#oh well maybe 2nd time's the charm

[somereaderinblue]

i know paris choosed ody because he thought he was the safrst option but i can't imagining paris was like "dam she hot" when aphrodite showed a vision? thing and then suddenly odysseus appears not even 2 seconds later becomes gay asf for ody and tweeks "I WANT THE KING OF ITHACA!" and that basiclly means Odysseus is the most beautiful man lol

TWO fanarts in one day? You guys are spoiling me <333

Idk what I love more, how you described Paris' bi-awakening or how you managed to perfectly draw his very punchable face LMAO. He's grinning, giggling, kicking his legs & twirling his hair while Odysseus is plotting to make this 'marriage' everyone's problem either via escape attempts, passive-aggressive conversations, moving all of Paris' belongings 2 inches to the left everyday, etc.

They're literally the 'why dis look so mad' meme & I'm here for it XD.

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise.  In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants. 

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,”  he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping. 

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief. 

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences. 

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

[alonetimelover]

So High School - part 2

read part 1 ------》 here

pairing: tennis player!reader x Lando Norris

fc: Iga Świątek

summary: Lando keeps pursuing his attempts at scoring a date with THE YN YSN - to the enjoyment of his on-track besties. But nobody has better days on social media than his haters. And sometimes being passive is not an option - you need to silence them.

warnings: internet hate

F1 masterlist taglist

🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎🏎🥎

f1

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, yourinstagram and 2 001 292 others

f1 Padel, tennis or maybe carting? Which of these sports are the best and worst to try for our drivers - Lando, Max, Fernando and Daniel, and our special guest at the British Grand Prix - YN YSN? Stay tuned and watch what they all were up to right before the Grand Prix start on Sunday!

view all 23 100 comments

ynsmybestie YN YNYNYNYN YSN

ynsmybestie she is finally AT THE RACE

landogirly yn's going to be lando's lucky charm or he's going to be so stressed it's all over

landonorris best challenge ever

⤷ oscarpiastri are you saying that because of what I think orr??

⤷ landonorris shhhh Osco

⤷ oscarpiastri you're very ungrateful to the person that gave you the place in this challenge

⤷ landonorris LOVE YOU OSCAR

danielricciardo how did we lose playing 4 against 1????

⤷ maxverstappen1 Because you couldn't stop talking!

⤷ fernandoalo_official We played against world No. 1. Maybe that's why. Oh, and landonorris couldn't stop tripping over his feet

⤷ landonorris thank you, my racing father. you embarrass me like my own father

fernandoalo_official Great playing and speaking with you, yourinstagram!

⤷ yourinstagram the pleasure was mine!!!! thank you for all the tips during the race 🧡

⤷ fernandoalo_official Any time! I hope you'll enjoy your time during the race and will come say hello!

ynsmymama not yn only responding to nando's comment

⤷ landogirly lando can do everything and he's still ignored

⤷ norizzfan well, let's have hope he can step up his game

comment liked by landonorris and 4022 others

⤷ ynsmyno1 not lando liking norrrizfan comment 💀

landofan77 not Oscar giving up this challenge so Lando could have a chance with yn

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f1gossippage

liked by landogirly, ynsmybestie and 40 292 others

f1gossippage A little story thanks to our followers from UK!

1st picture: Lando meeting some fans right before entering one of the London's restaurants (very chic and date-like outfit).

2nd picture: a fan caught Lando and some woman entering the photo booth together and stayed to take this photo! Looking rather cozy!

3rd picture: IG story from YN YSN deleted mere 2 minutes after posting! The outfit awfully similar to the one wore by Lando 😏

4th picture: Lando during today's stream "I just came back from the dinner, guys. let's chat" "yes, the date was amazing, thank you for asking!" "I've never said I was at the date. what do you mean?" "Oh no."

Could that mean something? New wag alert? Let's keep watching!

view all 1 088 comments

landogirly I mean it checks out but I can't believe that lando could get THE YN YSN... like let's be real

landogirly BYT if it's true... THE BEST COUPLE IN THE PADDOCK

ynsmybestie one time yn posts something not related to tennis and it gets deleted... and it's also A MAN 🤢

ynsmymama let it be true let it be true let it be true

landofan92 no way

landofan99 he did not bag a baddie like yn, no way

formula1fan93 yeah, no. that did not happened

ynysnfan833 ewwwwww get that away from me

ynysnfan911 really? an f1 driver? she could do much better

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mclaren

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1 003 292 others

mclaren Our newest addition to the papaya family has arrived!!!! YN YSN (yourinstagram) - WTA No. 1 player has joined Lando and Oscar for their Silverstone fanzone hour! Tune in to our YouTube channel to follow it live!

view all 10 392 comments

landogirly look at lando being all smiley and giggly and blushy 🤭 he has the fattest crush on yn

landosarmyohmy PROTECT THEM AT ALL COST

ynsmybestie not yn saying "well, my favourite driver was and always will be Sebastian Vettel. Fernando is a close second" and then not wanting to say her third favourite!!!!

⤷ landogirly i bet she wanted to say lando (im delusional)

ynsmymama lando saying, "i don't care what people say about me as long as they're not bringing other people down with it. what you want to say about me - say it. and at the same time, you can be respectful about it, can't you?"

landofan99 BEST FANZONE IVE EVER ATTENDED

landoscarfan77 the more I see them interact the more I think there's something going on between them

⤷ ynsmybestie they do have some chemistry going on

⤷ landofan99 wasn't it confirmed that yn went on a date with lando?

⤷ ynsmybestie well... most likely, it was true, but there are no pictures of them together being at the same place

landofan729 LOOK. AT. THEM.

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ynupdates

liked by ynsmybestie, landogirly, danielricciardo and 8 393 others

ynupdates YN congratulating Lando Norris (F1 driver) for his podium finish at the Britidh Grand Prix! photo posted by Lando's father!

view all 638 comments

landogirly AHAHFIRKDNXJIWKSKD

landogirly fuck offfff

landogirly look at himmmm, crinkles by the eyes, hand placement, the JOY IN HIS EYES

ynsmybestie yn once again fulfilling the dreams of her fans

ynsmymama I wasn't on this really but... I SHIP IT

landoscarmyohmy but the video, THE VIDEO, how she just falls into his arms (as if she did that multiple times already), he's little "oh, hi" when she places her head on his chest, her quiet "congratulations, you did so good" and OSCAR in the background grinning like a devil

⤷ ynsmybestie was it also posted by lando's dad????

⤷ landoscarmyohmy yes, it was! he is the captain of this ship!

hater93 another one to put on the list of "seeing an f1 race to just find a driver dumb enough to go out with me"

hater993 why would I care man

hater839 lowlifes found each other

⤷ danielricciardo didn't know you met YN and Lando yourself

⤷ oscarpiastri oh yes, lowlifes of the best tennis player in the World right now and the guy who won an F1 race and is competing for a championship. such lowlifes

ynsmymama Daniel and Oscar backing Lando, THATS FREAKING RIGHT, THESE ARE MY DRIVERS

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landogirly

liked by ynsmybestie, ynsmymama and 7 493 others

landogirly LANDO AND HIS PARENTS ARE AT YN'S MATCH AT WIMBLEDON!!!!!!!!!!!!! it is happening my loves. IT. IS. HAPPENING.

view all 349 comments

ynupdates lucky charm?

ynsmymama please bring mother luck, please bring mother luck, please bring mother luck

landofan75 that man will be everywhere but at the sim room practicing his starts

landoscarmyohmy meeting the parents???????

⤷ ynsmybestie yn met lando's parents at the silverstone race!

landofan588 he looks so gooooooood *drooling*

landofan686 watched it and his dad smirking at lando after every time that lan cheered for yn!!!!!!!! that was everything to me. e v e r y t h i n g

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Twitch: Lando and Max talking and playing COD!

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yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 810 292 others

yourinstagram trophies, cars, some love and nature

view all 18 494 comments

ynsmymama A MAN????????

ynsmymama a love letter

ynsmybestie she won wimbledon, she has A MAN, she is happy, she is in love, SHE IS EVERYTHING HE'S JUST KEN

landogirly no fuckin way no fuckin way no fuckin way

landogirly HOW DID IT HAPPEN?????

landogirly also not you trying to soft launch when we all know who that man is

norizzlan lando norris wrotes love letters??????? who is this man

landoscarfan85 WTF

danielricciardo i didn't know you loved OUR picture this much

⤷ yourinstagram how could I not? ;)

oscarpiastri happy to see my stickers being used properly

lewishamilton watching you win more and more titles is truly inspiring! you are the force, YN!

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, seven-time world champion, record-breaking driver and my favourite dog dad!

⤷ lewishamilton waiting for you to break more records! roscoe is waiting for more belly rubs!

fernandoalo_official come to the race when i'm on the podium, princesa!

⤷ yourinstagram i'll blow max's tyres and we're good

⤷ maxverstappen1 hey! i thought we were friends

landonorris keeping cuddles for noir!

⤷ yourinstagram snacks are better to bribe him

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f1gossippage

liked by landofan85 and 20 393 others

f1gossippage Lando Norris seems to be enjoying his free weekend accompanied by his new beau - YN YSN!

view all 1 074 comments

landogirly fucking disgusting to take pics while people are having such a PRIVATE moment

ynsmymama "new beau" google YN and call her accordingly to her accomplishments

ynsmybestie creepy to post these type of pictures

landoscarfan85 not a moment without a camera pointing right at them.... disgusting

landofan854 wine, dine & shine

landofan664 can't get used to lando being all lovey dovey

hater85 waiting for her to flop just like him

hater92 focus on your job

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landonorris

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1 001 399 others

landonorris new beau, focusing on my job and looking for a better man

view all 24 430 comments

landogirly HAHAHAHHAAHHAHHAHHAH

landogirly that's the biggest "fuck you" to the haters that i've ever seen

ynsmymama oh i love him, your honour

norizzlan someone found his rizz and used it perfectly

landoscarmyohmy using haters favourite words to make your relationship public? ICONIC

ynsmybestie loved the soft launch for the first 8 pictures and then BOOM - the queen's here

danielricciardo no problem for taking those photos, no problem!

⤷ landonorris what photos?

⤷ yourinstagram tickets for the Olympics matches are waiting for you, danny

⤷ danielricciardo you are my best friend

oscarpiastri YOU'RE WELCOME

lewishamilton treat her right

⤷ landonorris 🫡

fernandoalo_official yourinstagram, will i see you more on the track?

⤷ landonorris apparently we don't have time to visit each other at our jobs so....

⤷ yourinstagram i sent you tickets for my next match

carlossainz55 5th picture is your bedroom

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should I add more drama to this or just leave it here?

—————————————————————————————————

taglist: @daniellef89x | @raikiri-sensei | @sleutherclaw | @iambored24601 | @chocolatefuryface | @alexmarie29 | @addriaenne | @ecac53 | @poppyflower-22 | @herdetectivetheorist | @imboredway2much | @hard4ndsoft | @ziraelmtd | @firelily-mimi | @eiffel-hood | @littlegrapejuice | @czennieszn

[ohmy-gojo]

geto suguru falling for an underclassman reader ෆ (no curse au) pt.1

it was a new year— geto was already on his 2nd year at jujutsu high with the same two friends, not that he really cared about making friends. satoru just appeared one day and called him his 'best friend' and shoko tagged along. it was actually a quite comical group he thinks; a rich kid, a chain smoker and a boy who just wanted to die. but he supposes they were also popular around the campus (though he doesnt understand why)

he was casually strolling near the pond in front of the campus during break (actually hiding from gojo bc a new episode of digimon aired and he really doesnt want to hear his rants) when he saw a trail of... chips? leading near the back of the campus

his first thought was 'this is too weird imma dip' but alas curiosity got him and he decided to follow the trail of.. chips. who knows if thats how they lure people and kidnap them nowadays? if so hes sure people like satoru would surely fall for the trap (he thinks as he himself follows the said trap)

after reaching the end of the trail, he was surprised to face a young girl instead of an old beefy hitman. this was his supposed kidnapper? she was pretty cute so he wouldnt really mind he guesses. but the girl actually looked equally surprised to see him. the two stared at each other and owlishly blinked.

"um.. what are you doing.. here? if i may ask." geto broke the silence

"oh uh i am waiting?" she spoke softly and didnt elaborate further

'maybe for a friend?' geto thought and didnt ask for more details. though the reason he was even here— "do you know who placed these chips in the grou–"

before he could even finish his sentence, the girl pulled him and hid behind the concrete plankets. okay, this girl was nuts

"i was the one who placed the chips," she whisper-answered. "for him" she gestured to their front. geto followed her gaze and saw a.. puppy? he raised his brows at that, if she wanted to feed the puppy why not just give it that directly instead of doing whatever the hell that was.

she probably understood what he was thinking and finally told him, "that little guy was actually trapped in one of the slabs. i tried helping him but he was probably afraid so i decided to lure him with these chips and into safety."

oh, he thinks. that makes sense. they both then sat in silence watching the puppy eat the chips. it was a comfortable silence though. this is not a bad day, he muses. the nice weather, watching an adorable puppy eating chips with a cute girl sitting beside him.

after some time, the puppy left and he realized they were still holding hands from earlier when she pulled him. she let go of his hand after realizing herself and blushed lightly (he was a little disappointed).

"what you did was kind." he smiled at her.

"oh its nothing. i felt bad for him and i dont even like chips that much."

geto laughed at her reasoning. he was getting enamored by her weird charm and awkward mannerisms. they were starting to walk back inside their campus. "well.. whats your name?"

"i am (name)," she bowed her head lightly "please take care of me."

"of course, nice to meet you. i am geto." he smiled. "are you a 1st year?"

"yes i am. are you one as well?"

"no," he shaked his head. "i am a 2nd year."

"oh!" she suddenly stopped. "youre a senpai!"

he laughed at her matter of fact tone and nodded his head. this girl was actually weird but in a.. cute way.

before he could ask more about her, his white haired friend appeared and he just sighed heavily

"suguru??? what are you doing?" he looked at (name) and gasped "do you have a secret girlfriend? oh my god! shoko!"

"lord help me," he sighed again. he looked at the girl with him and saw her blushing and looking bewildered. as much as he found her blushing face adorable he decided to help her

"this is not my girlfriend you doofus," he slapped gojos back of head. "shes an underclassman, be nice to her."

"ohhhh?? shes a kouhai?" he gasped once again. "i always wanted one!"

geto deadpanned at that. look at this weirdo talking about the girl like shes some shiny rock. he was starting too feel weirdly possessive over her. after all he was the one who found her first so she should be his kouhai only, it's only natural.

with gojo blabbering about himself to her and her politely nodding at his words, they made their way to their classes. geto wanted to ask her about herself but found himself being cut off by gojo everytime. he was starting to get pissed but then saw (name) smiling reassuringly at her which made him calm down a little (he was almost pouting). then she had to leave for her class and waved at them bye. 'oh well,' he thought while waving back. he could try to meet her after school maybe? but this time without that blue eyed freak he huffed.

[quirekey]

Hi! I just wanted to say rq I love your writing and art pls keep doing what ur doing bc i freaking love your work.🥹🙏🤍

Can I request done Megatron/d-16 x a femme cybertronian reader who’s like taller than him, and very sweet. She’s like, the sweetest bot ever in Iacon that he’s ever met and he’s smitten by her. Pls and ty!!!!🤍

Oh my goodness you are too nice dude, TYTYTY!!! I will keep doing art and writing, it’s a big passion!!!

There are spoilers for TFONE

[ MEGATRON / D16 ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ megatron / D16 x cybertronian!femme!sweet/tall!reader ]

[ based on Transformers One ]

HEADCANONS

D16

- D16 definitely rants to you about his idols, Sentinel, Megatronous and literally anybot he admires in Iacon. You are too kind to interrupt so you just listen in without interrupting even once.

- D16 does get jealous when you talk to other bots. With your kindness comes your passion to make others happy. You love to socialise with other cybertronians and D16 just wants you to talk to him. It may be selfish but he really enjoys his time with you, how you always had sympathy for his spark.

- When D16 gets in trouble, you are always here to help. You with your little charm that contains the sweetest of energons always gets these superiors. You definitely enjoy getting your boy out of trouble.

- Oooh how D16 loves your affirmation! He definitely appreciates your kind words and how you choose them. You choose an amazing choice of words, being able to tell D16 that he is an amazing mech in just a few words. You definitely would make some great quotes.

- You definitely get lots of treats for your sparkmate. You like to carve little faces, shapes and symbols into them, especially the Megatronous symbol that D16 has on him by Orion Pax. D16 always gets so excited when he has an accurate cut out of Megatronous on some energon, it’s a silly but thoughtful gift. Sometimes D16 doesn’t even wanna eat it! (And usually he asks if you drew yourself on the energon instead)

- Your height gives you an advantage to tease D16. You love to scuff his head and play around with him, D16 doesn’t take it lightly but adores you anyhow. Hugging him from behind and giving him little kisses on his head is so fun! Being able to nuzzle him while he squirmed for freedom in your grasp.

MEGATRON

- Megatron definitely puts you as his 2nd in command instead of Starscream. He trusts you with the whole Decepticon army and will share his devotion to take down the Autobots with you.

- Megatron would never accept any physical touch. He would stop you from distracting him because he is determined to take the Autobots down. You would try to get just a bit touchy but he would just huff and walk off. He would yell at you but he has a spark!

Well… Maybe a few kissys and nuzzles, but that’s all!

- You definitely tease Megatron for his height. Megatron is already massive enough but with you, it’s scarier!

- You are somehow always so sweet to him and even Megatron doesn’t understand why. You always are so persistent in making Megatron feel better that it’s honestly refreshing. Having somebot in the Decepticons be so nice is an interesting change, not a bad one though. More positive than negative.

- Sometimes Megatron is a little biassed and puts some of your work onto other Decepticons, especially the risky missions. If you are ever hurt, your perfect frame would be ruined for him… He forces his army to do the scarier missions for you, but you insist. He and you know that you can do so much, because you are a brave and strong bot. Megatron just ignores you and forces you to be isolated inside anyways.

- Small thing, in the scene where Megatron brings everybody out of Iacon. When he flies everybot that rebels out, you are flying right by his side.

Sorry it was so little, I have not studied Megatron nor D16 that much

[i-love-ptv]

“Lana, How I Hate Those Guys” ୨୧

Pairing: Sarah Cameron x Fem!Reader

Fluff, Sarah being the bestest friend ever, slight JJ and Kie slander (srry i love them tho), slight twist at the end ;)

Wc: 1,181 (ish)

An: Woah chat, character unlocked 😈 Why does literally nobody write anything for her?? Platonic or not 😰

Randomly wrote this?? Also way longer than I’d thought it’d be?? Hope you enjoy tho!

Feedback always appreciated bbs! <33

“Oh my god Sarah, like what the fuck does he mean that we were just ‘friends with benefits?’ It sure didn’t feel like it when he’d be practically wrapped around my body during every bonfire.” You exclaim with a huff.

You knew it wouldn’t be just smooth sailing when you met JJ.

You had heard of his reputation of course. A new girl wrapped around his arm every week, touron or not.

But for some reason, you had hoped that you two could somehow be something more. You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t fallen for the blonde rather quickly. Obviously, every other girl in Kildare couldn’t refrain from falling for JJ’s charm and sweet tone.

You unfortunately, suffered like the rest, that were just tossed aside when he got bored. When you met JJ at the boneyard of the cut, he had called your whole “arrangement” or what not, off.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, did you know that his name isn’t even JJ? it’s short for fucking John Jay.” Sarah says with a snicker.

“No fucking way, are you serious?”

“Dead.”

She continues, “Like oh my god, John has to be the most generic name ever, plus it radiates dickhead energy.”

“…Your boyfriend also has the name John..?”

“Okay yeah, but we’re talking about JJ right now. Anyways, don’t let it get to your head babe, he’s just a stupid douchebag asshole- sorry can you relax your hand f’me?” Sarah says while she paints your nails.

It’s moments like these where you’re grateful for a bestfriend like her, despite all of the running around she’s doing with the pouges to get the gold, you both know that she’d drop everything in a heartbeat for you.

The two of you have been friends since childhood, originally meeting in the 2nd grade.

You both easily bonded due to coming from similar backgrounds; you were a kook as well.

You look up at her eyes and softly gasp, “Oh shit! Sorry. Anyways, I bet he’s got another girl in his bed right now. Y’know what? He’s probably busy trying to get into Kiara’s pants.”

“No pogue on pogue macking,” you scoff in a mocking tone.

“It’s actually such bullshit, I see the way that he looks at her, and of course I see how her eyes somehow always drift to him. I don’t know if she thinks I’m fucking stupid or if she’s dumb herself, but I figured that it’d pass. After all, didn’t she kiss Pope and John B?”

“Mhm, I think she just strives for attention, y’know? She’s always getting all pissy when I come around, maybe it’s ’cause I’m dating Bee and she’s not.” Sarah murmurs.

“You’re all done, by the way.”

You fall back onto the pillows on her bed.

“Boys are just so dumb Sar.” You groan.

“Definitely. Also watch your nails, hon.”

Sarah also lays back onto her pillows, leaning on one arm.

There’s a few beats of silence between you two, just relishing in the moment while SZA’s ‘The Weekend’ plays softly through Sarah’s speaker.

“That’s it. No more moping and being gloomy. It’s a nice night out! We should do something!” Sarah exclaims.

You look at her with a quirked brow, “First of all, I don’t mope, second, what could we possibly do at this hour?”

“That’s the thing! We can just plan it along the way! That makes thing 10 times more fun.” The blonde says with a grin.

You think for a few seconds, and come to your conclusion, “Actually, yeah! That sounds good. Let’s go.”

Sarah squeals and jumps up from the bed, pulling you with her.

You and Sarah quickly pull on your hoodies, since that night chill will surely get to you both, and the two of you slide your flip flops onto your freshly painted toes.

Sarah grabs her speaker and keys, and put them into her tote bag, the one she had painted the day you two had made your ‘bikini crates’.

The two of you giggle while somewhat rushing down the stairs, without a care in the world.

“Sarah? Where are you two going?” You hear Rose call out.

Sarah looks at you with a glint of mischief in her eyes. She grabs your hand and with that, you both left.

You and Sarah had been running around outside for around an hour, your flip flops slapping against the pavement as you skipped around yelling the lyrics to ‘Melt’ by Kehlani.

You two had somehow managed to make it to figure 8 beach. There was something about it that always lured you and Sarah to it.

Sarah doesn’t hesitate to kick off her flip flops and set down her tote bag.

“C’mon babe! Get in with me!” Sarah shouts as she giggles and makes grabby-hands out towards you.

“But we don’t have any bathing suits!” You shout back, equally as loud.

“Who cares?! It’s just us!”

Sarah strips down and then looks at you expectantly.

You sigh, and begin to pull your hoodie over your head.

“Hell yeah sexy! Free those tittiesssss!” She drags out.

She grabs your hand after you finish, and starts running towards the water.

“Christ Sarah! Slow the hell down!” You shout while trailing behind her.

As you start to feel the water work its way up to the middle of your calves. Sarah looks back at you and yells, “Jump!”

You both dive make a splash, you find one another whilst you're underwater.

You come up with her, with your hands around her neck.

You brush her wet hair out of her face and look deeply into her eyes.

Her eyes remind you of the tree bark that you used to hug and climb when you both were younger, well, the bark that you would climb.

Sarah was never able to do these kind of activities, for her parents were stricter than yours. But this wouldn’t stop her from watching, and cheering you on.

That’s one of the things you loved about Sarah.

How despite your interests somewhat clashing, she still remained by your side.

You grew fond of how she opened herself up to the world and allowed herself to do more, very quickly.

You were never upset when she started hanging out with the pogues, in fact, you encouraged it. You wanted her to be happy, and you hoped that she’d allow you to stick around to see it, thankfully, she did.

Sarah’s whisper breaks you out of your thoughts, “Boys totally suck right? They’d never have this much fun with us.”

“Right.” You say, just as soft.

You continue to stare at her.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up, loser.” You say with a slight grin, nothing but affection coming from your semi-chapped lips.

You’re glad that she drops everything for you in a heartbeat.

But you also wish that maybe, just maybe, she’d look at you differently..The way that you look at her.

But until then, you’ll still remain grateful for a bestfriend like her.

Fuck JJ. God, John B’s one lucky bastard.

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 2)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.2k words

Tags: 18+, mike x fem reader, no use of y/n, exes, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, pet names, banter, angst, fluff, babysitting Abby. (no smut... yet.)

Part 1 Part 3

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Mike calls you up to ask a favor for the 2nd night in a row. He hates having to resort to you, his ex for Christ's sake, but he has no other choice. Besides, after last night... maybe he doesn't hate it so much.

"Again?" You ask, feigning annoyance. "What, did your usual babysitter fuck off and die?"

Mike winces at that. "I hope not. I can't really afford anyone else right now."

"And why do you expect me to come be your free labor, Schmidt?"

"Because I'll owe ya one?"

"You already owe me one from last night."

"..."

"I'll owe you two."

You scoff in an attempt to cover a laugh. Damnit. Why did he have to be so charming?

"Fine. But we are not making a habit of this."

"We aren't. I promise. I'll look for a new babysitter this weekend. I just can't leave Abby alone overnight."

"That's a strange way of saying you can't go another minute without me."

"You're delusional, woman."

"A delusional woman you owe two favors, Mikey. Be careful throwing insults."

Now it's Mike's turn to stifle a laugh. He coughs in a feeble attempt at covering it up.

"What, catching a cold?"

"No. You just make me sick."

"Stop flirting with me and hang up already."

Mike does just that, slamming the corded landline phone back into it's holster. The little smiley face sticker Abby stuck to it years ago seems to taunt him almost as much as you just did. He sighs, leaning against the counter and wondering how he got himself into this mess. He shouldn't enjoy it so much when you toy with him like this. That's all it was, he was being played with. But damn it, after being lonely so long... he'd take what he could get.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You arrive at his house around half an hour later, annoyed at the prospect of crashing on his couch for the 2nd night in a row. You try to make your displeasure evident with a scowl as he opens the door, but when you see the way he's gawking at you...

"Stop staring. It's rude." You can't help but smirk slightly as you scold him, he's just so easy to mess with.

"Did you really have to dress like a slut just to babysit?" Mike hisses as you set down your things, taking in your outfit. A pair of shorts that you'd definitely be cold in, and a white tank top. Of course, you had a hoodie too, but it was unzipped, and he was more focused on what it didn't cover.

"Hey, last time you said..." Mike nods to the kitchen, and you trail off as you notice the girl sitting and coloring at the table. Abby. Oh. Right.

"You're not in any position to judge my clothing choices, Mikey."

Mike shivers as you whisper in his ear. What exactly is that supposed to mean? His clothes are fine, right? He studies his hoodie and jeans, then shakes himself and grits his teeth as he follows you into the kitchen.

"Look! Mike drew this one!" Abby excitedly shoves a piece of paper in your face as you sit down at the kitchen table with her. It's a sketch of a forest, pine trees and shrubs. It's actually rather well drawn, and you take a minute to look over it.

"It's nice, but you're the better artist for sure." You slide the paper back over to her and give Mike a teasing smile as he sits down across from you, on the other side of Abby.

"Oh, I know." She turns her attention back to her own drawing, another one of Mike. And... wait, was that...? No, it couldn't be...?

"Abby, what are you drawing?" Mike asks the question before you can, craning his neck to get a better look at her paper.

"You." She responds vaguely, still scribbling away.

"Okay, but what exactly is he doing?" You ask, scooting closer to her for a better look.

"And what am I wearing?"

"A suit. It's your wedding." Abby casually drops a bomb on you both, still not even bothering to look up from her paper. Wedding? Mike?

"You're engaged?" You turn to the dumbfounded older Schmidt, and discreetly scan his hands, looking for a ring.

"N-no? What? Abby, I'm not getting married." He finally sputters, face flushed a light shade of pink.

Abby doesn't respond, still focused on her drawing. Now that you're sure what it is, you can totally see it. The red isle. The benches. Mike, wearing... something that sort of resembles a suit, if you squint. And... a bride. You nearly choke when you spot her.

"Abbs, who's that?" You ask, pointing a shaky finger at the bride, who almost looks familiar...

"You."

"..."

Mike gives you a look, and you both quickly excuse yourselves from the table.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Seriously, Mike? First you tell her I'm a witch, then you tell her I'm your fiancé? Make up your goddamn mind." You scowl at him and zip up your hoodie as he closes the door behind you. The night air is chilly, and you're almost starting to regret the shorts. Almost.

Mike returns your scowl as he leans against a wall. His porch isn't exactly the best hang out spot, but you two needed to speak privately after Abby's little comment.

"I didn't tell her you're my fiancé." He growls, speaking firmly. Must be trying to make up for the way he was totally blushing earlier.

"So what, then? She just made it up?"

"Come on..." He groans, burying his face in his hands and letting the tough act fall for a moment. "You know how she is..."

It was true, his sister was... weird. He still loved her obviously, more than anyone, especially his stupid ex-girlfriend. But she was certainty different from other kids, made evident by the fact she spent more time talking to imaginary people than Mike.

"Seriously... I didn't fuckin' say that..." Mike wasn't a very good liar. But this wasn't lying, right? He'd never explicitly told Abby he was going to marry you, but he definitely humored her when she asked about it way back when you two were dating. He'd told her maybe. Maybe. To a kid, that meant yes.

"You sure, Mikey? Don't have a ring hidden away somewhere, waiting to pop the question?" You cross your arms and scoff, but it's hard to be angry when this whole thing is so amusing. Abby definitely had a wild imagination, but she wouldn't just make up something like that out of nowhere. There had to be more to this.

"Hell no. I'd rather die alone than marry a witch." He practically spits in anger, but he's more angry at himself than you or Abby. He should have shut Abby down immediately when she asked about marriage... especially considering the relationship hardly lasted 3 months. But, well, he was a lovesick fool. Way back then. Not anymore.

"Pfft. Fine. Have fun at work, Honey." You taunt him as you head back inside, and you can hear him grumble more than a few curses in response.

Little sisters and ex-girlfriends, man. Mike wanted to scream.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

You nearly choke on your glass of water as Abby drops yet another bomb on you.

"C-can you repeat that?" You ask, coughing.

"Will you teach me witch stuff? You know, cursing people?" Abby blinks up at you innocently. Damn these Schmidts and their big brown puppy eyes.

"Please? When you lifted the curse from Mike, it really worked!" She insists eagerly. "He colored with me!"

You watch as she proudly holds up Mike's drawing of a forest. She must really treasure it.

"I... uh... why do you want to learn witchcraft, Abby?"

Abby cocks her head at the question. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Fair enough." You laugh and shake your head. This kid.

"Alright... but we can't do witchery on empty stomachs. What do you want to eat?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

When Mike quietly slips back into the house at the crack of dawn, he nearly trips over his own feet when he sees the state of his kitchen table.

"The fuck happened here?" He mutters, picking up one of the many papers strewn across the table. The weird markings all over it vaguely resembled hieroglyphics, not that he was an expert on those. The part that really concerned him, though, was the circle of candles in the center of the table.

They weren't lit, thankfully, but they looked like they had been. Damn it. Those were for emergencies. Like the time he forgot to pay the power bill.

"Too tired for this shit." He gives up on trying to decipher whatever-the-fuck you and Abby did, and makes his way into the living room. He pauses yet again when he sees you sleeping on the couch. Was that his blanket? And pillow? From his bed? Damn infuriating woman.

"Get up." He gives your shoulder a shake, not bothering to be gentle. He doesn't have the patience right now.

"Nngh... 5 more minutes." Ugh. You sound just like Abby.

"Don't be a bum." He rips the blanket off of you, then immediately regrets it when he remembers just how little you're wearing. Your tank top had shifted, almost completely exposing your... fuck, he shouldn't stare.

"Don't you have work?" He grumbles, flopping down in his recliner and pointedly looking away from your body.

"Nah... It's my day off." You sit up and stretch, planting your feet on the floor and reaching up to the sky as you lean back against the couch. Either you don't notice that one of your breasts has fallen out of your tiny top, or you just don't care. Mike clears his throat and looks away again. Fuck. He's definitely blushing.

"Oh, shit." With a casual hand, you tuck your breast back into the tank top. Must have moved around a lot. Damn uncomfortable couch.

"You wanna explain why it looks like I hosted a cult meeting in my kitchen?" Mike snaps, finally able to focus.

"Hey, you're the one who convinced Abby I'm a witch. Not my fault the promise of learning a spell is such an effective way of getting her to eat dinner."

Mike furrows his brow at that. You got her to eat dinner? Two nights in a row? That's an accomplishment. "...Fine. But please, clean up your mess next time. I have to take her to school in a couple hours, and if the table is-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll clean it up. Let me get some coffee first, jeez." You brush him off and make your way into the kitchen. He still has the same shitty coffee maker that looks like it belongs in an antique store. And no creamer, because Mike hates joy.

"You want a cup too?"

"I shouldn't. Gotta go to sleep after I drop Abby off at school." He grunts from the other room, and you can hear him getting out of the old creaky recliner he loves so much.

"Ah. Night shift."

"Yeah. Night shift."

Mike shuffles into the kitchen and you both stand there awkwardly for a few moments as the coffee brews.

"You don't really look like you sleep, you know." You remark, taking in his ever-present eyebags for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, well, I do. Sleeping is just so... tiring." He scoffs, making light of the situation. He's telling the truth, though. Sleep for him is more of a project than real rest. His eyes glaze over as he gets lost in thought for a moment.

"You good, Mike?" He flinches as you place a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't expecting that from you.

"Yeah, uh, just..."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

You sigh and decide to let it go, turning your attention to the mess on the kitchen table instead. He didn't owe you an explanation, especially now that you're not together, but it was still frustrating. He's obviously dealing with something, probably a lot of somethings, and he's too stubborn to admit it. That stubbornness is gonna be the end of him, you swear. It was what ended your relationship. Partially.

"Here, I'll help." Mike fumbles to help you pick up papers and crayons, colored pencils and candles. After a few minutes, it doesn't look like such a disaster.

"Oh, by the way." You pour yourself a cup of coffee, and start to stir in a few spoons of sugar. Too much sugar, for Mike's taste. "Abby's little blue dolphin stuffed animal is invisible to you now, got it? As long as it's in the house, grown-ups can't see it. I think she put it in your room to test you. Just ignore it."

"Is that what you two were doing?" Mike leans back against the counter and scoffs, but makes a mental note to ignore the little dolphin from now one. He'd humor her, if it meant she'd eat her dinner.

"I don't know? I panicked, okay? I had to think of something harmless but still believable and exciting for a little kid."

"And 'invisible stuffed animal' was the best you could think of?"

"This is a warning. Find a new goddamn babysitter or I'm teaching her curses next. And you have to play along."

Mike can't help but smile at that. A real smile.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Already workin' on the next part don't worry <3

Edit: Part 3

[fraugwinska]

Giveaway 2nd Prize Winner Piece

Hello my loves! Our darling @lil-glum, who won myy 2nd prize in the 1k Follower giveaway, has graciously allowed me to share the finished piece with you all! It was a delight to work with her - and her ideas were so good that writing this felt less like work and all the more like a treat! <3 So much so that I, in fact, went a bit overboard with the word count! ;> As usual: Minors DNI or I'll curse you to always have moist socks!

Paint the Town Red

For weeks now, Alastor had stalked out that little human like a vulture, circling high above the oblivious prey and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Revisiting the living world should've been a glorious occasion, since summonings were becoming so rare nowadays, but that moron who dared to call on him hadn't been worth his while - but she was.

Luck and curse had it that he didn't have to return to hell right after the laughably one-sided deal was striked, leaving him time enough to put a little glamor on to stroll around town in his earthly disguise, freshly brewed coffee in hand, and see what humanity had been up to since his demise. The world had become frivolous, no class at all, and Alastor had felt at ease knowing that he had lived at the peak of culture and manners, never to be bettered.

And then she ran into him. Deeply immersed in a book - not those audacious electronic devices people put their nose in every waking hour - she'd rounded the corner while Alastor gawked around, lost to the world captured on the yellowed pages. A head full of red, silky locks had bumped into his chest and the book as well as his coffee dropped, the former to be saved by his quick reflexes. A simple flick of his wrist, and the book was back in her hand, while his cup of java laid spilled in a muddy puddle between their feet.

"Oh! Oh no - I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention!" she'd said, pushing her glasses back her nose as she smiled up to him apologetically, and when Alastor met her eyes, something shifted. And just like that, the hunt was on.

"No harm done, darling. The coffee was poorly done anyway."

Since time was running out, he turned up his charm to at least get the girl's name and maybe another meeting out of the encounter, already planning on ways to return. Thankfully, she'd given it all too gladly, and promised to invite him for coffee as an apology for the spilled one. He'd taken the sound of her name into his hands like the greatest treasure, repeating it over and over in his mind as he was being dragged back to the afterlife tasting each vowel and consonant. Hunting down an indebted incubus and acquiring its asmodean crystal had been as easy as working out how to use it. And oh - did he use it.

His absence from his duties in the hotel became more and more obvious, but Alastor couldn't stop himself. It wasn't even the thrill of the chase that kept him going. Every time he saw her, it was as if her mere presence called out to an unknown part of him, as if her voice was a siren's call, as if her scent was a drug created just for him. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about her: The delightful way she laughed at his quips. The elegant way she spoke about her interests. The way she brushed her fiery hair back over her shoulder when she was nervous…

Alastor wanted it all, and he wanted her.

"Alastor, are you listening at all?" she smiled at him, pulling him out of his raging thoughts.

"My apologies, dear, I was merely...distracted. Please do repeat yourself." he cleared his throat and gave her a wide grin. The abandoned park they walked in was tinted in oranges, greens and browns, little specks of autumn's palette so becoming to her complexion.

"I was saying that I don't really feel like going back home yet. How about we take a detour - explore a little?" she proposed, pointing down to a small trail that led away from the main road, lined with trees and shrubbery, "There's supposed to be a pond around there, and I think it would be nice to enjoy your company a little longer."

Alastors ears perked up and his smile widened, threatening to mirror the one he always wore down in hell. She wanted to be alone with him, far away from prying eyes - that wonderful, naive thing.

"That sounds delightful, my dearest - lead the way!"

His mind was running wild with possibilities as he followed her down the path, watching her red locks bounce as she hopped down the sloping ground. How much she trusted him was as endearing as it was thrilling, and the urge to reach out and take her by the arm to pull her into his own grew with every step he took, the demon in him aching for a taste of her. He wasn't one to rush good things, and he wanted to enjoy this, make it last as long as he could, savor every moment of the inevitable fall.

She was chattering away happily, unaware of the obsessive way he watched her. Her hips swayed hypnotically, the hem of her wool skirt grazing her thighs ever so slightly, and Alastor wondered if the flush of her cheeks from the cool autumn air would be found elsewhere on her delectable body, too. He knew he had to control himself, but with his desire burning hot like the flames of his true home, Alastor struggled.

Finally, they reached the small pond and she turned around to him, beaming with accomplishment. The sight of it, of her prideful smile and trusting eyes so enthrallingly focused on him was too much, and whatever she was about to say was swallowed by his lips crashing into hers. His gloved hands held her face firmly as he pushed her against a tree, the bark scratching into the back of her coat. He had wanted this for so long, the feeling of her soft lips moving against his, her hands clawing at his shoulders, indecisive on whether to pull him closer or push him away. She gasped into the kiss and Alastor took the chance to push his tongue inside, swallowing her moan as apparently made up her mind, tugging at his coat as he finally devoured her.

It was entirely, decidedly too much: The warmth of her, the taste, the touches, the sounds, he couldn't get enough of it, couldn't get close enough. With ferocity, he got rid of every offending layer of obstructive clothing, reveling in the way she breathed his name, pleading to the deity that couldn't care for mercy and to him to ruin her. And he gladly granted her wish, benevolent as he was, his lips trailing down her neck, teeth nipping at her collarbone, tongue laving over her exposed breasts as his hands stroked up her legs, fingers disappearing under her skirt to brush against her core.

"Please, Alastor - oh!" she whimpered when he pushed a finger inside her wet cunt, the tight heat making him growl in approval. He wanted her to beg, he wanted her to cry, wanted her to break down before him and ask him for salvation. His glamor flickered, struggling to hold against the loss of control.

"Look at you, my dear, so eager, so wanting," he crooned as he pushed another finger inside her, watching her back arch from the tree, her body seeking out his hands like a magnetic pull. Brown hair slowly turned red, antlers sprouting from its crown, his modest gray coat faded into his signature crimson pinstriped frock, and she gasped into his hungry mouth as he let the grip on his magic go and revealed himself completely as the demonic overlord that he was. Alastor, the Radio Demon, laughed, licking along her jaw as he slowly increased the pace of his claws, earning another sweet sound of shocked pleasure from his little, confused human.

“Don’t let my true form deceive you, my darling - No matter what happens… I’ll make sure you see heaven.”

[gothgleek]

Could you write adrian chase x reader who is Emilia's sibbling and she is starting to realize that her sibbling has a massive crush on Vigilante and she does not approve that at all? Pleaseeee i love him 🥹🥹🥹 and maybe Vigilante really enjoy the reader's friendship, enough to put peacemaker as his 2nd best friend.

I hope you enjoy this short little blurb, especially since it's been a while since you requested it. Also since Tumblr keeps deleting this! But this is my first Adrian Chase x reader fic so I wanted it to be written well. At least, as well as I can write it.

Notes: GN reader with they/them pronouns. Reader’s race is up to interpretation as they are adopted and it’s mentioned once. Takes place post-series with no major spoilers. Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Emilia was fuming when Chris arrived at the hospital and when he followed her gaze, he burst into laughter. You and Adrian were chatting away in the corner, the busboy animatedly waving his arms while you gave full bellied laughs in response. 

Emilia had been at the Evergreen hospital for a week now and as her next of kin, you were on the first flight to take care of her. She would never admit it aloud but Emilia did look forward to seeing you again. It had been a few years since she had last seen you. But despite that, the two of you always had a good relationship. She had hoped this would be time for the two of you to catch up.

Then you had to meet Adrian. 

The two of you had been working on a puzzle you bought at the local pharmacy and talking about the option of tracking down your birth parents when Adrian popped his head up behind a bush by Emilia’s window. 

“Hey Harcourt!” Adrian said with a bright smile and a blue bandaid on his forehead.

Somehow that smile of his charmed you enough for her to finish the puzzle by herself. And Emilia didn’t even like puzzles. What was she supposed to do with a puzzle of hot air balloons when she was done? 

“So like…” You bit your lips and batted your eyes while the two of you sat at the end of Emilia’s bed. “What other toys do you like playing with?” 

“Oh well,” Adrian turned the knife on its side so you could look at it. Your face immediately fills with excitement when he places it in your hands. Not for the first time, Emilia felt uncomfortable and annoyed she was in the middle of the two’s shy yet lovestruck gazes. Chris seemed to share the sentiment as he was mock gagging beside her. Though it could have been due to him stealing and eating her hospital food.

“This knife is great for throwing, the holes on the side reduces the wind resistance.” You told Adrian animatedly, talking with your hands. Emilia recalled your knife throwing lessons as a kid. 

Adrian lit up with joy just as Emilia groaned. “That’s why this is my favorite knife!” 

Emilia thought if your guys’ mother knew you were taking your knife throwing lessons as an opportunity to flirt- especially with a guy like Adrian- knew she would be rolling in her grave.

You stared into his eyes and began leaning forward. Emilia wished she had something to throw at you. Luckily, a nurse knocked on the door to let them know visiting hours were wrapping up.

You hugged your sister and, glancing down at the finished puzzle, promised to bring another one tomorrow. You promised you would help her finish it, to which Emilia gave you an unconvinced look. Then you offered to bring her some non-hospital food (specifically some waffles and burgers) and she pulled you in for another hug.

“You know,” Adrian says as the two of you walk out the door. “If you’re still in town this weekend, I can set up some appliances in the woods we can throw grenades at.” 

Emilia sat up at once. What?

“What do you mean by that?” She grabbed Chris’s shirt, ignoring the shooting pain in her leg. 

“What does he mean by that? Adrian?” She called out. “Get back here!”

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

you get what you give | franco colapinto

💾 synopsis: It’s 1997, and you’re in your last year of high school, working at Hot Topic, living in a one-sided feud with the boyish, too-charming Gap employee across the hall. Then the universe decides to ruin your life by making him your coworker. tags: kind-of-enemies-to-lovers, teen drama, 90s aesthetic, fluff (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) | (around 3.7k words) | (nobody fact-check this, please, i was born in 2003, and i'm not american)

The first time you saw Franco, he was across the food court, leaning against the Gap counter like he was in a catalog. Some preppy kid with khakis that probably cost more than your entire paycheck, laughing at something a coworker said. Meanwhile, you were stuck behind the register at Hot Topic, trying to explain to a middle schooler that no, they couldn’t return their Metallica shirt just because their mom found it “too satanic.”

It wasn’t hate at first sight. Not exactly. It was more like… an allergy. Like every time you looked over at the Gap, there he was: Mr. Perfect Hair, smiling at customers like he actually liked them, folding sweaters like he loved his job. And every time he noticed you looking, he’d wave. Wave. Like you were best friends or something.

Alex, your coworker, thought it was hilarious. “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

“Or maybe he’s just annoying.”

“Both can be true.”

You ignored him, because whatever Franco’s deal was, you didn’t care. It’s not like Hot Topic and Gap were at war or anything, but they might as well have been. You sold fishnet tights and Slipknot hoodies. He sold pastel cardigans and golf hats. Oil and water. Cats and dogs. People who get the vibe and people who definitely don’t.

It became a thing, though. The waving. The smirking. The way he’d send clueless Gap customers to your store “because they seemed more… alternative.” You started sending preppy moms his way just to balance the universe.

But it all came to a head one Friday, right after you’d clocked in, when your manager pulled you into the back room.

“Got some news,” she said, all chipper like it wasn’t going to ruin your day.

“What?”

“We’re short-staffed, so I hired someone. He’s got retail experience, great attitude –”

And then, like the universe had it out for you, Franco walked in.

“Hey!” he said, all teeth and dimples, like this was some meet-cute and not a complete disaster.

You just stared.

It’s not every day your entire worldview gets flipped upside down, but here you are, staring at Franco in the Hot Topic break room like he’s some alien who crash-landed in the wrong parking lot. He’s got that same stupid perfect smile on his face, like this is totally normal. Like he belongs here. Spoiler: he absolutely does not.

“Hey,” he says, like it’s a regular Friday and not the start of your personal hell. “Guess we’re coworkers now.”

Coworkers.

Coworkers?!

You whip around to face your manager, who’s calmly flipping through a clipboard, completely oblivious to the emotional collapse happening two feet away.

“Is this a joke?” you ask, pointing at Franco. Like maybe someone’s about to jump out with a camera and yell: Gotcha!

“No joke,” your manager chirps. “Franco has retail experience, and he really impressed me in the interview.”

You look back at him. He’s still smiling. Why is he still smiling?

“You interviewed him?”

“Of course! We’re short-staffed, and Franco’s going to be a great addition to the team.”

You don’t even know where to start. The khakis. The tucked-in polo. The fact that he probably doesn’t know the difference between Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails. This guy is going to sell chokers?

“You’re kidding,” you mutter, but no one’s listening.

Franco finally speaks up, still with that ridiculous, infuriating charm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fit right in. I mean, how hard can it be?”

Oh, he’ll fit right in, all right. About as well as a cat fits in a mosh pit.

It starts with the name tag.

Franco’s first obstacle as a Hot Topic employee isn’t even a customer – it’s the little plastic rectangle that refuses to clip onto his perfectly pressed shirt. After a solid minute of fumbling, he finally slaps it onto his chest, crooked, looking way too proud of himself for such a small win.

You, meanwhile, are trying to decide if it’s worth quitting your job just to avoid this nightmare.

“Maybe untuck your shirt,” you suggest, glaring at him. “You look like you’re about to sell Bibles.”

He looks down, confused. “But isn’t this the uniform?”

“No. The uniform is not looking like you have a trust fund.”

He untucks the shirt, but it doesn’t help much. He still stands out like a Gap model in a Halloween store.

And then the customers start rolling in.

The first one is easy: a kid looking for a Blink-182 tee. You grab it from the shelf, hand it over, and move on. Franco watches like he’s taking notes for a science experiment.

The second one? Not so easy.

It’s a girl with jet-black lipstick, multiple nose rings, and an attitude. She narrows her eyes at Franco, who’s manning the register for the first time.

“Do you have this in an extra small?” she asks, holding up a spiked belt.

Franco looks at the belt like it’s a snake. “Uh… let me check in the back?”

“There is no back,” you hiss from across the counter.

“Oh. Right. Um…” He flashes the customer his best smile. “We don’t have it in extra small, but maybe a small could work?”

The girl rolls her eyes so hard you’re worried they might get stuck. “Forget it,” she snaps, storming out.

Franco turns to you, bewildered. “Was it something I said?”

“It was everything you said.”

But it doesn’t stop there.

Later, he mispronounces Misfits as The Misfits. Then he spends five minutes explaining the return policy to a guy who clearly just wanted to buy a patch and leave. By the time someone asks him about gauges, he’s looking at you like he’s about to beg for help.

“Are you sure there’s no training manual?” he asks.

“This is the training,” you shoot back. “Sink or swim.”

But the thing is, he doesn’t sink. Not completely, anyway. Somehow, between the awkward stumbles and clueless questions, he manages to charm almost every customer. Even the goth kids seem to tolerate him, if only because he’s so obviously out of his depth.

And when your manager comes by to check on him, he’s suddenly the picture of professionalism, rattling off sales numbers like he’s been working there for years.

You glare at him as she leaves, impressed.

“What?” he says, grinning. “I’m a fast learner.”

You groan.

It’s halfway through Franco’s second shift when the universe decides to really test your patience. You’re at the register, ringing up a pair of fishnet gloves for a kid who can’t be older than twelve, when you hear the sound of trouble brewing near the band tees.

“Oh, my God,” someone laughs, loud and mean. “Do you even know who that is?”

You look up and see them: a group of older teens, all decked out in leather jackets and studded belts, surrounding Franco like a pack of hyenas. He’s holding up a Black Sabbath shirt, looking a little like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh…” Franco starts, clearly scrambling. “Yeah, of course I do. It’s… uh… classic rock, right?”

The tallest guy in the group snorts. “Classic rock? Bro, this is Sabbath. Tell me you’re joking.”

You can see Franco’s face turn red from across the store. You should probably step in, but there’s a part of you that kind of wants to see him squirm. He’s always so confident, so perfect. It’s nice to see him stumble for once.

But then one of the girls pipes up, flipping her bright purple hair over her shoulder. “I don’t know why they even hired you. You don’t belong here.”

That hits a nerve. You shove the cash drawer closed and storm over before you can think twice.

“He belongs here more than you do,” you snap, stepping between Franco and the group. “Unless you’re planning on buying something, get out.”

The tall guy raises an eyebrow. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you harassing my coworker. Go be a jerk somewhere else.”

There’s a tense pause, but eventually, they back off, muttering insults as they leave the store.

When they’re gone, you turn to Franco. He’s staring at you like you just pulled him out of a burning building.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrug, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Can’t let them scare off the new guy.”

He grins, that same easy, infuriating grin. “So you don’t hate me?”

“Don’t push it.”

You turn to walk back to the register, but you can feel him watching you, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel annoying.

It’s after the dinner rush, which is mostly just bored teenagers roaming the mall with nothing better to do than browse graphic tees they can’t afford, when Franco starts humming. It’s faint at first, just a couple of notes, but it’s enough to get under your skin.

You lean over the counter, glaring at him while he pretends to be absorbed in folding a pile of shirts he definitely refolded twice already. “Are you seriously humming The Cure right now?”

He looks up, wide-eyed, like you caught him committing a crime. “Uh, maybe?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why?” He shrugs, all innocent. “What’s wrong with The Cure?”

“Nothing.” You grab a stack of bandanas and toss them onto the shelf. “Just didn’t peg you as a fan.”

“Well, I’m full of surprises.” He grins, that boyish, can’t-you-just-love-me grin that’s probably charmed a hundred Gap moms into buying extra polos. It makes you want to throw a mannequin at him.

But then he says, “You know, my mom hated this kind of music. She used to blast Hanson in the car and call it ‘family bonding.’”

You freeze mid-fold, staring at him. “No. Not Hanson.”

“Yep.” He leans against the counter, totally unashamed. “Full-on MMMBop era. It was brutal.”

You snort before you can stop yourself. “That’s horrifying.”

“Tell me about it.” He shakes his head like he’s reliving some great tragedy. 

And now you’re laughing, actually laughing, and you hate how easy it feels. It’s not supposed to be easy with Franco. He’s supposed to be the enemy, the preppy intruder in your kingdom of chains and leather. 

The store quiets down again, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence between customers. You’re at the counter, sorting through returns, when Franco asks, “So, how long have you been working here?”

You don’t even look up. “Too long.”

“Like… since it opened?”

“Not that long.”

He chuckles. “You just seem like you’re good at it. Like, you know exactly where everything goes, how to deal with customers, all of it.”

You pause, caught off guard by the compliment. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“I’m serious.” He leans against the counter, closer than he needs to be. “It’s cool. You make it look easy.”

For a second, you don’t know what to say. You’re not used to this version of him – the one who’s not joking or smirking or trying to win people over.

“Well,” you mutter, focusing way too hard on a stray thread on your sleeve, “someone has to hold this place together.”

“Guess that makes you the boss, huh?”

You look up, and he’s smiling again, but it’s softer this time, less Gap-commercial and more… real.

“Yeah,” you say, meeting his eyes for a second longer than you mean to. “Guess it does.”

And just like that, you’re back to folding shirts, pretending your face isn’t warm, pretending you’re not replaying the way he said it in your head.

“Hey,” Franco says after a minute, breaking the silence. “Thanks for not letting me completely crash and burn today.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

But he just laughs

A few days later, you’re mid-shift, reorganizing the clearance rack and silently judging whoever thought mixing Korn and Nirvana shirts was a good idea, when you hear Franco call your name.

“Hey!” He’s jogging over, holding a black eyeliner pencil in one hand and a spiked cuff in the other. “Okay, hear me out.”

You look up, already regretting your decision to give him the time of day. “What.”

“I was thinking.” He plops the cuff down on the counter like it’s Exhibit A in a trial. “Maybe I need a vibe adjustment. You know, to fit in better.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline. When it doesn’t come, you burst out laughing. “You? Adjust your vibe? You are the Gap vibe.”

“Exactly,” he says, unbothered by your mockery. “Which is why I need to commit if I’m going to survive here.”

You shake your head, going back to your rack. “You’re insane.”

“I’m serious!” He grabs your arm, dragging you toward the accessories wall. “Help me out here. What do I need? Eyeliner? A chain wallet? Should I dye my hair black? What screams ‘Hot Topic employee’ to you?”

You yank your arm back, glaring. “First of all, no one dyes their hair black on a whim. Second of all, even if you doused yourself in black nail polish and combat boots, you’d still look like a golden retriever.”

He blinks at you, confused. “A… golden retriever?”

“You know what I mean.” You gesture at him like he’s Exhibit A now. “You’re too happy. Too friendly. Even if you dressed the part, you’d still give off this, like, boy-next-door energy.”

“Wow.” He folds his arms, smirking. “Didn’t realize you’d been analyzing my vibe so much.”

You groan, shoving past him to grab a random shirt off the rack. “Fine. You want help? Put this on.”

He takes the shirt, holding it up with a frown. It’s oversized, black, and has some vaguely satanic-looking band logo on it. “This is… a lot.”

“Exactly.” You throw a studded belt at him for good measure. “Now go try it on.”

To your surprise, he doesn’t argue. He just shrugs and disappears into the fitting room, leaving you to wonder if you’ve actually broken him.

When he finally comes out, you almost choke. The shirt hangs loose over his frame, the belt is slung low around his waist, and he’s added the spiked cuff for good measure. He looks ridiculous.

“Well?” he says, holding his arms out like he’s presenting a masterpiece. “What do you think?”

You tilt your head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You look like a lost theater kid trying to go goth for Halloween.”

He grins, completely unoffended. “So… nailed it?”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “Except for the part where no one here is going to believe you’ve ever listened to anything darker than Matchbox Twenty.”

“Ouch.” He puts a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “You’re brutal.”

“And you’re hopeless.”

But as he stands there, grinning like he’s actually proud of himself, you realize something weird. He looks kind of cute.

“Alright, fine,” you say, tossing a pack of black nail polish at him. “You want the full experience? You’re painting your nails next.”

He catches it easily, still smiling. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It’s the end of the night, and the mall feels like a ghost town. The food court’s shut down, the arcade’s lights are dimmed, and you’re counting down the minutes until you can lock up and go home. Franco’s behind the counter, you’re halfheartedly restocking chokers when he says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You look over your shoulder. He looks serious, which is rare for him. Too rare. “What? You need me to explain the difference between Slipknot and Korn again?”

“Ha-ha.” He leans on the counter, “I’m being serious.”

You roll your eyes but put down the chokers. “Fine. Ask away.”

There’s a pause. He’s tapping his fingers on the counter, like he’s working up the nerve. Finally, he says, “Why do you hate me so much?”

You blink at him, trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke, but his face is all earnest curiosity.

“I don’t –” You stop, because of course you do, or at least you did. But now? You’re not so sure.

He’s still looking at you, waiting, and for once, you don’t have a snarky comeback. You just shrug. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he says, but there’s no edge to it. “When I first started here, you looked like you wanted to set me on fire.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of deserved it.”

He laughs, and the sound fills the empty store in a way that makes your chest feel weird. “Fair. But… why?”

You chew on your lip, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. But something about the way he’s looking at you – like he actually cares about your answer – makes you cave.

“Because you’re you.”

“Wow.” He raises an eyebrow. “Great explanation. Totally clears it up.”

You groan, leaning back against the wall. “Fine. Because you walked in here all… perfect. Perfect smile, perfect attitude, perfect everything. And this place? It’s not supposed to be perfect. It’s messy, and weird, and full of people who don’t fit in anywhere else. You showing up felt like…”

“Like I didn’t belong.”

“Yeah.” You exhale, relieved he said it so you didn’t have to. “Exactly.”

He’s quiet for a second, and you’re about to make a joke to fill the silence when he says, “You know, I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere.”

That shuts you up.

“Not at Gap, not at school, not even at home half the time,” he continues, voice softer now. “But here? I don’t know. It’s different. And it’s not just because of the music or the clothes or whatever. It’s… you.”

Your heart skips, and you hate how easily he can do that to you. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He looks up, meeting your eyes, and suddenly it feels like there’s no space left in the room. “You make it feel like it’s okay to not be perfect. Like it’s okay to just… be.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Words are stuck somewhere in your throat, and all you can do is stare at him like he’s said something impossible.

“I probably sound like an idiot,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I mean it. And if I have to spend every shift here proving that I belong, I will. Because, honestly? This is the first place that I've ever felt comfortable in.”

Your chest feels tight, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s standing. Too close. Not close enough.

“Franco…” You’re not even sure what you’re about to say, but he cuts you off.

“I know. I’ll shut up now.” He steps back, flashing that same boyish grin that used to drive you insane. “Just thought you should know.”

And before you can respond, the store phone rings, breaking the moment.

You grab it, mumbling something about it probably being the mall office, but your hands are shaking as you pick up.

When you hang up, Franco’s already by the door, keys in hand, waiting to lock up. “Ready to call it a night?”

You nod, swallowing hard.

“Cool. See you tomorrow, boss.” He winks, pushing open the door and stepping out into the empty mall.

You watch him go, your heart still racing.

It’s been a few weeks since The Conversation. You and Franco have been in this weird limbo ever since – like you’re both too scared to bring it up again but also too aware of each other to act normal. He still grins at you like he knows a secret, and you still pretend it doesn’t make your heart race.

But tonight, something feels different. The shift was slow, the music quieter than usual, and now the two of you are the last ones left, locking up the store.

Franco leans against the gate, twirling the keys around his finger like he’s in a teen movie. “So,” he says, breaking the silence, “what’s your excuse for staying late tonight? Organizing the chokers by shade again?”

You shove the gate into place and glare at him, though there’s no real anger behind it. “What’s your excuse? Waiting for me to do all the work as usual?”

“Obviously.” He flashes that stupid grin, but this time there’s a bit of anxiety behind it.

You should brush it off, make some sarcastic comment and walk away, but instead, you lean against the counter and cross your arms. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Me?” He feigns innocence, pointing at himself. “I’m not the one who’s been dodging eye contact for three weeks.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been staring at me like a creep,” you shoot back, but your voice is softer than you mean it to be.

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you in that way that makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” You know exactly what he means, but you’re not making this easy for him.

“About this.” He gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Whatever this is.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “What’s there to talk about? You’re annoying, I tolerate you, the end.”

“Uh-huh.” He steps closer, his grin turning softer, almost shy. “And that’s why you blush every time I call you boss?”

“I do not blush.”

“You so do.”

You groan, turning to fiddle with the register just to give your hands something to do. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you like it.”

Your head snaps up, ready to argue, but suddenly you’re tired of pretending.

“Okay, fine,” you say, throwing up your hands. “Maybe I don’t hate you. Maybe I even… like you a little. Happy now?”

He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually admit it. “Wait, really?”

“Oh my god.” You bury your face in your hands. “Don’t make me say it again.”

He laughs, soft and disbelieving, and when you peek through your fingers, he’s standing right in front of you.

“For the record,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like you too. More than a little.”

Your heart does this stupid flip, and before you can chicken out, you grab the lanyard around his neck and pull him into a kiss. It’s quick, clumsy, and absolutely perfect.

“Wow,” he says, breathless. 

“Shut up.”

But you’re smiling, and so is he.

“Okay,” he says after a beat, grinning like an idiot. “But just so you know, I’m totally telling everyone you kissed me first.”

You groan, shoving him playfully. “Don’t push your luck.”

He laughs, grabbing your hand before you can pull away completely. “Too late."

[roseyrays]

✰ a valentine’s night; lighter lorenz x reader ✰ a small drabble

NOT PROOFREAD

2nd person pov; reader’s gender is not mentioned so anyone could read this!

reader and lighter met during chapter 4 with the proxy and became friends after that so basically this is a friends-to-lovers type of fic

warnings: might be ooc but it's a x reader fic so lol, 5/10 writing cuz I just popped this idea out of my ass but despite that

enjoy!! ♡︎ and happy valentine’s day lighter nation 🩷🩷

────୨ৎ────

February 14th, Valentine’s Day, a day filled with love and couples going on dates around New Eridu

[name] though? Their plans for the rest of the day are:

watch movies, draw, probably sleep and whatnot

just like every year.

────୨ৎ────

It was a pretty cozy evening as you settled onto youtlr bed with a facemask on, and hair tied back with a headband. Dressed in comfortable pajamas enjoying a cup of ramen while watching a movie you rented from Random Play

The movie was a cheesy romance movie that had pretty solid reviews online

“Damn, they have such poor communicate skills…”

You were about 30 minutes into the movie when the bell suddenly rang making your head turn to the door

“Who could be here on Valentine’s Day? I didn’t order anything…”

You thought as you got up and headed towards the door “Coming!!! Who could it be? Maybe it’s the proxy or something…”

“Hello-” And you never could've guessed who it was when you opened the door

“Hey-”

“LIGHTER??? What are you doing here??” You asked, pointing your finger at the tall man in front of you.

“Well hello to you too…Can I come in?” he asked, You haven't noticed it yet, but he's hiding his hand behind his back as you gesture to let him in.

“Uh..what are your doing here? Especially out in the evening…” You asked sitting down on a small chair in your apartment your eyes laid on Lighter as he sat down on your couch, his arm still behind his back

“What you hidin there?”

“Oh this?” he said, his face began to turn slightly red as he pulled his arm from behind his back, he revealed a single red rose. “It’s not much but…since today is valentine’s day I thought that maybe we could…you know..hang out..?” He anxiously bit his bottom lip, his cheeks and ears flushed with a rosy hue as he awaited your response, hoping you’d say yes

“Wait…are.. you asking me out?” You felt a warmth spreading across your cheeks as you gently pointed to yourself “Like.. A Date???”

“If that's what you want to call it, then yes, I am asking you out.” He responded this time with a charming smile on his face.

“So is that a yes or no?”

“I- um..s-sure!! I mean why not? I'm not doing anything this evening so..” You pause taking a moment to breathe “It’s a yes.” You affirm your answer with a smile.

“Also uh let me take a moment to change..” you say standing up with a nervous grin and gesturing your hands to your pajamas making Lighter chuckle

Slowly walking towards your closet you hear Lighter say “you look cute tho” making your cheeks ten times redder

“Don’t say that..”

“It’s true tho.. and here take the rose..” He gently steps closer to you, a rose in hand, his expression warm and understanding.

“Thanks..where did you-”

“I got it from a flower shop nearby as I was coming over to your place.”

────୨ৎ────

And here you are currently linking your arm around your crush’s best friend’s arm as you walk together. Your head resting on his shoulder with the rose on your left hand.

“So where are we going?” you asked slowly lifting your head up to meet his face.

He turned to look at you with that sweet smile of his “Hm I don't know..where do you wanna go? You know this place more than I do.”

Thinking “Maybe we could get some drinks then we could stop by somewhere for fresh air and a quiet chat..”

“I like the sound of that..” He says, pushing his glasses up.

“Shouldn’t you take those sunglasses off? It’s nighttime.” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“Nah..”

While walking, you both stopped by some shops, looking around and not planning to buy anything, but you still kept some money inside your bag just in case...

But you did stop by this one shop where a kind middle-aged woman makes flowers into clips, so you turned to Lighter and asked if you could turn the rose into a clip for you to wear and he nodded with a smile

“There you go, you look beautiful,” He complimented after helping you put the rose clip in your hair. His hand softly caressing your [colored] locks

You let out a gentle chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through your cheeks as you look up at him “Thanks…”

You both walk around the shops a bit longer, hand in hand, before purchasing some drinks and trying to find a quiet place to sit and chat.

After a while, you spotted an empty bench in a quiet area, so you both went directly towards it.

Sitting down you and Lighter didn't say a word to each other yet as you gazed up at the stars, the clear night sky wrapped everything in a gentle beauty, offering a moment of solace and wonder. Lighter smiled at you and then looked up at the night sky.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” He spoke with assurance.

“Yeah..” You replied firmly, your gaze fixed on the sky Before you turn your attention to the man beside you, take a moment to consider his feelings. “Ah Lighter I forgot to ask..why did you come all this way just to ask me out? Is there something you wanna.. talk about” you ask slightly biting your lip

He turns again to look at you before looking down with an obvious blush on his cheeks “Actually yes..there is something I wanna ask..”

“Pftt like what? You like me or something? “ you say with laughter not knowing that is the truth

“Yes.”

As soon as those words came out of his mouth you stopped laughing and slowly turned to look at him “wait what..?”

“What?” He responded with a smile “What did you think I went all this way to your place just to ask you out?”

“Because I was lonely tonight..”

“Well I mean yeah but I came all this way just to say these words to you, I uh really like you [name] and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you so..

Will you..-“

“YES!” you shout, immediately tackling him into a hug making him yelp

────୨ৎ────

You were currently back at your place after your date with Lighter aka your now boyfriend as you lay together in bed

You asked him how he got the balls to ask you out or even confessing to you in the first place

He replied with saying that the girls helped him out and even Billy encouraged him with his confession

Caesar even offered to make an a whole ass confession full of declared love but all Lighter wants is a quiet confession, just you and him together

And it made your heart swell with joy as you hold his hand staring at each other with warm smiles

He decided to sleep at your place tonight not wanting to leave you just yet making your heart beat even faster

The night ends with you and him cuddling in bed, the stars never fading, keeping their shine as you both slept your hearts away. ♡︎

────୨ৎ────

author’s notes: okay so half way through writing I kinda lost motivation 💔 so that’s why the ending is kinda meh

But I wanted to write a lighter fic for Valentine’s Day and yesterday I forgot that it’s tomorrow so I had to quickly pull this out of my ass and start writing so yeah.. heh

I hope you enjoyed! Love you all and mwah!

[ghcstao3]

hi again, hope school isn't being too hard on you :( I figured I'd send a few ideas in & you can answer whenever!

IT'S COLD! so how about the 141 during the summer, doing some of your favorite activities! Or maybe a teeny ramble about what each likes doing the most...?

if it's not triggering...SoapGhost in uni. The class they share is for 1 of their majors & the other's minor (or maybe just for extra credits). The extra credit assignment involves taking a day trip somewhere & they're the only 2 who go.

Soap's 2nd job happens to be helping out his local unicorn community, who have all but gone extinct. He comes across the fabled Simon Riley, the Ghost of Soap's hometown, as the poor guy wanders around after being held captive by fey for decades.

school’s just been busy more than anything thankfully!! it’s a lot of work but certainly not too difficult:)

and ahh it was hard to choose from one of these i might have to return to the others. but honestly writing about them in uni is like therapy

-

Simon and John meet in an upper level English literature course.

Well—Simon never really had much say in the matter, not when John had plopped himself down in the seat beside him on the first day even in spite of all the other empty desks in the small classroom. Apparently it’s what John’s heart had desired, and never having been one for unnecessary confrontation, Simon never says anything of it.

He could never really pinpoint when their friendship began, maybe forged through general interest in the topic and whispered comments and jokes about some of the contents during lectures, or maybe through necessity when they’re not familiar with many others in the class, but either way—John ends up becoming one of the better friends Simon’s made in all his years of university.

The thing is, though, with majors that don’t overlap in the slightest—be it Simon’s English major and John’s own in chemistry—they don’t really see much of each other outside of class, unless it means working on a group project. Simon thinks—believes—they’d both like to be friends outside of the course, but… for whatever reason, they each have difficulty initiating anything.

Simon, personally, would like something more. But he doesn’t need it. Just wants John’s company regardless.

But they have their difficulties throughout the semester, that is, until their professor—a sweet old woman, who endures far too much from the few immature students in her class—announces that she had received funding from the department to take interested students to a professional production of Macbeth in a town an hour over. It’s without hesitation that Simon and John both agree to go.

But since it’s so close to finals season, they end up being the only two to go through with attending.

Not that Simon’s complaining—it just means more time spent with John alone. Sort of.

And not to mention he gets to see how nicely John cleans up for the event.

“I’m so glad you boys still came,” their professor says in greeting. “I was afraid no one wanted to go anymore.”

John smiles that stupidly charming smile at her, and Simon’s really beginning to feel the extent of his growing crush on his friend.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

“Oh, thank you, John.” She glances between them both, some knowing expression appearing briefly on her face before she ushers them inside the theatre. She hands them their tickets, tells them to go ahead, she has some friends from the local university she wants to meet with before the performance starts.

As they settle into their seats, John leans into Simon’s space—closer than he could ever manage at a desk. Simon hopes the theatre’s dark enough that John can’t see the way his ears burn red.

“Warning you now,” John whispers. “I know fuck all about Shakespeare language, so you’re gonna have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

Simon huffs, trying to dispel some of the heat of his blush. “Maybe you should’ve paid more attention in class, then, Johnny.”

John laughs, knocking his shoulder against Simon’s. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been telling me so many jokes during lectures, Mr. English major.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother retaliating. Instead they fall into meaningless conversation until the play begins, quieting only slightly when their professor arrives and sits on the other side of Simon.

The lights dim in the audience, and the performance starts. Simon watches with rapt attention, but true to his word, John asks him far too many questions.

He doesn’t particularly mind, though, when he can feel John’s knee press against his all the while.

John rambles when it’s over, and despite the interrogation, he seemed to understand and enjoy it as much as Simon and their professor had. Simon’s more than content to listen as their professor bids them goodnight, and they both head to the train station while she heads to her car.

Simon isn’t sure what it is that causes it—but the entire ride back, John seems to encroach in his space more than usual, stuck to Simon like glue. Simon does notice his eyes drooping and his head nodding off every once in a while, so he has the excuse of writing it off as exhaustion.

Particularly when John is resting his head on Simon’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna walk back to my flat,” John laments once they’re climbing off at their stop. “Too far.”

It’s a fit of impulse that has Simon offering, “You could stay at mine? It’s only five minutes.”

And there’s no hesitation when John accepts with a weary grin.

“You’re a lifesaver, Si,” John sighs. “Could kiss you right now.”

Simon freezes. John doesn’t notice as he ambles further away from the train platform.

“What’d you say?”

John pauses, and his brow furrows. He looks to Simon, simultaneously confused and entirely too casual. “Said I could kiss you,” he repeats. “Why? S’that a problem?”

Simon’s gaze falls to the ground as he quickly shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not—that’s not—“

“Would you like me to kiss you?” John pushes, peeking up at Simon through thick lashes. Simon knows he’d give in immediately, if he were looking into those sapphire-blue eyes.

“I mean—“ Simon shrugs a shoulder. His blush has returned in full force, from the nape of his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. “—I wouldn’t say no.”

“Okay,” John hums, like it’s nothing, before grabbing Simon’s face and doing exactly as promised.

It isn’t anything life changing, but it’s still—it’s still everything Simon could hope for, even here as a chill runs through him from the night’s cool temperature, even if their only sources of light are the moon and a flickering streetlamp.

John eventually pulls away first, delivering a hearty pat to Simon’s chest. “Now get me back to your flat and we can do that again, aye? It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

Simon can’t help the smile that appears on his face. His face tingles a little less now, though he’s sure it’s still stained a deep pink. “Sure, Johnny.”

And if they hold hands the entire way back—Simon will just claim it was for warmth.

[cozymoko]

ok so you just made a platonic yandere vampire knights post and that made me excited a d I had an idea. So you know how the Kurans are the highest rank in vampire society but what if there was one family higher than them who had a daughter that is maybe Yuki's age and Kaname was platonic yandere for her. Cuz I like to see how would Kaname treat someone of a higher rank than them. Thx❤️

PLATONIC! YAN. KANAME WITH A HIGHER RANKED PUREBLOOD READER — 🩸

Includes: Yandere platonic! Kaname Kuran from “Vampire knight”

Note: I got a little carried away. btw...FEM READER.

Format: Headcanons; 2nd person

WARNING(S): platonic yandere

Kaname had met you at a huge ball thrown in your honor. Every vampire in the land was required to attend as the [Last Name] family hardly graced the world with their presence. Seeing as the Kurans are second in command of the vampire world, how could they possibly ignore such an extraordinary invitation from their lovely superiors?

Kaname had only met your parents once, hundreds of years ago, long before you were conceived. They were terribly polite and well-conversed, too much so. Speaking with them felt artificial — lifeless even. He'd hardly thought they were capable of raising a child in any way.

He could not be any more wrong.

To his surprise, you were the exact opposite of them. You held a childlike joy brighter than the stars littering the night sky. A fancy dress was tightly tied around your small frame with ruffles and subtle ribbons sewn to its fabric. He admired your personality and the rawness of it. You reminded him of a human with how much emotion you displayed. It was charming!

“Hello there, are you perhaps Lady [Name]?”

A man with almost shoulder-length, well-groomed chocolate strands had approached you. He looked to be no older than sixteen yet he was older than you. But as your mother always told you, ‘With vampires, looks can be deceiving. Thus, do not make assumptions.’

“Oh, yes...hello there.” You bowed rather awkwardly, having little time to fully master your etiquette for such a large event.

He rested a gloved hand over his mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle his laughter. You're adorable. Bowing to someone below you was such a simple yet, humorous mistake.

You tilted your head, folding your arms tightly over your chest. An angry huff flew past your lips, much faster than you could've stopped it. Remembering your mothers' words, you were quick to adjust your posture and unfold your arms. “S-sorry.”

Kaname chucked outwardly. Another apology? Just how cute can you be! “It's quite alright. There's no need to apologize, honestly.”

Kanme finds himself spending much more time at your manor, in hopes of seeing you. Perhaps. Though if that were the case it surely wouldn't surprise the King and Queen of the vampire world. The boy made it painfully obvious in their eyes, and they were more than willing to allow him such a wish.

As funny as it may seem, Kaname treats you like a princess, which you technically are. From birth, he was taught to show the utmost respect to your family. Rightfully so, as they held an immense amount of influence in the supernatural world and you would do the same.

Despite how dearly he held you, there was a line he was not willing to cross. Reprehending you or going against your wishes left a bitter taste on his tongue; unpleasant and hard to swallow. In his eyes, you could do no wrong

Kaname cares for you ineffably, and by the age of ten, you were well aware of it. You knew he had a sister as he very seldomly spoke of her, and frankly, you were curious about her — who she was.

Lying to you didn't make him feel the slightest bit at ease. Twisting the truth to such a sweet girl was a sin like no other, yet he felt as though it was necessary. The possibility of you growing close to Yuki was far too strong. The thought alone made him ill.

“Kaname~! When can I meet Yuki?” You whined, giving the end of his coat a soft tug. “You make her sound like an angel the way you talk about her.”

“You are the angel, Lady [Name],” He smiled, gently taking your hands in his own. You giggled, seeing as his hand nearly engulfed your much smaller ones. “I'm afraid I don't know when you'll have the opportunity to see Yuki.”

It seems that Kaname is the perfect person to stand by your side. Your parents thought so too, seeing as the Kurans were second in command in the vampire world, and his pureblood abilities would deem useful.

On that note, upon your exposure to the world, meetings were something you were required to attend; with or without your parents. Kaname is more than happy to stick by your side, as he fears for your safety when left alone with such atrocious men.

You'd always found it strange how distant some aristocrats appeared. It'd soured your mood on more than one occasion. Truth be told, Kaname took it upon himself to remove their horrid influence on you; well, the possibility of it. Not just anyone was allowed to speak with you.

Times like these make Kaname quite thankful for his authoritative power in the world. He'd hate to dirty his hands with the foul blood of those old cretins, in front of you nonetheless. But my dear they were a few unlucky ones. (Hanabusa watch your back).

Without knowing it you would grow fairly attached to the Kuran. Unfortunately, that was his plan. Once you've fully grown dependent on him, he will finally be able to ensure your safety. It's only a matter of time before you mature and rule in your parents' place. Sure, loyalty wouldn't be difficult to come by, for it comes naturally to your family. Yet the thought pains him so terribly.

No matter how long your ruling may be. The struggles you come across. Kaname will be there to coddle you and fix them as he always does. You wouldn't have to lift so much as a finger!

Kaname will forever serve you. No matter the choices you make or the emotions you feel. You will always be his little vampire princess.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

"Love, sins & roses" (TFP Megastar)

WARNINGS: Toxic relationships, emotional, psychological and physical abuse (mentioned), obsessive and possessive behaviour, the sound used is from Rule of Rose - "Love suicide", therefore there are going to be mentions (both from the lyrics and story in general) about suicide and SH and other related not-healthy topics. Canon and headcanons elements at play. NGL I really romantized their toxic relationship, which is bad. Long ass post. SPOILERS of the Prime cartoon.

Say where is my shame - When I call your name?

From the very beginning of... well, everything - things were not quite good. Or maybe, at first, everything was actually good, but by the selfish decisions done by many that were on the power, things started to go downhill painfully slow, like a snowball that grew and grew, about to destroy everything on its path and produce destruction.

Megatron wished to make a change in the already corrupted system its people and whole Cybertrone was suffering, only to be pushed aside and to watch how Orion, the mech he trusted and worked alongside with the same goal, be favoured and given the title of Prime.

As if he wasn't already pushed aside because of his rank as a merely gladiator - that hatred for the higher up ones grew up with that jealousy he felt after watching his supposed friend take what Megatron has been working so hard to get and become. And amidst the destructive rising and move of masses to follow his command, shared ideals and vision - a seeker followed him.

So please don't set me free. I'm as heavy as can be.

The war changes everything - it changed Megatron, and thus, Starscream. The seeker was well aware at how his leader was slowly overtaken by madness and a lust for power and killing. The leader saw his second in command slowly spiral a sea of hysteria, paranoia and to embrace the 'kill to survive' tactic. It became more evident at the dead of Starscream's trinemates.

Oh, Megatron would be lying if he said he doesn't hold that memory so closely to his spark - the other two seekers were killed on a mission against the autobots, one where Starscream was not tasked to go. And that day he lived to his name; wails of agony, despair and hysteria as he tried to claw anybot's optics out and his own, too. Thankfully, or not, that day the seeker didn't follow his fallen trinemates to the Well of the All Sparks thanks to having Megatron hug him close to the point of not allowing him to move, letting him cry and wail, scream and agonize until it fell in stasis.

That day, Megatron knew he wanted to keep Starscream chained to him. And it seemed like the seeker had the same idea - to be chained to his lord and not fly away.

I will do you harm, I will break my arm

Things got worse - Starscream's hysteric aftermath started to make him have those idiotic ideas that he should be the leader of the Decepticons and try to kill Megatron whenever he could. And Megatron was that close to offline him a couple of times to try and tame the seeker into submission, to understand who was in charge.

And even when both mechs would end up with wounds, injuries and energon leaking from their cuts and scratches... I'm a victim of your charms.

Megatron is damn as sure that he should get rid of Starscream - because if he wasn't working on being the 2nd in command and actually helping the cause, he was this close to stab his throat with those sharp digits of his... but why to do that when it feels so good to have the seeker hugging his arm, or sitting on his lap when he is on the throne? Or when he gets to see how beautifuly deadly Starscream was when he was fighting and the thrill of maybe next time actually get offlined by the seeker's claws? His angel of death...

I want to be dead - When I'm in bed.

Thinks the seeker as he is being held by the Warlord just so closely to his chestplate. Starscream can feel Megatron's spark beat and pulsate under all of that scarred metal of his. And it makes him close his optics and wish for the end.

His end. Megatron's end. End. End. End.

And he could end it right there and then... but doesn't bring himself to do.

I can be so mean. You can beat me.

And Starscream wants to cut any type of bond he has with the crazed leader - but at the end of the night, when he is deep in recharging mode, his spark wonders: Why bring justice to our name, by screaming like a wounded animal and the egocentric being we are... because we want to prove something? Or to have his optics on us?

I would like to shame you. I would like to blame you.

"I hate you so much, Starscream." - "Please, I hate you even more, my lord."

Just because of my love to you...

When they are not themselves, but like new found lovers that haven't seen a single glimpse of the war - share kisses, hold each other and let their sparks know each other in such a gentle dance.

And, love itself is just as innocent as roses in May. I know nothing can drive it away.

Starscream started to fear he was in love with the Warlord, long before the start of the war, long before his trinemates met their demise. The seeker would die before ever confessing it loudly. That his spark yearned for Megatron's love and devotion, to become his Conjux endura and to swear his love would live in this life and the next one.

And Megatron was in the same situation - please, to love the same mech that has been trying constantly to overthrone you, take your place, that gets those paranoiac and hysteria episodes and that is a total egocentric diva? A pain in the aft. But his spark wouldn't change it for anything in the whole universe.

Though, love itself is just as brief as a candle in the wind. But it's greedy just like sin.

Megatron has done a few... things to ensure his beloved Starscream remains by his side. Taking aside the beatings and psychological abuse he has done on the 2nd in command to keep him on a leash until he decided to snap another bite at his servo - he knew Starscream was a precious gem to admire, and that many bots ever wished to be the one to own said gem.

He has crushed a few helms, and sent others to a sure demise, as he kept the seeker on his lap, marking him to brand the seeker as his, and only his. Wanting to consume him completely.

Alone but sane - I am a love suicide.

"Become my conjux endura." He ordered.

"You are going to kill me sooner than later." He accused calmly.

"As if you wouldn't do the same the night after we bond our sparks." He pointed out.

"... Touché." He chuckled.

'Cause, love itself is just as brief as a candle in the wind - It is pure white just like sin.

How pathetic, he would say if he got to see his own death at the hands of that yellow autobot he got to break his voice box a long time ago. The almighty Lord Megatron, ended there. Alas, what else could he say or do when he was falling into the planet he hated the most to end in its ocean?

Oh, but even when he was dying - his spark was agonizing because he could feel Starscream's spark agonize. Just like the day the seeker lost his beloved trinemates. And while the now offlined Warlord fell, the stars cried and wailed as he was taken away for the sake of running away and living another day before the Autobots got them.

Alone but sane - I am a love suicide.

He is counting the kliks until he gets to aim at their throats and serve their helms. Or, get shot in the spark and finally get to meet his lover in the Well of the All Sparks. Wouldn't be so poetic to also have his cold frame thrown into the sea of Earth so his body could find again his lover's? And for their sparks meet and become one, so in the next life, they were just a single being.

'Cause, love itself is just as innocent as roses in May. It is pure white...

"Once we win the war - I want a throne, too - and a crown. Aaand-"

"For Primus' sake - when will you ever shut up? Or do I have to force you to?" He interrupted, growling.

"Hmph! Should have thought that before making me your conjux, my lord." He said, seeming offended.

But Megatron keeps a possessive servo on Starscream's hips, securely in the Warlord's hold.

Just like sin.

Vhaos out!

[yawnzbf]

⚝ what can a bartender do?

Drunk Choi Yeonjun finds himself attracted to a specific bartender, what happens when they give in though? tw- drinking, making out, bartender!reader, kinda red flag yj(?), first time writing in 2nd person (you prns used)

It was a coincidence when you and yeonjun first met at the bar, you had just joined in as a bartender- the very first day on this job, Choi yeonjun- their loaded and a regular customer came in.

“Oh? what’s a new face doing here?” he asks taking a seat in front of you, eyes darting inspecting every inch of your body.

“Sir, yeonjun! Glad to see you here, this is our new employee- yn ln; don’t worry too much about it, I’ll send in your regular bartender!” your manager standing along with other employees spoke with a sickeningly sweet tone. Seems like this yeonjun was a big deal.

Yeonjun's eyes remained fixed on you, seemingly uninterested in the replacement. The silence stretched as he pondered for a second too long, making you feel smaller under his scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he let out a sigh before replying.

“no need, let’s see what pretty face here can do tonight” he said, a mischievous smirk latching onto his face  

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you approached him with a professional smile. "What can I get you, Mr. Yeonjun?" you asked, your voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through you.

Yeonjun leaned back against the bar, his gaze never leaving yours. "Surprise me," he replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Undeterred, you concocted a cocktail, carefully selecting ingredients that ypu thought would match his usual preferences. Placing the drink in front of him, you awaited his verdict.

He eyed the drink for a moment before lifting it to take a sip. A subtle smile curved his lips, and he nodded in approval. "Not bad, Y/N. Maybe you're not just a pretty face after all," he remarked, a playful edge in his voice.

//

As the night wore on, Yeonjun found himself on the tipsier side of intoxication. His usual charismatic charm had given way to a more carefree demeanor, and it was evident that he had reached his limit. Concerned for his well-being, you decided it to guide him to a more private and comfortable space.

"Yeonjun-ssi, I think it's best if you take a break in one of our private rooms. It'll be quieter, and you can relax there," you suggested, offering him a steadying hand.

With a lopsided grin, Yeonjun agreed, allowing you to lead him to one of the bar's secluded rooms. The door closed behind you, muffling the sounds of the lively bar. The room was dimly lit, with a soft ambiance that contrasted with the bustling energy outside.

"Wait here for a moment, Yeonjun-ssi. I'll make sure you have everything you need," you said, moving around the room to diming the lighting and make it cozier. There was a small couch against one wall, adorned with plush cushions, providing a comfortable spot for Yeonjun.

As you turned to check on him, you found Yeonjun lounging on the couch, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "What's the occasion, yn? Bringing me to a private room... feels a bit intimate, don't you think?" he teased, a playful smirk on his lips.

You chuckled, trying to maintain professionalism, "Just making sure you're comfortable, Yeonjun-ssi. Is there anything specific you need?"

Yeonjun's gaze lingered on you, his expression shifting to a more sincere one. "Just your company would be perfect, yn."

As you moved about the room, adjusting the ambiance, Yeonjun decided to stretch out, his gaze following your every move. Just as you were about to turn away, the unexpected weight of Yeonjun's intoxicated state took you by surprise. Unprepared for the sudden burden, you stumbled backward, arms flailing.

With a quick reflex, Yeonjun smoothly caught you, his hands gripping your shoulders. The room seemed to spin for a moment as you found yourself pressed against the wall. Yeonjun's strong presence enveloped you, and you could feel the warmth of his touch on your skin.

"Careful there, yn," he chuckled, the playful glint returning to his eyes. However, something shifted between you two in that fleeting moment – something unspoken lingered in the air.

As you regained your balance, there was a palpable tension, a silent acknowledgment of the closeness that had unexpectedly blossomed. Yeonjun, with a smirk, let his hands linger on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. The air crackled with a subtle energy as his gaze bore into yours.

In that charged moment, Yeonjun's expression changed, and his playful demeanor gave way to something more intense. Almost instinctively, he brought both hands to the wall on either side of your face, effectively trapping you.

The sudden closeness made your breath hitch, and as you looked up at him, something flickered between you two. The dim light cast a shadow over his features, accentuating the mystery in his eyes. Yeonjun, almost imperceptibly, leaned in, the distance between your lips narrowing.

However, you halted him with a hand placed gently on his chest, eyes averted. The playful atmosphere shifted to one of unspoken tension. "Yeonjun-ssi," you murmured, the vulnerability in your voice contrasting with the charged air. The moment hung suspended a delicate distance between desire and restraint.

//

Yet here you were, lost in the warmth of his kisses, the very person you had resisted just a few weeks ago. How did you find yourself entangled in his embrace? The questions lingered, but in the heat of the moment, you dared not challenge the allure that Choi Yeonjun had cast upon you.

With every harsh pull of his lips against yours, the firm yet tender pull of your waist into his embrace, and the low, appreciative groans that escaped him with every tug on his hair, you let him get you more and more. None of it made sense and perhaps, you didn’t want it to make sense either.

Maybe just for this night, you’d let yourself have him.

“please..” he pleaded, as you moved along his jaw, littering kisses all over him, devouring him whole.

You continued to trail kisses along his jawline, savoring the taste of the forbidden moment. The air crackled with tension, desire woven into the fabric of the dimly lit room. His half-lidded eyes and slightly parted lips begged for more.

"What are you pleading for, Yeonjun?" you asked, pulling back for a moment to lock eyes with him. His gaze, intense and filled with a mixture of emotions, met yours with a raw honesty that struck a chord within you.

His response came as a breathy exhale, a plea wrapped in the simplicity of his request. "Mm, dunno. Please, just continue."

And that you did.

a/n: ahhh i love him sm!! i just want to gobble him up entirely

[maladaptivefanfic]

I Want a Nurse

Bucky Barnes x fem!Avenger!reader

(starts with Matt Murdock x reader but just trust me)

Rating: Mature (nothing yet)

Summary: Finding herself in unfamiliar territory, or unfamiliar times to be exact, an Avenger must find her way home or risk permanently altering her timeline. If only Bucky Barnes were less charming her task would be much easier.

Ooo we're getting backstory now - why do Matt and Bucky not get along what a mystery Also thanks for your patience, last week the hurricane and this week coming to terms with aging and my mortality thanks to the whole one direction thing is crazy am I right? ANYWAY

Chapter Three - A Chance Encounter

July 2nd, 1943, Azzano Italy - Nightingale

“I’m just saying that Sergeant Barnes is quite smitten with you.” Lorraine sang as they folded the linens

“And I’m saying that Sergeant Barnes is a notorious flirt! The nurses that were already here told us as much.” Y/n could only roll her eyes, half the nurses in camp were already half in love with Barnes due to his flirting.

“Yes but he’s been giving you special attention.” Lorraine winked as she spoke, enjoying watching Sergeant Barnes following her friend around like a lost puppy.

“Oh like George gives you?” Y/n reminded her, as two could play at this game!

“Stop that!” Lorraine huffed, as y/n laughed. It was true, in the days since they arrived, Bucky had been giving her extra attention. Sure he flirted with the other nurses, but he was always finding an excuse to escort y/n this place or the next, lifting things for her, carrying them around the camp wherever she wanted them to go.

She was always trying to shake him, but like a bad cold he kept coming back.

She had tried to warn him off, saying she already had a man back home, but Bucky insisted he just wanted to enjoy her company in any way he could, even if it was just carrying boxes around for her.

“And what is the story on your man, you don’t talk about him much.” Janet asked, bringing over the newest batch of dried linens to fold.

She couldn’t decide how to talk about Matt. She had mentioned he was mostly blind, and that’s why he wasn’t in the service. It also vaguely explained why she didn’t write or receive letters - none of the girls wanted to pry into the specifics about his visual capabilities.

“He’s sweet, very charming, i miss him.” A sad smile made its way across her face as she thought of her friend or rather her boyfriend she had to remind herself. There was always the fear that she might never see him again, or any of her friends. Maybe Tony and Bruce might not find a way to bring her back. That scared her more than anything.

“Lawyer too as you mentioned? Bet you’ll get a nice ring if he proposes.” Lorraine whistled, nudging her side, breaking y/n from her spell with a giggle.

“You’re horrible.” Still she laugh. Despite the pain in her chest, and the hurt in her heart, she laughed because at least in all of this she had friends.

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

Present Day - 4 Days Since Nightingale’s Disappearance - Avengers Tower - Bucky Barnes

“YOU’RE FLIRTING WITH HER?! SHE’S MY GIRLFRIEND!” Matt’s yelling could likely be heard in Queens.

“ITS NOT LIKE I KNEW!!” Bucky yelled back, never one to step down from Murdock’s attacks.

With the new found memories, and Steve letting slip that Bucky had done more than just “meet” y/n, Matt had a whole new reason to yell at Bucky.

“Bullshit!” Matt scoffed as he sneered at Bucky.

“It’s not like I can stop myself from flirting with her in 1943!!” God if only he could, he thought desperately.

“You don’t even like her!” Matt was dead set that Bucky despised y/n, but somehow finding out some version of Barnes was smitten with her was even worse in his eyes.

“Well he does!” Bucky stopped for a minute “I did? This is confusing” Damn this headache and screwed up timeline.

But Murdock was already storming away to the lab deciding it was the best move rather than trying to strangle the super soldier in front of him. 

Now that they knew what the weapon did, it was a matter of reverse engineering it and while Matt was no help in the scientific department he felt more useful sitting in the lab while the brain trust worked rather than yelling at Barnes. Bucky was more than thankful as it let him lean his head against the cool refrigerator for some relief.

Over the last few hours, days had begun to pile into Bucky’s memories. Helping her around the camp, talking, chatting, and yes her mentioning Matt and Bucky of 1943 swiftly ignoring that. He was a man on a horrible little mission, and Bucky was begging his past self to give it up. But no, Bucky’s mind filled with sweet memories of her smile and giggling, the way she would blush when he slipped in a charming line, all of it etched into his brain as he desperately tried to ignore it. His stomach flipped remembering it all in painful detail, from the way she would laugh at his jokes despite herself or smile at him when he insisted on helping her.

Looking back now he could see the worry trapped behind her eyes, she didn’t want to bother him in 1943 for the same reason she didn’t bother him now. She thought he hated her, and honestly it was better that way in Bucky’s mind.

“How’s it going?” Wanda asked as she entered the kitchen, she had been easing the pain these new memories created as they warped Barnes’ mind but even powerful witches needed a lunch break.

“I forgot how persistent I could be.” He moved to stare blankly at the counter top as she pulled food from the fridge.

“Steve has always said you were very charming. Maybe the persistence is part of the charm.” She laughed slightly, her hand grazing the top of his head as she eased the pain his new memories caused. Sometimes she would catch glimpses of the memories, see what was in Bucky’s heart in 1943

“You were quite taken with her.” She mentioned softly

“Don’t let the devil hear you.”

“Matt is scared, he has been in love with her for years. Finally she has given him a chance and she disappears.” Her voice was somber, having seen the Devil sulking around the tower for days.

“I know.” Bucky mumbled, everyone knew. Murdock wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And so are you.” Bucky straightened abruptly at that comment

“No, no I wasn’t, I’m not, neither he nor I were. She is just another pretty girl, nothing special.” This was going a direction Barnes hated quickly.

“Mmmhmm” the witch hummed, with a decidedly obvious lack of agreement.

“I mean it Wanda, leave it alone.”

“Fine, fine. But you know when we do bring her back, you won’t be able to ignore her again. You won’t be able to ignore how you feel any more.” There was finality in her tone. Finality, and knowing.

Bucky knew that, as his heart beat heavy in his chest he knew.

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

Present Day, 4 Days Since Nightingale’s Disappearance - Avengers Tower - Matt Murdock

Matt Murdock was able to tolerate a lot in his life. He’d proven that in the last few years to be certain. Fighting villains both normal and super powered, taking down massive criminal organizations, law school - he had made it through quite a lot.

His dear friend turned new girlfriend being sucked into the past by a mad scientist was a new one.

Peter Parker was a bright and kind kid, explaining everything to Matt so he could understand the findings and know that they had a plan.

“It looks like Mr Stark and Dr Banner could be able to combine the remnants of the gun with his own tech. We know what it was made to do, and we have a general idea of how to reverse it, but theory and practice take a bit of time. While we’re working on that, we’re trying to get ahold of Dr Strange, which isn’t just his superhero name he’s actually a surgical doctor, I made that mistake before. But he’s not really a doctor anymore he’s a wizard. He has this cool amulet that can help him move around in time. If the gun is taking to long, and we have to start worrying about the affects y/n’s presence in the past might have, we could maybe use that amulet to bring her back. As far as the timeline goes we don’t have-”

The rambling continued and while Matt was no scientist he could follow along with what was going on;

Make the gun work in reverse, transfer that technology on a larger and controlled scale, save the girl, maintain the timeline.

But knowing this and feeling the impact of this were different.

He missed y/n, he missed her laugh, her gentle hands, and her warmth. He tried going through the motions with work the first day or two but he was running on empty as his energy was eaten up by worrying. Foggy and Karen were understanding, begging him to stay home, but sitting in his apartment with nothing to do but worry was worse.

He’d found himself in her apartment in the tower more than once. Just sitting on her couch, breathing in her scent. He didn’t want to touch anything, didn’t want to disturb what she’d left.

He wanted to keep hope but it already felt like he was in mourning.

And stupid Barnes.

From the moment he’d met y/n he’d known that Barnes wasn’t nice to her. And now, the bastard was flirting with her in the past! He’d been an ass as long as Matt had known him, and it didn’t seem like he was letting up anytime soon.

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

4 Years Prior to Present Day - Hell’s Kitchen - Matt Murdock

Playing the Devil was typically easy enough, but perhaps he should start to learn his limits. Tonight that was taking a beating against four guys who had been trying to chase down a girl walking home, but he’d left them in a bloody pile for the cops so he counted it as a win. He was limping through the alleyways trying to get his barings when he heard the scuffle of feet.

“Excuse me, sir?” A sweet smell, tinged with a light hint of gasoline filled his nose as he turned to meet the source of the kind voice.

“Please, can I help you?” She called out him, worry filling her tone as it carried to him down the alleyway

“Can’t exactly take me to the ER.” he smiled with a chuckle

She laughed with him but still approached

“No not really, how would we even fill out the intake paper work? First name ‘The’, last name ‘Devil’?” He chuckled, but a wheeze escaped him as he leaned again the wall for support.

“I’m Nightingale, with the Avengers, let me heal you some so you can at least get home.”

Nightingale, he’d heard of her. Foggy described her as cute, and her voice on the news was gentle on Matt’s ears. She was a new addition to the Avengers, with some wicked healing abilities. Apparently internal bleeding and gunshot wounds were nothing under her hands.

Yeah, ok, he could use that. Especially considering one of those assholes had a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Again he smiled at her, and he could hear her light laugh.

“Who knew the devil could be so charming? I have to put my hands on you, is that alright?”

“Whatever you need to do.”

And so he felt her fingertips on his stomach over the nasty gunshot wound first, then he felt the warmth seep into his muscles, his bones, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. She hummed as her fingertips danced along his body, prodding and poking as she found cuts, bruises, sore muscles, and even a crik in his neck from sleeping wrong last night. He felt weightless and light as she continued and he was putty in her hands.

“Mmm usually I’m the one making girls feel boneless, this is new.” He smiled at her, the ease he was feeling bringing way to his charming grin

“Not complaining are you?” He could hear the smile in her voice

Another groan as she fixed his shoulder blade

“God no, if a pretty woman wants to make me feel better I’ll be the last to complain.”

“You don’t even know if I’m pretty or not.” It was quietly, as if she hadn’t meant to say it

“How did you-“

“I could feel the damage to your eyes when fixing the cut on your jaw. It must’ve been an old injury because it wouldn’t budge.” Again she spoke softly, and this time Matt genuinely smiled. There was something really endearing about her trying to fix his sight.

“My friend told me how cute you were, at that press conference when they brought you on. He was saying he wanted to know where Tony Stark was finding all these beautiful, powerful women. If there was an island or something?”

Again she giggled, god what a beautiful sound.

“More like, I slipped up and got caught by Mr. Stark.” she huffed a little as she laughed softly.

“Ooo, using your healing powers for nefarious purposes?”

“Not like that,” and another laugh, Matt could get used to that sound, he could get addicted “I was working in a hospital. I started healing too much and Stark caught on to the reports.”

“Ahhh, very easy to catch a healer in a hospital.” He smirked, of course this angel was trying to secretly help people.

“Hey I was sneaky for a while!”

“Oh I’m sure.” He smiled as she pulled her hands back, but he reached out for them before they could get away from him. “Thank you.”

“Of course, I’m happy to help.”

“If you’re ever in Hell’s Kitchen again-“ he started to speak, hoping for a chance to meet her again when a gruff voice interrupted him.

“Hey! Nightingale, you about done back there? We have a mission report and you’re holding us up.” Sergeant Barnes made his way around the corner. The annoyance heavy in his voice and he made her jump in surprise. Matt could feel her tense and he immediately decided he didn’t like Sergeant Barnes.

“Well, come on then.” Barnes’ irritation thick in his tone.

“Sorry, sorry,” he could feel her turn back to him “next time I’m in the area, I’ll try to catch you.” Her heart was beating quickly as he kissed her hand before she could leave

“Now Nightingale!” Barnes was already on the back of his motorcycle, the engine roaring to life as he shouted in frustration.

She jumped after him, sitting on the back and her hands clutched the seat.

She was uncomfortable around Sergeant Barnes, he made her nervous and a little scared. All Matt could tell was the Barnes felt annoyed, and angry.

No he didn’t like Sergeant Barnes at all

But Nightingale, oh he had to meet her again.