things to tell someone with anxiety because it makes you think that everyone has the same sense of humor (they don't) and it only makes the anxiety worse because then (if you're like me) you stop talking to people. I'm sorry that happened to you! The tactic I employ is probably using "lol" too much so people know I'm kidding 😅, but I do completely understand!

"Following the plot bunnies" 🤣 that is so true!! I'm just trying to drive down the road of my plot, but each time I get distracted by the giant billboards that advertises "worlds biggest ball of yarn" so I veer off and even though I'm there for the yarn I realize I'm thirsty so I get a lemonade, but then my shoe is untied.... Basically it's like that book "When you give a mouse a cookie" but worse lol.

And yay! Okay I'll add you to the taglist 🥰

It's alright plug away. I name dropped my other series lol. But I love anxious readers so I'll be sure to check out Weighted!

I hope you have a wonderful day too sweetie 🤗

Promise Not To Fall In Love With Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader and a little bit of Billy Butcher x f!reader

Prompt: "I find him very attractive." /"I'm standing right here"/ "I know."

Requested by: @angrydragon90

Tropes: Fake Dating, Pining.

Summary: When you first joined Butcher's team the last thing you expected was to develop a crush on him, but after two years of pining, you get a proposition from the last person you'd expect to care.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just in case (I don't really think it is). Some cursing, Sexual innuendo, References to sex, Over glorification of a man's shirtless body (I'm not complaining) Reader is a little anxious/anxiety/socially awkward? Drug use/Drinking (Soldier Boy), Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (He's a warning, we all know it and somehow still love him for it).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: This is the third fic for my prompt celebration! This one was requested the incredible @angrydragon90 💗 Had to do something with a little bit of Valentine's Day spirit, but I'm going to be honest, this one turned into something that I didn't expect... let me know what y'all think. I also was thinking about @zepskies fic As Tradition Dictates for the more *ahem* gratuitous descriptions of Butcher 😉

Butcher’s muscles rippled over his bare chest and broad shoulders with every swing of the mighty axe down to the earth. Each strike of the axe against wood sent chips of bark flickering in the air around him like sparks. Sweat rolled down his sun kissed skin curving in the dips of his muscular torso, along the tensing muscles of his back, and through the dusting of hair on his torso, before disappearing into the waistband of the dark jeans hung low on his hips.

Heat kisses your cheeks and darkens the skin the longer you watch him and you bite your lip hard to keep the appreciative sigh of the scene in front of you at bay. But it does little to stop your eyes which rove over the rugged man chopping wood.

No man his age should look that good.

Butcher props one of his feet up on the tree stump he’s been using as a table oblivious to your attention, shouldering the axe for a moment to glance at the stack of firewood he’d chopped, looking like a mighty warrior surveying his lands.

Your mind starts to slip into a fantasy of a shirtless Butcher riding horseback across a desolate plain, his dark hair long, and a sword strapped to his saddle commanding a group of riders behind him to his every whim. Before scooping you up onto his saddle to ride with him, his strong arm wrapped around your waist, and his face buried in the soft skin of your neck, his rough whisper in your ear a grating caress as he-

You clear your throat, cheeks darkening crimson, and take in a shaky breath to dissipate the daydream that usually starred in several of your fantasies. The same ones that probably came from the romantasy book that you’d brought along on this trip and were too embarrassed to read when anyone else was awake.

He raises a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, shuffling it back through his hair that turns a chestnut brown in the light of the setting sun that flickered through the thick forest surrounding the small cabin you were all staying in.

Oh to be a drop of sweat.

You think mournfully, taking a long sip of your lemonade out of a brightly colored bendy straw, the same lemonade that you’d made in hopes of enticing Butcher over for a break.

It had worked, but only for twenty seconds.

Twenty glorious seconds that you got to bask in Butcher’s presence so close that you could smell the familiar cologne and the scent of sweat clinging to his skin while he drank the lemonade and you tried not to stare at his bare chest for too long. You hoped that Butcher thought the flush on your cheeks had everything to do with the heat and nothing to do with all the things you were imagining him doing to you.

And then there had been an additional two seconds when Butcher smiled at you and said “Thanks poppet” in the swoon worthy accent of his that made your knees weak before he sauntered back over to the woodpile and you watched him go shamelessly.

Hughie says something to Butcher you can’t hear, but it makes Butcher laugh. He throws his head back with a wide grin that makes you sigh to yourself again, hands tensing where they sit poised over the tangle of wires in your lap.

You were supposed to be working on a new gadget to help grapple up buildings, one that you and Frenchie had designed together, but you were distracted by Butcher.

You were always distracted by him.

It had been three days since Butcher, Soldier Boy, Hughie, and you arrived at the cabin in the middle of nowhere after a mission went wrong. The specifics weren’t important, let’s just say that there was a miscommunication and what the four of you thought was a supe who could turn into a single locust, was actually able to turn into a swarm of locust so thick you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face.

You had a sneaking suspicion that MM and Frenchie had something to do with the miscommunication, given how eager they had been to stay behind at headquarters and do paperwork, and the secretive smiles they had shared at the briefing before your team left.

But needless to say, none of you had been eager to live through a reenactment of the eighth plague and all decided to lay low to consider your options, while hoping the locust supe didn’t decimate all of the corn in the midwest.

You shudder remembering the crawl of the scratchy legs along your skin, the flapping of millions of wings like the beat of a drum, the crunch of locusts underfoot, and the low pitched hum of the swarm that vibrated so loud it made you feel your body shaking from the inside out.

At this point I would have taken a swarm of guinea pigs.

The cabin wasn’t the worst place you’d stayed at in all the time you’d worked with Butcher. There was running water and several rooms inside including two bedrooms with lumpy pillows and mattresses with creaking springs, a living room with a sagging floral couch, and a threadbare kitchen with dusty cabinets and doors that fell off whenever someone tried to open one.

Outside the cabin there was a small patch of wildflowers that fluttered in the strong wind that blew from the East, an overgrown garden where tomato plants, potatoes, and herbs grew without care, and a small front yard that was more of a grassy clearing.

Sure the cabin had it’s quirks, but the real problem was that the four of you were trapped here in the middle of summer with a generator that only did so much for electricity, but had no air conditioning whatsoever, which meant it was cooler to sit outside on the porch than inside the sweltering cabin.

Overall, it had been three days of nothing, but listening to Soldier Boy bitch about the lack of extracurricular activities, three days of nothing but hearing the soft chuckle under Hughie’s breath when he texted Annie, and three days of nothing but you lusting after a man who was twice your age chopping wood.

Why was he chopping wood when it was so hot and none of you needed it… You had no idea, but you figured that the universe was finally throwing you a bone because you got to watch him do it.

The porch was cooler than sitting inside. There were two creaky rocking chairs that faced the overgrown “front yard” that was more of a clearing and the breeze did weave under the overhang of the roof to wick the sweat that gathered at the back of your neck, but the problem was, it was impossible for you to feel anything but warm, especially with what was unfolding in front of you.

The weather isn’t the only thing heating up.

You think to yourself watching Butcher lean down to pick up another piece of wood, admiring the way his worn dark jeans cup his muscular ass.

Fuck, I’m just as bad as Soldier Boy.

The truth was, you’d been crushing on Butcher for the better part of two years since the moment the two of you met on your first day when you’d tripped and dropped the giant pile of blueprints you were carrying to your desk and he was the only one who stopped to help you pick them up.

After Homelander had been stripped of his powers and exposed for the narcissistic psychotic freak he was, you’d started working at Supe Affairs, thinking that it was the perfect way for you to make a difference in a world reeling from the revelation. It had shaken quite a few people to know that the so-called heroes they looked up to were in fact just as crooked as a line drawn by an elephant on a tricycle.

But you liked your job… sometimes.

Sure, the pay sucked, the benefits were dismal and the hours were long, but you didn’t care about any of that. You felt like you were making a difference, using the engineering degree that your dad had insisted on for something other than trying to figure out how to build a bridge that withstood the force of a punch from someone as strong as Homelander.

And you hadn’t meant to develop a crush on William Butcher of all people, you swore that each day to yourself, but it happened without warning. He was nice to you, he always had your back on missions, and sometimes when you were working on something after hours on a mission- like the gadget in your lap- Butcher would sit with you while everyone else slept, nursing a glass of whatever it was he had, and he always made you feel like a valued member of the team.

Yes, he might be a little rough around the edges, but you liked that about him, that he didn’t pull punches, rather he told it like it was. It was refreshing in the world you lived in when everyone else was so afraid of offending someone that they just kept their mouths shut.

But the problem was that you were younger than him and a little inexperienced.

Well… a lot inexperienced. You’d never been in a relationship before, never really done anything before because there wasn’t time when you were in school getting your degree, not to mention you had spent the last two years imagining yourself in a relationship with a man who didn’t know you existed.

That might be a little harsh, he knew you existed, obviously, but rather he didn’t see you as anything more than a teammate or at least like a little sister. The nicknames that he called you were all some form of “kiddo” or “poppet.” Nothing like the things you’d read about men calling the women they loved in books or heard in movies.

The most experience you had in the realm of love and relationships was binge watching Sex and The City (you could quote it by heart), flipping through Cosmopolitan Magazine and other articles about love on the internet like they were opioids, and reading through romance novels reverently as if they held the secrets of the universe.

Not to mention the draft of the romance novel on your computer… but you’d go to the grave before anyone ever saw that, and if they did see it you’d take them with you.

Reading about relationships was easier than having one, at least that was what you told yourself to feel better. It also didn’t help that you’d seen two out of three sisters married with kids, with the third one getting married in a few weeks and you without even a shadow of a date for the wedding.

That meant you would be stuck at the awkward reject table again with your weird fourth cousin who always came on to you and tried to show you the rooster tattoo he had on his hip bone, your dad’s brother who cleaned his dentures in public after he ate and his wife who always asked you what you were “doing” with your life and curled her lip up in distaste no matter what you said, and the gaggle of their ungrateful children who were always sticky for some reason and chewed with their mouths open while spilling food all over the table like cavemen.

Sitting there with them made facing the locust supe more appealing.

But even with the pressure of trying to find someone, anyone to take, you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell Butcher how you felt about him.

Butcher glances over as if he can sense you and you immediately drop your eyes to the bundle of gears and wires in your lap pretending to fiddle with something that doesn’t need to be fixed.

Yes, because that’s the way I’m going to win him over, by making absolutely no eye contact. Perfect, masterful. What can go wrong?

What the books, magazines, tv shows, and movies didn’t prepare you for was how to find the courage to talk to someone of the opposite sex without feeling like your tongue was going to drop out of your mouth or like you were going to throw up.

You wait a few beats until you’re sure that he’s no longer looking at you before you raise your head to watch Butcher again.

Ben chuckles under his breath where he sits beside you in the other rocking chair, leaning back with one of his hands behind his head. His muscles tense in the black t-shirt as he adjusts his arm.

“What?” You ask him.

He exhales a long and obnoxious cloud of foul smelling smoke from the joint he has in his hand. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re out here eye-fucking that asshole and you yell at me for staring at you.” He chuckles with a wide smirk as he takes another hit from the blunt.

How can he smoke that? It’s like 100 degrees out here!

“I am not!” You reply as loudly as you dare, glancing over to Butcher to make sure that he didn’t hear Ben’s comment, anxiety prickling along the back of your neck, but he’s still talking to Hughie about something. “And you don’t just stare at me! You come up behind me like some gremlin out of hell, with your big hands and-”

“We both know how much you like the attention doll.”

“I do not!” Your cheeks flare bright red.

The only downside to working on Butcher’s team was sitting directly next to you. When you found out that you’d be working with Soldier Boy, one of your dad’s favorite heroes, you were excited to meet him, and then you had and he turned into another giant disappointment. He was loud, brash, short-tempered, rude, and was always either ogling you, coming on to you, smoking something, or drinking.

You supposed it could be worse. You didn’t hate him, and you got along with him, but he was always around. The plus side was that Ben was the one of the only people you didn’t have a hard time talking to.

Yes, he was attractive, but his particular lifestyle didn’t appeal to you and for that reason whatever nerves you had about talking to attractive men of the opposite sex evaporated when it came to Ben.

It was unfortunate that such a skill was wasted on him of all people.

“I just-” You hesitate, eyes dropping back down to the grappling device in your lap, not sure why you’re about to admit this to Soldier Boy when you haven’t been able to admit it to anyone else.

Probably because I’m sick of singing the line from Frozen “conceal don’t feel” over and over in my head.

“I find him extremely attractive.” You mumble on a shaky breath.

“I’m sitting right here.” The frown in Ben’s voice is prominent, but it only makes you roll your eyes at him.

“I know.” Your eyebrows furrow together. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Why are you looking at him when you could have my full attention.” He leans forward, dark hair falling forward into his eyes, mouth pulling up in a confident smirk. "I mean there's nothing else to fucking do, might as well do me."

Your cheeks flush with his words, but you tilt your head to the side to study him, eyes slipping over his rugged features. Tracing over the neatly trimmed beard on his cheeks, the brilliant green eyes that seemed to glow, the way his muscular body filled out his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the soft dusting of freckles that contrasted the hardness of the man he was flecked over his skin, and his full lips that are curved up in a sinful smirk that would make even the strongest woman crumble.

But not you. Ben was… Ben. He was brash, obnoxious, handsy, impatient, and disrespectful.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Sure you didn’t work with him often, but you believed you had a pretty good grasp on the kind of person he was. You did, right?

“You’re not my type Benny.” Your eyes flick back to the project in your lap, moving your fingers deftly through the wires of the internal mechanism.

Ben recoils at the use of his nickname, but he recovers with a low chuckle. “Don’t call me that and I’m everybody's type.”

“Not mine. I don’t like supes.”

You weren’t sure if that was 100% true. You liked Kimiko. What you meant to say was that you didn’t like supes like him. Supes that used his powers without care for the consequences, Supes like Homelander who didn’t give a shit who got hurt as long as the job was done.

And you weren’t a supe, which meant that if you were with a supe there was always the possibility of you dying during sex or dying before you had sex in the first place. Your job also presented the possibility of you dying before you’d had sex, but you weren’t going to let that hold you back.

“But Butcher has-” Ben begins to say.

“Temporary powers. Not all the time.” You correct, unable to stop your eyes from drifting back over to where Butcher has begun to start swinging the axe again. “And look at him. Fuck, he’s over there like Paul Bunyan, rugged, chopping wood-” You sigh continuing to watch the man who probably has no idea you exist.

Ben rolls his eyes. “I could do that.”

You don’t pay Ben any attention, because Butcher is bending over again and you bite the inside of your cheek hard.

Ben sits there for another few beats watching you watch Butcher. The wind chimes that hang above your heads jingle merrily as the breeze picks up once more bringing the smell of the wild flowers and wet earth from the forest surrounding the cabin.

“You know I could help you.” Ben says slowly.

Your eyes flick back to Ben from Butcher in confusion. “Help me?”

What is he talking about? Does he think he can figure out how to fix the grapple gun? The other day he couldn’t figure out how to open the automatic trunk of a car and he just ripped the trunk door right off.

“Get him.” Ben nods his head in Butcher’s direction, but you’re still confused.

“How?”

And why? Why does Soldier Boy want to help me of all people?

“Well, I could help you make him jealous.” Ben leans towards you, his eyes sweeping once over you as he does, lingering too long on your chest and the edge of the jean shorts you were wearing.

“And how would you do that?”

“Well for starters you could come sit on my lap baby, see how you like it.” Ben winks. “Take me for a little ride.”

“Pass.” You roll your eyes.

“Oh I see you want to have a more advanced lesson.” He smiles, scooting his chair towards yours, a dull scrape of wood on wood, so now his knee is touching yours. “He could catch an earful of us tonight. I’d be happy to fuck you. It’d give me something to do.” Ben takes another hit of his joint, the smoke making you scrunch your nose in distaste, while he gives you an appreciative once over. “Fuck knows the only entertainment I’ve had for three fucking days is my hand and it would be good to have a nice tight-“

“No thanks.” You interrupt, face flushing when you imagine what he was about to say.

Ben stiffens in surprise. “What?”

“I’m good.” You shrug. “I’m gonna get him the old fashioned way.”

The same old fashioned way that I’ve been using for the past two years and had absolutely no results.

“And what way is that? Pining after him and hoping that one day he’ll finally notice you?” Ben scoffs. “I can see how well that’s working for you doll-face. How long have you been working with him?”

“Two years-”

“Fuck, two years?” Ben sputters. “You should just tell him that you want him to fuck you.”

“That won’t work.”

Ben’s face scrunches in confusion, the joint clasped in between his thumb and forefinger forgotten. “Why the hell not?”

“Because-” You glance down at your hands, thumb running along the jagged edge of the grappling hook slightly embarrassed. The last thing you wanted to tell Soldier Boy was that you were a virgin. The guy would mock you endlessly. “Because I’m younger than him and he’s-”

He’s experienced.

“So? You think that he hasn’t thought about fucking you?” Ben takes a long sip from the whiskey sitting beside his chair. “He’d be lucky to have a little piece like you.”

You blink in surprise. It was the closest to a compliment that Ben had ever given you. He did tend to compliment your figure whenever you were around, but you usually ignored that because he did that to everyone.

Truthfully, the thought of dating Ben didn’t appeal to you at all, but the thought of using him to make Butcher jealous was not a terrible one. And at this point, you didn’t have anything to lose.

Well… except THAT, but you wanted it to be special, at least that’s what you’d always told yourself.

You sigh, a little frustrated, watching Butcher out of the corner of your eye swing the axe in a glorious arch to the earth. You weren’t sure how to get Butcher’s attention. You’d tried the usual things…

Leaving the room as soon as he walked in to avoid a conversation.

Gone completely mute when he asked you a question.

Pretended you didn’t see him whenever he walked into a room.

Tried to bring him coffee, but then chickened out and drank his and yours and then immediately had to go to the bathroom to avoid shitting your pants while having heart palpitations.

Basically the social anxiety was working wonders on the office romance you wanted so badly.

“Ben?” You say tentatively, hands tightening on the contraption in your lap. At this rate you were never going to fix it and Butcher was going to have to figure out how to fly.

“Yes, gorgeous?” Ben raises an eyebrow. The blunt is between his lips now and he’s looking at you curiously.

“If we did pretend to be…” You swallow nervously.

“Fucking?” He leans forward eagerly, eyes twinkling with interest.

Well… I’ve never understood what it meant when someone wrote “his eyes darkened” until this very moment.

“Dating” You correct holding up a finger.

Does his mind always go to the gutter?

You remember everything you think you know about Ben.

Yes. Yes it does.

Ben leans back with a frown. “I don’t date.”

“Well it wouldn’t be real! You’d just be helping me make him jealous and it would be nice to have a little practice maybe…”

“Practice?” He looks confused. It wasn’t the first time he had in this conversation or within the last five minutes, but like hell you were about to admit without at least one drink to Soldier Boy the extent of your dating life.

“Yeah. I’m not the best at talking to people or-”

“You’re talking just fine right now.”

“You’re different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you annoy me and I don’t know you’re easier to talk to for some reason!”

“Thanks.” Ben says dryly.

By now all the anxious energy has begun to pop and crackle against your skin at the thought of what the two of you could be doing and at the thought of you two actually pulling this off and you having a shot with Butcher. Not just a shot in hell, a real shot.

“But if you’re serious about helping me get him-“ You continue.

“I was.”

It was odd that he was the one who had suggested this in the first place, and even weirder that he didn’t seem hesitant at all to be doing this.

Maybe he thinks that we’re going to have sex. Your throat tightened at the thought, eyes widening, your nerve endings electrifying with anxiety. Oh holy fuck what if he thinks that if we do this he’ll get to do whatever he wants to me?

You clear your throat, heart beating just a little bit harder in your chest. The entire situation was making you regret the extra cup of coffee you had this morning. “What exactly would I have to do?” You don’t recognize your voice. It comes out a little more wobbly and just a little more tentative than it was.

You didn’t know what Ben was expecting you to do and you didn’t want to say yes, only for him to force you into sleeping with him like he’d suggested earlier, the most you'd thought the two of you would do is just make out a little-

Oh holy fuck then we’d have to kiss and I don’t know if I’m a good kisser and he’s definitely kissed more than one person not to mention he’s-

The thought made you flush to the roots of your hair.

Ben hesitates, eyeing you and you wonder if he can hear the deranged monologue inside your head or if he can hear just how hard your heart was beating. You hoped not.

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, doll. I’m not going to force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” There’s something genuine in his eyes when he answers your question, something that you’d never noticed before.

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

It wasn’t that you believed that Ben was that kind of man, but rather that what he just said to you might have been the most caring thing that he’d ever uttered in front of you. He was the last person that you’d expect to care about someone being uncomfortable or care if someone else was okay with everything that was happening in the bedroom.

Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

In all honesty you only knew the way Ben acted, you didn’t know anything about his life. The man kept his cards closer to his chest than a well-seasoned card player and his poker face, forget it. You couldn’t crack that combination even if you wanted to.

Everything else you'd heard about him was through the grapevine of gossip at work. None of it was first hand.

Ben sighs and shakes his head at you as if he’s a little annoyed with himself for saying that out loud. “But I still think it would be easier if you just told him that you wanted him to fuck you. Would’ve worked on me.”

“I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

And it was true. You could take down a target, diffuse a bomb in less than ten seconds with a thin mint and a bobby pin, but saying something out loud like that to something else made you feel nauseous.

Ben hesitates again and in his hesitation the anxiety and embarrassment starts to come soaring back into your chest.

You were asking Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, to pretend to date you so Billy Butcher would fall in love with you.

Well kids, this must be what rock bottom feels like. I might as well just pray that the locusts come back to take me away.

“Fine.” Ben states.

“Really?” Your eyes widen.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer.

“We’d have to have rules.” You blurt, and Ben makes a face.

“Rules? Never been too good with those, Sweetheart.”

“And I’d need you to promise that you wouldn’t-”

You lose your train of thought in the wind chimes that rattle over your head and the sound of Butcher’s laugh.

“Wouldn’t?” He arches an eyebrow.

“Lose control.”

Honestly, sometimes you were a little afraid of Ben. You’d never say that out loud or admit it, but he was stronger than Homelander.

You knew Ben's reputation around the office- heard the hushed whispers of the women in the break room who said he was the best fuck of their lives, heard the horror stories of what he did to his old team, and had seen first hand what his temper was like. You also knew about his powers and worried that Ben might have a little bit of a control problem or at the very least anger management issues.

“I’m not going to fucking hurt you if that’s what you think.” Ben growls, his eyes narrowing at your insinuation. “I’m not some fucking monster, doll.”

“I don’t think you’re a monster Ben.” You sigh. “I just- I don’t have powers and you’re kinda strong and I-.” You take a deep breath to steady your voice. “I don’t think that you’d hurt me on purpose. But-”

Ben’s hand comes out to touch your chin, tilting your gaze up to him and stopping the bicycle of babbling you were about to ride around the block. Your eyes widen slightly with the contact, you weren’t used to people touching you, certainly not like this.

Keep it together…

“I wouldn’t hurt you by accident either.” Ben’s green eyes are focused on yours, and you can see just a sliver of emotion behind them that you can’t identify. “But if we’re going to do this you gotta promise me one thing.”

“What?” Your voice comes out like a squeak.

“You’ve got to promise not to fall in love with me.” He sends you a saucy wink that makes you want to punch the strongest man on earth, instead you settle for pushing him back from you.

But you’re not prepared for the wave of disappointment you feel when he lets go of your chin.

“I’m not in any danger of that Benny. You’re not half as smooth as you think you are.” You start to lean back in your chair, but Ben reaches out to grab your wrist, his touch surprisingly gentle, the contact burning through your body, as he pulls you forward, so close you can smell his cologne. Somehow it's something that smells classic and modern at the same time, a hint of spice that tickles your nose and makes your throat tight.

His voice lowers into a purr that vibrates through his chest, his next words expelled on a warm breath that weaves through the air between the two of you.

“Sweetheart, you’re about to find out just how smooth I am.”

What have I gotten myself into?

A/N: Again, not what I was expecting, but I really love this one y'all and I probably laughed way too hard at bits when I was writing it.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

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