#( i could have asked my boss for a free day on my birthday but i was too shy to ask her soiuahsiduoga )

[ceabu]

i may be getting older but my obsession with gamkar remains the same lol

[hannie-dul-set]

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING.

p — LEE JENO x female! reader. g — gang leader! jeno, actress! reader, humor, tension tension tension, jeno gets kidnapped by his celebrity crush, this is stupid, this is dumb, don't take this seriously. w — swearing, kidnapping, morally dubious characters HAHHAHA. 935 words.

note — happy birthday jeno. to the anon that sent the trope list curated for me, this is your fault. take responsibility. the prompt "accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" suddenly terrorized my brain while i was studying. enjoy.

when lee jeno opens his eyes, a dull ringing in his ears, he sees nothing but the faint impression of a lightbulb burning through the sack covering his head. it’s dark. there’s an echo when he grunts and tries to move, but upon feeling the rope pressed against his wrists, the stiffness of his shoulders and the metal scratching of the chair against the rough ground— he’s quick to understand the situation he’s in.

the last thing he remembers, he was about to board a plane to japan. to spend a few months lying low after the particularly risky job his gang had to undertake not too long ago.

seems like someone managed to sniff him out before he could flee.

splash!

“wake up, you slimy son of a bitch.”

cold water hits, seeping into the fabric covering his face and crawling down to his collarbones. now, considering his line of work, jeno isn’t too fazed by this situation. he has a lot of enemies. maybe this one’s from a rival gang. could be a relative seeking revenge for a brother’s cracked skull, or some shit. doesn’t matter. he’s not gonna stay sitting for long anyway.

“did you really think you could cheat on me and run away scot free?”  

cheat? the sack gets thrown off from his head, a hand yanking a handful of his hair to pull his head back and he lets out a grunt. the chair is tipped back. jesus fucking christ, that felt personal. but when the sudden illumination stops blinding him, and he can finally see who the hell had the guts to jump and kidnap him, he’s a little taken aback.

jeno has a lot of enemies. the list goes on and on.

“use your fucking mouth, bast—”

but he’s pretty sure that the darling angel of south korea’s film industry isn’t on that list.

jeno watches as the vivid scorn and disgust in your eyes slowly meld into confusion, then realization, then a slow but sure descent into panic alongside the loosening of your grip.

“oh.”

must be the skills of an award winning actress. he feels almost a hint of disappointment when you stop pulling on the roots of his damp hair.

“oh, shit. one moment.”

clang! the chair he’s tied to settles once more into the ground with a clatter, and jeno watches as you quickly secure a distance between you and him, pulling your phone out of your sweats while biting the tips of your thumbnail. it’s a little funny seeing the nation’s sweetheart pacing back and forth all jittery in what looks like a basement— maybe your basement. as far as jeno can remember, you’re always casted for romance films. those feel-good, slice of lives and the pocari sweat commercial you once did echoes in the back of his head. but maybe you have a hidden knack for some thriller.

he starts fiddling with the ropes tied around his wrists right at the moment you screech into your phone. dispatch would have a field day if they see this.

“you got the wrong guy! my ex isn’t this hot!”

his fingers slip. his skin scratches the rough threads of the rope.

“i paid you useless fucks a shit ton of money to get the job done, but you can’t even get— ugh! nevermind. just go and bring me the actual son of a bitch i asked for this time.”

the knot is almost loose. this is quite the show. it’s better than all the movies he’s seen of you.

“what?! hello?! what do you mean you can’t help me anymore, what about our—”

drop. jeno gets up from the chair. he stretches his joints, neck cracking, watching as you sputter out a trove of profanities at your phone. his clothes are still damp from the water you splashed him earlier. maybe he should have a bit of fun first before leaving. it’s not everyday that you get to meet your celebrity crush.

“hey, dollface,” he calls out. you freeze. you look at him with the drop of a needle, eyes growing a little bit wider when you realize he should be sitting down. damn, they really need to cast you in a grittier film. “you should pay a bit more attention when you have someone hostage.”

a beat of silence. 

“uhm,” your voice croaks. jeno takes a step towards you. you take a step back. “listen, haha, there has been a misunderstanding.”

your steps stutter a little, moving back and back and you swallow nervously, looking at him with almost sheepishly— a sense of feigned bravery in the midst of retreat, teeth tugging on the skin of your lips. “oh, yeah?” he says, and you visibly rattle. you’re prettier like this than when you’re batting your eyes and flirting at the camera. you’re definitely prettier.

“yes, ahaha, there was a minor switch-up, you see i— i didn’t mean to...uh, escort you from the airport, i actually meant to target someone else, and— o–oh, and there’s a wall behind me. oops, haha. do you mind backing away a bit, um—”

“how about i help you with the ex boyfriend problem you have?”

the tables turn. it’s him digging his face up against yours this time, but the mention of your ex strikes a chord. you’re looking at him, gaze unbreaking. he can feel your shallow breaths on his skin.

“who are you exactly?”

“someone who can do the job better that the fuckers you sent me, definitely,” he chuckles. “how about it?”

he won’t ask for much. maybe just an autograph in return.

AN UNLIKELY FANMEETING. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday ���. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but i dont know many scottish people and idk who to talk to about this book I found on audible. It's called Imogène, by french author Charles Exbrayat. Do you know him /the book? I've started reading it but I had to pause because, while being sold as a "humorous spy story" I find the protagonist, a "very proudly scottish" woman, to be... an offensive caricature? Like she acts like a fool, honestly. This book contains some interesting points about sexism (it was published in 1959), and ridiculous british habits (such as employees forced to give money for princess anna's birthday or being socially scorned). I'm sure the shared dislike / distrust the protagonist and her british colleagues feel are (were?) realistic. But she is so extra, and the story keeps telling how lonely she is, even after working 20 years in london. She has No friends, most acquitances dont talk to her for various motivations, her bosses hates her ... idk I feel this book is actually mocking scottish people? Or scottish women??? I was SO there for a "strong woman protagonist who gives cutting remarks to her boss or peers", but this looks wrong. Idk. I didnt know whom ask for inputs. Maybe i'm reading too much into it. Feel free to ignore this mega rant. Have a good day!

I think cultural and historical context and time of publication-- which was almost 70 years ago --are important factors to take into consideration when we look at fiction through our current expectations.

I can’t speak to the book as I’ve never read it, but speaking as a Scots woman who worked for an English publishing house for a while, being made to feel alienated by my boss and others due to being Scottish was unfortunately still something going on in 2011.

I’d get lots of “Oh but you sound so eloquent” remarks regarding my thinned-out accent (something I did on purpose to avoid being told to “speak properly” which was also something I heard a lot in school if I ever used my native Scots language instead of “Queen’s English.”) and one time my boss referred to me as “their civilized Scot” to an American author, whose Scottish romance book I was supposed to be fixing the dialogue on.

The phrasing was along the lines of, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her. Joy is our civilized Scot.”

The author laughed and made another derogatory comment about how they just loved Scottish accents even if it was unintelligible a lot of the time. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose my first career job.

I kept my mouth shut a lot in that job.

In that regard I could very well empathize with the character being lonely and not engaging with anyone, even after 20 years.

The proud Scottish woman can be a bit of a caricature, but that doesn't necessarily mean it is intended as mocking.

Again, cultural/historical context matters.

I wasn’t alive in 1959, but I know there was a lot of Scottish media about the time that leaned into the stubbornness and pride of Scots women both for humor and to make societal commentary on the fact that women were strong and more independent than they’d ever been following two world two and a lot of men weren’t happy about it and wanted them to go back into their boxes. As a result the mouthy, proud Scots woman became a mockable caricature that turned women into shrill, over proud scolds.

Get back in your box or we’ll make fun of you, basically.

So is this book being mocking, or is it employing popular tropes of the time, knowing that audience will understand what it means and that the female protagonist is being subversive despite what others expect from her?

I can’t say. Again, haven’t read it. It could be utter dogshit and making total fun of my culture. But I do think when looking at older media we need to put our thinking caps on and think, “How would the audience of the time, 1959, have viewed and engaged with this?”

Expecting a “strong female protagonist” as we know it from media today isn’t going to work with media that’s almost 70 years old.

Hell, the “strong woman protagonist” wasn’t even something any piece of media could agree on when I was growing up in the 90s.

Times change. Literary tropes and preferences change. It helps to keep that in mind.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Top 5 platonic friendship moments

Thank you SO much for asking me this, I love friendship!!!!

Nick and Sand Kissing in Only Friends, Ep. 9

gif by @aprilblossomgirl

I know you have your thoughts on Only Friends at this point because of how it ended, but there were a lot of things I do think Only Friends got right, one of my favorites being the platonic make out session between Nick and Sand. I mean, we talked about this before. It felt so queer, and it also did a really great job showing the difference between platonic and romantic feelings, because the kiss gave us nothing, and did the same for Team Second Option. I will forever love the fact that they made out, giggled, cuddled, and then giggled some more about it because it was kinda awkward and a little embarrassing, but they love each other as friends and that kiss changed literally nothing about their dynamic.

Porjai giving Mhok a Massage in Last Twilight, Ep 6

gif by @khaopybara

I like that some of the shows this year are starting to get in to the relationship dynamics of exes who stayed friends after. Like, listen, I've never been in a relationship before, and I know why it does happen where exes never really speak again, but it never made sense to me why 99% of the ex-partner relationship dynamics I've ever seen are bad. Like, this is a person who matter so much to you, and then you're just never going to see them or talk to them again? I love this massage moment that Porjai has with Mhok especially because it feels familial and familiar and friendly, and it is the scene that made me be like "man I can't believe they used to date" in exactly the same way that Porjai was confused when Day called Mhok her boyfriend.

Wataru Being a Little Shit on Shiro's Birthday in What Did You Eat Yesterday? Season 2, Ep. 7

Wataru is such a little shit, and I love him desperately, and his whole relationship with Shiro and Kenji is so strange. He's such a complainer, and while it can feel like the four gay men in this show hang out and are friends because they are the only gay people they know, it is moments like these that sell their actual friendship for me. Sending your friend a bouquet with a MASSIVE 50 balloon in it because you know it'll piss them off is pique best friend behavior.

Gay Boy Cuddle Pile in A Boss and a Babe, Ep. 9

gif by @paisky

I am not immune to a gay boy cuddle pile. I will never be immune to a gay boy cuddle pile.

Having had multiple conversations with a straight male friend about how much cis men lack platonic, physical touch from friends I now get emo about when boys hug, cuddle, kiss cheeks, hold hands with each other especially if they are not dating or hoping to date.

Rose Trying to Steal Charn's Phone in Laws of Attraction, Ep. 4

gif by @panncakes

It's such sibling energy, and I love it so much. As an immature adult, I love when adultier adults than me are shown being childish/immature themselves. No one should be expected to be put together all the time, and I moments like these show such a beautiful form of love.

and cause Laws of Attraction is technically a lakorn...

Sailom and Yiwa in the entirety of Wedding Plan

They love each other so much they were going to enter a Lavendar Marriage just so that Yiwa especially could be free. I can't say much about them because if I start talking about them I won't stop. But it is by far the most sacred form of platonic love we've had all year.

ASK ME MY TOP 5 OF ANYTHING BL 2023

[quickstappen]

track 002: the aftermath

A/N: this one's very twitter heavy, idk why, also we meet new characters

masterlist | previous next

liked by marcilazzaro1, vincent_fabbri and others

brunolazzaro03 next time i see him it's on sight

tagged: marcilazzaro1

(this is a private account, you cannot reply to this post)

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marcilazzaro1 oh baby brother, i love you too

↳brunolazzaro03 okay okay, just stop stealing my ice cream

landonorris and what are you gonna do, you're like 12

↳brunolazzaro03 im 20 and i've been training karate since i was 6 ;)) ↳landonorris ah, got it.

maxverstappen1 can i help?

↳brunolazzaro03 i mean, i guess? can you fight? ↳charles_leclerc no, he cannot. he's like a kitten ↳maxverstappen1 i CAN fight wtf, estebanocon can confirm ↳estebanocon that wasn't a fight, it was a shove

charles_leclerc oh shit you did karaoke without me? i'm hurt

↳brunolazzaro03 don't worry, you didn't miss much. she was awful ↳marcilazzaro1 oh i'm sorry that i was having fun and not singing like a pop star ↳charles_leclerc i'm sure it wasn't that bad, but you are legally obligated to go to a karaoke bar with us now ↳marcilazzaro1 name a time and place

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marci's messages:

Marci: Okay, so I do have questions. Apparently.

Claire Ask away, I've told you I'm here to answer anything I can.

Marci: He was in Milan for 17-19th June. Did you meet up then?

Claire: Wait a sec, I'll check the messages.

Claire: He texted me on the 17th, we met up the next day.

Marci: Fucking hell

Marci: What a fucking dickhead

Marci: I can't believe him

Marci: No, actually, I can't believe myself! How could I be so stupid? I KNEW something was up.

Claire: What happened?

Marci: My birthday's June 18th. I had to be in the UK for work, tried to get him to come with me as well, but he said he was needed at the factory.

Claire: What the fuckk

Claire: I'm so sorry this happened to you and for my involvement in it.

Claire: Merda, che proprio stronzo

Claire: The audacity. And his dick ain't even that good.

Marci: Jesus. Ain't that the truth

Marci: What are you doing this weekend? I still have questions and I'd rather to talk about it face to face

Marci: If that's okay with you of course.

Claire: Yeah, sure.

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marcilazzaro1 last moments in paradise ☀️ thank you for being my friends 💛 miss you already!

tagged: brunolazzaro03, sarah_scott, alliebanks, jonas_braun and jo_king

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jonas_braun you gotta have more free weekends

↳ marcilazzaro1 yeah, let me just say that to the big boss i'm sure he'll be very happy about that ↳ jo_king scuderiaferrari ;) ↳ scuderiaferrari sorry, boss says she's essential ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤠

sundaylover hope you had a good break! ferrari media is different without you

↳ cuddlyriccx right??? it's way less entertaining ↳ elplanxincoming and charles is not enthusiastic at all lol

yukitsunoda0511 i found a good restaurant for singapore so you better come back

↳ marcilazzaro1 i can't wait!

shithappens this is so precious to me, you don't understand

danielricciardo so is my favorite media perosn coming back to work?

↳ marcilazzaro1 i need to make a short pitstop first but yeah ;) ↳ madi_races pitstop? ↳ marcilazzaro1 🤫

charles_leclerc can't wait to have you back!

↳ ilpredestinatox i NEED to know which side is charles on here

↳ cuddlyxricc so true bestie

carlossainz55 come back, they're making us do challenges without you

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MONZA post race interview:

liked by sebastianvettel, clairobernie_x and others

marcielazzaro1 turns out that the only good thing about him was his taste in women ;)

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ilpredestinatox IM SORRY???? RUE WHEN WAS THIS

elplanxincoming OH this is petty, I LOVE THIS

sundaylover this is the solidarity we need

↳shithappens she's a girl's girl 🥺

maxverstappen1 so that's what you're doing instead of working?

↳marcielazzaro1 i have boss' permisson so shush

fonzlove that's some queen shit right here

↳aussieboi YES

multi21apologist is NO ONE gonna mention the seb like??

↳ redmilton honestly, he's been in her likes for ages (since he made an acc i guess) so im kinda... used to it?

clairobernie_x who knew medicore sex could make this happen ;)

↳marcilazzaro1 CLAIRE 😳 ↳barbiegirl i just know pierre is reading this shaking in his boots

danielricciardo that's some fine views right there

sarah_scott and you didn't take me??

↳marcilazzaro1 next time babes, i promise

charles_leclerc this is amazing

↳clairobernie_x we know ;) ↳madi_races oh i like her, can we keep her?

nyoomf1 WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMOMS

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liked by marcilazzaro1, sebastianvettel and others

clairobernie_x girls just wanna have fun (and bitch about stupid men)

tagged: marcilazzaro1

see all comments...

landonorizz i'm so happy they're friendly

madi_races oh they're so pretty

↳forzalec16 right??? im SO gay

marcilazzaro1 it was so good to officially meet you

↳clairobernie_x i'm so glad i reached out

shithappens this dynamic is precious, i don't wanna say "thank you pierre" but........

↳marcilazzaro1 thank you Pierre ;) ↳shithappens your honor i LOVE HER

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madi's radio: pt. 2 is here! next ones might take some time cause i'm just swamped with course work and i have a buch of exams this week, sorry. also how are we liking the characters and dynamics so far?

tag list: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

[double-hoe-seven]

Belated Birthday Present

Summary: After missing Jamie's birthday, you begin to make it up to him. Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader Word Count: 1,100 Warnings: Smut, m receiving oral, blowjob, slightly blink and you miss it subby Jamie.

A/N: It has been far too long since I've written smut and I did it on 4 hours of sleep. Definitely not me compensating for missing Jamie Tartt's birthday yesterday. This man just deserves a nice blowjob.

1:47 AM. That's what time your phone said it was when it automatically adjusted the time zone while you waited by the carousel for your luggage. You were supposed to be home yesterday morning, but a technical issue delayed your flight by a day, making you miss your boyfriend's birthday. After grabbing your suitcase, you head out to the pickup area where an Uber was waiting for you. The ride to your home was long and quiet as you fought yourself to stay awake. When the driver finally pulled up to your curb, it surprised you to see the lights on. After thanking the driver, you walked inside to find Jamie lounging on the couch in his sweats. "Hey babe, welcome home," Jamie says with a tired smile. "Jamie, what're you still doing up?" You question, locking the front door behind you and taking a seat beside him. "I wanted to make sure you got in alright." He yawns, planting a quick, gentle kiss to your lips.

Jamie held you against his side for a few minutes, giving you both time to enjoy each other's proximity again after five days apart. "I'm so sorry I missed your birthday, Jamie." You apologize with a slight frown. "It's not your fault. I know you would've been here if you could." He hums. "Your boss is a fucking twat, though, for making you travel so much." He jokingly adds. "Trust me, everyone knows Billy's a dick." You agree with a chuckle. "Have you heard back from any of the places you applied to?" He asks. "A couple." You tell him. "That last place I interviewed with ended up wanting me to relocate to fucking Birmingham." "I thought they had an office here," Jamie says. "They do but they lied about which location they were hiring for." You explain with an eye roll. "What dicks." Jamie scoffs. "I certainly know how to pick 'em." You joke. "That's alright, babe. Even if you pick shit bosses, you still picked me and I think I'm pretty great." He boasts jokingly. "You��are pretty great." You say genuinely. "You're fucking amazing, Jamie." "I'm just trying to be the best me I can be," Jamie says with a soft, almost bashful smile. You just smile and snuggle into his side, taking in the smell of his body wash and letting it relax you.

"So, what happened to my super secret, super special birthday surprise you were so excited about?" He teases with a grin. "I was gonna take us out of town for the weekend to this romantic little Airbnb I found." You answer. "It was this very cute little place with a hot tub and it's right next to a little pond, too. I thought it'd be a nice, brief escape from the chaos." "God, that does sound nice," Jamie admits. "Roy's been on my fucking ass for weeks." "You did ask the man to train you." You remind him. "Yeah, I know, and now I'm paying the price." He jokingly grumps. "Poor baby." You mockingly coo. "I know!" He pouts. "Let me make you feel better." You hum, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to his jawline. Jamie lets out a couple of softer hums as you kiss down the column of his neck. "I also got you a few things I know you've had your eyes on." You hum vaguely as you trail kisses down his chest.

When your lips reached the waistband of his pants, you looked up at him with a smile. "Do you want your birthday gifts first or my very sincere apology for missing your birthday?" You ask him. "Apology." He says immediately. Instead of making a joke about how quickly he answered, you pull his sweatpants down until his member was free of the cloth constraints. He audibly gulped when he saw you lick your palm before wrapping your hand around his base. "I'm so sorry I couldn't make it back home to celebrate your birthday with you, Jamie." "I might be able t-to forgive you," Jamie says with a slightly shuddered breath as you kiss the crown of his member, licking up the bead of pre-cum already forming. "Fuck, I missed you," Jamie moans as you slowly take his tip into your mouth. "I missed you too, love." You hum after pulling off of his length, using your spit as lubricant to stroke him.

This time when you leaned forward and took his length back into your mouth, you took as much of him as you could. "Jesus Christ." Jamie hisses when he hits the back of your throat. His moans get louder the more you find your rhythm, resting a hand on his thigh as you lavish his length with attention, teasing the vein that ran along the underside with your tongue. His moans fill the living room of your home, echoing off the walls of the space as his head falls back in abject bliss. When he starts getting close, he tangles the fingers of one hand in your hair while his other hand grabs the arm of the couch in a vice-like grip to keep himself up when he feels his knees almost buckle. As his breathing becomes more ragged, you double your efforts to push him over the edge, bobbing your head just a tad faster and reaching up to massage his balls. The moan that follows comes from deep in his chest as he spills his release down your throat.

When his orgasm subsides and you've swallowed every last drop, you carefully pull off of him,  looking up at him through your lashes as you lick him clean. "Apology fucking accepted." He jokes with a breathless chuckle, offering his hand to help you back up after tucking himself back into his sweatpants. "I love you, babe," Jamie says sweetly, pulling you into a quick, gentle kiss before the two of you head to your bedroom. "I love you too, Jamie." You hum happily. While he pulls the covers back, you change into your pajamas, grabbing a couple of gift bags from the back of the closet. "Here are your birthday gifts by the way." You tell him with a sheepish smile. "What's in the pink and white one?" He asks, doing a poor job of masking his lust as simple curiosity. "Something I picked out for this weekend with you in mind." You answer vaguely, a teasing smile on your face as you crawl into bed with him. You set the gift bags in his lap and smile, pecking his cheek. "Happy belated birthday, my love." You hum as you watch him impatiently tear into the pink bag first, completely ignoring the other one.

Dedicated to the people who have yet to give up on me: @bdffkierenwalker @anarchistbeauty

[cod-dump]

HI HELLO UH

I've never really done asks before but this question is burning a hole through my skull

is there any way you could provide a list of the characters from COD that are present in your teen!au and their roles? I have many ideas and silly situations in my head that need context >:)

(love your stuff btw, very cute)

From my notes to you! Hopefully this satisfies!

The characters and their roles and backstories

———

Ghost:

Simon R. Price is the adopted son of Price and brother of Kyle. He is sixteen. Simon was taken away from his bio family at the age of eight after his bio father god into some shady business and those people came after his kids and wife. He was a flight risk for every caregiver he was given to, so Laswell had to step up her game and find someone more capable. Price turned out to be the perfect one for the job, the man ending up adopting Simon when he turned thirteen. Price helped Simon get in contact with his brother and mother and helps to make sure they stay in his life. He can’t go back with his mom, it’s too dangerous, and Tommy had found his own family. Simon is able to spend time with his mother and brother on some holidays and every other birthday.

—

Gaz:

Kyle G. Price is the adopted son of Price and brother of Simon. He is fifteen. Kyle was abandoned when he was nine. It was rough for him, leaving him abandonment and trust issues which ultimately made it hard for him to find a new family. Laswell sent him to stay with Price and Kyle ended up never leaving. He was adopted by Price when he was twelve. Though he butts heads with Simon a lot, it’s out of playfulness. Kyle loves his father and brother very much. He started dating Laswell’s son, Alex, and has been pretty secretive about it. He’s worried about how dating his dad’s boss’ son might affect him, so they keep quiet about their relationship.

—

Price:

John Price is the adoptive father of Simon and Kyle. He is thirty-seven. Price is ex-military and currently working for CIA’s own Kate Laswell as a ‘free agent’ as Laswell calls him. An issue arose involving an ongoing threat that required Price to care for Simon. he ended up loving him so much that he adopted him. It did complicate Laswell’s work but she didn’t try to stop him. Price had devoted his life to caring for and loving Simon, and when Laswell sent him Kyle to look after he did the same for him. He ended up getting in a strange romantic relationship with one of Laswell’s contacts. This is something both he and Nik keep from Laswell.

—

Nik:

Nik is the unofficial second father of Simon and Kyle. He is forty-seven. He was stationed to look after Simon while he was being cared for, chasing off anyone that would try to do him harm or take him. He was the one who took Simon to Price. Even after Simon was confirmed safe in Price’s care, Nik never left out of worry for the boy. He ended up getting romantically entangled with Price, both refusing to put a label on their relationship, once they did it becomes all too real and Laswell would not approve. Nik has helped raise Simon and Kyle. He loves them like they’re his own. He often leaves to do work for Laswell, being gone for days at a time. This does not bother him because everything he’s doing is making the world safer for those he loves.

—

Laswell:

Kate Laswell is the mother of Alex K. Laswell and the wife of Annie Laswell. She is forty-five. Laswell is the boss of Price and has been dealing with a growing threat to the UN. Big or small, she’s on the job. One of these jobs involved placing two at risk boys into a capable caregiver’s care. This ultimately lead to Price adopting his first child, Simon. While it made things more difficult for her by capacitating one of her best men, she did nothing to stop the adoption after seeing how happy they both were. Laswell has a rough history with Nik, seeing they’ve met each other’s guns to the face more than once. Nik has turned a new leaf, but Laswell has a hard time trusting him.

—

Alex:

Alex K. Laswell is the son of Kate and Annie Laswell. He is seventeen. Alex was first introduced to the Price family after Kyle was adopted. He and Kyle hit it off almost instantly and became inseparable, which lead to them dating. Alex is very nervous about how Kyle’s father would react to him dating his son while Kyle was worried about what his dad would think about him dating his boss’ son, so they both agreed to keep it a secret for now. Simon knows about their relationship and has agreed to keep it a secret, but this is anything but comforting considering how protective Simon is of his brother and how Alex is convinced the guy would kill him if given a reason.

—

Farah:

Farah Karim is the childhood friend of Simon when he was first taken in by Price. She is eighteen. Farah was close with Simon since he was first taken in by Price. Being neighbors, they often played together and hung out. Though after Kyle was brought into the Price household, Farah had to move away with her family. She kept contact with Simon but did not speak to him as much as she would’ve liked, having been dealing with a less than favorable home life. After Farah turned eighteen, she was kicked out of her parent’s home, sharing the Sam fate as her elder brother. With no where to go, she went to the Shadow Company Shelter, where she was stay until Price took her home to stay with him and his family. She’s determined to make up for lost time with Simon and has become an elder sister to him and Kyle.

—

Soap:

Johnny MacTavish is Kyle’s best friend and Simon’s crush and inevitably his boyfriend. He is fifteen. Johnny lives across the street from the Price family with his parents and three older sisters. He became friends with Kyle soon after Kyle was sent to school, taking him under his wing and helping him adjust to his new environment. Johnny would develop a crush on Kyle’s older brother, which would blossom into a romantic relationship. Johnny introduced Kyle to his friend Hong-Jin, which would lead to an inseparable trio of friends. Though there is no such evidence, Johnny is thoroughly convinced Simon’s dad’s friend would make him disappear if anything were to happen to Simon.

—

Horangi:

Hong-Jin Kim is Johnny’s long time best friend. He is fifteen. Being a immigrant, it took time for Hong-Jin to adjust to his new life, thankfully Johnny made things much easier faster they became friends. He was originally jealous and bitter when Johnny started hanging out with Kyle, feeling like he was losing his friend. Then the bitterness and jealousy turned into a crush that Hong-Jin is certain will kill him. He doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with Kyle or Johnny, so he keeps his feelings quiet. He’s happy to be his friend.

—

Graves:

Phillip Graves is the caretaker of the local runaway shelter for teens and young children. He is forty-two. Phillip is an associate of Laswell, the two having a less than friendly work relationship. While his day job is running a shelter and caring for and protecting children and teens in unfortunate situations, Phillip also does work with Laswell when it’s called for. Many call him an asshole and selfish, but Phillip genuinely cares for the kids under his care. He’s been running the shelter for a goof several years, and quite a few kids who he cared for that had long since become adults now work with him as caretakers themselves. These caretakers, these Shadows, are what keep the kids safe. Phillip is very proud of them.

—

Alejandro:

Alejandro Vargas is the best friend of Simon and boyfriend of Rudy. He is seventeen. While almost al the kinds in the neighborhood avoided the violent new kid, Simon, Alejandro saw a challenge and ran to meet him. It didn’t take long for him to consider Simon his best friend and included him in everything he did. Simon was there for him when things didn’t end well with Valeria, the girl he was certain was his everything. Simon helped him put his head back on straight, which lead him to asking out Rudy. Now he is certain he’s on the right path, organizing a gang of kids that live on his street to be ‘heroes’. It’s more or less just a very large friend group, but he likes to pretend.

—

Rudy:

Rudy Parra is Alejandro’s boyfriend and friend of Simon. He is sixteen. Rudy grew up next door to Alejandro and Valeria and was Valeria’s friend before he was Alejandro’s, having gone to the same school as her before they both transferred. He developed a crush on Alejandro but said nothing due to not wanting to become between his friends’ relationship. The two eventually ended things and Rudy’s home life took a turn then after he came out to his parents. The outcome was brutal and Rudy ended up running away, ending up at Shadow Company shelter where he’ll remain until he can get a place of his own. Eventually a relationship sprouted between him and Alejandro, the two officially becoming a couple after Simon’s fifteenth birthday.

—

Valeria:

Valeria Garza is the ex-girlfriend of Alejandro and the local troublemaker. She is seventeen. Valeria has always been getting into trouble, getting kicked out of the all girl’s school she originally went to, getting into trouble with the law, stealing— She’s always been a bad influence. Yet somehow her best friend has never went down the same path as her. She’s not sure where she would’ve ended up if it wasn’t for Rudy. She started dating Alejandro after her and Rudy started going to his school. It didn’t feel right to her, which is what lead to her finally ending things. Alejandro was upset but it was for the best. Besides, now Rudy cold be with him. She knows Alejandro would never hurt him.

—

There are more characters in the au but these are the ones with the biggest roles in it. The au of course focuses around Ghost and his new family and friends. The au is wholesome but the world it’s set in is anything but.

Might add more characters later on

[ghiradellidarkchocolatebrownies]

STORYTIME: DO NOT FEED YOUR CLOWNS THIS!!

I volunteer a few days a week at a clown shelter. Earlier this month, a Teacup-Birthday mix named Kiki was adopted by a (seemingly) very nice middle aged couple, and we were very happy to send yet another clown to a good home. But disaster struck this afternoon when the couple returned to the shelter, wanting to surrender Kiki back to us. Their reason? She was not performing any tricks and had been biting them nonstop for weeks now. I was of course very shocked and confused by this. Kiki was one of the most playful and least temperamental clowns I had ever cared for.

I asked them if she had the proper environment, if they had changed her costume or markings in any way, if they were feeding her the proper diet. They said that they were doing everything right, and were following the care instructions we had given them. I usually give people the benefit of the doubt, but their story just wasn't adding up. And they were shifting nervously, and talking quietly to each other when they thought I wasn't looking. I told them to wait while I took Kiki for a checkup. As I took her to the vet's office, I couldn't help but notice that she seemed to lack any energy at all. When I tried to tickle her stomach (something that she normally loves), she snapped at me (Luckily, I jerked my hand away before she could bite).

When the vet examined Kiki, it was revealed that she was suffering from malnourishment and a button infection. I went back out to talk to the owners, and they continued to deny any mistreatment. After some more questioning and prying, they finally broke down and admitted what they had been doing.

They had been feeding Kiki a mix of mice and small bones (no problem there). But for her candy intake, they had been feeding her SUGAR-FREE candy. My heart sank as soon as I heard those words. No wonder Kiki had been so sick.

Every clown owner should know that (in general) Clowns need a healthy mixture of raw meat and sugar in their diets. Feeding them sugar-free stuff can be very bad for them and cause a LOT of problems.

For one, they will not be getting their much needed sugar intake. A sugar deficiency will lower their mood, make them more easily agitated, make them sick, and can even be deadly for some clown breeds (such as Birthday and Circus). As Kiki is a Birthday clown, she might not have survived another week without sugar.

Another thing to keep in mind about sugar-free products is that they often have artificial sweeteners in them. These sweeteners are not ideal for clowns, as most clown breeds have sensitivities or allergies to them. Simply put, most clowns' digestive systems are not properly built to process sugar-free foods. Feeding your clown artificial sweeteners over time can even weaken their immune system (This is likely what contributed to Kiki's infection).

The owners claimed that they had no idea that sugar-free candy was bad for clowns (very unlikely since the care instructions specifically list sugar-free foods under the "DO NOT" section). My boss suggested to them that we take care of Kiki for a few days, but they told us they weren't coming back. As soon as they left, we informed other local shelters about them and even posted on internet forums about it, as they may go somewhere else and find a different clown to mistreat. They clearly only see clowns as entertainment and nothing else.

We gave Kiki some cotton candy, and she's already starting to return to her old self. Unfortunately, though, this means that she's back in the system. There's no telling how long until she's adopted again.

Before anyone asks, we make sure to look into anyone who's interested in adopting one of our clowns. We run background checks, call character witnesses, make sure they have the proper environment for a clown and have the money to support one, etc. Overall, the process takes about a month or so. Sometimes it can take even longer if we have a waiting list. It is extremely rare that a clown adoption goes wrong. In fact, this is the first time it's happened in the year I've been volunteering here.

TL;DR

Don't feed clowns sugar-free foods! It can make them very sick and cause a lot of complications.

[julemmaes]

Happy birthday @simpingfornestaarcheron!! Even if I can't remember for the love of god how old you're turning (you'll always be 24 turning 25 to me) I thought I'd give you some Nessian goodies for your special day.

I swear it's not really angst. it's mostly domestic fluff.

Love you, enjoy!

(I didn't reread shit I'm sorry I started it yesterday night and then passed out cause I'm sick, so if there's any mistakes, well, I don't really care)

Nesta hated her job. She fucking despised it. 

There was not a single thing about her life that she enjoyed less than having to wake up in the morning to do something she disliked as much. She hated her colleagues. She hated her claustrophobic cubicle. She hated the stupid-hot-flavorless coffee they sold right outside her office. She hated the hours, the clothes she had to wear, the lonely lunch breaks. What she hated most, though, were the trips.

Her boss was a menace to society and why HR still hadn't fired him was beyond her. Her coworkers were so insanely dumb that sometimes she wondered how they'd even got the position. Her assistant had to be some kind of pity-hire cause there was so chance in hell he'd been interviewed and not fucked it up–he couldn't even print out a document on his own, for god's sake. 

Why was she still working that job, you might ask? 

For love. Love for her hardworking, supportive as hell, caring and lovely husband. 

She just had to endure two more years of this, while he finished his degree, and then she'd be free. Free to go back to the minimum wage job at the library. To that beautiful, silent, dusty place she loved so much. And she could start her studies.

Just another two years and it'd be her turn. Less than that, if she really thought about it. Only 18 months. 

Only 18 months. 

18 months. 

That was… 550 days, give or take. 

550 days. She could do this.

She walked into the elevator, her broken trolley dragging on the floor behind her, and only once the doors closed in front of her and the thing started moving up did she let out a sigh, sagging against the mirror. 

She was so goddamn tired. She just wanted to sleep the trip off, forget about everything that had gone wrong during it and let the even worse things she'd said go. 

She was so tired that the ding dong of the doors opening on her floor almost scared the living shit out of her. 

Walking to her apartment and finding the keys in her bag made her want to punch the front door off the hinges, but she refrained. She guessed her husband wouldn't want that.

As soon as she stepped in, a low mumbling coming from the kitchen welcomed her. It was music to her ears, even if she wanted to lay down and never have to hear a single word ever again. It sounded like home.

Cassian's murmuring only stopped when she closed the door behind her, making it known to everyone present that they weren't alone. 

“Nes? Is that you?” 

She smiled to herself, nodding silently. 

“Sweetheart, if it is, please talk, or I'm coming out with knives.” He sounded genuinely afraid and she chuckled.

“Yes.” She replied, talking loudly over her shoulder as she hung her coat. 

She heard furniture being thrown to the side and feet scuffling on the ground, and Cassian appeared a heartbeat later in the entry, his smile blinding, his eyes shining. He took two steps to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hauling her against him. 

“It is you, my dearly missed wife,” he said dramatically.

She breathed in his washed away cologne from the day, melting on his shoulder and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. 

She'd missed him, too. 

“You're back early.” He whispered in her ear, not letting go of her just yet.

Nesta reflexively put her arms around his torso, tightening her grip to the point of pain. He squeezed her in turn, stroking the back of her head with gentle fingers. She closed her eyes, basking in that anchoring feeling of being taken care of, being loved.

Cassian knew she needed some quiet time whenever she came back from work so they stood there for minutes, just touching, no talking, unwinding from a very long week without each other.

“You're back early,” he repeated, pulling away just enough for him to look at her face. He brushed a strand of stray hair away from her nose and cupped her cheek, sweeping a thump right below her eye. He smiled, even if a concerned wrinkle appeared between his eyes.

She nodded, leaning in his touch. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice a faint lullaby. 

She could only nod again. 

“Why don't you go into the bathroom and I run you a hot bubbly bath, uh?” He suggested, touching a knuckle to her chin.

Another nod. He cleared his throat and leaned in, placing a soft soft kiss to her lips. Nesta sighed when he stepped back and let him go reluctantly when he started walking towards the back of the house. 

“There's still hot water on the stove, if you want some tea.”

She took a deep breath and bent forward, starting to open her luggage. Cassian made the short jog back to her and tugged on her blouse, making her rise again. Her back cracked as they both laughed.

“Leave it, I'll take care of it while you bathe. Go get the tea and come meet me in the bathroom.” 

Nesta smiled up at him, touching his chest, tiptoeing to kiss him again. He met her halfway, placing a hand on the small of her back to keep her close. 

“Thank you,” she said against his lips, noses brushing.

“I love you, now go.” He said, pressing another kiss to her forehead. 

“No bubbles, please.” 

“No bubbles coming your way, I swear.”

He left at that, swinging his hips left and right to make her laugh. It worked.

She was still boiling over in her hatred towards her job when she made her way to the kitchen and what she saw there put everything into perspective again. The table was basically collapsing under the weight of what was at least twenty textbooks and thousands of papers. A myriad of colored pencils and highlighters was scattered on every surface and from what she could see, Cassian had at least fifteen tabs open on his laptop. The floor was a canvas of written post-it notes and more papers, organized in what seemed to be a map.

He really was doing his best. 

Her heart tugged a little as she poured the water in her favorite mug. The bone-deep exhaustion and lack of will to live were not for nothing. She was doing this for him and that was enough motivation not to quit. 

She walked to the living room, warm beverage in her hands, and looked around to see if there was anything she'd have to do tomorrow. Maybe tidy up, go grocery shop, clean the whole house. But no, everything looked perfect as usual. 

She was about to go look in their bedroom, when Cassian called to her, “Nes? It's ready.” 

Slowly, she dragged herself to him. He was standing next to their tub, looking at the water filling up and when she finally stopped next to him he curled his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple.

“You eaten anything yet?” 

She shook her head, “No, my boss asked me if I wanted to come back with him tonight while I was about to head to the restaurant. Didn't have time to order take away.”

He hummed. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to cook you something?” 

“Not really, no,” she tilted her head to the side, facing him. “Thank you, though.”

Cassian looked down at her then, bringing her closer to him. “Are you okay, baby? You look exhausted.” 

The unsease in his voice made her want to cry. 

“Just tired, don't worry about it.” 

He nodded, kissing her again. It didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon, either. She didn't mind. 

“I'll let you decompress a little,” he murmured against her cheek, leaving yet another peck on her lips. “You sure you don't want food? Not even grilled cheese? A tiny sandwich?”

“A hundred percent sure,” she chuckled. 

“Well, then, in that case,” he kissed her again, this time deepening the kiss, drinking from her mouth, breathing from her lungs. He kissed her bottom lip and left her there, stunned.

***

Nesta was crunching up her hair as she exited the bathroom and strode for the bedroom, her feet freezing on the stone cold floors. 

Cassian grinned at her from his perch on the pillows when she stopped at the foot of the bed. “You feeling better?” 

“Reborn,” was her only reply.

She tied her hair up in a towel and crawled on the sheets to him, where she laid across his body: her head on his heart, a leg slung over his hips, her arm around his waist. 

His chest rumbled with laughter.

“Are you comfy like this?” 

“Mhmh, so good.” 

She almost moaned as he put down his book and moved so that their bodies intertwined. One of his legs went between hers, an arm under her head while the other around her waist and to her back, where he pushed her flat to his chest. He put his lips to her head and stayed in that position long enough that Nesta thought he'd fallen asleep. 

She certainly had been on the gates of unconsciousness when he talked.

“I know I don't say it often, but thank you.” 

Nesta had to put actual effort in staying awake, so she only ran the hand that wasn't stuck between their bodies down his back in soothing motions.

“I hope you know that I'm grateful for you and what you're doing for me.” 

His voice sounded rough, as if he was worried what her reaction would be. That was enough to make her worry, and even though sleep was calling her under, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off.

Gently stroking his sternum with her knuckles, she said, “I know you are, Cass. You don't need to tell me.” 

He shuffled a little, rearranging limbs and pulling her tight to him. 

“I just don't want you to think I'm slacking off or chilling in between classes and exams while you work your ass off.” 

At that point, Nesta tried to free herself from his grip. That he thought–

“Let's… can we, please, stay like this? I really missed having you home. Can you stay here?” 

It was barely a whisper and Nesta's heart seized. Her stomach bottomed. Her head twirled.

“Of course we can. I can.” She put her hand flat on his chest, feeling his wild heartbeat. “Cassian, what's going on? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes. I am. I swear. I just,” another pause, a deep breath. “I see you getting home every night and you look like death, no offense. You just look so fucking tired, Nes, all the time. Whenever you come back from another trip you look so done with everything. And I really don't want you thinking I don't appreciate everything you're doing for us. For me.”

She closed her eyes, leaning her head to his collarbone. This didn't sound like something that'd just come up. It felt more like something he'd been sitting on for a long time. 

“How long have you been having these thoughts?” 

He sniffed, “That's not the point.”

“It is for me,” she said firmly, but gently.

She gave him a moment to think, to gather his words. They stayed silent so long she seriously thought he'd fallen asleep on her, again.

“A few weeks. Since your last trip to Adriata,” he admitted.

Nesta hugged him closer. “That's almost four months ago, baby.”

“I know.”

“Why only bring it up now?”

“What would have changed? Short of me quitting uni and finding a job myself, there's nothing I can do to fix this for you.” He sounded pained. Like he truly believed he was the cause of her every malaise.

She moved back then, even when he tried to keep her in his embrace. She still lay down on her side, but she was now looking him in the eyes, a deep scowl on her face.

“What would have changed?” She parroted him, skimming her fingers down the side of his face. “Everything, Cass. I'd have told you this isn't on you. That we literally flipped a coin to see who would go to university first, while the other worked. This is not on you. It never has been and it never will.

“I don't want you to think you're causing me any kind of stress. Or pain. You need to focus on your classes and you taking care of that and the house in the meantime is enough. You're doing enough, love.”

He looked frantic, like he couldn't, wouldn't believe her words. She breathed in, offering what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“You've already come such a long way. You're more than halfway through it. Yes, I am tired and I don't like my job, I'm not gonna lie, but do you have any idea how happy and proud I am of you, every time you walk through our front door and tell me your results? Or simply start ranting about your latest paper?  I love it. I love you.” 

He sprung forward, catching her lips between his, taking everything she was offering and giving back twice as much. 

He touched his forehead to hers, “I just wish it was me.”

“And I don't, and we've had this conversation far too many times.” She reminded him.

That was true. They had fought months over who, between the two of them, would sacrifice five years of their lives by carrying the economic expenses of their little family on their backs while the other studied. 

At the end of the day, after hours listing pros and cons, weighing every option in the universe, they found that the only reasonable solution was to flip a coin. Nesta's relief when it'd landed on head (her choice) had been so palpable that it didn't leave room for discussion. 

And while she really, really, really didn't like her job, she never had a day of regret.

Cassian settled down after that, an arm bent behind his head and the other around her shoulders still. Nesta knew it was all pretense and he wasn't convinced, but she had no fight left in her right then. 

She just needed her husband to hold her and let her sleep for at least ten hours. So she told him as much and Cassian chucked that rocky, low laugh of his. 

She turned her back to his, letting him engulf her with his whole body. His mouth brushed her ear and right before she finally fell, his words pierced through her heart. 

I love you.

[jessicaloons]

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince:

Chapter 1

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Miss Americana

May 2019:

"And you’re sure you can handle it? I mean working here and college?" Peter Hastings was a nice, middle aged man, looking for a new nanny for his 6 year old son, Gabriel.

"I’ll wake him up at 7:15. Make breakfast and get him ready for school, drop him off at 8:30 and go to my classes. At 3 I’ll pick him up. Help him with his homework. Soccer on Monday and Wednesday. Piano lesson on Tuesday. Prepare dinner. Make him bed ready and then you’ll take over. Monday till Thursday. Fridays I’ll pick him up at 12. We’re going to the park, museum, zoo whatever. Have lunch and I’ll bring him home by 4, where you take over. And if you need a babysitter on the weekends, you’ll call me." Rachel repeated the schedule Mr. Hastings had presented her with, hoping he would hire her.

"Impressive. Well your report looks great, I understand why you’ve got a scholarship for the MCPHS. I’d say you’ve got the job." Mr. Hastings smiled at the girl.

"Thank you, Sir! Really!"

"Gabriel liked you, you have strong ambitions. I think you’re perfect. Now let’s talk money, shall we?" he clapped his hands and Rachel nodded.

With a full scholarship and a well paid job that still gave her enough time for her studies, she could start saving up money to get the hell out of Woburn, after graduating from college with her nursing degree hopefully.

"I know this was not what you applied for, but I’ll ask anyways, if you say no, you’ll still keep your job starting in fall!" her new boss said and she looked up "My current nanny, well she left, family emergency, so I would need someone from now on, during the summer until you’ll take over at the end of August. I know, you just graduated and probably already planned your summer, but I thought I ask anyways. Again, feel free to say no, the job is yours regardless. It’s only one more month of school and then it’s… well a full day job, I’m off for the entire August, but before that I’m loaded with events here and there…"

"I’ll do it." Rachel said immediately, every reason to leave Woburn earlier was a good reason.

"Yeah? You sure? I mean like I said, you don’t have to!" Mr. Hastings said but the girl shook her head.

"No it’s fine. Really. I have nothing planned. And like this I can get used to Boston."

"You can stay here. Our old nanny has her own studio in the backyard. That way you don’t have to drive every morning from Woburn to here."

"Are you sure? It’s no problem for me to drive!"

"With traffic in the morning you’ll be in the car for an hour or longer. That’s ridiculous. Come on I’ll show you the studio. You could even stay there when you start college. Thinking back to my college times? The dorms weren’t the nicest place to stay." he laughed and got up, leading the young girl outside through the kitchen.

"I mean. I haven’t seen my dorm yet… but from what I’ve heard, yeah, not the nicest place to stay indeed."

The studio was clean and modern. A kitchenette, a table with two chairs. Sofa, TV and a bed. A little bathroom. It was definitely more quiet and private than any dorm at her college.

"Are you sure it’s okay?" the girl asked.

"100%. It’s yours if you want it. Free of charge. You just have to keep it clean yourself. And if you want to bring friends over, just give me a little heads up."

Free of charge. The money she would safe. Only paying the tuition fee. The rest of her scholarship could go into her savings as well. She could leave home earlier than planned. It couldn’t get better than this.

"I guess I’m moving in then."

November 2021:

Rachel always dreaded driving home. The rare occasions over the past 2 years where she had driven home were all proof why it was better to stay away. But something in her father’s voice when he asked her if she would come home for his birthday gave her the chills. When she parked her car in the driveway of her rundown childhood home, she felt the pit in her stomach grow. Calming down her nerves she opened up the door, walking inside. The house smelt rancid. A mix of liquor, smoke and bleach.

"Dad?" the girl walked inside the dark living room when suddenly the light got switched on. She flinched looking at the man sitting in the armchair facing her.

"If it’s not Miss Americana fresh off of college." Tony.

"Where’s my dad?" her voice not as strong as she hoped.

"Come." he got up and dragged her outside with him.

"Stop. Tony! Let go of me!" Rachel tried to get away from him.

"Get in the car. You can do it on your own or I’ll make you." his jaw clenched.

The girl got inside. Shaking.

"Where’s my dad?" she repeated.

"Your dad… he pissed off a lot of people… he was a capo once… but his drinking? Mamma Mia… he became useless the day your mother died… fallen from capo to soldato… and now? A shame really…" he sneered.

"What did he do?" Rachel asked with a shaking voice.

"Oh bella, you know I can’t tell you. Otherwise I’d have to kill you. And I really don’t want to kill such a pretty girl." he laughed and the girl swallowed hard "Just know that he owes a lot of people a lot of money…"

They drove to Winchester and the girl knew immediately where they were going.

"When was the last time you were here? When your mother died?" he asked, although he didn’t sound one bit empathetic "A long time ago… then again, it’s never a good sign if you have to go to Winchester… our family parties are usually held somewhere else…"

The driveway up the hill to the dark manor made Rachel’s insides churn.

"Get out." Tony parked the car and she did as told, following him inside.

"Oh Rachel! Mia bellissima ragazza! Look at you! What a beautiful, beautiful young lady! You should look for a girl like her, Anthony, not the skanks you’re going for." Rosaria Romano pulled Rachel in her arms, before kissing her cheeks "The last time I saw you was before you left for college and now look at you! You’re skinny! Don’t they feed you well at college? All the money they take and then not feeding their students? Che cavolo! You’re staying for dinner! Anthony, tell your father I’m feeding this sweet girl first, before he can talk to her!"

"Mamma! She’s not here to eat!" Tony grabbed the girls arm, but he shrugged away under the cold, hard gaze of his mother. He rolled his eyes, walking away, cursing in Italian.

"Now come, mia ragazza, you can help me with dinner." Rosaria lead her into the kitchen where already a handful of women were cooking away "Here, put that on. We don’t want your beautiful outfit to get stained with pomodori!"

The next hour Rachel cooked together with the ladies, told them about college and how her life was going. She knew all too well that she couldn’t tell them everything. Giving away too much was dangerous, so she lied mostly.

"And what about the boys at college? Someone special there for you?" nonna Viola asked right as Tony came back.

"She’s coming with me now." he grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her with him. A muscle ticked at his jaw. His hold on her arm made her whimper in pain.

"Anthony! You hurt her! Stop! Don’t make me swing my mattarello at you!" nonna Viola raised her rolling pin and Anthony let go of the girls arm "There you go, stupido!"

"Come." he glared at the girl who took off the apron, handing it Rosaria.

"When the men have finished whatever their having to talk about now, we’re finishing our conversation, Rachel." she smiled and Rachel nodded.

As she followed Tony down a long, dark hallway the bad feeling she had, since hearing her father’s voice on the phone earlier that day, only intensified.

When they stopped in front of a big oak door Tony pushed Rachel hard against it, caving her in. His nose rubbing down her cheek. His breath reeked of smoke and liquor.

"You won’t like what’s happening next and let me tell you, I understand you. But then again… mhhh look at you." he whispered in her ear, making the girl shudder "My mother wasn’t that wrong, I should go for a girl like you…"

"Anthony?" Don Vito’s cold voice rang out through the door.

"We’re here, papa!" Tony said with a sadistic grin.

"Bring her in then. We have a lot to do."

January 2022:

"Miss Lombardi? Miss Lombardi!" the screeching voice of Professor Cullers made Rachel flinch "Ah great. You are with us again… well, do you know the answer, to Miss Edwards question?"

"I- umm… I don’t. No." the girl looked at her professor "Sorry."

"Maybe stop daydreaming then and start listening to what I’m teaching you."

"Yes, ma’am." she nodded.

The rest of the class Rachel kept writing down everything Professor Cullers said, listening carefully and when the bell rang she was one of the last to leave.

"What’s going on with you?" Stuart asked, waiting at the door for her.

"What do you mean?" they walked side by side to their next course.

"You’re absent. Pretty often. For weeks now…"

"It’s nothing. I’m fine. I promise." Rachel faked a smile and Stuart sighed.

"Ok, cut the crap. What’s going on? Since you left for your father’s birthday a couple of weeks ago, you’re acting strange… what happened at home Rachel?" he looked at her and she took a deep breath, shaking her head.

Stuart was the only friend she made in college, he didn’t talk much, but there was a sense of understanding between the two after she accidentally overheard a conversation between him and a stranger behind the cafeteria one day. Rachel since knew that their backstory was similar and that he broke off all ties to his old life. He would understand her, if she told him what happened. But then again, she knew that she might endanger him if she told him too much.

"How hard was it? Leaving everything behind? Cutting off all ties to your family?" she asked instead and Stuart contemplated his answer for a moment.

"It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But I had to do it, so I powered through…"

"But I mean… how did you do it? Where did you get your new identity from? What happened to your old one?" the blonde girl pressed.

"I know a guy who knows a guy… but it costs a lot… also, starting a new life somewhere new isn’t for free either."

Rachel thought for a second, all the money she saved from her scholarship so far, because she only had to pay for the tuition fee and work materials. All the money she saved from working for Peter, which she barely had touched. It was a nice little sum and should keep her afloat for a while.

"Why are you asking me all this? What happened?" Stuart asked again and Rachel sighed "You can tell me, Rach. Nothing you can say will scare me away… I know how you grew up… I know how it is… so come on, tell me."

"I need to leave. Like for real… I always planned on moving to Boston after college, but they won’t let me… I only have time after graduation and then my old life will catch up with me again… I will be pulled into this mess that my life is if I don’t run away." Rachel almost whispered and her friend looked at her wide eyed "They wanted me to leave college immediately but I managed to convince them that a nurse with a degree and all qualifications is more helpful, more useful for them, so they agreed, but as soon as I graduate they will take me back to Woburn or rather Winchester… I can’t go back, Stuart…"

"And you shouldn’t have to go back, but Rach this is a dangerous thing to do? Killing off your old self, start a new life… it’s going to cost you more than just money…" Stuart said and Rachel nodded.

"I’m willing to do whatever it takes…" the young girl said determined.

"Then I’ll help you. But it won’t be easy…"

"Everything is better than staying here…"

"I need to make a few calls, then we’ll see." Stuart smiled at her.

"Thanks Stu. You’re a good friend." Rachel squeezed his hand.

"I’m currently your only friend… so that’s that."

"True…"

April 2022:

"Rachel? There’s a letter for you!"

"Thanks, Peter!" the girl took the letter from the counter, while stirring the pasta sauce "Waterman and Krieger? What is that?" she asked when she saw the sender of the letter.

"They’re a law firm. Inheritance law if I’m not mistaken." Peter looked up from his newspaper.

"Inheritance law?" Rachel ripped the envelope open, unfolding the letter. She went silent, staring at the letter, the pasta sauce bubbling.

"Rach? Hey? Rach?" Peter grabbed the sauce pan and shoved it off the stove top "What happened?" he looked at the girl worriedly.

"My- umm… my mom… she left me some money…" Rachel said slowly, looking at Peter "They write that mom set up a trust fund for me before her death. I have access to the money when I turn 21. Which is in three months."

"Oh wow…" Peter squeezed her shoulder "Do you need a moment? I can finish up dinner and I’ll send Gabe to get you when it’s ready?"

"Is that okay?" the brunette asked and he nodded "Thank you."

Back in her studio she looked at the letter and saw that there was also another smaller envelope inside. She knew the handwriting immediately.

My sweet Rachel,

when you read this letter it means I am no longer around to gift you with my last treasure.

Every money I earned from winning beauty pageants and later from working and that wasn’t needed, I put aside for you.

I know you’re a smart girl and every college would offer you a full scholarship, but just to make sure that if not, we have the money.

I never told your dad about this money, I was too afraid that he would use it. Your father is a great man and I love him dearly. But he’s surrounded himself with the wrong people, they poisoned his mind. And over time he had to drink more and more to forget what he had to do daily for Don Vito.

Please don’t tell him about the money. Keep it to yourself. It’s enough for a fresh start, if you know what I mean.

I’m sorry, that I couldn’t be by your side for longer. That I couldn’t give you the home that you deserved.

Promise me to live a good life. Go live your dreams. But please never forget that I love you, my little Miss Americana.

Love always,

Mom

Rachel leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. When her mother died, she felt lost, didn’t know how to move forward, didn’t know how to continue with her life. Her father lost himself in alcohol, maybe even drugs. He disappeared for days, just to be laid down on the front porch by some of the men he worked with and for Rachel to get him inside, making sure he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. She knew what he was doing. She knew who he worked for. From the day she was born she was part of a world she never wanted to be in, as she later realised. Movies and pop culture didn’t do this life justice. It wasn’t glorious or mysterious. It was scary and dark. Where other kids her age went to school and made new friends Rachel always had to stick to the kids from the family. To make sure she wouldn’t spill anything about her father’s work. Her mother had to fight hard with her husband to allow her to take Rachel to beauty pageants, after the little girl watched her mother getting dolled up for numerous pageants herself and wanting to be just like her when she was older. Rachel was talented, just like her mother. Her beauty apparent from a young age and it didn’t take long for her to win her first pageant. She loved competing in pageants. But what she loved even more was the time she spent with her mother. She was always so carefree and happy at the contests, a stark contrast to her usually quiet and almost depressed personality at home. She was always trying to not show Rachel how sad and worried she really was, but unfortunately it didn’t work out and Rachel had asked her more than once what was going on and why she was so sad.

"It’s nothing, my little Miss Americana, grown up stuff, nothing to worry about for you, my pretty girl." she had always said, followed by a kiss on Rachel’s forehead and a "I love you, my Rachel."

But with every year she got older she figured out more and more why her mother was so sad. And why the only times she was happy, careless and free, was when they went to pageants together. Because for a short while she could forget in what danger she was living with her daughter. What her husband did for a living. And the fear of the day where she, or worse Rachel, would have to pay the price of her husband’s job.

Ultimately she paid the price. After Rachel won the Miss Teen USA pageant in September 2016, and she had floated on cloud 9, her mother decided she deserved a treat and on the way home from Boston, where the pageant was held, she stopped at a little diner.

Rachel remembered how her mother ordered a strawberry milkshake and fries, she herself got a chocolate milkshake and fries and as soon as their food had arrived her mother looked around, a big grin on her lips before she nodded.

"No one’s watching… go!" she chimed and began dipping her fries into her milkshake.

Rachel laughed but did the same. Her father was always grossed out when his wife and daughter did that, laughing at them for their craziness, saying they better watch out or the food police would arrest them.

They were so happy that evening, her mother saying a million times how proud she was of her and what amazing and exciting times were ahead now for Rachel. But that happiness was gone in an instant when 2 men entered the dinner and her mother’s face turned to stone. She stopped laughing and looked at her daughter, shaking her head. To not draw any attention to them she silently held up her hand when the waitress looked over to them, signalling for her to come over. Paying in silence Rachel’s mother took her by the hand, guiding her outside, back into the car where she locked to doors immediately, starting the engine. She remembered how her mother called her father, telling him that two of Volkov’s men were at the diner. But before she could say anything she looked into the rear view mirror, her face turning pale when she told her husband that they were being followed. It didn’t take long for her mother to speed down the main road leading into Woburn, faster than ever before in her entire life. On speaker Rachel’s father telling her that their men were already on the way. But it was too late. She felt her mother grab onto her hand, clutching it tightly in her own, when the car was hit with something and soared through the air. She closed her eyes, holding onto the grab handle, listening to the sounds around her, when a searing pain shot through her left thigh. The pain was mind numbing and she tried her best to not focus on it. She tried to listen to the sounds around her but after a short while she only heard her own blood rushing into her ears. Then she felt her mother squeezing her hand and she opened her eyes, her first look was on the bright digital watch in the dashboard, then her mother squeezed her hand again and Rachel turned her head a little, looking at her.

"I’m so sorry, my beautiful Rachel. I love you so much." her final words as Rachel later had to find out.

After that night her father was never the same again. After that night Rachel was never the same again. She had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days, the doctors all confident that with the right care the wound on her right thigh, caused by an open break of her femur, would heal without leaving a big scar, so she could still compete in beauty pageants. But to her it didn’t matter. Without her mother she didn’t plan on continuing. And because of her not responding to any of the calls, mails or letters from the Miss Teen USA committee, regarding her upcoming tour through the United States, they stripped her off her title 6 weeks later, appointing her runner up, Caitlyn Summers, as new Miss Teen USA 2016.

Rachel absentmindedly rubbed her thigh, feeling the scarred skin through the thin fabric of her leggings. A reminder of the night that changed her life forever. That destroyed her life forever. She had to blink away tears, wiping her cheeks when Gabe knocked on the door, making her flinch.

"Rach! Dinner is ready!" his happy voice sounded through the door and the young girl cleared her throat.

"I’m coming in a minute Gabe!" she replied and listened to the sound of his steps on the gravel.

Rachel got up and looked into the mirror, wiping away the last remaining tears. It had been a while since she thought back to that night. The memories still too hurtful and real. After a minute of composure she followed Gabe back into the main house trying her best to not show the emotional turmoil she was feeling.

When Rachel went to bed that night she felt exhausted, drained, but also determined. Determined to escape her life in Woburn. Or Winchester. Escape her family. Live a happy life, just like her mother wanted her to. She would honour her mother’s last wish, give her all to do so. No matter what.

Chapter 1 - and that’s it. First chapter done. I tried something new this time, writing this story from a third-person perspective and also switching between Miss Americana/The Heartbreak Prince centred chapters. I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! 🩷💜

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@glitterquadricorn @lottalove4evelyn @janeh22 @itsjustkhaos

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 5: THE BREAKDOWN

"we just want our son back."

KATSUKI BAKUGO X SECRETARY READER

SYNOPSIS: as the years went by... bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo wants to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

❥ WARNINGS: implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording, and content.

❥ CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 4.02K

"Office whore Y/n L/n takes the cake, honestly."

"Please, I can't talk about it anymore!"

Around three days after the whole shit-show of a performance your boss put on, you cowered away from the whole office scene entirely; you were on paid absence, of course. Red Riot tried to get a hold of you, but you never responded to any of his calls and emails.

Things were becoming too intimate for your liking.

The line between secretary and lover was blurring right before your eyes, and you didn't even know the man's damn birthday. So now you sit here, eye to eye with the one person you really didn't want to see—your sister.

"We have to talk about it so that we can get it out of your system, and so you can get back to work with Mr. Money," she laughs. One thing you knew about your sister is that the both of you never got along. From stolen clothes to stolen boyfriends, if someone told you they could pay to push her in front of a bus, you'd say, "How much?"

But at the end of the day, she was your sister, and you loved her. She was there when you had many breakdowns, mid-life crises, depressive episodes, etc. And you wouldn't let just anyone push her in front of a bus; you'd do it in a heartbeat for free.

So when your sister arrived at your doorstep as a "surprise," the sight of her face made you break down in tears and confess everything that has happened to you. It's like she could sense when you're in utter despair.

As your sister stands in your kitchen, you sit on the floor with a bottle of wine and take turns from the bottle, talking ever so thoroughly about the situation.

"I mean, the man asked for my hand in marriage after shunning my existence in front of the press! What am I to him?" you say, tear stains drying on your cheeks. Your sister frowns at your state, bending down to your level, she smiles.

"What you are to him is reliable, headstrong, hardworking, and hot as fuck. He knew he couldn't lose you, so he needed to keep a tight leash on you," your sister responds, swiftly snatching the bottle from your hands. She stands back up and sets it on the counter.

"Everyone's life is given to them for a reason; what you don't realize is that the universe just blessed you. And you're getting everything you've ever wanted and more," she says, her tone calculated and sharp. With a smile on her face, you could tell she was plotting something.

You sniffled to yourself, wiping away excess tears as you looked into her eyes. "What do you think I should do?" you whimpered. With a smile, she spoke, "Play his game." Furrowing your eyebrows, you became confused at her answer. "And what do you mean by that?… 'Play his game'?" You asked.

With a roll of her eyes, she stood up once more. Extending her hand out to you, you grabbed it with ease and hoisted yourself up. With swift movement, she grabbed both sides of your arms and looked deeply into your eyes.

"You make him want you even more than he wants you, and once you get what you really want… you leave and never turn back," she said with a sinister smile. It took a little bit to really grasp what she was saying.

"Don't think of it in a harsh or conniving way. Think of it as a get-back. A taste of how much he's treated you like shit, how he's disrespected you; embarrassed you; put you through hell and back every single day! If you gave him a single taste, you'd fight for you and all the other secretaries that he's done wrong."

Looking into her eyes, you saw her burning passion to protect and take up for what's right… to help you get what you deserve.

"Now you have something none of those girls had, and it's a chance… it's up to you if you'll take it," she said.

You pondered with your thoughts. Everything that she said was right. From all the moments when you were disrespected and degraded and made to feel like absolute shit, maybe it was time to finally fight back. This plan, while not what you initially had in mind, started to appeal to you. It would give you a chance to turn the tables, to regain some power and control in a situation where you had felt powerless.

With newfound determination, you looked back at your sister and nodded. "You know what? You're right. I'm not going to let him walk all over me anymore. I'll play his game, and I'll make sure he knows that he messed with the wrong secretary."

Your sister's smile widened, proud of the strength and resolve she saw in you. "That's the spirit!" She exclaims in excitement, quickly getting yourself up from the ground, you grab your sister by her sides and walk her towards the door.

"Thanks for the advice, I'll let you know if I have another life-defining breakdown," you say softly. Earning a chuckle from your sister, she silently nods at your praise "any time." Letting go of her, you watch as she lets herself out. As you watched the door close with a thud, you let out a sigh.

Feeling a mix of nerves and excitement, you prepared yourself to face "Mr. Money' once again. This time, though, you were armed with a plan and a newfound sense of self-worth. You were ready to play his game and take back the control he had taken from you for far too long. With a determined glint in your eye, you stormed to your room and picked up your phone from your nightstand.

It was time to show him that you were nobody's lapdog that just followed anyone's orders, it was time to fight back. Opening your messages you immediately press onto your boss's contact and begin tying into a frenzy.

To: Dynamight (BOSS)

coming into work tomorrow

same time as usual?

Placing your phone down, you turn away to make a run for the bathroom but the buzz from your phone puts you into a halt. Scurrying for the phone you pick it up and race for the bathroom once more.

As you sit down to "handle your business," you turn on your phone to see an immediate text back from your boss. You let out a disappointed sigh as you read the message.

from: Dynamight (BOSS)

sure

Nonchalant as per-usual.

After finishing your business, you get some dinner and prepare for bed, as you finally lie on your pillow you can't help but smile at the thought of your plan. The thought of seeing him the next day made you shiver for all the wrong reasons.

As you drifted off into a deep slumber, you never read the next message he sent to you back...

Things went smoothly for your return, at least so far...the day just started.

You woke up and got ready for the day ahead of you and comfortably sat outside your apartment doorstep to wait for your knight in shining armor. As you waited there you realized one thing about your plan.

There weren't necessarily any steps or phases to it, just great. It's not anything new that you have to do something on your own.

You started to think hard, what were you even going to say to the man when you saw him?

Hey Dynamight! Feeling better after being called the office slut the other day!

No, that’s not how it’s going to go.

You need to stay calm today, no matter what is thrown at you. Even though that may seem hard because every day is a new problem with your boss, you think you have it in you to do so.

Should you even accept his proposal? He has a right to know an answer, but you’re just not ready.

Going from Secretary-to-fiancé wasn’t that exact promotion you were thinking of when you walked through the two front doors of this office.

Keep calm. Stay cordial. Stay balanced.

Stay grey.

As you stand outside, you clutch tightly on your bag. (Late) documents held inside as the cool breeze of the early morning air tickled your neck. With a frown on your face, you shiver whilst looking at your watch.

10 minutes past schedule, that’s a new record.

As you casually checked between your watch and your phone; you began to throw yourself in a frenzy. So now he doesn’t even want to show his face? Are you that embarrassing?

Rolling your eyes, you turn your phone off and shove it into your work bag. Letting out a sigh of defeat, you tread your tired feet towards the bus stop.

Thirty minutes roll by and you stand in front of the offices’ glass doors, waiting to be walked through with just a push. But it wasn’t that easy, at least not today that is.

Your eyes were dry as the fluorescent bright lights bore into the core of your irises; slightly red and agitated from the night before (mental breakdown and lack of sleep in all). You close your eyes to try and soothe them, but the uncomfortable feeling in your chest begins to take over. Imagining the sight of everyone’s faces as you walk through those doors makes your chest sting with anxiety.

Blinking your eyes open, you began to frantically check yourself. Was your skirt too tight? Were your buttons too loose? Did you wear the dark lipstick, or the nude one?

Even the tiniest of details could throw your alibi out of the window; not that you hide any…only thing that you hide is the underlying self-embarrassment you feel.

But what’s new?

Licking your lips ever so slightly, you take in a deep breath and walk through the doors. The sound of the door breaking open causes everyone to crack their eye.

With your face held high and a new swing to your hips, you take in the situation around you. Coworkers amongst coworkers chatter quietly to themselves. The sight almost makes you want to vomit, but you promised yourself to not show any weakness.

Eyes set on a deep brown wood door of your boss’s office, step ahead and stop in your tracks. The golden plate etched with the hero’s name shined ever-so dull. Seems like it hasn’t been polished, maybe you should get someone to fix that—

Focus!

Blinking down at the matching golden knob, you reach towards it. Your fingertips lightly grazed the handle, treating it as if it were the more delicate; fragile thing on earth. Your other hand laid firmly against your skirt, hand balled in a fist; slightly shaking.

“Just do it, Y/n” you whispered to yourself. Cursing under your breath, cowering at the thought of what was (obviously) behind the door.

Taking slow deep breaths, you then grasp the door entirely. The feeling of the cold metal graced your skin. Adding a cooling comfort to your body; hot with anxiety.

“my god”

Looking up, you turn to see a random group of workers looking at you. Snickering at your efforts to open the door. Eyes sharp with judgment and lips turning upwards in a sinister smile. Their energy oozed with toxicity.

Pretentious fucks.

Swallowing your spit, your eyes begin to tear up. Head leaning low, your nails dig into the skin of your palm. Your face grew hot as you tried your hardest to stifle in the wanton sobs you yearned to let out.

‘This wasn’t supposed to happen.’

Lips quivering, you let go of the door handle and adjust your things. Turning around you quickly head for the door. You felt as if the room was closing in on you whole, your body felt heavy and your heart felt like it was going to burst.

“should’ve never came,” you mumbled.

“Y/n!”

Startled, you stop ahead for the voice before you. Looking at the ground, you could make out from the shoes who it was.

“Mr. Riot?” You slightly whimpered.

“Hey, I was looking for ya! Sorry, we couldn’t get ya today—“ the redhead cuts himself off. A silent pause fills the room, if your head wasn’t so stuck on the floor you would’ve seen a very rare sighting.

An angry Red Riot.

His red eyes shoot across the room, piercing metal bullets into each and every person in the room. Mr. Riot was an indescribable force when upset. He’s the total opposite of himself.

From a cheery, happy-go-lucky optimist, to an absolute brute. You feel him grab ahold of your shoulder, his large hand warmly covers your shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Come on—take this conversation to my office…” he says, his tone almost unrecognizable. Deep and monotonous, unusual from the peppy and colorful use of tone he’s had equipped.

Following him over, raising your head just a little. You notice how you walk a new path today. Just beyond a new set of frosted glass doors lies a whole new office.

The workers seemed laid back, getting their work done. The slight tune of music added to the atmosphere of the office— is that a cat?

“Muscle!” The hero beamed.

With quick steps, the hero scoops up the grey-haired feline. The cat lets out a startled noise as the pro-hero picks them up. The hero turns towards you and extends the fur ball towards you.

Blinking, you let out a soft smile. Before you could reach your arms out, the hero placed the cat under his arm. Reaching out for your bags, he takes them away from you, letting you reach your arms out for the cat.

“Ms. L/n, meet Muscle,” he hero quipped.

You look into the blue-eyed animal, silently cooing. You place the cat in a cradle position. “Why the name muscle?” You slightly chuckle.

Walking alongside him, he turns a corner. Smiling, he stops at a billboard, turning you to look; you can’t help but chuckle.

‘NEW OFFICE KITTY NAME: PLEASE VOTE!’

1. Sunshine

2. Misty

3. Muscle

4. Cat

5. Feline Riot

It was nice seeing how Riot would interact with his workers, he kept things light and casual. Unlike the other side of the building, maybe you should’ve applied here first.

“Personally, I chose muscle. Feline Riot is too corny, right?” He says. This earns a laugh out of you, holding out the cat in front of your face you smile.

“Well, I’d have to agree. But I think sunshine would be nice, but I think cat is quite silly as well.”

With a smirk, you bring back the animal into your embrace. The hero nods, taking note of your response. With a sigh he turns back around, “Well c’mon; that’s up for the people to decide.”

Walking a few more doors down, you head into Red Riots' office. Your eyes widen, letting out a small gasp; you are amazed by the interior of the office.

Surprisingly not as red as you thought.

Besides the obvious action figures and cardboard cutouts, his was modern. Sleek glass and cutting-edge metal. And maybe he was quite a botanist as well, his desk (along with other various places) sprinkled with succulents and hanging plants scattered around the area.

Walking slowly, your eyes catch a large wooden shelf. Adorned with many awards, collectibles, and photos.

One of these photos you couldn’t believe.

“Oh my god!” You whispered to yourself.

“Yep, the older days…kinda get a little teary-eyed when I think about it for too long” he replied bashful yet humble.

“Look at you guys, there’s you, and Mr. Dynamight!” You chuckled. Looking at a group photo of the notorious class 1-A of UA High. More than half the people in this photo are currently in the top 10 for pro-hero.

“Yeah, that’s us! We were so young and determined, but that’s what fucked some of us over in the end eh?” He says.

You frowned, unsure of what he possibly could’ve meant by that. But you chose not to probe. Breathing in, you walk away from the bittersweet photo and sit down by his desk.

“So…why am I here?” You asked.

The pro hero rolled his eyes at your response, “I mean—I feel like I should be asking all the questions around here—what happened back there?” He asked, his voice filled with concern.

Pressing your lips into a line you shuffle in your seat. Letting out a sigh you put “Muscle” down to frolic and place your hands in your lap.

“Just the coworkers that’s all, they can just be assholes y’know?” You chuckle, trying to blow off the situation. This earns a not-so-amused expression from the hero.

“Mhm—I hope you know that bullying of any kind is strictly prohibited within these corners we call our office. I can drop anyone from here just as easily as your boss can” he says sternly.

Eyes widening you shake your head, “I promise you that no one needs to leave this office. They need that job just as much as I do… no matter how much they deserve it.” You say softly.

The pro-hero nods at your response. “Reconciliation before retaliation is what I always say!” He says, tone somewhat defeated.

A long pause is set after his words, it was somewhat comfortable. Unlike your boss, when it’s silent it’s suffocating, almost deadly.

“He wants to apologize…we want to apologize for not taking you here today. I totally forgot to swoop in and bring you once he canceled on you. Got to take my kids to school today, I couldn’t miss up on that opportunity,” he smiled.

You nod understandably, “so then where is he?” You asked.

“Uh…he’s at a meeting,” Riot responds. Turning your head to the side, you were confused by his words. “He knows not to go to a meeting without me, damn show off…thinking he can do everything himself—“

“No, it’s not that! It’s a more personal meeting.”

You paused, irritation turning into curiosity; you sit back and bite the inside of your cheek.

“Personal you say?”

“So you bring me all the way over here to talk about—babies?”

The blonde says, trying to not show the visible anger in his every being. Sitting before him was his mother in father, visibly distraught; over what? Babies.

Currently sitting in the living room of his old home, he was called over to have an "important" talk with his parents. He assumed maybe it was time to hear one of the inevitable.

They are dying, they're selling the house, or they're disappointed in him (the third one is highly unlikely). But no, they’re bitching about babies.

“It’s just— your mother and I aren't gonna be young for too long. We’re not asking for too much, maybe at Ieast have a girlfriend?” Bakugo’s father tried to soften the blow.

“Excuse me?”

It failed.

“Oh please! By the time he settles down I’ll be a grandma when I’m goddamn 90” his mother complains. "I mean, have you ever lost your virginity Katsuki?" She quips in.

"Mitsuki!" his father complains, throwing his hands towards his face he lets out a sigh.

"What did you say, woman!" Bakugo says in anger, the blonde shoots from his seat and walks closer towards his mother. Bakugo's father stands with him and gets in between them.

"Please guys, not today" his father groans.

"No, no, no...she's the one who started it, stop trying to fight her own battles for once," Bakugo says. "I'm not just some teenager you can talk to any type of way, I'm the fuckin' #2 hero; understand me?" His tone is quiet yet poisoning as it seeps through his teeth.

The blonde peers over his father's shoulder and looks into the matching red eyes of his mother. Her frown; visible with disappointment.

If only she could look back and see how tired he was, if she would actually understand.

Ever since Bakugo stepped through the doors of UA High School, things haven't been the same between him and his parents. One of the major costs of becoming a pro-hero. He's not able to be at home like he used to, it would come to times like this where the overwhelming emotions would all spew out.

Anger being one of them.

"Do you even love us anymore?" Mitsuki whimpers, tears begin to brim her eyes as she rises from her seat. Bakugo is taken aback by the accusation.

"What the fuck are you going on about?" he says, offended that his mother could even come to such a conclusion. Bakugo looks at his father, eyes wide and searching for answers.

Looking into his father's eyes, he finds the results that he regretted to find.

"Oh, so you feel the same way?" he chuckles, hurt prevalent within his tone.

"Son...you're always busy, even when ya' aren't," he says quietly, his father lands a hand on his shoulder as he tries to console him but it doesn't work.

The blonde groans, slapping his hand away from him, and backs away. This makes his father frown, "you don't call us or text us! Every day me and your mother watch you risk your life on TV wondering whether or not another battle will be your last!" he says.

Bakugo's head starts to hang low.

Lips pressed into a thin line, Bakugo's father places his hands on his hips in defeat. "We can't always come and pick up the pieces when you break down at our doorstep in the middle of the night, you have to talk to us Katsuki—"

"Do you even know how much I sacrifice just so that the both of you are able to go to sleep at night?" Bakugo's voice grows strong, hands balled into fists; smoke growing visible from his palms.

"Do you even know how many nights I go to sleep and wake up from night terrors just so that the both of you can go out freely? Every day I'm out there busting my ass so that the both of you can live normal lives. And I'm not doing enough? Okay."

"That's not what we're saying son—"

"Then what the hell are you saying?" Bakugo exclaims.

"Because that's what it exactly sounds like to me! It sounds like you guys don't care what I go through as long as you reap the benefits—"

"You seriously think we want you out there risking your life for us? Katsuki you could quit the next day and we would care! We just want our son back" Mitsuki says. Exasperated and teary-eyed, she clings to her son.

"We don't want you to bottle things up anymore, we don't want you to suffer as you think we do. You have to talk to us in order for us to be there for you!" Mitsuki yells.

A rift of silence follows after her words.

Bakugo looks at both of his parents with a frown, biting the inside of his cheek he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Hands softly simmering down, he softly pushes his mother away.

Reaching in his pocket he pulls out his phone and calls the only person on his mind.

"Hey bro, when ya comin' in?" Kirishima says on the other end.

"Ejiro," the blonde says.

"What's wrong?" The redhead's tone matches Bakugo's with a twinge of worry. "Not comin' in today, um...just take over for the time being alright?" he says.

"Got it," Kirishima says.

Bakugo ends the call and throws his phone on the couch. Walking back into the brown couch, he crashes down and sighs. "If we're gonna talk we're gonna do it now."

His parents then look at each other then at him, with no words said they follow suit and sit next to him on the couch. "Just say whatever is on your mind, we're here for you," Mitsuki says.

Swallowing his spit, Bakugo says something he never would've thought to come out of his mouth.

"I have a fiance."

WOOOOOO WELL SHIT, THANK YOU FOR 1K!!!

Apologies to all of my readers out there, I’ve been so busy with school that it’s consumed my life whole. I hope you all understand :(

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥: @r-ans, @xo-evangeline, @inlovewithteo217, @im-better-than-your-newborn, @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @xasilex , @the-queen-of-sorrows , @itgetzweird08 , @yoyosocks165 , @pebblepoop , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback ,  @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @urdecentartist09 , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @katsu-shi @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @alicen23 , @xasilex , @elegantvoids , @lowkeyremi , @plutounderbridges , @k0z3me , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @winterv-black , @chuugarettes , @kiarathace , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @hyu-hl , @katsukisxslut , @optimisticprime3 , @cosmicbreathe , @yessimo

[doe-eyed-fool]

Prey | Chapter Two

Alastor x Fem!Reader

It was another busy day, rushing and trying not to trip as you brought food and drinks to awaiting costumers, and cleaning up the tables when they left. Thankfully, near the end of the day was somewhat easier. Most people would not be attending the diner that late in the evening, but you still had a few that would come in. Maybe five at the very most, if you were lucky.

As you were cleaning up a table, you hummed a tune. It was a song Alastor had played on his radio show earlier that day, and it had gotten stuck in your head. You sang a few words before going back to just humming them.

You always loved music, ever since you were a child, you would use any free time you had to settle by the radio and listen in. Your parents were just as passionate about music as you were, in fact, encouraging you to sing. When you were a kid, you loved to sing, especially if your parents joined in.

It was a fun thing to do as a family. You'd even put on "performances" for them sometimes. You'd stand up on a chair, and sing your little heart out for them. And they loved it, ate it up practically.

However, when your parents died a few years ago, you didn't feel that same passion for singing like you use to.

But every now and then, you'd find yourself singing. Whether it be looking back on memories of your parents, or just out of boredom.

While occupied by cleaning, you hadn't notice the person walking up behind you.

As you turn, you let out a quick gasp. "Oh!" Then you calmed as you noticed who it was. "Al, my goodness, don't do that." You sigh. How was he so quiet?

Alastor chuckled. "My apologize. I wanted to surprise you." You roll your eyes and cracked a small smile. "Well, you were successful. What are you doing here?" You ask. "Your shift is about to end, right? How about after you finish up here, I take you back home with me to celebrate?" He suggests. I give him a confused look.

"Celebrate my shift ending?" I raise an eyebrow. Alastor returned the same confused glance. "Y/n, dear, did you forget? It's your birthday."

Oh, that's right! Today is my birthday. "Gosh, how could I forget that?" I sigh, putting a hand to my head. "Perhaps, because you are overworked." Alastor smirks. "Better watch what you say Al." I say quietly. "My boss might hear."

My boss didn't care for Alastor, or people who looked like Alastor. It's a shame you have to work for such a man. If you had any choice, you'd give him a piece of your mind and storm out. Alastor's offer became more tempting every day, when it comes that old bigot...

"Let him." Alastor says bluntly. "I'm not afraid of lowly men like himself."

"Alastor. Please." I say firmly. Alastor backs off, for now. "Alright, alright. Anyhow, what do you say? I'd like to treat you to a nice dinner, maybe have a drink or two. You deserve it, you work so hard after all."

My smile returns to my face. He really was too sweet. "Ok. Just let me finish up here and I'll be right out."

The walk to Alastor's home would have been too long, so he drove the two of you there. With the money he had, he could have the best looking car out there. But he had one just like any other person did. As long as it drove, it was fine. That's what he would always thought.

His home on the other hand, was a different story.

It wasn't a mansion, but it was one of the more decent looking homes in town. Bigger than his old childhood home. Anyone could take one look at that house and think, "yeah, he's got money".

Alastor pulled up to the house, got out of the car and walked to the passenger side to let me out, like the gentlemen he is. I thank him and step out.

He leads you up to the house and let's you inside. The inside was just as, if not more, beautiful than the outside. Spacious and well kept, wonderfully decorated. Alastor liked hunting, deer specifically. So of course, he'd have a few antlers hung on his walls here and there. But of course it wasn't all antlers, he had framed pictures like any normal household.

Mostly of his mother.

Alastor lost his mother some time back. He was only seventeen when she died. It was one of the darkest times in his life. The worst you've ever seen him, depressed and unkept. He barely ate, he didn't even want to stay in that house. It hurt him too much, to be in the very place she died. It was haunting.

There so many memories made in that house. And after she died, he couldn't even bare to look at it.

But eventually, he accepted things, and went back. That's were he would stay as he would start his radio show career.

As you walked further into the house, a delicious aroma filled your nose. "You cooking something?" You asked. "It's my mother's old jambalaya recipe. I finished it a while ago, but I made sure to keep it warm for you."

"Ooh, I already know it's gonna to be good." Your stomach growled just thinking about it. "Your mother was always a great cook."

"She was." Alastor smiles fondly. "Come on." He leads you to the dining room.

Dinner was amazing, Alastor inherited many great qualities from his mother, and cooking was most certainly one of them. Throughout the meal, you and him talked about lots of things, but decided to keep work out of the discussion. Even Alastor had enough of his job at certain times, especially when inspiration failed to find him.

"Oh, I really shouldn't have anymore Al. I have work in the morning. I can't work with a nasty hangover, now can I?" You laugh lightly, as Alastor pours you another glass. "I think you can handle one more. You did when you went dancing with me some time back." Alastor says with a smirk. "Why don't we ever do that anymore, Y/n?" 

"Well, we did all that when we weren't fully committed to work. You, with your radio show. Me, with the diner." You sigh. "But those we're good times, huh? Oh...to be young again." 

"Y/n, you're twenty five as of today." Alastor chuckles. You laugh and take another sip. "See what this does to me." You say, holding up your glass. "I do wish things could be easy as they were back then though. We were new adults, just trying to have some fun before life finally settled in." 

Alastor hums. "I don't life is suppose to be easy." He starts. "But I do understand what you mean. Responsibility comes for us all, in the end. Otherwise, we can't really call ourselves adults, now can we?" 

"Mhm." You nod. "Al?" 

"Yes?"

"What would you be doing, if you didn't start your radio show?" You ask. Alastor took a second to think before answering. "I don't know really. It's always been a passion of mine, the radio. I can't imagine a life without doing it. What about you?" He asks. "If you weren't working in that diner."

"I'd want to sing." Maybe it was the alcohol that made you truthfully answer, because normally you would have kept such a dream to yourself. You set your glass down, not really looking at Alastor as you spoke. "But, I'm afraid I missed the chance to chase after that dream. Like you said, we all got responsibilities. I can't waste my life trying for something, I know I won't be able to achieve." 

"What makes you think that?" Alastor asks. You look at him, and smile weakly. "Look at me. Do I look like the type of person that screams, potential?" 

Money was always the bane of your existence. You could never afford to make yourself look "proper", it was usually hand-me-downs or dirt cheap dresses you had to mend yourself to fit right. People would take one look at you, and know just what your financial status was. 

"I'd be turned down right away." You tell him. "Y/n. I've heard you sing." Said Alastor. "If they heard you, they would have no choice but to accept you...I tell you what." He begins. "How about I talk with Mimzy and-"

"Alastor, you don't have to do that." You cut interrupt him gently. "I don't even know Mimzy that well." 

"Oh, but I do." Alastor smirks. "Me and her go way back, she'll listen to me." He stands up from his seat and walks over to you. He takes your hand and you stand as well. "Y/n, you wouldn't let me help you before. And I think it's because you think you can handle yourself and earn whatever money you get. That's fine." He continues. "But, if you are really wanting this, then let me help you take the first step. I want you to be happy Y/n, and I know you're not happy at that diner. Not really. So please..." His hold on your hands tightened slightly.

"Let me do this for you." 

You sigh softly. "I get the feeling you wont stop pestering me if I say no." Alastor shrugs, you smile. "Alright. But if she says no, I don't want you bothering her with it any further." 

"Wonderful! I'll stop by her lounge, first thing int he morning! You won't regret this, Y/n. I swear it." 

You hope you wouldn't. But, you trusted Alastor. If there was anyone who could convince someone to do a favor, it was Alastor. He was just gifted with that charm of his. And the smile didn't hurt either, in fact, it's what landed him in a lot of good situations. 

Maybe you had a chance after all...

[formulawonu]

mingyu & shopping

summary: best friend!mingyu is arguably the best thing that has ever happened to you but everyone else is in love with him so you have the lucky privilege of humbling him all the time 

a/n: i wanted to post this on mingyu day but i clearly didn’t make it ://  just a small blurb for our birthday boy. belated happy birthday, gyu. i hope you’re smiling everyday <3 also this isnt proofread sorry! also thank u for 500 followerssssss <3 <3 <3

wc: 605 😸

“not everything looks good on you, kim mingyu. reel it in a little.” 

—and that makes lie number three you’ve told your best friend today. the first was telling him how tiring it was seeing his face every morning when he picked you up (it was actually the best part of your otherwise dreary day) and the second was you telling him you didn’t care if he asked this one girl out (it bothered you more than it should have).

mingyu makes eye contact with you in the mirror and scoffs at the look on your face. “i don’t know why i always bring you along with me. you never say anything looks good on me.” he starts angling himself and squinting at the mirror, probably trying to figure out if he really didn’t look good in the outfit. 

it was funny to you that mingyu took everything you told him to heart. whether it be teasing him on how clumsy he could be to how much of a closet dork he was, his reactions to it all always made you laugh. you befriended mingyu in the fifth grade because you were the lone person who had the guts to tell him being tall wasn’t as big of an advantage as he thought it was; you thought it just made him more susceptible to being bossed around to do favors for everyone else shorter than him. he bickered back, saying you were just jealous because you were shorter than him. you replied saying you didn’t want to have his height if it meant not being able to handle the truth of the matter. 

that was the first time someone wasn’t praising mingyu for the things he was simply born with. he thought you were being real and you thought he was cute. it was the perfect dynamic to becoming best friends.

“that’s what best friends are for,” you say. you flash him a smile and he rolls his eyes. “you know i’m hopelessly in love with you regardless of how ugly you look in that sweater anyway.” 

your best friend groans then turns away from the mirror to face you. he starts striking the silliest poses at you (still managing to look good, you add in the back of your head.) he sends you a genuine smile. “i know. and i love you too.” 

your heart flutters even when you know he doesn’t mean it in the way you wished he would. you continue to watch him try on clothes, happily content with wasting away your saturday afternoon like this. 

“are you excited for our date tonight?” he asks you as he pays for his clothes at the register. 

“i’m always excited when you’re paying.” you reply.

mingyu jokingly frowns. “sometimes i feel like you’re just using me for my money.”

“okay, but who else will put up with you?” 

he reaches over and pinches your cheek, knowing you hate it when he does that. you attempt to swat his hand away but he catches it and interlocks your fingers. the cashier looks at the both of you and smiles as she hands over his bag of clothes and receipt. mingyu takes it with his free hand. “you two are so cute. enjoy the rest of your day!” you’re about to protest but mingyu simply says thank you and pulls you out of the store. 

as you walk down the street with your best friend, still hand in hand, you let yourself revel in the simplicity of the moment. this would do for now – maybe forever – as long as it meant always having kim mingyu by your side.