#a stranger on the street smiling at me is like ?? ? who are you what do you want from me wtf

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Mafia AU! - Ch 2: Mini Epilogue

{A/N: I might make this a regular thing 'cause I love character development} Link below to the 2nd Chapter :DD

Graves never knew he could laugh that hard.

It was like he got left hooked by that hooker again. Swift and out of nowhere- knocked him out of his knickers really. (Yes, he did wake up without it after being knocked out cold.)

It was said so nonchalantly and off-handedly like it was natural for you to assume that he was the 'boogeyman incarnate.'

He was just so amused by you blatantly and ever so confidently insulting him, right in front of his face.

He was quite surprised himself, usually- if someone had insulted him right in front of his face- a barrel would instantly be between their eyes, or a quick flip of his knife would find itself lodged right besides one of their ears-- whichever he was in the mood for really.

But you.

The glaring exception that he stumbled upon when he just wanted to do a quick smoke at his favorite spot at the bakery.

Before he even entered, he heard murmurs echoing, waking him out of his tired stupor and sobering himself up as he prepares to- potentially- make contact.

It might be that stupid cat that hates him whenever he goes to this spot, but with all the clearly pronounced non-cat like "meows-" he guesses it would be a person, playing with that ridiculously hedonistic cat. (He knows that plump white cat gets spoiled by Nonna and Nonno when they see 'em.)

So he rounds the corner, silently, steps carefully calculated with the intent of dodging anything that would make a sound.

Yet he pauses, taking a better look at you.

‘Who the hell were you?’

Why was there a stranger at his Nonna and Nonno’s place? There was no way you were a thief, judging from the looks of your outfit and how utterly careless of a job you did if you ever infiltrated this place.

Also…why a bakery? Were… you that hungry?

Maybe… he could provide a better source of income for you, instead of living the live of an unruly street rat.

Even if you were a new face, you had to know the rules of the street.

So he asks, and just like that cat- you jump and unceremoniously land on your ass. Yewouch.

He keeps the grimace to himself, keeping his guard up as you seem to…

not?

be intimated?

by him???

What is going on.

Now, he definitely has to get your ID and papers from the border patrol at the edges of the city. There was no way that someone from this city would act like this, especially if they have been out and around.

He wanted- no... that wasn't right... needed to know who you are.

You were like an itch at the back of his head that he couldn't scratch. Whether you were a threat or not, a new person in town never bode well for the families.

His gut tells him that he discovers a new cog in this creaky old machine he call his home.

So, he follows you through the back door, but was unfortunately stopped by that dreaded cat that was waiting for to lower his guard enough to assault him from the shadows.

He definitely needs his vengeance on that cat.

Once he gets away, he slicks back his hair in a huff as he went in and watch you absent-mindedly wash your hands.

"mio figlio*!" {A/N: Italian for "my son"}

He turns and smiles, "Nonna! I miss you!" opening his arms for a hug but all the old woman did was click her tongue and cross her arms.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me old hag," she sends an unimpressed look to him who reacted sheepishly, "why are you here?"

He pouts, "'cause I missed you and Nonno obviously."

"sure," she deadpans, "you're always welcome here son."

"I know that."

She irks at his confidence and proceeded to lift her foot, aiming for him until she sees at the corner of her eye- you, washing your hands for the umpteenth time now.

Connecting the dots and seeing where her son just came from, she smirks and lowers her foot.

"So you met cara?"

He raises his brow and nods, "did you find your new housekeeper from out of town?"

Seeing as how you had the bakery's apron on, he knew that you worked here, as well as the point that you looked a little too comfortable in the well-guarded space of Nonno. (Nonno's kingdom is the kitchen and anything the light touches in that space, anything outside of it is out of his control.)

Hence he charted it up to you being affiliated to either of the hags, and since Nonna just freely strolled up to him-- he'll take his chances.

But she shrugs, making him frown.

"Just came in last night," she begins explaining, "with John and his boys."

Graves sighs, another factor he did not want to think about at the moment.

"John's friend then?"

She shook her head again, making his creases grow deeper. If you weren't related to John, then how did you get to this place? By accident? This spot is so secluded in already desolate part of town, there was no way you came here intentionally. So, he continues gathering information from Nonna.

"Poor cara bumped into Kyle and was so sick that she couldn't get up," Nonna sympathizes, "had to let her stay for the night and let Johnny take care of her 'till the morning."

"Johnny?" He asks a bit astounded, "took care of a stranger?"

She raised her brow, "you think he did it willingly?"

He lets out a short laugh, "you're right."

"She's been cleaning her hands for the 10th time now," Nonna points out, "I think she still haven't sweated the sick off."

He looks at you, and-- lo and behold, you still were, eyes clearly in a daze as you stare at the wall, hands in an endless cycle of washing and drying off.

"You still say that?" He smirks at her shrug.

"Its true."

Graves watches his Nonna turn around to leave, only to get pinched by her again after scrutinizing your hand washing technique. (A++ for thoroughness.)

"Go and snap cara out of it," she nudges his signature mug in his hand, giving his Nonna a thanking smile while she just rolled her eyes- knowing that he could handle the situation that is you.

And so he does, and your reaction is as skittish as ever, even more so than that blasted cat-- maybe he should just call you 'micia.' {A/N: Italian for cat/kitten}

Although your quips immediately erased that thought, how DARE you call him-- a what?

'a boogeyman incarnate?'

First it was a tombstone (he knows that fairly well) but this?

THIS?

This is new.

And... he doesn't quite mind the light, fuzzy feeling in his chest when he got it.

A new refreshing face you are indeed, making him feel things he hasn't before.

So he tries to explain, why he was so apprehended before you left, despite the wheezes that seemed to be never ending.

He wants it to stop but it feels like he walked into a room filled with laughing gas, and it was quite... addicting.

Now he finds himself staring at you, working both the front and back of the bakery like it was a routiened thing ingrained in your brain. Maybe you waited tables before? You looked experienced, both in terms of service and communicating with customers.

He had half a mind to listen to his Nonna's rant about Nonno and the state of this place, but the other half was on you.

You with the messy hair, a food-stained apron, deep bags on your eyes, frame quite frail, hands shaken-- yet a smile stayed so bright like the sun above you in the alleyway.

Now he genuinely wonders how you found yourself here.

Were you like him? Needing a place to call home?

He hums, letting his thoughts spiral until it lands on you again. The you that snapped out of your rhythm and talked with a snark to John and his gang, quite similar in the manner that you did with him- making him grin quite a bit.

Nonna sees this and smirks, patting Graves' shoulder before standing and calling out to you.

He sees the color pop in your eyes, sparkling in wonder as you ask what Nonna wanted before it fully opens in shock at her words. He knew that the old hag likes messing with her kids.

Wanting to know what you were so shocked about, he approached the table with a smirk, a nod in greeting to the others while you were still in a panic, shakily holding onto Nonna's shoulders as you begged her for an explanation.

"Why don't you finish the lunch rush first, cara?"

So you resigned and nodded, having no choice but to comply to finish that part of the list. One ticked off, another tick to do.

As you finish that part of your shift, albeit more slowly now as fewer people entered and finished off their plates, you did a final check up and removed your apron with a relieved sigh.

Sitting with the rest, right in the middle of Suds and Nonna, as you held onto your own mug of cuppa.

You first listen in to the conversation, letting them lead the conversation as you think of ways of how to convince Nonna to give you minimum wage.

Even if it was a single bill for an hour- you'd take it. You just needed to start somewhere, and you would use this stumbled-upon-opportunity to the utmost possible way.

Once the conversation redirects to you and your situation, you took a sip and decided to explain what happened last night.

"That apartment's been run down for years..." Gaz, who you now learned was the kind man who took care of you last night, mentioned softly-- hands fidgeting above the table as he glanced at you and Price- the big boss man- nervously.

"Aye," Soap- you'd like to still call him Suds for fun- agreed with furrowed brow, "ye' said that ya friend lent it to ye' while ya' find a job 'ere?"

You nod, "that's the gist."

"Quite a ways away you are then," Price frowned, "this bakery is at the opposite end from where you need to be, hun."

You groan, sliding further down your seat- thinking of how the unlucky streak you've had has been fucking you up in more ways than Britney has 99 problems.

After a quiet moment of reprieve, you sat up again and down your shot of cuppa courageously.

"I have a proposal."

Nonna gleamed, arms crossed and an ever so present smirk on her face (just like Grieves.)

"Go on then, cara."

You inhaled and nodded, "I know I'm not in a position to ask but while I finish the list, can--"

You hesitated, knowing the heat of their gazes was crawling under your skin and making it itch, but you decided what you had to do-- whether it would to good or bad results thereon.

"-can... can I ask if its possible? Possible to get minimum.. wage.."

She perks up, and this makes you feel that you have to explain more--

"wh-what I mean is that--"

"You want to work here then?" She smiles, her voice soft, quite different from how she's talked to you so far.

You better consider her words now, thinking if it meant what it truly meant.

You nodded and she sighed in relief.

"Good," she pats your arm, "I was starting to feel guilty from how good you were working."

"So you did feel bad!" You glared at the old woman who simply laughs it off, ruffling your hair as your pouted.

"I did, but a job needs to be done."

"And I happen to be here- I know."

You both giggle and finally feel a bit more relaxed, that tension of holding onto that issue now gone quickly as soon as it was brought up.

"What if I contributed to that minimum wage?" Graves suddenly offers and you both turn to him in shock, one in confusion while the other in appreciation.

"Why?"

"I knew I raised you right mio figlio!"

Graves smirks, leaning back onto his chair with his hands in his pockets, "just want to pitch in to the cause."

You huffed, "I'm not a charity case...sir."

He chortles again, knowing that it was hard for you to deny the extra pay as it goes against your morals.

"No, no-" he corrects, "think of it as a son, helping his ma."

He wraps an arm around Nonna's shoulders, making her snuggle into his embrace happily while he looks to the four smugly. He knew that- with this proposal- he'd have more opportunities to... get to know you better per se.

"Then we want to help to," Price proses as well, making Graves throw him a quick pointed glare that earns him the same from the other three.

If he knew John as if he was his brother, then he knew he has a card hiding up his sleeve.

But its still to early to look into that, so he lets it happen.

You, on the other hand, were quite in a predicament of accepting it or not. You still wanted to repay both Price, Nonna, and Nonno (for lodging and food)- but it would be quite awkward if you did so through the means of their own money going back to them.

Although, from the looks of their faces, it seemed like they weren't going to stand down so you nodded- checking in with Nonna if that was alright with her and she simply grinned, an enthused reply of "yes! My sons are the best~!" coming from her.

"So," you cleared your throat, "I start today?"

Nonna thinks about it for a moment, "I don't see why not."

You internally cheer at this.

"Which means you have to know about the family business!"

The table shakes as the men stand in protest, but she pays no mind to it as your focus gets directed to her forcing eye-contact with you by grabbing both your cheeks.

"The family...business?"

"Yes!" you could hear the others scream but you could only hear the next words coming out of her mouth as she whispers...

"we're... a mafia family!"

Hearing this, the color- which is ironic as it is already colorless and pale- drains from your face, making you slump and faint in shock- brain shutting down as you.exe required a self-reboot.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! THE WHOLE LOT OF YOU!"

Nonno enters, now pissed off at the mess and was going to ask you until his brows raised in question at his wife, carrying you by the face- was shaking your limb body awake.

Once again, you regret taking the offer of someone trying to 'un-fuck' your week.

A/N: A little long bit this time hehe (i enjoy writing Graves being one of the first charas that gets "enamored" by you, just because he sees you as an oddity in the city. He actually went to visit Nonna that day because he was so tired of his current life, that he needed a change of pace. He was thinking of helping around for a bit before exploring his options but, lo and behold, you appeared and presented a different kind of opportunity of experience he has yet to feel <//3) All of the boiyos are touch-starved and sometimes- in their moments of weakness- they ache for it hehe Thank you for reading! Next chappie will be up soon (im havin too much fun with world building this au)

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[trashbaget]

tell me your failed/embarrassing flirting stories to make me feel better, i’ll go first: today i said “get out of my way” forgot to say “i’m kidding” then immediately said “bye”

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

[zephyrchama]

Dark Past

A common demon on the street caught your eye. You slowed, almost to a halt, just to gaze at them. They paid you no mind at all. You were two strangers with no connection in the middle of a crowded street. As they passed, you turned your neck for one final glance before continuing on.

The seven demons you were walking with noticed your little stare. Some of them exchanged quizzical looks. None of them had ever seen that random demon before. They didn't look special. Leviathan paused in his tracks to glare daggers of envy at the stranger, cursing them in his mind for stealing your attention.

"Someone you know?" Satan asked. It was hard to hear him over Mammon shouting, "Who was that?"

"What?" You fixed your eyes on them, confused by the sudden outburst. Beelzebub tenderly placed a hand on your back and guided you around some uneven pavement.

"Who was that demon you were staring at?" Belphegor asked.

"I wasn't staring at anyone."

"Yes, you were." Lucifer didn't question you, but he crossed his arms expectantly. His brothers would do all the work of wrestling an answer out of you for him.

"I saw you rubberneck so hard, I thought you were going to chase after them!" Asmodeus must have been exaggerating. You only glanced at that demon for a second max, or so you believed.

You didn't think it was a big deal, and brushed the incident off with, "they just reminded me of something." You hoped that would suffice as an answer. It did not.

"And what would that be?" Satan sounded like a courtroom interrogator trying to corner a lying defendant.

At some point, the eight of you had come to a stop in front of a closed and shuttered business, letting the foot traffic flow around you. The seven of them boxed you in and blocked your view of the rest of the street, circling you like a pack of hungry sharks. You waved your hands at the ridiculous bunch.

"I was just looking! What's it matter to you guys?"

Mammon got right up in your face. "I'm in charge of protectin' you! I can't be lettin' you stare at every chump lookin' to take advantage of ya!"

Asmodeus pulled him aside, claiming, "you should just look at me! I'm the only demon you'll never get tired of staring at." He gave you a wink of fan service that would have sent anyone else into a lustful fervor.

"I... also... don't want you looking at other people," Leviathan mumbled while lacking the courage to look you in the eye. His hand fidgeted with the bottom of his jacket.

"There are many dangers in the Devildom. You know that we have a responsibility to keep you safe, both as an exchange student and as someone very dear to us." Lucifer always had a way with words.

"So, who was that?" Beelzebub asked. He was followed up by Belphegor wondering, "do you know them?"

"No! They just..." You took a deep breath before your admission. "Ok. They look like the demon I would pretend to be when I was a kid."

There it was, the truth. Out in the open. There was a long beat of silence.

Belphegor was the first to go "huh?"

Leviathan caught on quickly. "Like, a demonsona? You had a demonsona?"

"It's something a lot of human kids do," you hurried to explain. "On playgrounds and stuff. When we're little we imagine we're secretly vampires and demons and cool monsters. It's fun but we grow out of it, usually."

Belphegor tried to clarify. "So you pretended you were a demon, and that you looked like the one who just walked by?"

You swear you heard Lucifer snort, trying to hold back his laughter.

"That is sooooooooo cute!" Asmodeus did not hold back. He started cracking up, his high-pitched laughter ringing around the street, and wiped a tear from his eye. "So, for years you played pretend demon?"

"Want me to go get them and ask for their picture?" Beelzebub offered. "I can catch up pretty quickly.

"No!" The offer was mortifying. "Lets just go, we have to finish our errands."

"You had a demonsona," Leviathan repeated with a smile and a chuckle. "That is kind of cute."

"Why somebody like that loser? Why not imagine someone cooler, like me?" Mammon flexed his wings in a show of vanity, as if he could make child-you change their mind.

"I didn't know you then, Mammon. I was, like, ten. All demons were cool."

"That's funny. Humans are so silly," Belphegor chimed.

"I was a child!" You spun to look at Belphegor, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. "You don't get to make fun of me, seeing as you pretended to be human when we met. You're thousands of years old! Act your age!"

"Ok, but I can do that because I'm a demon." Belphegor explained. He ran a hand through his hair, making his horns briefly disappear. "It's what we do."

"Yeah, it's different for us," Satan agreed.

Lucifer cleared his throat and stated, "I imagine we should continue this conversation while walking, now that we have an answer. Unless you lot want to spend all night on the street." He took a step back and gestured down the road in the direction you all were headed.

Sensing an escape from this topic, you nudged your way through the wall of demon brothers and followed after Lucifer, hoping to leave this memory behind. One by one, everyone else followed suit.

Leviathan sped up to match his pace to yours. Once the group was back on track and you thought the conversation was in the past, he asked, "so did you imagine having any cool powers?"

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny AU- Part 3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4]

“Have you considered anger management classes?”

The Batman turned sharply, cape flaring out as he raised his weary fists in preparation for another fight. Only to pause, as he caught sight of a bedraggled man leaning against the pockmarked, water worn, Gotham variety stone of the abandoned post office. Non-hostile. Scent of booze, not strong enough to be fresh, but prominent enough for him to clock the stranger as a habitual drinker. Young. Sympathy softened Batman’s stance. Still, Batman kept his guard up. Good thing Robin was benched, he was off his game today if he hadn’t noticed the young man.

“Nevermind. You run around as a bat. Clearly anger management classes aren’t on your to do list.”

“What do you want.”

He’s young. Not as young as Robin, but… enough that it made Batman gentle his approach. The young man pushed away from his spot, fearlessly slouching towards him. Casual. Unafraid. How curious. Even Gothamites were wary around him, correctly assuming and witnessing his takedowns of Gotham’s Underbelly.

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” The bedraggled young man asked, head tilted neutrally at the bodies strewn around the Batman.

“Hm.”

“Why do you never swing by Crime Alley?”

Batman’s guard faltered at the blunt question, but he regained it quickly.

“I do.”

“You don’t.” The man disagreed amiably. He reached down towards the victims but Batman grabbed his arm in an iron hold before he could rifle through their belongings. The young man laughed and pulled back agreeably. “Is it classism, why you avoid us? The poor isn’t good enough to deserve protection from Gotham’s knight?”

“No. I do this for Gotham. All of Gotham.”

“…Well, there’s always room for improvement, I guess?”

The stranger pulled back and broke Batman’s hold, which had the vigilante sharply focusing onto the man. The stranger was strong, despite how skinny and starved he looked. Few people could casually break his hold and tonight, he added one more to the tally.

“You should tell your sponsor to look into creating job opportunities in Crime Alley. The problem isn’t actually the crooks,” the man told the vigilante, gesturing around them. “That’s just the symptoms. The actual problem is the poverty.”

“I know.”

“And yet, you still avoid Crime Alley.”

“Who are you.”

The man began walking away, throwing a dry “The Crime Alley Drunk, apparently,” behind his shoulder. When Batman took to the roofs to track him, the man had thoroughly slipped away.

“Agent A, did you catch that?”

“Yes, Batman. It appears you’ve gotten the wool pulled over your cowl by a rather mysterious youngster.”

Batman heard a younger snort of laughter. Robin. Who was supposed to be doing homework.

“Please stop making fun of me.” Batman sighed half heartedly.

“Not on your life, B.” Robin chirped.

——

“Ya talked ta Batman?!” Jason crowed at him, excited. Danny had done as promised and met him at the chili dog stand at the correct time, which increased his credibility in Jason’s eyes.

“Sure did. He knocked out like, five guys by himself. It was pretty cool.”

“Fuckin’ woah.”

“Right?” Danny smiled tiredly at the kid. He stayed up all night to pull his shit together, and outright bought an apartment for them to stay in. That safe had a lot of cash, after all. “Come on, kid. We’re heading back to base but before that, we gotta pick up a few things.”

“Like what?” Jason asked suspiciously.

“Like curtains in the color you like, groceries, and blankets and bedding, and general cleaning stuff.” Danny ticked off a finger per item.

“We killin’ someone?”

“What? No!”

“Ya said general cleaning stuff!” Jason defended himself. The raggedy kid peered at Danny cautiously, and brightened when Danny only snorted in amusement.

“Oh my ancients, you Gothamites. No, those are for like, actual cleaning. You know, for the apartment I just got you.”

Danny missed the burn of booze, but when Jason looked at him like the child he’s supposed to be had Gotham’s streets never laid its claim on him, Danny didn’t want to fail the kid.

Even if the kid thought he was buying chemicals to clean up a body. He’s the son of two mad scientists, he knows how to get rid of a body, obviously. As if he’d need chemicals to begin with, honestly. His ghost powers are quite versatile.

“An apartment?”

“Yep. It’s shitty, but it’s got all the utilities and I kind of miss having warm water to shower with.”

Jason straightened and trotted alongside the Alley Drunk with a little more purpose. People avoided them. Danny lead the kid to the apartment, handing him a key and letting him explore the sparsely decorated place.

“So, first thing’s first. You go shower. Then, we’ll go shopping for clothes, register you for school, get your school supplies, and grab some lunch. Not necessarily in that order, but ya know. And cleaning supplies.” Danny grinned.

Jason whipped his head around from where he was closely inspecting the windows for insulation- like Danny would let the actual kid live somewhere with drafty windows- and spluttered. Hope, fear, uncertainty battled across Jason’s face as he tried to say something. Danny watched Jason open and close his mouth several times before he finally managed to whisper something.

“I- I c’n go to school?”

“Yes. You are, in fact, legally required to do so, Jason.”

A pause as the kid grapples with the idea, of something he didn’t think he’d ever get to do. A grin bloomed over his face as he realized Danny’s sincerity.

“Then what are we waitin’ for?!”

“For you to shower. C’mon grubby, the shower’s that way. Towels are in the cabinet, and there’s some extra clothes in here,” Danny tossed Jason the plastic bag of clean kid’s clothes he bought from Gotham’s version of Walmart, a store that somehow had the energy of a Tesco and a Denny’s parking lot.

“Fuc- I mean- yeah! On it!”

——

Clearing out the drafts- feel free to continue ^^

[eevees-hobbies]

Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself. 

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be. 

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand. 

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it. 

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date. 

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date. 

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out. 

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place. 

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut—-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley. 

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men. 

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them. 

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always. 

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice? 

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties. 

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes. 

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei 

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front. 

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells. 

Are you ok? 

Who did this to you?  

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops. 

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth. 

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth. 

Hayato Suo 

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on. 

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to. 

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist. 

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious! 

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous. 

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.” 

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.” 

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame 

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick. 

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you. 

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea. 

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds. 

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat. 

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗘𝗣𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is shy and Chris loves to tease her for that.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N walked down the stairs towards her shared room with Chris in slow steps, her mouth forming a pout after she checked the fridge and saw that her sweet was gone.

The girl stopped for a few seconds in front of the white door before knocking lightly twice with her closed fist, turning the handle and opening it.

Her eyes traveled around the room, noticing that the lights were off, the turned on computer serving as the only source of lighting. The loud sound of the video game Chris was playing escaped his headphones, echoing off the walls.

The boy was sitting in his gaming chair with his arms resting on the computer table and his hands working on the keyboard and mouse quickly, his brow furrowed and his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

The girl approached slowly, touching her fingers on his covered shoulder lightly, alerting him to her presence.

Chris looked up, pausing the game and lowering his headphones instantly when he realized it was his girl. A smile appeared on his face as his blue eyes traveled over her silhouette momentarily before focusing on her face.

"Hi baby! Wow, who gave you permission to look that good, huh?" The brunette flirted, a smirk stretching across his cheeks as his tongue escaped between his lips, wetting them quickly.

Y/N felt her blood rush to her cheeks instantly, a reddish hue covering her face and neck. She looked down in shyness, playing with the hem of Chris's t-shirt over her body. The reason why she went to him already forgotten.

"Stop it." Her voice was quieter than she expected, but loud enough for Chris to hear. A laugh escaped his throat as he lifted his own hands, encircling his girlfriend's waist and pulling her closer.

He rested his chin on Y/N's stomach so that his eyes focused on hers, exhaling the scent of her perfume that surrounded her.

"I'm just teasing you, baby. Even though you look more beautiful than ever today." Chris spoke, a smile resting on his lips.

"You always say that." Y/N whispered, bringing her hands to her boyfriend's soft hair and stroking it lightly, feeling her insides melt like ice cream in the summer.

"Because you always look so beautiful." The boy said one as if it were obvious, rolling his eyes playfully. "What did you want, pretty girl?"

"Can you walk me to the bakery down the street? I went to eat my apple pie from there, but it's gone." The girl asked slowly, biting her lower lip as she felt her cheeks burn from asking for the favor.

"Don't do that, sweetheart." Chris's thumb touched the lip trapped by his girlfriend's teeth, releasing it slightly. "'Gonna hurt your pretty lips like that."

Y/N felt her heart speed up at her boyfriend's touch and gentle words, combing his hair to try and hide her shaking fingers.

"Sorry." Her voice was almost null as she lowered her head, her eyes meeting the blue ones she loved so much, receiving a smile in response.

"No need to apologize, my love." He caressed his girl's warm cheek with the thumb he had just used. "Let's go to the bakery and buy an apple pie for the prettiest girl in the world."

He knew how much she hated going to establishments where she would need to talk to a stranger, so he always accompanied her with great pleasure.

Chris got up from the chair slowly so as not to hurt or push his girlfriend's body with his movements. He straightened his hoodie with his hands, smoothing out the small wrinkles from his previous position, before picking up his wallet that was on his computer desk, putting it in the pocket of his pants.

The boy lightly placed his hand on his girlfriend's back, guiding her through the room and up the stairs, even though she didn't need the support.

The gesture made Y/N's heart skip a beat, her hands clenching into fists from the way she felt her fingers shaking and her arms getting goosebumps, she pressed her lips into a thin line to keep from biting them, not wanting to disobey her boyfriend.

Chris always made her feel so loved and safe, and despite her shyness with his kindness, she didn't stop him. He was her exception.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[sirenedeslily]

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ‎𐦍 𝐦atthew 𝐬turniolo

𝒢𑄺 ⸻ ❝ like if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did. ❜ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡, a hardened fighter finds unexpected tenderness in the arms of a gentle soul, where love becomes both his salvation and his deepest fear.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, emotional and psychological angst, violence, mentions of trauma, depiction of illegal street fighting, sensitive themes of self-worth, and fear of hurting a loved one. my attempt @ fluff :3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭, 1.4k !

𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 wasn’t born into love.

no one had ever held him close when he was a boy. no one had ever whispered to him that everything would be okay when the nights were long and cold, when the bruises from the world around him were more than just skin deep. he had been passed around like something unwanted, a shadow that people barely noticed until they had to. one foster home after another, each colder than the last, until the idea of love or warmth was nothing more than a distant memory, something he’d never truly had in the first place.

at sixteen, matt stopped expecting anything from anyone. it was easier that way—no expectations, no hope, no chance of getting hurt. but the hurt came anyway, creeping into his bones like a sickness. the world had never been kind to him, and he had learned, in the back rooms of strangers’ houses, that the only thing he could control was how much he fought back.

and matt fought.

he fought with his fists, with his teeth, with a rage that seemed to consume him whole. it was the only way to survive in a world that had given him nothing but pain. the violence became his only language, the only thing that made sense. it was how he stayed alive, how he kept himself from being swallowed by the emptiness that followed him wherever he went.

that’s when he came into matt’s life—a man who saw the violence in matt’s eyes and knew how to use it. the man didn’t care about the boy behind the bruises, didn’t care about the heart that had been broken so many times it barely beat anymore. all he cared about was how hard matt could hit, how much damage he could do. and matthew? he didn’t care, either.

he was just looking for a place to sleep.

so he fought. brutal, illegal street fights in the back alleys of forgotten places, where the only law was how much blood you could spill. matt became a machine, a weapon honed by years of neglect and pain, his body more bruise than boy. he fought because it was all he knew how to do. he fought because no one had ever given him anything else.

but it wasn’t living. it was surviving, and just barely.

and then you came into his life.

you, with your cinnamon scent and wide, innocent eyes. you, who looked at him like he was more than just the violence he had been shaped into. you, who had never known the darkness he lived in, but who somehow saw through it. you stepped into his world of shadows and fists, and instead of running, you stayed.

you, with your soft hands and your gentle smile, were like a dream. he wasn’t sure you were real at first—how could you be? no one had ever looked at him the way you did, like you could see past the bruises, past the blood, and into something deeper. something matt wasn’t sure existed anymore.. or ever.

but you saw it. you always saw it.

the first time you touched him, matt flinched. not because you hurt him, but because your touch was so gentle. he wasn’t used to gentle. he wasn’t used to anything soft, not after years of fists and hard floors and nights spent alone. your fingers brushed against his skin like a whisper, light and warm, and matt felt something in him break, something he hadn’t even known was there.

you didn’t ask him to be anything other than what he was. you didn’t ask him to change, to give up the fights, the violence that was so much a part of him. you just were—you were there, with your cinnamon-sweet smile and your heart so full of love, and somehow, that was enough.

for the first time in his life, matt wasn’t alone. for the first time in his life, someone saw him, not just the fighter, not just the boy who had been left behind over and over again, but him. the boy who was still trying to find something to hold onto, something that wasn’t blood and pain and broken bones.

you held him without asking for anything in return. you let him break down his walls at his own pace, piece by piece, until he wasn’t just matt, the street fighter, the boy who only knew how to survive. he was yours.

there were nights when matt would come home from a fight, his knuckles bruised and his body aching, and you would be there, waiting for him. you, who smelled of cinnamon and warmth, would welcome him into your arms as if he weren’t covered in blood, as if the violence that followed him didn’t touch you. you didn’t flinch when you saw the cuts and bruises; you just took his hands in yours, your fingers soft as you traced the lines of his knuckles.

“it’s okay,” you’d whisper, pressing your lips to the broken skin on his hands, as if you could kiss away the pain, as if your love could heal the wounds that ran so much deeper than the surface.

and maybe it could.

because with you, matt felt something he hadn’t felt in years—something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt at all. it was a warmth that spread through his chest, a lightness that came from the way you looked at him, the way you touched him like he was something precious. he didn’t know how to handle it at first, didn’t know what to do with the way you made him feel, like he was more than just a boy made of bruises and scars.

but you were patient. you didn’t push. you just loved him, quietly, gently, until matt started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was worthy of that love.

matt had never been soft. he had never been the kind of person who let himself feel too much, who let himself hope for something better. but you—you—changed that. you brought out a part of him that he didn’t even know existed, a part of him that wanted to be better, to be more. not for himself, but for you.

there were moments, late at night, when you’d curl up next to him, your head resting on his bare chest, and matt would just hold you, his arms wrapped around you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. and in those moments, with your warmth pressed against him and your scent filling the air, matt would feel something close to peace.

it scared him, sometimes—how much he needed you. how much he wanted you. he wasn’t used to needing anyone, wasn’t used to feeling like someone could slip through his fingers and take his heart with them. but you were different. you weren’t just someone; you were everything.

you were the sweetness in his life, the light in the darkness that had surrounded him for so long. you made him feel things he didn’t know how to name, things he didn’t know how to control. and it terrified him. because matt had only ever known how to fight, how to push people away before they could hurt him. but with you, he didn’t want to push. he wanted to pull you closer, hold you tighter, keep you with him forever.

but love—real love—wasn’t easy.

there were nights when the darkness inside him would rise up, when the violence that lived in his blood would threaten to consume him. he’d wake up in a cold sweat, his heart racing, his hands clenched into fists, ready for a fight that wasn’t there. and you—you would always be there, your hands soft on his skin, your voice a soothing whisper in the quiet of the night.

“i’m here,” you’d say, your breath warm against his chest. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and you never did. no matter how many times matt tried to push you away, no matter how many times he told you that he wasn’t good enough for you, that you deserved someone who could give you more than this life of blood and violence and pain, you stayed.

you stayed, and you loved him, and you showed him that maybe, just maybe, he was worth loving.

matt had never known a love like yours. a love that was gentle and fierce all at once, a love that didn’t ask for anything in return but still gave everything. you were his 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, sweet and warm, the one thing in his life that made him believe in something more than just survival.

you made him feel like he could be something more than the violence that had shaped him. you made him feel like he could be yours.

and in the end, that was all he ever wanted to be.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ trying to work on requests but it’s been mostly chris stuff and i miss writing about my boyfriend soooo :3

❝ 𝟐𝟐𝟐 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @eternaldecisions @elizabebabe @ncm9696

❝ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ❞ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻, @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @fawnchives @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia

© sirenedeslily

[peppermintquartz]

Tommy is drinking alone at his and Evan's usual table, waiting for his boyfriend who says he is meeting an old friend, when he notices a handsome dark-haired man walk in. He's wearing a light khaki jacket over a dark brown v-neck tee, all over faded black jeans and hiking boots. Tommy doesn't mean to stare, but when a good-looking stranger appears in his line of sight, he's not going to pretend he isn't appreciative.

The man must've felt Tommy's observation, because his gaze locks in. There's a querying smile on his face, an eyebrow ticking up, and Tommy replies with a faint smile and a slight shake of his head.

To Tommy's surprise, the stranger walks over and takes the seat opposite Tommy. Tommy leans back into his seat, putting some distance between them. "I don't know you, do I?"

"Nah," says the man. "But you're the only friendly face I noticed when I came in, so I figured it would be less awkward to sit here than to stand in the middle of the room, looking for my friend."

He sounds like he may be from Texas, but that isn't a guarantee that he isn't living in Los Angeles - LA is the city holding people from everywhere, an amalgamation of strangers.

Bemused, Tommy scans the man again, and relaxes slightly when he notices a ring on the stranger's left hand.

"Here alone?" Tommy asks.

The man chuckles quietly. "Only for a couple of days while my husband sorts out some admin issues back home. You?"

"Waiting for my boyfriend," Tommy says. "He's supposed to be here already, but he probably got caught in traffic."

"Ugh, driving in this city is a nightmare." The stranger waves down a waiter and places an order for a whisky, neat as well as fancy branded water. "So thankful for Uber. I can't picture having to drive these streets every day."

"I like driving outside of the city," says Tommy. If he were single, he would have offered to show this handsome man some scenic views. As it is, he smiles politely and asks, "Is your friend coming soon?"

"Hopefully! I mean, all I've got is 'I'm on the way, go in first'." The man rolls his eyes. "Can't I hang here till he shows? I like having someone to chat with while waiting. I wouldn't seem so pathetic."

"Maybe we can help you get a table nearby." Tommy doesn't want to sound rude, but he is not risking Evan thinking he is flirting with another guy.

The man tilts his head and scrutinizes Tommy. "You're a good boyfriend," he remarks. "If you'd flirted with me at all, I'd have told Buck to drop you like a hot potato."

Tommy blinks in confusion and then realization. "You're the Texas TK!"

"And you're the LA edition," TK replies with a broad grin. He offers a hand and Tommy shakes it firmly. "Buck's always boasting about you. You do look a lot hotter in person, and the photo Buck sent was plenty hot already."

With an embarrassed duck of his head, Tommy says, "He always sends that one to people, I don't know why."

"Showing off, obviously." TK holds his phone to the side and his front camera is on. "Alright, smile for a we-fie. I'm gonna let Buck know I'm already here charming his man. Maybe that'll get him to teleport." He snaps a quick shot of them both, and as he types a message, he asks, "What do you recommend for a hungry visitor?"

"Lasagne. Or the carbonara, that's quite good too." Tommy slides the menu across.

Just as TK is deciding what he wants for appetizers, Evan materializes next to the table.

"I'm glad you think you can charm my boyfriend," he says, eyes twinkling, as he hugs TK and then sits beside Tommy, kissing him on the cheek, adding, "You are the best TK, by the way."

"Best?" TK asks.

Tommy shrugs. "Third one's an ex-girlfriend."

"So... Could have been, was, and is?" TK winks at Evan. "You appear to have a type, Buckley."

Evan blushes and takes the whiskey from TK's side of the table. "Let's order."

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[simonsrileyhusband]

I read your “open relationship” post. And let me say, it reminded me of that one Reddit post where the husband asked his wife for an open relationship. The wife didn’t like it but agreed anyways, for months he was sleeping and bringing people home and the wife stayed far away from that as possible until she met a guy. He treated her right and she brought him home, they did the deed and the husband was curious and jealous on who his wife was seeing. Then he demanded that they closed their relationship- the wife ends up leaving the husband and loves happily ever after with the new guy☺️ maybe write something on that with Simon being the new guy?

implied nsfw

you roll your eyes as you see your "husband" enter your home with a girl. a sigh leaves your mouth as you stand up from the couch and grab a bottle of wine and go sit on the porch. you are tired of this, you never wanted this. but here you are, all because you wanted to make the excuse of a man you used to call husband happy.

and as the weeks go by you grow tired of the moans, the strangers in your home, the missing food on the fridge and the way that pathetic man thought he still deserved your love.

one day, at the supermarket your cars tire deflated, you panic and looking for the tools to change it, not that you really know how to do it. as you pace around your car with an anxious look on your face a low and husky voice sounds behind you. "need help?" your eyes widen and you turn around, looking up at the giant guy infront of you. the blonde guy looked calm, a big bag of food in one hand and a car key on his other. "i-... yeah"

he helped you, taking the tools from his car and changing your tire, he was a bit quiet but not mean. he answered all your questions, whats his name, when did he learned to change tires, bla bla bla. he spoke softly, not a single drop of sweat on his body after he was done with the job.

"there ya' go, sweetheart. good as new." he said as he patted the top of the car. your cheeks couldnt help but turn red. "thank you so much, i dont know how to repay you."

"ye' don't have to." he was putting the tools into their box, you panicked, not wanting him to leave, wanting an excuse to see him again. "i make good pies!"

"pies?" he looks at you, tilting his head. "yeah, i woul like to make one for you... as a thank you." a small smile paint your face, you see him smirk slightly. "m'kay, a pie sound good. give me yer number."

since that day simon became very close to you, he was all you wanted. a gentleman on the streets (and kn the sheets too). he understood your weird situation, yet, he always wondered why you didnt just leave your shit ass husband.

until one day you invites simon to your home.

"who is he?"

"oh, his name is simon." you say as simon stands behind you, glaring at the man he wishes he could kill.

"why is he here?"

"i invited him, duh."

"you didn't ask me."

"oh, since when do i have to ask? when have you asked me if you could bring someone over?" you turn around and grab simons hand leading him to your bedroom. "tell your lawyer to print the divorce papers, will you? and just as a little reminder, this house is under my name."

simon smiles proudly as you slam the door of the bedroom. your name would sound prettier with his last name anyways. simon just has to wait a bit for that question.

[simmerandwrite]

electric touch (part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x medical team! reader

Summary: Getting a spot on the field medical team was your dream. And your closest work friend Bucky Barnes finally asking you out? That was the cherry on top of your good news. Now all you had to do was pass your training week. Seems easy enough until you’re faced with someone who doesn’t want to see you win.

Warnings: abuse of power, verbal abuse, physical assault, some PTSD (but none of these are because of Bucky!!!!)

Wordcount: 7k

Part 2

Notes: hello! Are you hungry for a lil slice of ‘who did this to you’ pie with a big dollop of protective Bucky Barnes on top? Dig in!! I aim to be as nondescript as possible for the reader but I will note reader is shorter than Bucky and wears glasses. Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! please consider reblogging, it helps my work reach more lovely people here on Tumblr. <3 merci!

---

Your regular lunch dates with Bucky started unintentionally. In fact, your friendship with Bucky had started that way – very unintentionally.

In retrospect, you couldn’t believe you had been late on your first day. You had intentionally set extra alarms to make sure you got to Stark Industries early.But you couldn’t control the inconsistencies of the New York subway system. When you skirted into the training room, only one seat was left – beside Bucky Barnes himself.

It was funny to think that the mandatory onboarding applied to new Avengers, too.

Of course, you knew who he was – the former Winter Soldier – but you didn’t realize he had to sit through the boring health and safety discussions and HR seminars like everyone else. When the first lunch break arrived, you turned to him and asked if he wanted to join you for lunch at the burger place down the street.

Initially, it looked like he was fighting off the urge to decline, but then he said: “Sure.”

Your conversations were very stilted in the beginning, which you didn’t mind. But as the week carried on, you felt the foundations of a friendship.

(He told you, later, that he appreciated your kindness that first day. That he had been really fucking scared to sit in that room with strangers judging him. He liked that you treated him like a normal person.)

It had grown organically since then – but you were simply just work friends. Your roles at Stark Industries slash The Avengers Initiative didn’t always overlap, but you did occasionally see him in the halls or if he happened to be by medical when you were working. Then, one day, you saw him eating alone in the cafeteria and you dropped down across from him to catch up.

Then lunch turned into a routine for you both. Typically on Wednesdays you’d sit together, if Bucky wasn’t on a mission or you weren’t on the night rotation. Sometimes Sam or Steve or some of the other nurses joined you, but secretly, you liked when it was just you and Bucky. Sometimes it felt like he preferred it that way too.

“So, guess what?” You sat down on the chair across from him, your tray knocking against his. He slowly moved his eyes from the pages of his book – he almost always had his nose in a book at lunch, regardless of the company – and matched your smile.

“I take it you got good news?”

You searched his face then frowned. “Wait, do you already know? That’s not fair.”

“Sam showed me the roster.”

A groan rumbled from your chest. “Boo.” You tipped your head to look at him as you paused. “Can you just pretend you’re about to hear this for the first time?”

Bucky smirked, putting down his book and politely stacking his hands to give you his full attention. “Sure. Start again?”

“Guess what?” You repeated, rolling your eyes.

“I’ve got no clue, doll. What?”

“You are looking at the newest member of the field medical team!” The chair legs squeaked as you danced in celebration.

“Congratulations,” Bucky replied, a wide smile crossing his face. He reached out and offered his fist, which you met with your own. You knocked your knuckles into his twice then wiggled your fingers at one another - a silly secret handshake you had invented together over a Taco Tuesday lunch one day, mostly out of annoyance to Sam.

You deflated afterwards, though, as reality set in. “Hopefully I can make it through training next week. It’s going to be hard but.. I can do hard things.”

Bucky reached over and grabbed your hand, holding it for a moment though he quickly pulled back. “You’re going to do great. You wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, glancing down to where his hand had briefly made contact with yours. It felt.. hot, for some reason. You resisted touching the skin there. This had been happening more than you wanted to admit recently – a new spark when you saw him, when you touched. You thought you had easily avoided the possibilities of a developing crush on Bucky but.. something had been brewing for you. And maybe the same was happening with him, too - when you thought about how he looked at you, how considerate he was…

You wouldn’t know with any certainty unless you asked and you were way, way too scared to ask. Ruining your friendship may not be worth it. Especially if you were joining the medical team that would accompany the Avengers on some of their missions. What if you made it weird? What if you went on one date and it was terrible and your friendship never recovered? What if you asked Bucky out and then he laughed in your face and –

“We should go out and celebrate,” he cut you off. 

Wait. Was his voice shaking?

You met his eyes. Was he nervous? “I still.. I have to pass the training.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And tomorrow I leave for.. an undisclosed location for the week. So. When I get back and you’ve crushed the training and have the new job title, let’s go out.”

“Just you and me?” You asked, swallowing hard.

Bucky took a deep breath. “Yeah. If you..”

“Like a date?”

He closed his eyes, face scrunched up. It was cute. “Yeah, like a date, sweetheart. Just you and me.”

Okay, well, okay. Yes. Okay, that answered your question. You supposed the risk was being taken either way. There. He did the thing before you could even talk yourself out of it.

You smiled, nervously adjusting your glasses. Oh my god. You hadn’t even answered. With eyes wide, you reached for him. “Yes, that sounds.. that sounds wonderful. I’d love that.”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “For a second there, I really thought I screwed all this up.”

---

Bucky couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to finally just do it. Asking you out had been at the top of his list for a long time and although it scared the shit out of him, this follow-up feeling of anticipation had been totally worth it. Now he just needed to get through a grueling mission with a sweet reward at the end – a date with you.

You- the first stranger who treated him like a regular person. You - who cared so deeply about your job. You - who seemed to always hear his snarky comments and always laughed, giggled, snorted, at them. With a smile that could make his entire body warm up. 

You. He couldn’t wait for that damn date. 

A date was the scary next step. But he was tired of waiting and tired of denying his feelings. And thank god you had reacted just as positively. The foundation of your friendship was so important to him but he had a feeling things could be even better. He prayed he wouldn’t fuck it all up.

When he showed up at the compound early in the morning to get on the jet, Bucky was surprised to see Sam prepping in the pilot’s seat.

Sam jumped in with an answer before the question even left Bucky’s lips. “Natasha had to join Clint on the Belize mission, last minute. So it’s you and me, pal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Though he wasn’t mentally prepared for a week with Sam, he could handle it. Bucky was certain he could handle anything that he faced this week, knowing it was your face on his mind keeping him going.

As you crossed his mind again, another thought surfaced.

“If you’re here, who’s taking over the training for the med field team?” Bucky reached for his phone then cursed. They were going dark for this mission so he’d left his phone in his locker. Although he had sent you a message after he got up that morning, he wanted to reach out one last time and send some extra reassurance your way. 

“Don’t worry,” Sam knocked his shoulder, standing up to do a final check of the gear. “Your girl is in good hands.” Sam added in a wiggle of his fingers in Bucky's direction.

You weren’t Bucky’s girl.. yet. He didn’t feel bothered by the term. In fact, he loved it and so badly wanted you to be okay with him saying it some day too. Though it was still worth correcting Sam. It didn’t seem fair to put a label on something without consulting you first. Not to mention Sam’s teasing about you and Bucky had been going on for months and Bucky did not want to indulge him.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky replied, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

Sam carried on. “Boone is doing the training protocol instead, but I’ll manage the final evaluations next week.” 

A quiet groan escaped Bucky’s lips. “Boone is a jackass.”

“I don’t disagree that he can be a bit too self assured - but he has proved himself in the field and will be a great mentor to this cohort.”

“Wasn’t he one of the agents Steve benched a few months ago - after his annual physical? What’s the term they used - he was doping?”

Sam sighed. “He was clean but a couple of his buddies were thrown out. But Boone is good, Buck. She’s gonna be fine.” With a final glance at the screen between them, Sam clapped his hands. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

---

When you applied for the job at Stark Industries for their medical team, you weren’t entirely sure what the role was going to entail. Your years of working as a nurse at the busiest emergency room in Chicago had given you plenty of experience with, well, everything and anything imaginable. You were always prepared for the unexpected.

What you hadn’t expected though was the pace - it was significantly slower than you imagined. Most of your days revolved around small visits from agents for anything from minor injuries and lacerations to annual physicals. On occasion you’d support when the Avengers came in, but usually they worked directly with Dr. Cho or the other on site doctors.

You figured the cure for your unrelenting desire for more was to get on the field medical team - a group of agents and trained nurses who accompanied the Avengers or other strike teams on missions, acting as a resource for any injuries to civilians and team members alike. Not every mission needed a team and sometimes it would involve last minute travel, but you didn’t mind.

When your application for transfer was finally accepted, you couldn’t get over how excited you were. You had been working hard for months getting into better shape, especially your stamina. Sure, maybe you could do a bit more when it came to targeted strength training but you had qualified on the initial testing to even get into the training level, so you’d be fine.

You could do this.

Truthfully, you were really excited about it. And Bucky had sent you the most encouraging message before he left that morning and you just.. You knew you could do this.

Bucky's words echoed: “...you wouldn’t have been picked if you weren’t capable. You’re more than ready and, well, uh, I’m proud of you.”

You were going to do this well and you were going to make yourself proud, too.

Most of your excitement depleted when you walked into the gym though. You joined the rest of the agents in the training group and braced yourself when you saw Agent Nathan Boone standing with his tablet, calling out names for attendance. 

“Wilson had to suit up as Falcon and jump on a critical mission this morning so I’ll be running the training program this week,” he explained as he sized up his group, which included you plus another half a dozen training agents. 

Without a doubt, Boone was the worst replacement for Sam you could think of. Boone exuded a confidence you couldn’t quite wrap your mind around, given his frat guy personality. Hiding behind his smarmy grin, linebacker build and perfectly coiffed hair - he was a real jackass. 

You tried not to let your mind race as Boone walked you all through the upcoming week of training. You’d be going over everything from basic self defense skills to hand to hand combat strategies to overall endurance drills. Then he explained that next week it was Sam Wilson who’d be doing the final evaluations.

“So let’s prove to him you’re all a good batch, okay?” Boone’s demeanor shifted as he got into his coaching mode. “Let’s start with a warm up run. Onto the treadmills.”

This wasn’t your first interaction with Boone, though you weren’t sure he would remember you. 

During your first few weeks you’d been responsible for doing the annual physicals for most of the agents. It had been a very repetitive (and boring) assignment, until some anomalies came up in the test results. A few agents, including Boone, had weird things flagged on their blood and urine tests - mostly markers that indicated steroid use. Which was completely against standards for agents and employees at Stark Industries. 

One of them, some bulky aggressive asshole, tried to convince you to look the other way but you had ultimately reported it. The fallout caused a huge uproar between the medical team and the agents, with the consequence coming down on a handful of agents who were fired due to drug use. Boone had escaped that fate somehow, passing his re-test with perfect results. And even though HR promised you it was a sealed case, you were always worried it had left a bit of a target on your back.

Nothing had come from it. The next round of physicals you assisted with didn’t involve any of those field agents and no other concerns had been flagged. Everything seemed back to normal.

In fact, you had seen Boone once since that whole controversy. A few months ago you passed him flirting with one of the admins in your department but you kept your head down and ignored him. That was it.

Hopefully the week of training wouldn’t be soured by your history with him but you figured it was safest to go in with an open mind. 

Thankfully, by the end of your run, as you were moving onto some basic tactical drills, he continued treating you just like everyone else. Generally firm and distant overall, but nothing strangely out of the ordinary. His barked orders were delivered to everyone evenly. If he had any recollection of your connected history, he didn’t bring it up.

The first day of training had been tough, especially since you still had a few extra hours of work to log afterwards. When you returned to your reporting station in the medical wing, you had to really settle your mind down and talk your way through the unkind thoughts racing around your brain.

You could do this. 

The second day focused exclusively on muscular endurance, which wasn’t really your strong suit but you managed to keep up with the group all the same.

Boone had the entire cohort going hard - with a lot of tough but constructive encouragement coming from him along the way. When one of the other trainees dropped their barbells, it seemed to irritate Boone immensely too. He let out a few curses as he helped them pick the weights back up then apologized for his reaction but the flare of anger was evident. 

When you were all heading back to the locker rooms, it was one of the other agents muttering about ‘roid rage’ that raised a red flag for you. 

It was during the third day of training that you felt the first tug of resistance with Boone. It was small things that you couldn’t help but file away. The way he delivered supportive commentary to everyone else in the group but only gave you critical feedback. During one of the practical scenarios, he undermined all your answers.

“I see why you’d think that way if you’ve never done this before but I can tell you by experience, it wouldn’t work. Bit of an amateur way of looking at things, actually. You need to do better if you’re going to be in the field with experts. Are you sure you passed the interview for this role?”

He said things in a way that didn’t always seem personal to you, but he certainly delivered them in a condescending tone. 

But, maybe, well, maybe you were just reading into things. You were feeling tired already and not really sleeping, so your focus was a bit off. 

Yeah, you could do better, strategize better, think things through in a better way.

On the fourth day, after a morning of weapons training and spending time at the range, the session moved onto sparring drills. It was quite basic - Boone walked the group through easy to follow hand to hand techniques, spending time here and there with each person to adjust their form. 

Everyone who qualified for the med team had to pass certain physical testing standards already. You had been working hard in the gym for months to get your mind ready, though you knew you weren’t very experienced in anything related to defensive techniques.

When he got to you following one of the scenarios, there was a firm frown on his face. “You need to be less in your head.”

You nodded, flexing and stretching your hands out. “Okay. Uhm okay, well, do you have any tips on how to–”

He was quick to cut you off. “Figure it out. I don’t have time to teach you critical thinking skills.” Following a sharp finger snap, he pointed directly at you. “And what’s with the glasses?”

“Ran out of contacts this morning, but I can do without them if I need to. Its–”

“They’re a safety risk.”

He didn’t care for your explanation or offer you any other advice, instead just muttering something as he moved on and tapping something into the tablet. None of his feedback had been helpful. Christ, you figured maybe it was worth starting a list to consult with Sam about following your evaluation instead. 

You just had to get through one more day with Boone. You were tired - down to your bones, from the physical and mental work during this week.

But it was nearly the weekend and that meant next week was approaching. Most importantly, the training would be done and you would have a real date with Bucky on the books, too. You couldn’t wait.

---

The last training day was mostly a culmination of everything you had gone over from the week. There was more endurance testing, some strength and performance work and the day ended with more sparring and situationals. 

You knew this was the light at the end of the tunnel. And when everything was wrapping up, you were relieved to finally be done with taking instructions from Boone, too.

Until his final speech. “You’ve been a great group and I would say most of you are ready for next week. Wilson will be impressed.” After a few more notes and instructions for the following week, he dismissed everyone. As you headed back towards the locker room, he called your name.

That made your stomach drop. He waved you back over towards the mats.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up,” Boone started slowly, eyes glancing around the empty room before he looked down at his tablet screen. “Here is the report on your training this week.” He turned the device so you could read over it.

After the first line, you took it from his hands. “Wait - what?”

“I just don’t think you’re ready.” Boone crossed his arms. “You’ve got the medical knowledge, sure. But the rest of it, even if you had another two months to train, I’m doubtful.” He took the tablet back and continued scrolling, as if he hadn’t just delivered such a disappointing blow to you. “It’s up to you whether you still want to do your test with Sam next week, but if I was in your shoes, I’d tap out.”

You swallowed hard, head tipped slightly to the side as you took in what he was saying. “That doesn’t make any sense. I kept up with everyone here this week.”

“This is a controlled environment; I don’t think you can hack it in the field.” Boone shrugged. “Like I said, you’re more than welcome to do your evaluation but I don’t think this will impress The Falcon enough to solidify your spot on the field team.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of this decision then,” you bit in return, taking a step back. It felt like he was egging you on and you didn’t like it. Even worse that you were alone with him in the gym. “I don’t have to prove shit to you.”

“You don’t have to, or you simply can’t?” He countered, tossing the tablet to the side as he crossed his arms. He sized you up, eyes drawing up the shape of your body. “Let’s try something.” He motioned to the mats. “I’ll give you another chance to change my mind about that report. Maybe I misread your abilities and intentions.”

You knew the right thing to do would be to walk away and ignore how he was antagonizing you. But a tiny voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that you were good, that you had earned your place here. That you needed to show him that. 

No, you didn’t.

Yes, you did.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing yourself in the middle of the mat. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Boone laughed, standing in front of you. He scanned you over again. “Scenario. You’re in the field, there’s a civilian who needs medical attention. You’re alone with them as everyone else explores the area for threats. But, it's night time, it was a busy bit of action and –” Boone reached over and pulled your glasses off. “And you lost your glasses in the chaos.”

Before you could protest about the logistics of this stupid scenario, he threw them to the side.

You shook your head and immediately stepped back. “What the fuck?”

“Maybe you should have worn your contacts today.” He replied and this time, there was something more at the edge of his words. Something unsettling.

This was a bad idea. But he was waiting for you to reply, to call his bluff and tap out. You growled to yourself and stayed.

“The civilian has a broken limb so you’re on the ground beside them.” Without even hesitating he placed both his hands on your shoulders and shoved you down to your knees.

None of this made any lick of sense. This wasn’t a scenario you’d end up in. You wouldn’t be alone or you’d call for backup.

He continued without a second thought, moving to stand behind you, placing his hand on the crown of your head. “And someone comes at you from behind – now you’re compromised and so is your civilian.”

You sat there on your knees, chock still. A red flashing light was going off in your mind but for some reason, you stayed.

A low, grumbly laugh escaped him. “See? Not only are you a terrible nurse but you have no fucking instinct—”

You immediately swung your leg up to hook behind him, not sending him down to the ground but gaining enough of your own momentum to plot out your next move. Planting a foot, you lunged forward and grabbed his waist, pulling him towards the mat.

That really set off whatever anger had been simmering in him. The next thing you saw was the training mat as your face and torso were being shoved against it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your shouting felt useless as your body writhed under his weight. Your cheek dragged across the plastic mat as you moved, burning against your skin. “Get off of me, you—”

“Defend. Yourself.” Boone barked back, adjusting to grab your arm. He gripped your elbow, then twisted your wrist behind your back. A jolt of pain rushed down your shoulder. “Took me a few days but then I remembered your face.”

You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please just stop. What is—why are you—”

“Three of my friends, my brothers – you ruined their lives, you know that? They lost all their job prospects, they have fuck all left because of what you did. You know, we need that stuff - to keep up with supersoldiers. There is nothing fucking wrong with some pharmaceutical help. If I’m backing up Captain America, I deserve the boost.” With his knee pressing against your back, he leveraged himself to sit up a bit straighter. But his grip on your wrist remained, growing tighter and tighter. “If you had just turned the other way and ignored those tests—”

“I was doing my job,” you mumbled back at him. “They were the ones who broke the rules and—”

His voice hadn’t quite grown to shouting but the intensity grew. “And you are the one who suffers now, alright? And you sure as hell aren’t joining the field team. I’m going to make sure of it.”

---

All Bucky wanted to do when they got back to the compound was text you. It was late Sunday night but he didn’t care.

After the grueling week he and Sam had, Bucky took comfort in knowing soon enough he’d get to see you. He wanted to know about everything from last week - from training to everyday life, he just wanted to talk to you. Crossing the threshold from friends to something more was scary but during his long, sleepless nights, you provided a strange sense of comfort to him.

Without doing a dang thing. Just knowing you made him better, inspired him to be better and to be present. 

“Hey,” Sam tugged on Bucky’s arm before he headed to the locker room. “Medical check first. Then you’re free to send your little smiley face emojis to her.”

Bucky grumbled but didn’t have the energy to argue with Sam. The mission had gone well but hadn’t been the smoothest for either of them. While they both returned unharmed, Bucky knew coming down from these sorts of weeks properly was important.

Finally, after a clearance from the nurse and a quick shower - Bucky was turning his phone back on.

He dismissed all the messages from Steve and an Avengers group chat he liked to ignore then finally found his way to his conversation with you. Seeing a slew of your thoughts over the course of the week made him smile.

You: good luck this week - come back in one piece, please <3 

You: made it through day one and two, turns out my five-story walkup apartment is good for my cardio skills after all lol You: remind me of that next time I complain about the stairs

You: day three has proved that I do need to work on my upper body strength You: wanna be my personal trainer? ;)

You: miss you, hope everything is going safely You: this week has really kicked my ass

Your messages did peter off by Friday and although Bucky longed for more, he assumed you were probably just tired after the long week. Plus, the training wasn’t for the light of heart. Sam had shown him the schedule and although it was standard, its intensity was intentional. Not that Bucky doubted you - he knew you’d been preparing as best as you could since you had shown an interest in joining the field team months ago. But that could really exhaust someone by the end of it.

And tomorrow you had to power through a final evaluation with Sam too, so Bucky hoped you got to spend the rest of the weekend resting.

He dropped down onto one of the benches and planned his response.

Bucky: hey doll, made it back safe and sound Bucky: in one piece, I promise :) Bucky: can’t wait to hear about last week, I’m sure you did great Bucky: good luck tomorrow, I’ll come find you after the eval Bucky: sweet dreams 

---

Bucky felt a little bit silly, lingering outside the training gym. At least he wasn’t pacing, that would have been an even worse look. He leaned against the opposite wall to the doors, arms crossed.

Something just felt a bit off for him and, well, finally seeing you would help ease his mind. It was just strange – the lack of communication. Sure, he had sent his message quite late the night before but he assumed he might hear something back from you during the day.

But no, it had been radio silence. He could attribute it to your needing to prepare for your evaluation but that didn’t seem like enough of a justification. In all the times you and he had been friends, you always managed to send a reply.

He would just have to settle for an in person update, following your testing with Sam. Five other agents exited the gym by mid afternoon, but you never showed up at the door. 

Sam did eventually emerge, tapping quickly against his tablet. He came to a halt when he spotted Bucky waiting, arms now tightly locked behind his back.

Bucky looked over Sam’s shoulder, trying to glimpse into the gym before he met his eyes. “How’d she do?”

Sam let out an awkward laugh. “Well, she didn’t show. She sent me an email earlier saying that she was sick.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “Oh.” 

“I know, weird. What’s even more weird though is that when I said we could reschedule her for another date, she tapped out.” Sam raised his shoulder to shrug then showed Bucky the screen.

Bucky scanned over the message and frowned. It was true. Your reply to Sam was short, explaining you didn’t want to reschedule and declined any further interest in the field team. That was it. You were out.

“Given how she sent me a five-paragraph essay explaining how excited she was to join the team, this seems out of character.” Sam tucked the screen under his arm and patted Bucky on the shoulder. “Give me an update after you talk to her.”

“What makes you think—”

“Oh, I already see your wheels turning. You’re doing the math on how quickly you can get to her place.” Sam called after him as Bucky turned to leave. “Let her know I can reschedule her anytime!”

---

You knew you couldn’t ignore Bucky forever. It was just.. it felt like too much, thinking of a way to reply. After what happened with Boone on Friday, every single thing in your life felt like climbing the steepest mountain.

It was absurd how quickly things had escalated. You should have just walked away the instant Boone brought up your evaluation. Getting on that mat with him was really fucking stupid and.. here you were.

You could barely remember how you got home Friday – dazed and confused and numb. After Boone finished screaming and you had stopped trying to fight back, you curled up on yourself. You fought back tears over the humiliation and pain, hands shaking as you grabbed your things from the locker room. One ridiculously overpriced cab ride later and you made it home to your studio in Astoria.

Then you cried in the shower and all the way to your bed - where you stayed as long as you possibly could on Saturday, dousing yourself in painkillers just to try and stay asleep.

You knew you needed to go to urgent care, or even just an emergency room - somewhere you could afford the x-ray. You had never broken a bone before but you had seen plenty of hand fractures during your time working in triage. You couldn’t make a fist, your hand was bruising up towards your wrist and the pain was excruciating. The image of Boone stomping on your hand and wrist as you tried to crawl away was imprinted in your mind…

You were stuck on the climb though. The mental battle of trying to figure out the best lie to tell the admitting nurses anywhere was daunting. Christ, how would you explain this?

You had to - you had to tell someone. The way Boone had flown off the handle, how he attacked you verbally and physically, he couldn’t get away with it. You knew the right thing to do but… fuck if you weren’t scared. He had made it pretty clear he’d be keeping an eye on you. And there was no way you’d be able to do your test with Sam now.

If you reported him, you’d probably have to get HR and the police involved and what if he denied everything and—

You ended up in a helpless loop every single time.

Saturday came and went. You only left your apartment to visit the nearest drugstore for a new compression bandage and more pain medication. Sunday passed by just the same. You skipped your normal spin class and barely spent time outside of your bed. 

The pain in your hand was growing worse and worse. You had to use your left hand to send Sam and your manager messages - because even just moving your right hand made your stomach swirl. And the guilt about not responding to Bucky was growing bigger and bigger too. 

How could you explain it? Boone had pressed your buttons and you pushed back and look what happened. How could Bucky be proud of you now?

Your phone had buzzed mid afternoon, just after you were supposed to be doing your session with Sam.

It was Bucky - worried and asking if you needed anything for whatever illness was plaguing you. 

You ignored it.

When he called, you ignored that too.

You were balled up on the end of your couch, eyes glazed over as another episode of your favourite show loaded up on Netflix. You knew you needed to eat something, that the pain medication on an empty stomach was a recipe for disaster. But… you couldn’t get up. Laying perfectly still with a bag of frozen vegetables on your hand was the closest thing to relief you had.

Then, someone was knocking at your door. The noise made you gasp, though you couldn’t move. You could ignore the noise along with everything else. It was probably just your downstairs neighbour back to complain about your TV again and –

Whoever was at the door knocked again, this time calling out your name. 

You recognized the voice.

Bucky.

He called your name out again. “Listen, I don’t care if you’re sick. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I grabbed some soup from that place I was telling you about.”

You sucked in a deep breath and pulled yourself up off the couch. You really, really wanted to see him - just the idea of his smile made everything feel a bit better. But then you couldn’t hide anymore and… hiding felt safe.

“I’m okay,” you finally replied as you got approached. “Feeling better but I might be contagious, Buck.”

You sensed some relief from him as his feet shuffled on the other side of the door. “Sweetheart, I.. I can’t even get sick, okay? I just need to see you.”

“My apartment is a mess.”

“I don’t care.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Bucky, I’m.. I’m not at my best right now.”

“I don’t care.” He said your name once more. “Please.”

You pulled up the hood of your sweatshirt then reluctantly reached for the door knob.

---

When you finally opened the door, Bucky was relieved. But when you immediately turned away to return to your couch without a word, his relief felt misplaced. Something was wrong. Your sudden weekend illness and dropping out of the new job training weren’t adding up to anything that felt good.

He was worried.

Bucky had never been inside your apartment before. There were a handful of occasions after work or some happy hour thing when he dropped you off but this was new. He liked the idea of seeing your home but he wished it had been different circumstances. 

Home was a little studio, with a compact kitchen ahead of him across from the door. Beside it was a cozy living room area separated from the bed and windows, divided by a short bookcase. It was so very you and Bucky wanted nothing more than to just be there with you, scan over the books you like and curl up together on the couch.

But it wasn’t the time to daydream. Instead, he stepped into the kitchen to deposit the takeout bag, retrieving the soup before moving to where you were curling back up in your blankets. 

“How are you feeling?” He took another step closer but stopped when you leaned away from his approach. He took a seat opposite you and extended the container in your direction. 

“Yeah, I’m.. okay,” you replied with a shrug. “Thanks for the soup.” You took it from him, reaching across yourself awkwardly with a shaking hand, and rested it on your lap. 

He took the moment of silence to get a better look at you. Behind your glasses, your eyes were swollen, as if you had been crying. Bucky watched you carefully maneuver the spoon and it wasn’t lost on him you were favouring your left hand. In fact, your right arm was barely moving. 

“Do you need anything else? I could run to the pharmacy..” He trailed off as his eyes shifted to your coffee table, which was littered with an array of pill bottles. Mostly painkillers and what looked like a melting bag of frozen peas. And tucked under the table was… a half empty bottle of wine. Not exactly the type of self medication for a stomach bug or the common cold.

You closed your eyes, taking another taste of the soup before gently moving it to the table. “I think the worst of it has passed. Just.. tired now, I guess. I’ll be back at work tomorrow.” You smiled, just barely, then it disappeared as your eyes shut.

Bucky considered that the perfect opportunity to change the subject. Your name left his lips. It was quiet. You peaked one eye open to look at him.

“What happened last week?” he asked.

You laughed, though it came out quite empty. “Just five very intense, rigorous training days. I wasn’t great but.. I managed, I guess.” 

Bucky cut to the chase, though he couldn’t predict your reaction. “So how come you’re not doing the final evaluation?” 

A long sigh escaped you, rolling your eyes before leaning back again. You stared at the ceiling. “Should I just start adding you to all my correspondence with Sam?”

“Don’t be mad at Sam,” Bucky replied. “I asked him and he only told me because he was worried.”

You laughed again, with more of your body. The same emptiness remained and this time it seemed to cause you pain. You winced, swallowing an uncomfortable look on your face as you turned to peer at him. “I’m not mad at Sam. I’m mad at..” You shook your head. “At myself, I guess.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? It’s over and I missed today and–”

“Sam offered to resch–”

“Bucky, it doesn’t matter!” You snapped this time, cutting him off. 

Bucky shook his head. Something else was going on. He had never seen you like this before - despondent and… broken. Sure, your friendship had rarely escaped the walls of work but the foundation between you both was solid. He had seen your ups and downs, and you had seen his too - recalling bad dates and ranting about missions and laughing over lunch and all of it. 

He knew you. The person sitting across from him, it wasn’t you. 

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s going on.” 

Your eyes were closed again, head shaking. “Nothing is..” Your lip trembled. “Maybe you should just go..”

Bucky stood from the couch, but he didn’t move to the door. Instead, he crouched right in front of you. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go, okay? I’d never stay if you didn’t want me here. But you opened that door for me. You could have already sent me away, soup in hand. I’m here right now because I care about you.” He said your name again, like a plea for you to look at him. “I can help, okay? Whatever is going on, I can help. Let me help, please.”

Your breath picked up, intertwined with winces of pain as you adjusted on the couch. You crossed your legs then moved your arms carefully, using your left hand to tear away your sweatshirt. Finally, you opened your eyes and extended your right arm to Bucky.

Despite being wrapped in a compression bandage, the swelling was evident on your fingers. Bruises littered your hand too and continued upwards to your t-shirt line. 

Bucky dropped to his knees, looking from your face down towards your arm. He whispered out your name, desperately trying not to fill in the blanks without getting more information from you. “What happened?”

You simply shook your head, swallowing whatever response was trying to escape. 

“Can I–” He motioned to your hand, cautiously reaching for it. You didn’t move, allowing him to unwrap the bandaging. You winced at the touch and change in pressure, eyes clamping shut again as you breathed deeply. 

Bucky skated his fingers along the side of your forearm, down towards your wrist and hand. Light shades of purple and blue decorated your skin but the swelling was what concerned Bucky the most. 

“I’m worried something is broken.” You finally said quietly, letting out another groan of pain as Bucky flipped your hand over to assess the underside. 

He wanted to reply with ‘yeah, no shit’ but figured that wouldn’t be helpful. If you hadn’t sought out medical attention by now, there was probably a good reason. You were smart, a nurse who could easily figure out her own symptoms. But something was stopping you. Embarrassment, guilt.. Maybe fear? 

Bucky was gentle as he held your hand. Christ, his mind was racing. “What happened? Did you fall? Did something go wrong last week?”

You shook your head.

Although there was one giant fucking obvious glaring answer to his next question, Bucky wanted to hear your response. Maybe you had fallen or dropped something on it this weekend. Maybe you had crushed it between a door or something, anything else than someone hurting you. Because the thought of anyone doing that, inflicting any intentional harm –

Bucky sucked in a breath and looked back at you. Your lower lip was already trembling again. He had to ask. He didn’t want to, but he fucking had to.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you?”

“I should have walked away, Bucky. I..” You immediately trailed off, head shaking again as you tried to collect yourself. 

With you, Bucky would be patient. He would always be patient. A few moments ticked by as he waited, still holding your injured hand in his. 

“It was supposed to just be a routine scenario, a test sort of thing I guess. But he was… he was volcanic. The anger erupted and he - he.. Bucky, I was just doing my job, it’s not my fault his friends lost theirs an-and he got so mad. I tried to get away but he just kept going.”

He said your name quietly. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?” You did, breathing in tandem with him a few times as you steadied yourself. “You’ve gotta tell me a name, please.”

After another deep breath, you nodded. “It was Boone.” You closed your eyes. “I think he’s taking drugs, steroids–again and he just.. I shouldn’t have engaged him at all. And I tried to get away once I realized he was freaking out..”

Bucky stilled, lips pulled into a straight line. “Hey, look at me.” He waited for you to meet his gaze. “This isn’t your fault.” God, he wanted to say so much more but the simmering anger below the surface was bubbling up. And that wasn’t important. You needed an x-ray and real medical attention. Then, maybe he could face the rage coursing through his bones. “Sweetheart, we’ve gotta get this looked at, okay?”

Reluctantly, your head shook. “I know. I just.. I don’t want to have to go to urgent care and explain what happened. I should have already gone and I feel so stupid about the whole thing and-and–”

He placed his free hand on your knee to stop you. “Okay. It's okay. I think I know where we can go. Let me make a few phone calls.”

---

PART 2

[haveagarbageday]

Love at first sight \\ Max Verstappen

summary: Max meets his new neighbor and her dog. They spend some time together, and he can't help but realize this might be love at first sight.

In the last few races they had been suffering, there was no better word to describe it, and Max was getting more and more frustrated as the time passed without any progress. He did all he could to help, he gave them his opinions and ideas, but nothing seemed to work properly. Yes, the races hadn’t been catastrophic, he tried to do his damn best to bring some precious points home, but it wasn’t good to see that the McLarens turned into rocket ships, Mercedes had some great races, and don’t even get him started on Charles dragging that shitbox Ferrari into higher positions.

So, no, he wasn’t in a good mood, and used the break to sulk in his apartment for a week, only leaving if it was absolutely necessary. Today was one of those days; he had no choice but to go and pick up something he ordered, but he wasn’t expecting to meet anyone on the way. Well, he wished he wouldn’t meet anyone. But the moment he stepped out of his apartment, he saw a woman stand in front of an apartment that had been empty for a while now, locking the door while her dog seemed to be very interested in him.

“Oliver, just let me lock the door, it will only take a second,” you told the dog when he tried to pull you over to him, but it was a Staffordshire terrier if he wasn’t mistaken, and they were quite strong, so no wonder you were yanked after your stubborn pet. That’s when you looked up and noticed him, and you flashed an apologetic smile at him right away. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into him, he’s usually not interested in strangers.”

The dog sniffed his leg, then moved on to check out his hand, and he seemingly came to the conclusion that he was a likable human, because he began to wag his tail excitedly, and even jumped up on him with his front legs. Max wasn’t happy by the sudden attention, but he could have sworn it seemed like the dog was smiling at him, so his heart melted a little and he couldn’t help but pet him on the head.

“Are you sure he doesn’t like strangers?” he asked with a laugh.

You shrugged. “I don’t know anymore. I mean, when he met my friends back home, he completely ignored them and decided to retreat into my bedroom to be away from the noise. Then after moving here, we stopped to talk to someone on the street, and when the poor girl tried to befriend him, he just turned around and began to pull me away from her,” you added.

Max took a better look at you, and your kind smile and shining eyes didn’t leave him unaffected. You were gorgeous in your own, unique way, different from all the girls he was used to seeing in his life, and a voice in the back of his mind began to convince him to shift the conversation to you. He wanted to know more, he wanted to be your friend, and maybe later he would ask you out on a date, because he really wished he could find out where your relationship could go.

Was this love at first sight? Was this the feeling so many people talked about?

“Do you have a destination or are you just going for a walk around the neighborhood?” he asked you, fidgeting with his watch as he waited.

For a moment, you only watched him with a surprised look, but then you looked down at you dog and let out a thoughtful him. “Well, I usually go wherever he wants to go. I know, not really an alpha-type behavior from me,” you added with a sheepish grin.

God, your smile was contagious, because his own lips curled into a wide smile at this. “How about joining me? There’s a store a few blocks away where I have to pick up a package, but there’s a dog park if we take a little detour if I’m not mistaken. We could stop there on the way back.”

You glanced down at your dog who was still wagging his tail as he watched him, so you eventually nodded and told him it sounded like a good plan. It was nice to know you weren’t against spending time with him, and it made him believe you might be open to the possibility of getting to know him better, maybe under different circumstances. He liked your dog, but there were things he would rather do without him being around. Or his cats being around for that matter, but they were usually minding their own business anyway.

Then again, he was getting ahead of himself. You were just getting to know each other; he didn’t even know your name. So, once you got into the elevator, he decided to introduce himself. You nodded, telling him you knew who he was, then assured him you weren’t some crazy fan who was obsessed with him as you supported Ferrari. That hurt, but it was still better than being a McLaren fan at this point of the season. You told him your name, and even told him you just moved here since your remote job didn’t require you to stay in your home country.

Once you opened up about your life, he began to empty the backlog of questions he had in his mind, asking you about your job, your family, your hobbies, and when you got to the dog park and let Oliver run around, he even dared to bring up the question he deemed the most important: “Did you move here on your own?” Because he was afraid you would say you came here with your boyfriend, which would mean he didn’t have a chance with you. But you only smiled and shook your head, and he could tell you understood what the question was really about.

“I came on my own, and before you ask, I’m single at the moment,” you told him as you took out your dog’s ball from your bag to throw it for him.

Max watched as Oliver brought it back, but instead of you, he decided to put it down in front of him, so he obediently bent down to pick it up and threw it away again. “That’s not why I asked,” he lied, earning an adorable laugh from you. “I’m serious.”

“All right, that’s not why you brought it up then,” you said with a grin as you nudged his arm with your shoulder. “Can it be my turn to ask questions?” you wondered as you looked up at him.

At this point, you could have asked for anything. You were so nice and kind, almost to the point it hinted at your underlying naivety, and he just felt like being the person who could love you the way you deserved, and who could protect you from mean people who might want to hurt you. It was a strange feeling he hadn’t experienced before, this protective instinct that came to the surface as he talked to you. He was drawn to you, and if it was up to him, he would have kept you in his apartment while he wanted to stay away from the rest of the world.

He didn’t even notice that he got lost in his thoughts, because he was brought back to reality when he heard you let out a thoughtful hum next to him. He almost asked you what you were thinking about, but then he remembered your question and cleared his throat. “Sure, ask away.”

To his surprise, you didn’t try to dig deep into his personal life. You asked about his cats, his hobbies, you wondered how he handled being away so much since you would probably go crazy from going from country to country all year despite loving to travel, and you closed your little interview session with a question he barely got with such sincere honesty: “How are you?” People were rarely interested in this. They asked him how he was after races, how he felt about the car or his results, but this was a question for him, the person behind the real and sim racing mask.

At first, he didn’t even know what to say. He wanted to say, “I’m frustrated because our car is terrible,” but at the same time it was also on the tip of his tongue to say something along the lines of, “I’m feeling a lot better now that I met you.” But while one was related to racing, which he didn’t feel like mentioning, the other simply made it too obvious that he was slowly falling for you. Considering you only met about two hours ago, it was almost pathetic how much he wished he could ask you out without sounding weird.

But the time wasn’t right, you would need some more time to loosen up even more around him, to get to know him in a way a lot of people never got to. In the end he decided to say something neutral. “Not in the best mood, but at least I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” he replied.

“And what’s that light? New upgrades? Or the end of the season?” you asked him with a mysterious smile.

You.

He couldn’t say that though, not without sounding like a creep. “A mix of different things,” he replied after a short break.

After a nod, you called your dog to put him on the leash again, but he was feeling really good where he was, lying on his side and enjoying the sunshine. “I guess Oliver is so tired he’ll sleep through the rest of the day,” you told Max with a laugh, then left to collect the dog.

The three of you walked back to the apartment building, spending that time talking about casual topics, and eventually you said goodbye, then disappeared behind your front door. He stood there on the hallway for a short while, watching it as if you would return any second, but deep down he knew you wouldn’t come. He should have asked you to have dinner with him, he should have given you his number. Just in case you needed something, of course, after all you were neighbors, it was the bare minimum to have the chance to contact the other.

He spent an hour or two in the sim rig, then he somehow found himself looking for you on social media apps, hoping he could find you. And after some digging, he finally stumbled upon your account, and he didn’t hesitate to send you a DM. All he did was write about how you could always write if you needed something or if you wanted to talk, and that simple message turned into a long conversation, one that made him forget about the sim race that took place that evening. If it wasn’t for the phone call he got, he wouldn’t have remembered it.

In the morning when he woke up, the first thing he did was checking his phone to see if there were any new notifications that could interest him. And there was one that stood out: “You awake? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How does brunch sound?” He had never typed a response faster than now that he sent you a single word: “Perfect.”

[headlinerkwan]

whispered - c.hs

pairing: vernon x gn!reader

genre: nonidol!au, mutual friends to lovers, secret dating, featuring the rest of svt, reader & vernon are whipped for each other, slight comfort, suggestive.

summary: vernon had always been the guy you saw across the room but never spoke to, until you did. who could blame you for keeping your relationship quiet?

warnings: profanity, mental health, alcohol, implied family problems, highly suggestive - MDNI!!

wc: 4.4k

a/n: i hope you guys like this!! i've always loved the secret dating trope and vernon's so sweet sooo. song rec for this fic is leonard cohen - boygenius ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎

The night that you met Vernon was ordinary. Or, at least, it was meant to be ordinary. Another party at Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s place, no different from the one they held last Friday - chaotic as always, right? You had seen Vernon around before, it was impossible not to notice him. There was something that drew you to him, something that made you curious. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes sparkled under the low kitchen lights, or how he really didn’t seem to care what was going on around him, focusing only on the music and the drink in his hand. 

“Everyone! Listen up!” Seungkwan yells, standing on top of a chair. You lift your head to watch him, catching Vernon’s eyes briefly as you do. “Who’s up for a game of suck and blow?” 

As soon as he says that, you know there’s no escaping. Your friend grabs you by the arm, already sensing your hesitation. 

“Pleaseee” Lia babbles into your ear, leaning against you “Just this once. One game, then I promise I’ll let you return to your dungeon, come on! It’ll be fun.”

Absent-mindedly, your gaze drifts to Vernon. You stifle a smile whilst you watch Chan and Jeonghan hassle him similarly. You sigh and reply to Lia, “Fine, one game.”

Seungkwan has always been methodical when it comes to games. Everything has to be just right from the set up to the number of players, it’s all a process. You’re standing with your friends, and a few strangers, waiting as Seungkwan creates the ‘perfect’ formation. 

“Kwan, hurry up!” Mingyu whines. 

“Ugh you don’t get it, fine.” He starts pulling people out, each one of your friends lined up and, like the child that he is, he puts you behind Vernon of course. 

He turns to you, adorning an awkward smile before he offers his hand.

“I’m Vernon.”

“Y/N” You say, shaking his hand. 

“I know.” 

Your eyes widen, he knows?. He turns around, a smug look on his face, chuckling to himself. 

The next time you see his face, he’s holding the card to his lips and bending down slightly to meet you. It’s like everything goes quiet once his eyes look into yours, like it’s the first day of your life as he leans in closer, and closer. 

And then, he drops the card. 

And his lips are on yours. His lips are on yours. Oh shit. 

You pull away quickly, your heart fluttering as the party hollers around you. 

“And… you two are out!” Seungkwan yells, pointing at the both of you, as if you needed more of a reason to blush. 

Keeping your eyes on the floor, embarrassed by your shy smile and red cheeks, you immediately walk towards Lia who, after being sat in front of Chan, had already lost the game. 

“I’m gonna go home now.”

“Huh?”

“You said one game, and I’m tired so…”

She sits back in her chair, sighing “Ok, I’ll keep my end of the deal, text me when you get home.”

“Mhm, stay safe, I’ll see you later!”

“Yeah yeah I know.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Stepping out onto the street, you finally feel like you can breathe. The night sky, a gathering of stars to guide you home and the wind blowing gently through your hair. 

“We shouldn’t have lost, you know. Seungkwan’s a bad referee.”

Huh? You freeze. Is that…

You turn around to confirm your suspicions and there he is. In the middle of the road, Vernon is stood waiting for you to respond, hoping you’ll respond. 

“Huh?” 

“That wasn’t a real kiss,” he says, stepping closer to you. His eyes are soft as he scans your face as if he’s trying to memorise every freckle and blemish, “this is.”

He places two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to look at him. His lips crash into yours, he tastes like sweet vanilla and beer, his hands move gently to cup the side of your face. You’re still for a second, still frozen in place until you finally come to your senses and begin kissing him back. His tongue licks over your lips, and you part them in response, leaning into him as his tongue smooths around your mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair as he teases and smiles into you. 

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, opening his eyes to look at you with a breathless grin. “Better?” he whispers against your lips and you can’t manage anything but a nod in response. 

His hand drops from your face to find your hand, warm and strong. You find yourself speechless as he turns away from you, dragging you along the street as he giggles to himself like a small child, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home”. 

You don’t live far from Jeonghan’s apartment, but the walk with Vernon feels almost like a lifetime as you trade anecdotes on your mutual friends and daily lives.

You learn he works at the record store downtown, he’s been friends with Seungkwan since they were teenagers and, just like you, he had been dragged to the party by his friends - your friends. 

Between you two, you note at least six times that you had just missed meeting each other at group hangouts, four times that you had seen the other but been too shy to approach them. A multitude of missed chances, all the times you had gone against the strings of fate.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

As you shut the door to your apartment, you can’t help but smile to yourself, thinking back on the last hour.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were… somewhat of a pessimist when it came to romance. The whole dating thing, to be blunt, you had grown sick of. The back and forth, the chasing, the disappointment. You’re not sure you have the energy for more disappointment. 

Vernon, though, manages to slip past you somehow. Manages to slip past the walls you’d built over the years. The way he makes you laugh, his heart-shaped smiles, his chestnut hair perfectly framing his face, the way he views the world with a pure curiosity.

Fuck. Tonight might have been the first time in months that your smiles have been real. Tonight your smiles weren’t products of politeness but real, genuine happiness. 

God this can’t be good. You’re going soft. You’re letting a man turn you soft.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Maybe: Vernon [13:12]: I know we JUST saw each other but I can’t stop thinking about that donut place we saw last night.

Your phone vibrates on your desk and you immediately catch yourself smiling. It’s almost embarrassing how he has you giggling at your screen from such a simple message. 

Ok. Compose yourself. You still need to respond. 

Y/N [13:15]: It’s like you can read my mind. 

Vernon [13:16]: I’ll be there in 15.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“I should tell you something.” You say, walking down the street hand-in-hand with Vernon.

“Out of the blue?” 

“Mhm, out of the blue!” You respond, nudging him playfully.

“Go on…”

“I just… I’m not like, ashamed of you. I’m just, I like it like this, just you and me, I like us.”

He chuckles quietly at your sudden candour and timidity.

You hit his arm softly “Bro! I’m being serious.”

“Bro! I know!” He pulls you closer, “It’s nice with you, peaceful, like everything else fades away. I like having you to myself I guesss.”

“Hmm, maybe I should be ashamed of you, I can still change my mind” You say, laughing. 

“You couldn’t even if you wanted to” 

You respond with a pouty smile, he giggles, his mouth moulding into the heart shape that always manages to melt you. 

“Ooo! Wait let’s get ice cream!” He says, his hand leaving yours as he runs to the food stall across the street, still grinning from ear to ear.

You find yourself smiling again. If someone had told you two months ago that you would fall for a film nerd who has the Wikipedia app downloaded onto his phone you might’ve punched them square in the face - and yet, here you are.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Cheers!”, your friends call out, clinking their glasses together. All of you are crowded around a small table, you’re sandwiched between Seokmin and Lia who are in the midst of an intense conversation about film adaptations. Vernon is sitting silently at the other end of the table, listening to Chan and Seungkwan rambling on about a lost bet. His eyes meet yours and a quiet smile appears on his face in time with yours. 

“Y/N! You’re the literature nerd, can you pleaseee explain the phenomenon that is the 1996 adaptation of Romeo and Juliet” Seokmin says, pulling you away from your silent exchange.

You clear your throat and prepare yourself to give somewhat of a lecture on what you think may be the best modern retelling of Shakespeare.

Almost an hour later, Vernon pipes up, seeking an opportunity. “Anyone want another pint?”

A mumble of yes’s respond as empty glasses are lifted into the air. 

“Y/N, mind giving me a hand?” He asks, impressively casually. 

“Oh, uh yeah of course.” You say, shooting up from your seat (not so casually).

Standing at the bar waiting for the bartender's attention, Vernon leans over to whisper in your ear, “Should we just… run away?”. 

“So tempting Mr. Chwe but I think they might catch on.”

“Hmm I’m not sure, I think they might be too caught up in their own conversations to piece it together.”

“A good point.”

“Wait five minutes, I’ll be outside.” He says assuredly, slyly reaching to squeeze your hand. 

And then he’s gone, returning to the table to bid your friends goodbye, glancing at you one last time before he leaves and turns the corner.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Finally” He whines jokingly as you exit the bar after escaping the tipsy grasp of your friends. 

You laugh, throwing your head back at his dramatics whilst he pulls you in by the waist, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“I missed you.” He whispers.

You can’t stop yourself from giggling again, “We’ve literally been together the entire night.”

“Sure, but now you’re all mine.” He replies, pressing soft pecks into your skin. 

“Can’t deny that.” 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Y/N [23:17]: Are you free rn?

Vernon [23:17]: For you? Always.

Y/N [23:19]: Can you come get me? 

Vernon [23:21]: Are you ok?

Y/N [23:21]: Yeah, I just need to get out of here

‘Y/N’ shared their location with ‘Vernon’. 

The rain is sharp and cold as it falls on you, staring at the puddles forming by your feet. There isn’t a thought in your head as you watch the raindrops fall.  Dinner with your family has always brought out the worst in you, always wearing you down, leaving you empty. Your heart is heavy with exhaustion, anger, sadness. Exhaustion. 

Then his hand slips into yours. Warm and strong as always. 

“Y/N?”

You turn to him, slowly lifting your head to look at him, tears in your eyes. His expression immediately softens, “Come on bub, let me drive you home.”  he says, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and opening the car door for you.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?”  

“I don’t know ‘non, can we not go home yet though? I just need some time to think.”

He nods, starting the engine, “Of course.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The sand falls from the gaps between your fingers, you sit beside Vernon, resting your head on his shoulder and letting the sea’s mist kiss your face. 

Vernon is the first to break the silence, “I come here a lot, to think.”

“Mm,” you hum “it’s nice here, quiet.”

He kisses the top of your head and returns his focus to the waves crashing against the rocks. 

“Sometimes I feel so out of my depth, like I don’t know if i’m doing the right thing or what the right thing is,” you admit quietly, his hand finds yours to show you he’s listening, “It all just feels so out of my control, like everything’s happening around me and not to me and that’s … not fun.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his chest, “I know bub, and it’s not like there’s an easy fix. It’s just- you just have to feel it, the sadness, the anger, the happiness, that’s the best way. Just like how some waves pass and others break apart, and some mountains seem impossible to climb, that’s just how it is, even if it’s shit. And when it’s overwhelming, that’s okay too because I’ll come and rescue you, we’ll climb the mountains together.”

There’s a moment of silence before he lifts his pinky finger to yours. 

“Promise.” he says softly. 

You loop your fingers together and seal it with a shake. The sea air carrying your whispers into the night. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

“Okay, options are ramen or takeout.” He calls from the kitchen.

“Hmm, I think we definitely deserve takeout.”

“How come?”

“For being the power couple of the century, what do you mean?”

His laugh echoes through his apartment, “Brooo, you’re so right I can’t believe I even asked.”

He runs over to you, lazily splayed across his couch, lying on top of you he continues to giggle as he buries his face into your neck. 

You love lazy Sundays with Vernon, they had quickly become your escape from reality, a sanctuary for yourself, your happiness and your love.

“What movie are we watching today then ‘non?” You ask sweetly, your hands subconsciously playing with his hair.

“I was thinking… academy award winning classic ‘The Grand Budapest Hotel’?”

Ah yes, the film you and Vernon had watched ten times over, the one you would never get sick of, “LETS FUCKING GOOO!!” you yell, excitedly punching the air. 

He sits up, looking at you with a cheesy grin, laughing and mirroring your fists, “LETS GO BROO!!”

As much as you love the film, staying focused on it proves to be a struggle - especially with Vernon next to you. You can’t help but watch the intense sparkle in his eyes as he’s entirely consumed by the screen. You find yourself mesmerised by the way he watches and laughs along like it’s the first time. 

“It’s hard to focus with your eyes on me” he states abruptly, refusing to tear his eyes away from the TV.

Your cheeks burn red from embarrassment, “Oh, sorry.”

He turns to you then, a blend of concern and mischief on his face, “I didn’t say that I didn’t like it.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his sudden confidence, a part of him that always makes your heart flutter. You don’t even get a chance to respond as his lips capture yours, melting into him as he kisses you passionately, stealing the air from your lungs. One of his hands cups your face gently, a direct juxtaposition from the other which finds its way to your waist, gripping firmly as the two of you move against each other like ocean waves. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair, he pulls you onto his lap, moving his lips to suck and nibble at your neck as your breath grows heavy with desire. The moans he releases against your skin echo through you, his hands running up and down your body as you throw your head back, getting hungrier by the minute. 

And then he stops. 

Huh? 

You immediately open your eyes, slightly concerned by the suddenness of his actions, to find his eyes back on the TV whilst his hands continue to fiddle with the hem of your shorts. 

“I love this scene.” He whispers, breathless and fascinated.

“Vernonnnn” you whine, throwing yourself back down onto the couch. It’s sweet, honestly, endearing, you find yourself giggling “are you kidding?”

He looks down at you, an innocent smile plastered on his face, his hand still caressing your thigh. He raises a curious eyebrow before breaking into a loud chuckle and leaning back towards you.

“Dude… Of course I’m kidding. I think the film’s gonna have to wait until I’m done with you.” He whispers against your skin, trailing kisses from your lips to your collarbone.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Five months in, you and Vernon had mastered the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ routine. Even around your friends, you cherished every moment with him, every smile, secret touch, knowing look. Even on bad days, your heart feels lighter with Vernon around. 

It’s another chaotic Friday night, just like when you had first met Vernon, except this time your friends hadn’t dragged you to Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s apartment but to their favourite karaoke bar. The table you’re sitting at is littered with empty soju bottles and beer cans, you listen intently to one of Jun’s famous anecdotes as BooSeokSoon serenades your friends loudly.

“How do they still have the energy for that?” Wonwoo asks, astounded as the three men jump around, microphones in hand. 

‘They’re machines, you know that.” Minghao replies.

“Mm, you’re right.” 

Watching your friends, wrapped up in their own little worlds, you’re almost emotional - so happy to see them having fun, so proud to have watched them grow, and then there’s Vernon of course - maybe it’s the alcohol talking but you’re not sure you’ve felt so happy before. 

“We should play a game,” Seungcheol slurs, “Should we play a game? Yeah we should play a game.” You laugh at the conversation he’s having with himself, watching as Vernon, grinning stupidly, walks over to his friends to lead them down from the stage and back to the table. The boys around you cheer for the others as they stumble to their chairs, bowing dramatically to their new ‘fans’. Once the havoc settles down, Mingyu taps his ring against his glass “Ok,” he points his finger, scanning the group before landing on Joshua “Shua, what game are we playing?” 

“Uh… 365?” Joshua replies, being met with drunken agreement from the rest. 

The time passes quickly as you drink and play. Growing tipsy, you hardly notice the change in Vernon’s demeanour when Soonyoung rests his head on your shoulder. It’s nothing new to you, he’s known to be an affectionate drunk - and a light weight, you’re used to his drunken skinship.

Vernon’s patience is running low as the minutes pass, his leg shaking as he watches Soonyoung cuddle up to you. He stands up from his seat across the table, walking over to your seat and taking your hand, leading you outside. Confused, you look back at your friends as you walk with him, finding them all too drunk to notice you and Vernon’s absence.

“Non? Is everything okay?”

“Can we go home now?” He asks softly with hurt eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

“I should be sat over there with you, I just don’t want to watch Soonyoung be all cuddly with the person I love.” 

“Non, you know he’s just a sleepy drunk, we can go home if you want-”

Wait. 

“The person you love?” you question, your eyes soften as you process his words. 

“Oh uh, you, I mean… you.” he breaks eye contact, fidgeting nervously. 

“For real?” you smile.

He laughs to himself, “Yeah dude, for real.” 

You giggle again, smiling wide and throwing your head back. As you do, his hands cup your face, bringing you back to him matching your grin. You reach up to move a strand of hair out of his hair. 

“I like jealous Vernon.” you whisper.

“Shut up.” he says, his lips finding yours in a soft and wanting kiss. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · 

You’re lying in bed, glowing with sweat, tangled up in your sheets and wrapped in Vernon’s arms. The calmness that washes over you in these moments is immeasurable, the comfort and contentedness you feel is something that you wish would last forever.  

There’s a knock on your door and you both shoot up from the bed. 

“Y/N, are you home?” Your roommate calls from the other side of the door. 

“I thought…” He whispers with wide eyes.

“Yeah… Lia’s not meant to be back until tomorrow” You reply, scrambling to throw some clothes on. 

“What do we do?”

“Y/N?” Lia calls again.

You search your room looking for some kind of escape plan before it dawns on you, there was only one option. 

You point to the closet.

He shoots you a questioning look.

“I don’t fucking know bro” you whisper, rushing to make yourself somewhat presentable.

You open the door, Vernon finally hidden, “Hey, you’re back early!” you say to Lia, trying your best to hide the fact that there was a man hiding in your closet.

“Yeah, we finished early so I got the train this morning. I was just wondering if you wanted to get lunch later?” 

“Sounds good! Give me like 30 minutes?”

“Yep that works for me” Lia says as she disappears into her room. 

You shut the door, letting out a deep breath. 

“You can come out now.”

Vernon pokes his head out of the closet, scanning the room before stepping out. You stare at each other in silence before bursting into laughter. 

“I swear I almost shat the bed!” Vernon says, throwing himself down on the mattress.

“Bro, that was crazy…” you agree, joining him on the bed.

Your laughter slowly fades into a comfortable silence.

“Should we just…” you begin.

“Tell them?” Vernon finishes.

You hum in agreement. 

“I mean… why not? As long as you’re with me, I think… I think It’ll be okay.” You speak softly, he’s quiet for a few seconds until he starts peppering kisses all over your face, smiling sweetly against your skin. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

A couple days later, you and Vernon stand in front of the restaurant, you can see your friends chatting inside the building. Your hand is in his, his thumb caressing yours. You look at each other, sharing an anxious but determined look, before nodding and walking towards the door. 

When you enter the restaurant, it’s almost comical the way that your friends turn to look at you, their eyes dropping to your interlocked hands. 

Anticipative silence fills the room as you exchange looks. 

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU GUYS!” Seungkwan yells excitedly, standing up from his chair and pointing an accusatory finger at your friends, inciting a blur of exclamations from the rest of the group. 

Vernon looks at you, smiling, before you sit down beside each other and prepare yourself for the abundance of questions coming your way.

taglist: @christinewithluv

[verdenz]

HI! so I just read the one where they are drunk and doesn't recognise their gf and itis so damn cute

Could you do pierre and yuki??

And perhaps a morning after? Where they finally see where they are and gf saying that was cute??

HE'S DRUNK AND DOESN'T RECOGNIZE YOU.

FEATURING:⠀⠀George Russell, Yuki Tsunoda, Oscar Piastri, Pierre Gasly.

OTHER PARTS:⠀⠀Part one for context. Part two.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: ⠀⠀I'll soon make a separate part/post for the morning after. <3 Also, sorry this isn't really good, I wrote it in the middle of the night and I wasn't awake enough, I guess.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀GEORGE RUSSELL

When you had to pick up your boyfriend from the party, you expected anything but for him to be so drunk that he couldn’t recognize you. Maybe it was just the bad street lighting, or just too much alcohol in his system, but it was still... well, surprising.

Even though he couldn’t recognize you, he was quite calm when his friend told him that you would drive him home.

On the way, though, he suddenly turned serious. "Listen, miss, I don’t think it’s right for a woman to drive me home. I have a girlfriend, and I don't think this is right." You can’t help but laugh, asking him what his girlfriend would prefer. “I should walk."

It was adorable how, even while excessively drunk, he still thought of you and your feelings. You looked at him through the rearview mirror, smiling. "Oh, actually, she’s the one who asked me to take you home. It’s dangerous to leave someone like you wandering around alone."

୨୧⠀⠀⠀YUKI TSUNODA

As you help him into the car, he suddenly stops and looks at you seriously. “You’re not my girlfriend, you’re a decoy! She’s testing me, isn’t she? Well, I won’t fall for it!”

You took a deep breath and smiled, trying not to get stressed, even though you were already irritated enough from being woken up in the middle of the night. "Ok, and what would your girlfriend do in this situation?"

“She’d probably smack me for being dumb enough to trust a stranger. So, no offense, but I’m keeping my distance,” Yuki said, smiling proudly at his reasoning. His friend swallowed hard, looking at you.

After several minutes of trying to convince him to get in the car before attracting more unwanted attention, he finally gave in and agreed.

As you start driving, he turns to you, dead serious. “Listen, I’ll go with you, but there’s no funny business, got it? I’m in love with my girlfriend, and nothing you do will change that.” You hummed, trying not to laugh, and he nodded, satisfied. “Good. I just needed to make that clear. You’re welcome to drop me off, but that’s it.”

୨୧⠀⠀⠀OSCAR PIASTRI

When you finished talking to the party’s security and returned to where you left your boyfriend, you found him talking to his friend, who was trying to get him into the car. “I can’t do it…” he says stubbornly. “My girlfriend will have my head.”

His friend sighs, “That’s your actual girlfriend, dude!”

He looked at you, squinting as if that would help somehow. He shakes his head sadly. “No way. She’s too... perfect to be at a place like this. And she said she’d stay home."

“And how do you plan on getting home, Oscar? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” You tried to convince him, knowing there was no way to make him recognize who you were, at least not when he was in that state.

He stands up straight, smoothing his clothes. “Thank you for the offer, miss, but I can’t accept a ride from you. My girlfriend wouldn’t approve. She’s very particular about who I associate with.” He gives a slight bow, smiling politely. “I’ll just walk home, if you don’t mind.” He takes one step, wobbles, and nearly falls over.

“So... Do you want to wait until he falls asleep on the middle of the sidewalk, or do like a quick kidnapping?” His friend asked, watching your boyfriend, who had barely walked a meter and was already leaning against a wall, trying to keep his balance.

୨୧⠀⠀⠀PIERRE GASLY

As you approach him, his friend calls out, "Your ride's here, Pierre." You could see in the poor man's eyes that he was tired of dealing with your boyfriend for the night.

"No way! This is a trap. Some paparazzi paid you, right? You want a scandalous photo of me with another woman! My girlfriend will never believe this." He pointed at the two of you.

You glanced at his friend, who just sighed and walked over, dragging him into the car. Whoever was passing by would probably think it was some kind of kidnapping, but luckily, anyone passing was just as drunk as your boyfriend, if not more.

Pierre tried to struggle, despite not having much energy left for it. You held his hand before he could undo the seatbelt for the fourth time. "Stay quiet, or I'll tell your girlfriend that you drank more than you should have."