#who is just taking all of this ridiculousness in her stride
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jannacalendar · 3 months ago
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Rewatching I Robot... You Jane. I am intrigued by the notion of Jenny casting bones in response to Sunnydale weirdness. It begs the question of what she made of the events in the episodes she missed. The kids start acting up in class? Signs point to possession. Everyone suddenly enamoured by the new substitute professor? Bones say she's a giant bug.
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yuechihua · 3 months ago
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a strange case of bangboos.
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summary: Harumasa brings exact Bangboo replicas of you and your Section Six coworkers to the office. For some reason, his Bangboo won't leave you alone.
notes: 3.7k words, author's notes, spoilers and references for Section Six special episode, fluff
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There are a few things you’ve come to expect from your coworker, Asaba Harumasa: falling asleep at his desk during the middle of the day, sneaking requests for time off work alongside his pile of overdue reports, and walking into the office several hours late with a ridiculous excuse.
So when Harumasa strolls into the office for once, on time, with a light step and casual wave, it’s enough to make you look up from your flood of paperwork with a confused glance as he throws you a wink.
“Good morning, everyone,” he says cheerily, hand on his hips, stopping just short of entering the office. “I have a surprise for you all!” 
Soukaku and Miyabi, who have been diligently working (read: eating snacks and playing tic tac toe on official bureaucratic documents), are the first to run over. Yanagi remains at her desk, and the two of you exchange wary looks. 
“They’re so cute!” Soukaku says with childish delight, crouching down to mess with something half-hidden behind Harumasa and the open office doors. 
“How lifelike,” Miyabi muses, arms folded.
It’s at this point that you and Yanagi can’t resist striding over to see what Harumasa’s surprise entails. You’re greeted by the sight of several Bangboos crowding behind him. They appear to be custom-made: one in blue, one in black, one in white, and one in your favorite color—they’re the exact same as the Bangboo forms you and your colleagues had taken during a virtual reality attack from a hacker group. 
Soukaku is patting her Bangboo, her eyes bright as the Bangboo (Soukaboo, you decide it should be called) makes happy noises. Miyabi and her Bangboo (Miyaboo would be a good name for it) simply stare at each other without blinking, though after a moment, Miyabi nods, as if coming to some sort of internal decision.
“Bangboo?” Yanagi murmurs. “But why?”
“You can interact with them, you know,” Harumasa interjects.
“Interact with them?” you ask. 
At the sound of your voice, your Bangboo tilts its head at you. It appears to be sizing you up in the same way you’re observing it, with the same measured detachment. It’s a little eerie how similar it is to you, your mannerisms captured in a robot. 
Harumasa’s Bangboo (Asaboo, you dub it in your head) takes a few steps towards your Bangboo and tries to nuzzle it, only for your Bangboo to swiftly sidestep its advances, turning its body away in a clear sign of rejection. Asaboo lets out a sad little sigh, synthetic ears drooping, before it immediately perks up when its gaze alights on you.
“Ehn-nah!” Asaboo says, its mechanical voice sounding like the cheerful jingle of a bell.
Its body is chubby and white, smooth and sleek like the shell of a fat egg, and it preens under your newfound attention. Asaboo spins in a circle, revealing a little red target and arrow on its butt, and it takes all your self control not to throw your arms around it. 
There’s one thing you can’t deny: these Bangboo are absolutely adorable.
“It’s so much cuter than Harumasa,” you say out loud, arms crossed, as Asaboo beeps a little “eh-nah” in agreement, shuffling closer to you as it does.
“I agree,” Yanagi says. “Perhaps we could consider replacing Harumasa with this Bangboo. I imagine reports would come in a much more timely manner if we did.” 
“You know I can hear you, right?” Harumasa says, a faux wounded expression on his face.
“I know,” you say dryly. “But what’s the point of bringing them over? Don’t these look like the time we were turned–”
“It’s a change of pace,” Harumasa interrupts. “I figured we needed our own mascots, don’t you think? Think of the merchandising we can do. And they would brighten up the office.” 
“Yeah?” you say, unconvinced. “Since when did you care about that?”
“Well…” he continues, “There was also a deal at the shop I went to where if you bought one, you could get one free. Why wouldn’t I take advantage of such a good deal?”
Miyabi is watching Harumasa with a contemplative expression, her ear twitching slightly at his words. Before you can ask her what she’s thinking about, Asaboo suddenly tugs at your leg.
You glance down, and its chubby arms are wrapped around your calf, its little face peering up at you with its wide eyes.
“Eh-nah?” it asks, in the cutest, most innocent voice imaginable. 
You can’t stop yourself from reaching down and patting the top of its head. It wiggles at your touch, reaching up its little hands, as if trying to feel the spot where you just pat it to capture your warmth. 
“It’s so cute,” you say fondly. 
At your words, Asaboo jumps up and down in excitement. 
“And it’s oddly attached to you,” Yanagi remarks. “Asaba, what does the AI data for these Bangboos look like?”
For the first time this morning, Harumasa looks abashed, but that doesn’t stop him from responding, “Well, these Bangboos are modeled closely on our personalities.”
“Harumasa, is there something you want to say to me?” you tease. “I don’t recall you being as desperate for my attention as this Bangboo.”
“I think this is very telling, Asaba,” Yanagi says, crossing her arms. 
“What on earth are you two talking about?” Harumasa says, widening his eyes, neatly sidestepping your questions and avoiding your gaze. “Telling in what way? Deputy Chief, don’t tell me you’re feeling left out. Should I order one for you, too?”
“No,” Yanagi says wearily, “That won’t be necessary. I’d rather you save your money for something useful.”
“This is useful, though! It’s excellent for team morale! Don’t you think they’re cute, Soukaku?”
“Hm…” Soukaku looks down at Soukaboo, who does a little hop. “They’re cute! I like them.”
“Don’t drag Soukaku into this!” Yanagi says. 
“I think my Bangboo will make an excellent training partner. I haven’t had a chance to spar with myself yet,” Miyabi interjects in a thoughtful voice. Miyaboo nods its head in agreement.
“Chief, not you, too!”
“I think it’s harmless, Yanagi,” you say. “It’s one of Harumasa’s better ideas.” As you speak, Asaboo tugs on your leg again, looking up at you with a pitiful expression. “Oh, are you feeling left out?”
You reach down and run your gentle fingers along Asaboo’s head, rubbing alongside its ears. It has a smooth, rubbery texture, but if you press down harder, you can feel the vibration and stabilized heat of its whirring machinery beneath its exterior.
Harumasa watches you with a conflicted expression. “Why aren’t you this nice to me?”
“You’re not as cute as Asaboo,” you say resolutely, and Asaboo lets out a little “eh-nah” of agreement. 
Harumasa purses his lips. His eyes narrow at Asaboo, and it’s the exact same expression he has  right before he lets loose an arrow aimed for an Ethereal’s core. “I’m starting to regret this purchase.”
“You’re the one who brought them over. Asaboo hasn’t done anything wrong,” you say. 
“But you’re taking its side!” Harumasa protests. “Against me, your loyal partner! Our bond is forged through countless adversities in the Hollows, against the worst Ethereals New Eridu has ever seen! And you’re choosing a Bangboo over me!”
“Our relationship is strictly business. This is different,” you say, fingers dancing over the top of Asaboo’s ears as it lets out a content sigh. 
“Harumasa’s been replaced,” Miyabi murmurs.
“He’s been replaced,” Yanagi agrees. “Harumasamasa has been replaced!” Soukaku says cheerfully.
“There’s no need to rub it in…” Harumasa glances at your Bangboo, which is peacefully sitting on the floor in a patch of sunlight, staring out one of the windows, oblivious to the chaos around it. He crouches, and holds out his hand, as if to pat its head. “Hey there.” Your Bangboo immediately jumps up and scampers away without looking at Harumasa, resuming its vigil farther away.
“Rejected, even by a Bangboo,” Yanagi murmurs. “Asaba, I’m starting to feel bad for you.”
“Tsukishiro, if you say that, that’s just going to make me feel worse, you know?” Harumasa says ruthfully. “But it’s fine. We can just let them run around a little longer.”
The newest members of Section Six settle into the office with relative ease. The Bangboo are given free range around the office, though you notice that Soukaboo likes to sit near anyone with visible snacks, and Miyaboo is found in increasingly odder positions: on top of the door, hidden in a bookshelf, or tucked under a desk. 
Your Bangboo, on the other hand, is perfectly content to help deliver paperwork or coffee around the office, though it’s not immune from Miyaboo and Soukaboo pulling it into sudden games. Asaboo has no similar luck with your Bangboo, which seems to ignore Asaboo’s attempts to get close. There’s a hint of dissatisfaction in your Bangboo’s expression, though you can’t tell where it’s coming from. 
So Asaboo ends up waddling after you, settling right next to the side of your desk. Whenever you get up to grab a cup of coffee, discuss confidential information with other officers, or simply to stretch, Asaboo immediately jumps up to follow.
“Not interested in playing with the other Bangboo anymore?” you say. The other Bangboo are hopping around in the distance, bouncing a ball Soukaku pulled out from her desk back and forth.
“Eh-nah!” it says, puffing out its chest.
“Well, I’m happy to hang out with you, too.” You pat its head once more, and it gives a wiggle of delight.
“I’m also happy to hang out with you,” Harumasa adds. His desk is right next to yours, so it’s easy for him to see everything that’s going on. You glance at him, with his chair pushed back from his desk, feet propped up on the table, ankles crossed.
“Sure, but you’re not voluntarily spending time with me. We work together,” you respond dryly. You don’t miss how his mouth tugs into a pout, looking for all the world like a displeased cat which has been denied its favorite meal. 
Around lunchtime, when you pick up your packed lunch to head to the break room, Asaboo jumps up and down in the air, holding out its hands.
“Oh? Do you want to carry this for me?” you say, holding the package aloft.
It nods enthusiastically, ears flopping, and you gently place your lunchbox into its hands. Asaboo clutches the bundle to its chest like its most precious treasure, though it’s nothing more than some plastic containers set in a carrying case, with a handle that pops out that Asaboo loops its hand through.
“I could carry that for you,” Harumasa adds. His head is down on his desk, gazing at you through the fringe of his dark eyelashes. They’re unfairly long and pretty.
“Are you sure?” you say, raising your eyebrow. “I thought you said you weren’t capable of lifting anything heavier than a single sheet of paper.” 
“Well, I’m feeling a burst of strength today, so–” Harumasa raises himself from his desk and reaches out towards your lunchbox, but Asaboo leaps back before his hand can even graze it. 
“Eh-eh-nah!” it says defiantly. 
“Oh, you little–”
“Don’t bully Asaboo,” you scold, moving to stand in front of it. “Come on, Harumasa. It’s just a cute little Bangboo.” 
“It just made a face at me,” he says indignantly, throwing his hands up helplessly.
“Well, like you said, the data for its personality is based on you.”
With that, you and Asaboo head towards the break room, Asaboo wobbling behind you cheerfully the entire time. The break room itself is surprisingly spacious, with floor to ceiling windows, tasteful plants tucked in corners, and clusters of tables and cushy chairs scattered about. Various gleaming, stainless state of the art kitchen appliances are huddled in the corner. It’s one of the nicer break rooms you’ve seen, and you have HSO budget to thank for that.
Asaboo quickly runs to a table near one of the windows, and hops up to place your lunchbox on the table. It’s a quiet spot, away from the other officers, and the sunlight pleasantly warms the area.
“Did you choose this place on purpose? You’re so thoughtful,” you coo, and Asaboo ducks its head, raising its hands to cover its face in embarrassment. Really, when it reacts like that, it’s hard to imagine Asaboo derives its personality from Harumasa. It’s not as if Harumasa isn’t thoughtful; in fact, you have a feeling the presence of the Bangboo is his roundabout way to make everyone happy, somehow. 
But Harumasa, clinging to your leg, or following you everywhere? It’s hard to imagine. Is that how he really wants to act around you, or is it simply that Asaboo has its own individual quirks, separate from the influence of Harumasa’s personality data? Despite Yanagi’s earlier comment about how “telling” Asaboo’s reactions are, your own teasing, and Harumasa’s reticent response, it’s not a clear marker for Harumasa’s own feelings. 
You’re not sure you want to use Asaboo to measure Harumasa’s feelings, either. That brings up its own complications, especially regarding your own emotions towards Harumasa. It would be a lie to say that Asaboo being Harumasa’s Bangoo doesn’t make you extra sweet to it. Well, that and the mischievous desire in you to see Harumasa pout. After all, it’s payback for all the teasing you’ve endured from him since the two of you joined Section Six.
You enjoy a quiet lunch with Asaboo, though once you’re both back at the office and you’re settled at your desk, Asaboo lets out a little “eh-nah” when it sees Soukaku holding up a picture to her Bangboo, a crayon drawing of her and Soukaboo in a field of flowers, holding hands. It immediately leaps up and heads out the door. You don’t have time to wonder at its behavior, though, not when you have a mountain of tasks that’s piled up since you were away at lunch.
“Your loyal companion left. Want me to take its place?” Harumasa offers.
“Get back to work, Harumasa.”
Ten minutes later, you’re interrupted from your workflow by the patter of mechanical feet and something tugging at your leg.
You look down to see Asaboo, covered in mud and grass stains, a trail of dirty footprints behind it, and a proud expression on its face as it clutches a flower in its hand. In contrast to Asaboo’s appearance, the flower is pristine, with soft, pure yellow petals.
“Eh-nah!” Asaboo says. It holds the flower in your direction.
“Oh, Asaboo, where did you get this? Is this for me?” you ask. You gingerly take the flower from its hand, and Asaboo looks proudly at you.
“Eh-nah. Ehn-nah-nah!” It jumps up and down for emphasis. 
“I’ll cherish it forever,” you promise, and carefully place the flower on your desk. You’ll ask Soukaku to help you press it later so you can preserve it. Was that why Asaboo had been looking at Soukaku’s drawing? Because it was thinking of you?
“If you want flowers, I can give you some, too, without ripping up the building’s lawn,” Harumasa says. He looks at you sleepily, with that familiar pout curling around his mouth.
“Then why haven’t you?” you tease him. “Besides, think about it. If Asaboo gives me a flower, isn’t it essentially the same as if you gave me the flower yourself?”
“It’s completely different,” he protests. “It’s not like I knew you wanted flowers. And Asaboo isn’t me. If anything, it’s…” He brings a hand to his tie, which already hangs loose from his collar, and unconsciously slides the knot lower. 
“It’s what?” 
“The Bangoo weren’t meant to do any of this,” he says. 
“I thought you said these Bangboo were bought on a whim,” you say.
“I did. That’s not exactly wrong, but…” Harumasa hops up on your desk, perching on a spot free from papers or office supplies. He crosses his legs, and you swing your office chair in his direction. “Sometimes, if you have a bitter memory, you can overwrite it by facing it over and over until you get used to it and it’s no longer so painful, right? Like exposure therapy.”
You’re quiet for a moment. Asaboo, at some point, has slowly run off to find the other Bangboo. They circle each other and jump around, an innocent dance of happiness, though Asaboo is watching your Bangboo more intensely than anything else in the room.
“Are you talking about the time we were turned into Bangboo?” you venture. It’s a memory whose threat has faded with time, becoming less of a menace and more of a funny office story to relay to coworkers. Dangerous situations and odd circumstances come part and parcel with your job.
Still, you can remember the sensation of being a Bangboo with startling clarity: the virtual buildings of Lumina Square inflating in size around you, wobbling on legs you weren’t used to, unable to wield a weapon. When you lifted your hands, a shock would jolt through you to see metal and not limbs and fingers. It’s a feeling of helpless you aren’t eager to return to.
“I was the first to turn into a Bangboo,” Harumasa says ruthfully. “And I couldn’t do anything. I had to watch everyone fight, knowing every second we wasted was a second closer to death. I had to watch you put your life at risk to keep me safe, and I couldn’t do anything at all. Everyone here is strong, but…” He taps his fingers on your desk. “You all pretend to be fine when you’re really not.”
How long has this been on his mind? It must have been what Miyabi noticed right away, from the very moment Harumasa started showing off the Bangboo. You slowly cover his hand with one of your own, entangling your fingers together. The heavy fabric of his gloves brush against your bare fingers, but you can still feel the bump of his knuckles, the curve of the back of his hand.
No one else in the office can see the two of you right now, the front of your desk with your computer and stack of books and folders acting as a barrier from the rest of the world.
“Harumasa.” You dip a finger under his glove, to feel the tender, warm, uncertain flesh underneath and trace designs on the back of his hand. His breath hitches. “You don’t need to take on everything yourself. You also like to pretend you’re fine when you’re not; you can rely on us a little more.”
“So the Bangboo weren’t a good idea, huh?” The joke comes out light-hearted and weak.
“No, they’re very cute,” you say. “I really like them, even if you don’t. But if you want to overwrite bitter memories, I think we should all do it together.”
A heated intensity steals across Harumasa’s face, his attention on you as unwavering and steady as a shaft of blazing summer light. “Together? Do you promise that?”
He bends his head a little closer, and you tilt your head upwards in response. Whatever it is he offers, you’ll accept.
However, before either of you can make another move, there’s a great crash, metal slamming on cold tile, and you instantly rise from your seat to seek out the source of the noise. In the middle of the offic, you see Asaboo collapsed on the floor, sprawled over like a fallen egg on its side.
“Oh no,” you murmur. But before you can rush over, something astonishing happens. Your Bangboo, which previously has ignored Asaboo, immediately leaps to Asaboo’s side, patting its head with its hands.
“Ehn-nah,” your Bangboo says worriedly.
“Eh-ne-ne,” Asaboo says back in a faint tone.
Your Bangboo cradles Asaboo’s hand in its own as it helps Asaboo stand. Asaboo leans on your Bangboo, though you can’t help but feel Asaboo’s steps are a little too energetic as your Bangboo guides it out of the door, their hands entangled together the whole time, probably to find a charging port or a mechanic. 
“Huh? I thought their Bangboo didn’t like Asaboo!” Soukaku says. She jumps up from her chair. Miyabi and Yanagi are clustered around Soukaku’s desk, ostensibly discussing some business that’s been interrupted by the Bangboo drama. “It didn’t want to play with Asaboo before!”
“I wonder if their Bangboo was just shy towards Asaboo,” Yanagi theorizes. “Or it’s possible it was jealous, too, of Asaboo clinging to someone else.”
“It’s most likely both,” Miyabi says. “I believe it’s always cared for Asaboo, and Harumasa by extension, but would loathe to let everyone know the extent of its feelings.”
Your face heats up as everyone’s gazes swing towards you, like bright stage lights revealing you to an audience you didn’t realize was there. You don’t even want to look at Harumasa, still perched on your desk, because you can already imagine the smug, overly pleased expression on his face. 
“I think we should talk about something else,” you suggest hastily. “Don’t you think Asaboo’s behavior was a little strange?”
“As Asaboo’s owner and foremost expert,” Harumasa says, one hand cupped around his chin, “I think it’s obvious Asaboo was faking its sudden bout of dizziness in order to get the attention of your Bangboo.”
“Why does that sound exactly like something you would pull off?” you say. “Like owner, like Bangboo.”
“Speaking of… I feel a little faint… I think… I need to lean on you…” Harumasa, with no attempt to hide his theatrics, begins to lean strategically in your direction, face landing on your shoulder, slumping his entire body so his weight falls on you.
“Asaba Harumasa, can you at least pretend to hide your intentions?”
“Can’t hear you… Still dizzy… We need to hold hands or I’ll fall…” 
Harumasa reaches for your hand with surprising speed, but you tuck it behind your back so he can’t hold it. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you instead, and it takes all your willpower not to shove him off and onto the floor. 
You can still feel the gaze of your other coworkers upon you, and hear the whisper of their conversation, though they aren’t making any effort to hide their comments.
“They’re embarrassed,” Miyabi says quietly.
“They’re very embarrassed,” Yanagi says.
“Super embarrassed!” Soukaku chirps. You close your eyes, face still hot. From now on, you’re not going to underestimate Harumasa’s or Asaboo’s capacity for cunning. As cute as the Bangboo are, maybe they are more trouble than they’re worth.
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nerdygirlramblings · 3 months ago
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totally not at all inspired by a real life snowboarding injury, I present poly!141 x injured!reader
cw: hurt/comfort, accents attempted
You're sat in the hospital bed doing your best not to cry. You hold the tears at bay not because you're fine. Not because you're proud. Not because of the shock running through your system. No, you try hard not to cry because you don't know how your boyfriends will react if you're in tears when they show up.
The spill was the most ridiculous accident, comical in its cartoonish nature: ice on the steps. You were rushing to catch The Tube, desperate not to be late. You knew if any of your men were home, they would have chided your footwear. The pink heels were absolutely impractical, but they matched your pearl grey dress so perfectly. On a normal day, you would have worn something sensible and simply brought the cute shoes to wear around the office.
But today was not a normal day. Today was your anniversary, and you had lovely dinner plans with your men scheduled. You wouldn't be able to come home after work, so you needed to look perfect all day.
You were almost home free when the last step ruined everything. Your foot slid, your bag fell, and you put your hands out to stop your forward momentum. So many bad ideas all in a row.
You felt something pop, heard a snap, and knew immediately you were very injured. Pain radiated all the way up your arm, leaving fire in its wake. Signals weren't making their way from your brain to your hand; it flapped, unresponsive, in your lap.
Thankfully your neighbor, Mrs. Gillen, was on the curb, and while she couldn't help you when you fell, she called 999 for you. She asked if your men were upstairs, and when you shook your head, she called John. You knew she had everyone's number, but as she'd learned, a call to John usually got everyone.
As they loaded you into the ambulance, you heard Mrs. Gillen ask an EMT where they were taking you, only to relay that information into her mobile.
So now you wait in A&E, arm in a sling, hooked up to an IV of fluids and pain meds, to see just how bad things are. You hear your men before you see them, John's voice low, demanding information on you. You don't hear a response, but John's growled response means he didn't get what he wanted.
Next you hear Johnny, frantically shouting your name as A&E techs try to shush him for the benefit of other patients and their families. A nurse comes in, unease in his eyes, and says there are several people asking for you. He tells you they have a code they can call if you're not safe, if the people looking for you need to be directed elsewhere or handled by the authorities.
You roll your eyes and assure the nurse it's okay. You pass him your phone, open to a picture of the five of you on holiday in Majorca last summer. "They're mine," you tell him ruefully. "Best let them back if it isn't against protocol, otherwise you'll be dealing with a big ruckus."
He eyes you hesitantly, despite the evidence on your phone. "Really," you say. "We're together. They'll be harmless if they can see me."
He steps into the hall and you watch him talk with a doctor and a man in a security uniform. They all come in and you have to explain your unconventional relationship, all the while listening to Johnny's shouts grow more panicked and Simon's rumble join John's. The only one you don't hear is Kyle, but you sure it's because he's restraining Johnny, who would be running through the halls pulling open doors if he could.
Finally the nurse, doctor, and security guard leave. Within moments the door bangs open so hard it strains the hinges. The hall light is blocked by a mass in the door, breathing heavily.
"Hi, Simon," you say sheepishly. He steps into the room, strides eating up the distance to where you are. You watch his aborted attempt to hug you. You raise your uninjured arm and he quickly shuffles into the space, pressing his face to your hair and breathing deeply.
"Oh, darling," you hear John sigh, "what happened?"
You feel your face heat and won't meet his eye. His gaze tracks from your injury down your dress to your legs. And those pink heels. You see the realization hit. "Please tell me you did not leave the flat in those shoes." His voice is muffled by the hand he's dragged over his face.
"I wanted to look perfect for tonight," you reply. "And now I've ruined it all," you sniffle.
"Och, hen," comes Johnny's voice. "Ye didnae ruin anything," he coos, coming over, elbowing Simon out of the way to press kisses to your hair and cheek. "We were so worried when Mrs. Gillen called. We jus' wan' ye safe. Yer already perfect." He kisses you again and again.
"Ya mind if we wait with ya, love?" Kyle asks, sitting in the chair next to the bed.
You were nervous about being in A&E alone, scared of what damage you did to yourself. "I wouldn't want you anywhere else," you tell him.
They boys take up various positions around the room, Simon looming behind you, eyes crossed, watching the door; John in the chair near the door, looking at your chart; and Johnny on the bed with you, your uninjured hand in his.
When the attending finally comes in, she pulls up short at how full the room now is. She looks at your men, then at you, and says, "Do you want this medical information shared, or shall we ask everyone to wait outside?"
Suddenly the room feels smaller, the air stuffier. You know it isn't harder to breathe, but your men are expansive, and the idea they might not be welcome as the doctor tells you the extent of your injuries is too much.
"No, doctor," you say, trying to head off a confrontation. "They're with me. And it's best they hear whatever this is from you." You look at John and add, "I'm sure they'll have questions."
The doctor holds your eye for a long moment, and you see the moment she decides to trust you. She comes to the end of the bed and holds her tablet out, waiting for John and Kyle to come around and join Simon behind you.
She brings up the first scan of your forearm and you see it before she says anything, the glaring black line across the solid white bones. Combined fracture of the radius and ulna. She brings up a second scan of your shoulder where the injury is less obvious. There's no bone break, but the doctor points out where you tore the ligaments in your glenohumeral joint.
The more she talks the more the words blend together. You hear surgery. Physical therapy. Weeks of recovery. John's voice joins the doctor's. Then Simon's.
You tune them out, worrying about what this means for your job, for taking care of the house when your men are on deployment, for the burden this puts on the others.
You feel a warm weight on your thigh and glance down to see Johnny's hand, thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth. The sharp line of his jaw digs into your uninjured shoulder enough to get your attention. You turn your head to glance at him. He leans forward, breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "Stop thinkin' so hard. Takin' care a ye isnae hardship. Hell, it's gunna mean ye cannae tell us tae stop."
You frown and whisper back, "I'm not supposed to be a burden," mouth twisted into a frown.
He scoffs. "Ah dare ye tae tell LT or the Cap'n yer a burden."
A throat clears, and you look away from Johnny. The doctor looks resolute; John's eyes are full of pity. They both seem to wait for your reaction, but to what? You were spiraling until Johnny drew you back to them, but what had John and the doctor said to make them look at you like that?
Your eyes dart between them, mouth opening and closing in your best imitation of a fish until the doctor saves you further embarrassment. "We can't do anything more today. The bones in your arm can't be set until the swelling goes down, so we can only put you in a temporary splint until a real cast goes on in about a week. And I don't want to schedule the surgery until the bone is in a cast, and preferably not until it's healed, but I need more imaging on the ligament to determine how quickly it needs surgery. I'm going to have to send you home with pain medication only. You're going to need quite a bit of help for a while."
At first, the most you manage is a small, "Oh." You clear your throat and try again. "Thank you, doctor. Er, when should I schedule the imaging for? And how should I do that? Oh, and where do I go for the actual cast?"
The doctor sighs and looks at John first before the others. "I gave your, er, friend all the contact information for the orthopedist and imaging specialists. He said they'd make sure you have your appointments set. I also gave him your script for pain medication to help you manage these first few days."
You thank the doctor again as your boys escort you home. You hold the tears at bay on the drive home, waiting quietly in the car when Kyle takes your prescription into the chemist. You make it up the stairs in Simon's arms, cradled against his chest like a fragile bird. It isn't until you're back in your flat that the tears come.
A torrent of pain snakes down your arm, stealing the breath from your lungs when you try to shrug your jacket off. Simon is only a step behind you, and he lunges forward, hands under you as you crumple, sobbing, to the floor.
A pair of warm, calloused hands gently cup your face. You can't see through the tears, but you smell sunshine when Kyle shushes you, telling you they're there.
"I don't want to be a burden," you cry between sobs. Your lungs are beginning to burn, everything throbbing in time to the ache in your arm. "Now I've messed everything up!"
You're picked up, gently, from the front hall. The smell of gunmetal tells you it's Simon. His soft steps thud along the floor. There're too many steps for you to be heading for the den, you think. The realization strikes that you must be going to the bedroom. The arms holding you deposit you in front of them on the bed.
Your hair is maneuvered over your uninjured shoulder and you hear the rasp of the zipper as it slowly descends. Simon carefully manipulates your good arm out of its sleeve while Johnny kneels to take your cute shoes off. Then Kyle and Simon work together to carefully, cautiously shift and support your arm to get your other sleeve off. You have a momentary flash - I'm glad A&E didn't cut my dress - before it's overwhelmed by the agony of getting your other sleeve down.
By the time the top of your dress has been slipped off, you're practically panting, teeth clenched tight to prevent the scream from clawing its way up your throat. The boys get you the rest of the way undressed and into your pajamas.
You look around and notice John isn't in the room. You look behind you to Simon, the one most likely to give you a straight answer, but when you ask about John, he pretends not to know him at all!
John walks in a moment later with some flowers you recognize from the vase in the kitchen. "I know you're disappointed, dove. We all are, but not because we think we're missing out if you're not there." John gets down onto one knee. "This isn't what we talked about. This isn't where we wan'ed to do it." He pulls a ring box out. "Was gonna do this at dinner, but I think you need ta remember, dove, you're our world."
You blink back more tears as Simon's voice vibrates your ribcage. His voice rumbles, " Wan' ya to be ours fully."
You look at Kyle and see the giant grin splitting his face.
You don't have to look to see Johnny's sitting, energy practically vibrating off him in waves, waiting as patiently as a kid on Christmas morning.
Your eyes land on John again, still kneeling. Silly man, putting himself through hurt for you. "Marry us, dove?"
Despite the unfounded hopelessness seeping into your bones. Despite the self-pity drowning you under waves of all you haven't done yet. Despite the agony rippling through your arm to the rest of you. Despite all that, you're answering before he fully finishes his question.
"Yes!"
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senascoop · 7 months ago
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☁︎ . , JUST SO YOU KNOW , Y.JW !
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PAIRING: boyfriend ! jungwon × girlfriend ! afab reader. SYNOPSIS: when you can't help but want everyone else to know that he's yours. GENRE: jealous girlfriend trope, drabble. WARNING(S): hickey (mentioned), jealous reader, not proofread. WORD COUNT: 587. [ARCHIVE]
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Jungwon sits stiffly in his chair, trying to maintain a polite smile while the female idol leans a little too close for comfort. Her hand casually brushes his arm, and he shifts slightly, hoping to create some distance. His discomfort is evident in the way his fingers twitch nervously at his sides. The crew around them laughs, some whispering that the two of them look "so cute together."
“You two should date, honestly,” one of the stylists says with a playful nudge, completely unaware of how uncomfortable Jungwon feels.
The female idol, catching on, giggles and leans in closer, batting her eyelashes. “Should we?” she asks, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. She knows about you, but she’s choosing to ignore it. Her hand lingers on Jungwon’s shoulder, her fingers playing with the fabric of his jacket, as if testing his boundaries.
Jungwon’s jaw tightens, but he forces a polite smile, swallowing down his frustration. “I’m already datin—” he starts, trying to assert his relationship, but before he can finish, the door to the room swings open.
You step in, your smile so sweet it could melt ice, but the fire in your eyes tells a different story. Without missing a beat, you stride over to Jungwon, effortlessly slipping your arm through his, your body pressing gently against his side. The tension in the room shifts immediately, and Jungwon’s entire posture relaxes at the sight of you.
“Oh? What were you saying?” you ask, your voice dripping with playful curiosity, eyes locking onto the stylist who had just suggested the ridiculous idea. You look so serene, like you hadn’t heard a word of what was said, but Jungwon knows better. Beneath your calm exterior is a storm.
The room falls silent. The stylists and crew exchange awkward glances, the female idol's face paling slightly as you shoot her a glance—sharp, protective.
“Ah... nothing... uh, are you Jungwon’s…” The stylist trails off, unsure of how to proceed under your intense gaze.
You turn to Jungwon, urging him with a tilt of your head to clear things up once and for all. His throat goes dry for a second, but then he nods, stepping up. “Yes,” he says, voice firm but slightly nervous under your watchful eye. “We're dating.”
You hum in approval, but your eyes glitter mischievously. “Oh, really? You didn’t tell them about this?” You feign innocence as your finger softly grazes the side of his neck, pulling down the collar just enough to reveal the faint purplish mark you’d left there earlier that day.
Jungwon’s cheeks flush a deep shade of pink, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes dart between you and the now-silent crew, utterly embarrassed but also relieved to have you there. The rest of the room goes wide-eyed, a mix of shock and sudden realization flooding their expressions.
The female idol visibly stiffens, retracting her hand from Jungwon’s shoulder, now clearly outmatched. She clears her throat and forces a smile, taking a step back. “Oh… I see,” she mutters under her breath, trying to play it off coolly, but the damage is done.
You smirk slightly, giving her one last glance before turning back to Jungwon. Your hand squeezes his arm a bit tighter, possessive but loving. Jungwon finally breaks into a small, relieved smile, the tension from before melting away as he looks at you with gratitude.
Leaning closer to him, you murmur teasingly, “Next time, don’t make me have to do this, okay?”
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© senascoop | tumblr
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demonic0angel · 6 months ago
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Assistant Jazz au!
Someone records a lovesick Red Hood just ranting about how women who can break him in half are stupidly sexy and posts it to social media. #RelatableRedHood is trending within the week.
(It got long bc I got excited 😭)
The first video goes like this: It starts off with a woman clad in tight leather and a black helmet single-handedly fighting against a group of five men. She fought like a beast, with weapons and guns and on the occasion, her legs as she kicked a man so hard that he had puked his guts out. At one point, she had picked up one by the neck and tossed him to the wall.
The phone camera, shaky and quiet, then turned to face the infamous Red Hood's side profile. He didn't seem to notice that he was being recorded. He had his hand on his helmet-covered chin as he then said, "Do you think if I ask, she'll kill me with her thighs?"
That was when the video cut off. It was posted at 1:32 AM in the morning by an anonymous account with only one tag #RelatableRedHood.
It went stupidly viral. After that, there were more and more videos with the same tag, taken in more and more ridiculous ways to avoid the Red Hood noticing. Gothamites, particular ones from Crime Alley, were all having a great time watching their resident crime lord vigilante make a fool of himself in front of his hot assistant, who hadn't shown any reaction to the recent fame she gained as the woman who owned the legs that could make Red Hood beg for death.
The #RelatableRedHood videos always featured the same thing. Wolf would go about her business and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, or Wolf would complete an impossibly awesome feat with her intelligence or skills in weaponry and fighting, and Red Hood would then absolutely lose his mind afterwards.
Viewers both agreed to his thoughts and laughed themselves silly as they watched the infamous crime lord show just how head over heels in love he was with his assistant. Reaction images and memes went viral as the Red Hood simped over his assistant.
Video after video popped up and they were all clearly taken by goons within the Red Hood's gang due to sheer proximity and brilliant timing. Although videos came out somewhat rarely, probably due to Red Hood's perceptiveness, Gothamites gobbled up each one eagerly.
It all reached to a peak when a livestream link from the Official Robins account was posted at midnight.
In it, the Red Hood could be seen ranting and raving to himself in his office, smacking his helmet-covered forehead. An invisible camera captured it all. "Dammit!! Where are these videos coming from?! Who the fuck keeps making them?!"
He was presumably on call because after a moment, he answered an inaudible voice with a shout, "Like hell I do! Of course take it down! Why the hell would I want Wolf to see them?! She doesn't even know my feelings for her!"
Another pause. And then, "I'm not going to confess!! Why would she even like me anyways?!"
Viewers felt sympathetic for their favorite crime lord, but curiously, the livestream did not end as Red Hood continued to pace and mutter to himself angrily.
Their questions were answered as the door to the room opened and Red Hood hurriedly sat down in his seat, looking up at the door. The camera then captured the sight of Wolf striding into the room. She held papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.
Red Hood, silent and tense, clicked on a button, presumably disconnecting the call and then reached for the things she was holding. Wolf avoided his hands, placing the items on the table before she detached part of her helmet and placing it next to the papers.
Both the viewers and Red Hood were confused. More images of Red Hood's bewildered posture on the livestream appeared on the internet with #RelatableRedHood, but people were still focused on Wolf's strange actions.
The camera did not reveal any part of Wolf's face as she left the disconnected piece of metal on the side . She went around Red Hood's desk and sat on his lap confidently as the Red Hood froze like a deer in headlights. She took off his helmet without any resistance, tossed it to the floor, and then grabbed him by the lapels to kiss him senseless.
Cheers and celebrations erupted all over Gotham City as if they had suddenly won the lottery.
Unbeknownst to the Gothamites who were nothing but civilian viewers obsessing over Red Hood and Wolf's romance, Red Robin and Oracle were celebrating in the Watchtower with the rest of the Batfamily, who were all cheering loudly as they closed the livestream and then celebrated for successfully bringing together their brother and his crush.
Mission: Fairytale Ending was a success!
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thesecondhandwoman · 6 months ago
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HEXED HEART
Ambessa x f!reader
Synopsis: Recently, Piltover has fallen weak ever since the hexcore stopped working, and the scientists who may have been able to fix it (Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor) had disappeared, leaving Ambessa frustrated. However, when she heard news of you, an intelligent scientist, possibly having the skills to fix it, she immediately took action. Even if it meant using a hint of sweet manipulation.
The remnants of Piltover smoldered under the weight of its own hubris. The once-bustling City of Progress was a shadow of itself, its streets quieter, its golden spires tarnished. The Hexcore had faltered, leaving the city vulnerable, its famed defenses useless.
In her laboratory perched high above the city, you worked tirelessly. The other brilliant minds—Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor—had all disappeared, leaving you to hold the fort. You were the last hope of Piltover, though the burden had grown suffocating. Every attempt to stabilize the Hexcore had failed. You stared at the latest iteration of your work, frustration and exhaustion gnawing at your edges.
The heavy thud of boots startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see soldiers, clad in Noxian red and black, entering your lab. At their helm was her. Ambessa Medarda, the warlord who cast a shadow wherever she walked. She was as commanding as the stories claimed—tall, statuesque, and radiating an aura of power that seemed to fill every inch of your lab.
She appraised you with sharp, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Piltover’s lone genius. Working herself into the ground to save this broken city.”
You squared your shoulders, attempting to summon the confidence that exhaustion had stripped away. “If you’ve come to ridicule me, I assure you, I don’t have the time.”
“Oh, I didn’t come to mock you,” she said, stepping closer. Her soldiers fanned out, blocking any potential escape routes. “I came because Piltover’s failures can serve Noxus. You can serve Noxus.”
Your blood chilled. “I don’t serve anyone.”
Ambessa chuckled, low and amused. “Not yet.” She closed the distance between you in a few strides, her imposing figure towering over yours. “But you will.”
Before you could retort, she reached out, her gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was startlingly gentle, disarming. You stiffened, but Ambessa merely tilted her head, her gaze softening, her smile turning warmer.
“You’re exhausted,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something softer, almost tender. “This city doesn’t deserve you. They’ve wrung you dry, haven’t they? And still, no thanks. No progress.”
Her words hit a nerve, and she saw it in the flicker of your expression.
“I—” you began, but her fingers against your jaw silenced you.
“You deserve better,” she said, her voice a near whisper now. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight. “A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on people who only know how to take. I can offer you more, darling. Resources. Freedom. Respect.”
You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at you—not with disdain or pity, but with something that felt dangerously like admiration.
“You just want to use me,” you said, though the words came out weaker than intended.
Ambessa smiled, a sly curve of her lips. “Of course, I do. But I’ll give you what Piltover never could. I’ll make you feel like the treasure you are.”
Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, her thumb brushing over your pulse. You were hyper-aware of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her as she leaned in. Her lips grazed the corner of your mouth, a ghost of a kiss, before trailing along your cheek to your ear.
“Do you feel it?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “The power we could wield together?”
You shivered despite yourself, torn between resistance and the allure of her promises. She was weaving a net around you, each touch, each word drawing you tighter.
Her hand slid down to your shoulder, her fingers kneading gently, soothing the tension that had built from days—no, weeks—of relentless pressure. You hated how easily she read you, how her touch seemed to draw out the ache you’d buried beneath sheer determination.
“I don’t… I can’t just abandon Piltover,” you stammered, though the conviction in your voice wavered.
Ambessa chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression equal parts understanding and predatory.
“Who said anything about abandoning them?” she cooed, tracing her fingers along the edge of your collarbone. “Think of it as… redirecting your efforts. Piltover has taken everything from you. Why not take something back?”
Her lips ghosted over your temple, and you felt a strange, heady mix of indignation and desire. Every instinct screamed to resist, to fight back against her intoxicating manipulation. But her words had rooted themselves in your mind, growing like thorns around your resolve.
She pressed closer, her presence overwhelming as her other hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw power she emanated.
“I see the brilliance in you,” she murmured. “The kind of brilliance that could reshape the world. But brilliance needs the right soil to grow, and Piltover has done nothing but starve you.”
Her lips found your jawline, a soft, lingering kiss that left your heart pounding. You hated how your breath hitched, how her words sank deeper, wrapping themselves around your doubts and frustrations like a vice.
“I could give you everything,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Imagine a lab equipped with anything you could dream of. Resources, soldiers to protect you, and the freedom to create without petty councils and politics dragging you down.”
You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind. “And what would you demand in return?”
Ambessa leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, her smirk sharp but her eyes still softened with that feigned tenderness. “Only your cooperation. Your brilliance, dedicated to something greater than this dying city.” Her hand slid down your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “And, of course, you—with all your fire and passion. A partner. An ally.”
Her lips found your wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there. It was such an intimate gesture that it left you reeling.
“You’re lying,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.
Ambessa smiled again, her confidence unshaken. “I never lie, darling. I may manipulate, I may seduce, but I always tell the truth.” She lifted your hand to her lips, brushing another kiss over your knuckles. “You’ll see. The only chains you’ll wear with me are the ones you choose.”
You trembled, torn between the iron will you’d cultivated in solitude and the dangerous allure of her promises. Her every touch, every word, was carefully calculated, but there was a kernel of sincerity in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.
And then, her tone shifted, low and husky, her lips brushing against your ear. “Or you can stay here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a mockery so subtle it felt like silk slipping over a blade. “Alone. Frustrated. Watching this city crumble around you while you waste away in obscurity.”
The weight of her words settled over you like a storm cloud. The enormity of your failure, the futility of your work, pressed down harder than ever.
Ambessa saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes and leaned in, her lips brushing over your cheek again, her hands sliding to your waist. “Don’t think of it as surrender,” she whispered. “Think of it as liberation.”
Her lips finally found yours, soft and coaxing, her hands firm yet tender as they held you in place. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her touch, the relentless pull of her presence.
When she finally pulled back, her smirk returned, triumphant but still laced with that maddening, feigned care.
“Take your time,” she said, stepping away as if to give you the illusion of choice. “But know this—I won’t wait forever. And neither will Piltover.”
She turned, her soldiers falling into step behind her, and the door shut with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the silence of your lab.
Your knees buckled as you leaned against the nearest table, your mind spinning. You hated her, hated how easily she unraveled you. But you couldn’t deny the truth in her words.
And deep down, you wondered if the world Ambessa promised might be worth the price of your pride.
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The silence of your lab was suffocating in the wake of her departure. You stood there, still trembling, your hand resting against the edge of your desk as if it might hold you together. You could still feel her touch, lingering like a brand on your skin, a reminder of the impossible decision she had presented.
Stay… or go?
You hadn’t realized how much you had needed an escape, how desperately you had longed for someone to see you beyond your failures. Ambessa had touched that part of you with ruthless precision. She had peeled away your pride, exposed the vulnerability that you’d spent so long burying beneath equations and inventions.
And now, you stood at the precipice of something you had once sworn to avoid.
The thought of continuing alone in Piltover, watching everything you had worked for crumble—your research, your hopes—seemed unbearable. The weight of it all crashed down on you like a ton of stone. Ambessa’s words, laced with promises of power, resources, and recognition, were beginning to sound like the only way out.
You closed your eyes, feeling your resolve slip through your fingers like sand.
Her touch had been gentle. Too gentle, and that had terrified you. She was a master at breaking down walls, and the way she had looked at you, with a mixture of admiration and something darker, had set your pulse racing. You had wanted her to touch you.
No, you needed her to touch you.
No more endless days in solitude. No more futile attempts at saving a city that didn’t care.
With a shaky breath, you made your decision.
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Later that night, you stood before the door to Ambessa’s private quarters, your hands clammy, heart hammering. You’d walked here with purpose, though the journey had felt like an eternity. Every step had only brought you closer to the inevitable—an alliance forged in the heat of desperation. You knocked once, and the door opened before you could even pull your hand back.
Ambessa stood there, her expression unreadable as her eyes traveled over you.
“You’ve come.” Her voice was steady, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hinted at the satisfaction of a predator about to claim its prize.
You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show. “I’m here,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt, “because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
Ambessa stepped aside, her lips curling into a smile. “I knew you would come around.”
As you entered, the lavish, dimly lit room seemed almost too luxurious for someone like you, but there was something intoxicating about it. The rich silks, the scent of something sweet and foreign in the air—everything spoke of power and control, the very things you had been so desperate to grasp.
Ambessa closed the door behind you with a soft click, and then she turned to face you, her eyes now intense with anticipation. “Tell me, darling… what is it you truly desire?” she asked, her voice low and coaxing.
You hesitated, but only for a second. Then the truth spilled from your lips. “I want to be… seen.”
Ambessa stepped toward you, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I see you,” she purred. “I see you more clearly than anyone ever has.” She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek with deliberate slowness, as though savoring the moment. “And now, I’ll make sure you’re never unseen again.”
She cupped your face gently, tilting your chin upward, and her gaze softened, as though she were savoring the power of the moment. “You were always meant for something greater than this city. But you needed a catalyst… someone to help you realize your true potential.”
Her touch was almost tender, but the undercurrent of control never left. She leaned in, her lips brushing your forehead with a softness that contrasted the fire in her eyes.
“I can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice filled with honeyed persuasion.
A heat bloomed in your chest, rising to your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the burning spark of surrender. Every part of you that had been torn between resistance and the seductive pull of her power now bent toward the inevitable.
You nodded, the words tumbling out in a quiet confession, “I’ll help...”
Ambessa’s lips curled into a triumphant, almost possessive smile. “Good.” She leaned in, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and consuming. It was gentle at first, a slow burn that deepened with every press of her lips, every brush of her tongue. She held you with an intensity that made your knees weak, her hands roaming with practiced care, tracing your sides, your back, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of her body against yours.
When she pulled back, breathless but satisfied, her fingers trailed down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation through you. “You belong to me now,” she said softly, her voice wrapped in a possessive sweetness. “And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”
You trembled, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long while, you realized you didn’t mind. You were hers. Completely.
In her arms, under her gaze, you were no longer the scientist who had failed. You were a tool—her tool—ready to be shaped and molded into something greater, something powerful. You had agreed, out of weakness, yes—but in that weakness, you had found something that felt like freedom.
And as Ambessa’s lips met your skin once more, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, you wondered if this, this was what it meant to truly be seen.
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12amintoronto · 2 months ago
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𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ... kylian mbappé x reader 📱🤍
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wc: 1.5k
synopsis: you're on the phone with your best friend that you can't hang up on as she runs to you about the dire status of her situationship, but it's difficult to focus when your boyfriend, kylian, is all over you.
contents: fluff, sfw, kisses (lips, cheek, neck, you name it my friend), female reader, touchy, oc who is y/n's best friend
notes: because i felt the calling to write something for kyky 🩵🩵 i think he is so fine. showing one of my fav frenchies some loveee
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it was madness on the other line... to the point where it made you really stop and think and just look around, thinking to yourself; "damn, i'm grateful i haven't run into guy trouble this bad..."
you sighed as you listened to your best friend on the other end of the phone who was caught up in a whirlwind of frustration with her current situationship.
still, she's your best friend - and you're happy that she can confide in you when things go south, so there you were, offering whichever little pieces of advice you have to your bestie, as you were curled up on the sofa with a blanket over your legs, as you wore one of your man's t-shirts that was much too big on you... having sips of your tea in steady intervals.
you murmured just the right responses as she went onto you about this guy. you listened intently and hummed in total agreement when she was speaking.
it was your mission to help your best friend out.
that was until your boyfriend, kylian, had come downstairs, approaching you, having just come out of the shower - topless with a a pair of nike sweats on.
you had to pay attention to your friend though, so you just smiled and batted your lashes at him flirtatiously, since you still had to let him know that he looks insanely good.
if only you'd known that doing so was gonna be a big mistake.
your nonchalant flit of your lashes was enough to make kylian smirk... it was enough for him to be fully convinced that he's got your attention now.
lord, you could catch the scent of his ridiculously expensive cologne from where you were sitting.
he strides on over to you, as his sexy smirk had turned into a soft bite of his bottom lip while he took the sight of you in as he got closer to you. kylian didn't say a word while doing so... he just lowered himself down close to you on the sofa, and rested his head in your lap, seeking the soothing feeling of your fingers on his nape.
you mouthed silently to him as you momentarily held your phone away from your ear - "behave, baby."
kylian? he just smirked.
you rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you turned your attention back to your best friend who was on the other line, continuing to spill the tea.
"no, yeah. like... i totally get it," you told her, determined to stay this attentive to her predicament, which sounded pretty dire - or she at least made it sound like that was so...
"...honestly, girl... he's not even worth your time. he's just been playing games, it's not cool one bit."
you said it plain and simple, feeling a pang of pride at your skills in giving relationship advice.
but a sensation graced you just then so well in a way that make you nearly lose grip of your phone.
kylian had shifted in the slightest to press a tender kiss near the inside of your thigh.
"no, y/n... you've got business to take care of on the phone here..." you told yourself in your thoughts, the only person able to hear that being you.
"like... if he seriously cared, then you wouldn't doubt him. you wouldn't feel stressed being in the position that you're in. you'd be- ah..."
your words... your entire train of thought was halted, no... more like completely obliterated already as kylian only began to kiss up your thigh, higher, higher...
"you there? you okay?" your best friend asked on the other end.
"...yeah. he's just... not worth the bother, girl..." you trailed.
as kylian was deliberately pressing those soft, slow, lazy kisses up your leg, inching closer to alongside your hip... you glared at him in a way that said stop it right now. he, on the other hand, looked up at you with a smug grin and let out a soft chuckle as he went back to practically worshipping you with his lips.
you wanted to be a good friend and hear your bestie on the other line out.
kylian made it an incredibly difficult task.
but lord, you would be lying to yourself if you said you actually wanted him to stop. he was challenging your task at hand... the attention given between him and your best friend on the line becoming less divisive...
because he was stealing it all.
kylian's starting to enjoy this too much. his fingers slyly made way to hook right at the hem of the t-shirt you wore, which was much too large for you considering that it is his after all.
once he sat up so that he could press his lips to your collarbone, simultaneously lifting your top by the bottom hem... you couldn't conceal the hitch of your breath.
"y/n." your best friend said... now more sternly.
"i'm paying attention, yeah-! right, go on-"
you swear that kylian is gonna be the death of you, all because of this moment.
"i don't know what to do anymore. i think i should just give up on guys... for good. once and for all."
kylian kept up the teasing touches... his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your waist that was covered by the t-shirt only seconds ago. you were barely there on call, anymore. but you had to focus, focus, focus...
you started, "no, girl... don't say that, you just-"
and at that exact moment that your sentence was cut off, it was all kylian's fault. then and there... you felt his lips press gently below your ear. your weak spot.
what were you left to do?
you pressed your thighs together as he kissed you there... you couldn't help but whine just a little bit.
and you knew you couldn't do anything about it now that your best friend had heard.
"wait- are you okay? you sound weird." she asked.
"oh, nothing- i just... shifted the wrong way on the couch." you managed to speak.
you could feel kylian chuckling softly, his lips still lingering just beneath your ear. lord, you wanna kill him! but him? he doesn't care. he only wants you... as if he even has to tell you, for the way he's been kissing you for the past bit has made it more than clear.
kylian's lips grazed the shell of your ear... before finally speaking to you in a hushed, sultry tone.
"hang up, bébé."
you exhaled deeply, coming to terms.
the more your french man coerced you into a trance, the less help you were being to your best friend on the other line. you were seriously losing this battle.
you looked at yourself... barely there as your friend went on about how she thinks she should at least take a break from guys.
kylian's palms splayed across your body... one hand with a firm grip on your thigh... the other hand's fingers splayed across your belly. he didn't even need to put into words how much he could just devour you here and now, for his look did all the talking needed.
your man had you absolutely finished.
"hey, you know, let me call you back in a few minutes. i just remembered i need to go and take care of something." you lied, proceeding to just pray and hope your friend would let you go.
"alright... don't take forever though, girl. do your thing. seeya!" she replied.
immediately, the pad of your thumb darted to tap the red circular button on your touchscreen that'd hang up the call.
and just when you were about to deliver all the scolding you had pent up...
kylian swiftly captured your lips with his own, kissing you hungrily, yet with a tender, soft sort of passion behind it all. you melted into it, as you could feel his fingers pressing into the skin of your waist like he was deprived of you like never before.
he moaned into your mouth quietly before pulling away just barely, your lips still brushing his.
"you are soooo..." you started
"you were taking too long, ma belle." he murmured softly against your lips. "just needed your attention."
you laughed to yourself softly and brought your hand right back to the first place that you had touched him this morning - the nape of his neck. "you're so annoying, kyky."
"and you love me. i felt you folding under all the pressure~" kylian quipped, quickly pulling you into his lap with one swift movement of his strong arms around you, only making you blush more as you straddled him... he kept one hand splayed on your thigh, squeezing lovingly.
"babeeee..." you complained, the sarcasm in your voice obvious, because let's face it... why would you ever want kylian's fine self to stop? your gaze soon met his again.
with that, he planted another loving kiss to your lips... giving another soft squeeze to your thigh.
"mmmh... your friend's not getting a call back from you any time soon, bébé."
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lupinluvbot · 16 days ago
Text
delivery
pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: after moving into his new apartment, bucky barnes is still adjusting to modern day civilian life. but when a small mistake with a food delivery leads to a tense (and sarcastic) encounter with a neighbor, things take an unexpected turn.
word count: 1,206
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“About damn time,” Bucky muttered under his breath, setting down the last cardboard box with a soft grunt. The edges were fraying, and it had nearly split in half during the climb up the stairs. He stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by mismatched furniture, open boxes, and the ever-present scent of new paint. The walls were bare. The silence was too loud.
He rolled his shoulders, joints popping as he stretched. The day had been nothing but a haze of unboxing, sorting, and regretting every life decision that led him to think he could move without help. His left arm, though reliable, wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to delicately handling fragile objects. Two mugs and a cereal bowl had already paid the price.
Still, the apartment was his. Really his. No underground base. No shared safe house. No rotating roommates with trigger fingers and haunted eyes. Just him, a half-unpacked apartment in Brooklyn, and Alpine—his fluffy, temperamental white cat—who was currently sprawled out on the one sunny patch of floor like she owned the place.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Bucky muttered, stepping over her on his way to the kitchen. “You haven’t paid rent.”
Alpine flicked her tail and offered him a slow blink, as if to say, You’re lucky I haven’t left you yet.
He grumbled something under his breath but couldn’t suppress the faint tug of a smile. He poured himself a glass of water, took a long sip, and leaned back against the counter. His stomach growled. Loudly. A reminder that, despite everything, he was still human—still needed sustenance.
The fridge was depressingly empty. A few bottles of water, half a carton of almond milk, and a suspicious-looking Tupperware container he didn’t remember packing. His lip curled in disgust.
Delivery it was.
Bucky settled into the couch, Alpine hopping up beside him and curling into a tight ball against his thigh. She let out a soft purr when he absently stroked her head, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled through endless takeout options. His mouth watered just looking at the pictures.
He spent more time than necessary building the perfect order—extra rice, extra guac, no sour cream, and a ridiculous number of churros. It was stupid, but it felt like the first real luxury he’d allowed himself in months. Maybe years.
He hit submit, tossing the phone aside and heading to the shower.
By the time he emerged—steam following him into the hallway—he felt marginally more human. Hair damp, black t-shirt clinging to his chest, Alpine meowing impatiently near the door. She was always the first to detect any sound outside, ears twitching like tiny radar dishes.
“You hear something?” he asked, crouching beside her.
A moment passed.
The doorbell rang.
“Finally,” Bucky grumbled, grabbing his wallet from the counter and striding toward the door with all the energy of a man expecting glory on the other side. He yanked it open, hand outstretched—and froze.
The delivery bag was there, sure. But the person holding it? Not the expected disinterested teenager in a branded baseball cap.
It was you.
You looked thoroughly unimpressed, holding the bag out stiffly like it offended you to touch it. A streak of wind pushed your hair back, and Bucky noticed the way your jaw was clenched, your brows raised in utter disbelief.
“There,” you said flatly.
Without thinking, he snatched the bag out of your hands with a grumble. “Took you long enough.”
You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He was already halfway through shutting the door when you stuck your foot in it, stopping the frame just inches from slamming shut.
“Hold on,” you snapped, pointing at him with a finger that might as well have been a dagger. “Before you disappear into your brooding cave, you might want to check the delivery slip, jackass.”
His brow furrowed. He looked down at the paper stapled to the bag—and there it was. Wrong apartment number. You lived in 4B. He lived in 5B. He’d put your address.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” you said, folding your arms. “Exactly. I’ve been waiting for my own food, and instead this lands on my doorstep with no explanation and a guy with a Terminator arm yanking it out of my hands like I’m the one who made a mistake.”
“I didn’t—” Bucky paused, glanced at you, and sighed. He ran a hand through his damp hair, guilt creeping into his gut. “You’re right. I messed up.”
You gave him a look—pointed, cutting, but not entirely hostile. He deserved it.
“Look…” he shifted awkwardly in the doorway, the bag of food hanging at his side. “You hungry?”
Your brow arched.
“I mean… you came all the way up here. Technically it was your door. And it’s a lot of food. Probably too much. And—” he hesitated, glancing down the hallway and then back at you, “I feel like a dick.”
A beat passed. Then two.
You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But if you try to murder me, I’m calling the cops.”
“Deal,” Bucky said, stepping aside.
Alpine was still perched on the armrest when you walked in, watching you like a feline guard dog. You blinked down at her.
“She yours?”
“Alpine,” Bucky said, setting the food down on the coffee table. “She bites if she doesn’t like you.”
“Comforting.”
“She bit Sam once. Drew blood. I was so proud.”
That made you laugh—a small, startled sound that seemed to surprise even you. Bucky smirked, handing you a container of tacos and a drink.
You both sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder but not quite touching, Alpine still keeping her distance. Conversation was stilted at first—comments about the food, complaints about the building, awkward silences—but slowly, the rhythm returned.
You found out he’d just moved in. He learned you’d lived here for three years. You liked plants; he killed them. You worked nights; he didn’t sleep much. He told you about Alpine—sort of rescued, sort of adopted—and you told him about the stray orange cat you’d been feeding in the alley.
Halfway through your churro, you asked, “So, Bucky… what exactly do you do?”
He paused, churro halfway to his mouth. “Uh… freelance.”
You stared at him.
“Security consulting.”
“Mmhm.”
“With occasional… combat.”
You laughed again, more freely this time. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Better than I used to be.”
By the time the food was gone and Alpine had hopped into your lap, the tension had vanished entirely. You glanced at the clock and stood with a stretch.
“I should go,” you said reluctantly. “But, thanks for the tacos. And the almost door-slam.”
He stood, too, walking you to the door.
“I owe you one.”
You grinned. “Next time, double-check your damn address.”
As you disappeared down the hall, Bucky lingered by the doorway, watching until you turned the corner.
Alpine rubbed against his leg, meowing pointedly.
“I know, I know,” he muttered, bending down to scoop her up. “She was cute, wasn’t she?”
Alpine purred.
And for the first time in a long time, Bucky smiled like it meant something.
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katsu28 · 8 months ago
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summer's golden haze - chapter two
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: backyard barbecues, the local market, and an unexpected discovery that has you wondering what exactly you may have just gotten yourself into. (5k)
warnings: angst (this early on, i know i'm sorry but it's for the plot i promise <3), lando and max f bickering like an old married couple
a/n: she's here!!!! sorry it took a little longer than expected but i hope you all enjoy this chapter :) pls feel free to come chat in my asks if you want to, i'd love to hear what everyone think about it so far!
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“Are these guys rich or something?”
Camille voices exactly the thought running through your mind as you roll to a stop to the address Lando had texted you yesterday, gawking out at the sprawling acreage in front of you. 
You peer at the impressive villa through the windshield, taking in everything with baited breath. She’s absolutely right. 
This house has to be two, if not three times the size of the one you’re all staying at, and that’s just what you can see so far. Vines bursting with colorful flowers crawl up white stone walls, curling around trellises of even more foliage, shutters on huge windows. There’s even a massive fountain in the middle of the courtyard, pristine marble, spewing crystal clear water in streams. 
It’s a classic old money countryside villa—worth millions, you assume, not even taking in the gathering of vintage and expensive sports cars parked along the cobblestone driveway. You suddenly feel so, so small compared to the extravagance of just the exterior of the place. 
Who are these people? 
A guy with brown curls similar to Lando’s pulls open the door when you ring the bell, in the middle of yelling something at someone further inside the house, before turning his gaze on you all. His face lights up in recognition at the sight of you. “Oh, hey, you’re the girl Lando won’t shut up about! I’m Max, but I’m sure he’s told you all about me, hasn’t he?” 
So this is Max. Lando’s told you a little about him, but mainly just funny stories. You wonder if Max knows his best friend is going around telling girls he’s just met about the time Max walked into a glass sliding door. 
“A little bit, not much. It’s nice to put a face to the name though!” You say politely. 
Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head in faux disappointment. He and Lando must be close. “I’m the best part of his life, and he doesn’t think to share it! What a knob. Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourselves at home!” 
He ushers you all inside, leading you through the house and out huge double French doors leading to the backyard. The rest of their group sits on couches gathered around a stone fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting amongst themselves until they see you all coming. Max does the introductions between your two groups, but there’s one person missing. The one person you were looking forward to seeing again is nowhere to be found. 
Max must notice how your eyes search for Lando, because he grins knowingly. “He’ll be out in a bit. Work called.” 
“Oh, what does he do?” Samira chimes in. You fight the urge to throw a stone at her, because you know what she’s doing. She’s getting information on Lando because you haven’t got the guts to do it yourself yet. 
“Has he not told you yet?” Max raises a brow, taking a sip of his drink. When you shake your head, he presses his lips together, like he’s debating whether or not to tell you himself. “Yeah, sorry, I think I’m gonna stay out of this one. He gets pissy when I meddle with his budding relationships.” 
Budding relationship. Your face flames hot at the insinuation, but Samira takes it in stride, raising a skeptical brow. 
“What, is he in the mafia or something?” 
“‘Course not, that’s ridiculous. Pretty boy like him, he’d never make it in the mafia,” Max snorts. “No, he’s…look, it’s not really my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” 
Lando materializes from inside at that very moment, brows furrowed. There’s a tic going off in his jaw and he looks a little pissed off about something, but as soon as he looks up and sees that there’s company, he composes himself in a split second. 
“Hey, guys!” He chirps, hand raising in a wave. He makes his way over to where you all are, plopping down in the empty spot beside you without hesitation. “Glad you could make it.” 
“Thanks for the invite,” Maren replies, ever the polite one. “And the coffee yesterday.” 
Max makes an offended noise from the back of his throat at his friend. “You bought them coffee yesterday? Where was mine? You never buy me coffee.” 
“Mate, you don’t even drink coffee!” 
“Maybe I would if you bought it for me!” 
The two boys continue to bicker with each other in the same way all evening, which leads you to believe this is just how they are with one another. It gives Lando another dimension in your mind, and you like it.
There are a handful of common interests amongst your friends and Lando’s, ones that spark conversation immediately. As the night goes on, it feels like you’ve all been friends for a while, and you’re glad. Part of you was worried things would be awkward between everyone, but thankfully that isn’t the case.
It passes the time quicker than you expect. Soon enough it’s nearing midnight and you’re close to nodding off onto Lando’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake and looped into the ongoing conversation despite the sleep threatening to overtake you.
It certainly doesn’t help that he exudes warmth from where you’ve wound up pressed against each other on the small couch. You turn your head to look at him, to take in the little details of him. The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. The smattering of moles across his face and neck.
One wayward curl hangs over his forehead, and you want to reach out, brush it away. You don’t think you’re quite at that stage of comfort with each other yet, but then he tears his attention away from the rest of the group and meets your gaze with what you can only describe as pure fondness dripping from his lazy grin. 
“You alright?” He says softly, shifting his body to face you a little more. 
You nod, because you’re more than alright. For the first time in a while, everything feels just the way it should be. “Are you?” 
“Hm?” Lando replies noncommittally, sipping his drink. “Fine, why?” 
“Earlier, after your phone call, you seemed…upset. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to see if everything was alright.” 
“Oh, that? Nah, that was nothing, just my boss. Wanted to talk work stuff, but I wasn’t feeling it, y’know?” He shrugs. It feels like there’s more to what he’s saying, but you don’t want to push too hard. You’re still familiarizing yourself with him. “You’re sweet to check on me, though.” 
“Okay. But if you, um, if you need to talk or anything, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Lando traces a finger briefly over the thin strap of your dress, just over your shoulder, before dropping his chin into his palm. You already know he’s about to change the subject. Involuntarily, you shiver at his touch, and he definitely notices, because he suddenly looks a little smug.
“Pretty dress,” He hums, tilting his head. 
You weren't trying to make a good impression on Lando, but you weren't exactly not trying, if that makes sense. It doesn't really make sense to you, but you’d gone for cute but comfy with a dress you’d borrowed, hoping it says you’d made an effort, but not too much of one. 
Suddenly you can’t remember what you were just thinking about not being at a certain stage of comfort with one another. Is it weird that you're secretly pleased he liked it enough to mention it?
“It’s not mine,” You say softly. Lando lets out a noise of question. “I borrowed it from Maren.” 
“Ah. Well, you should definitely get one for yourself then. It’s a nice color on you.” 
You want to say thank you, or really just say anything at all, but the moment your gaze flicks back up to his, you’re lost in his eyes again. Everything around you blurs into the background until it feels like it’s just the two of you. You’re teetering on the edge of something, and fuck, it would be so easy to just go over. To let yourself fall and fall and fall into his waiting arms at the bottom. 
Suddenly you hear your own voice in your head.
Don’t get attached. 
Clearing your throat, you pull back from Lando as smooth as you can manage with him muddling up your brain like this. “It’s late. We should get going,” You say, a tad louder than necessary. 
“She’s right,” Camille chimes in, taking note of the slight urgency in your tone. “We’ve got a guided hike in the morning—sunrise, can you believe it?” 
Lando’s mouth dips into a tiny frown for a moment, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. He nods understandingly. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” 
You all say your goodbyes and thank you’s, to which the boys wholeheartedly agree you should all do this again sometime before you part ways. 
Lando trails behind a bit like he’s unsure, but catches up to you quickly on the way out, shoulder bumping against yours lightly as you fall into step with each other. His hand brushes yours and lingers a little, pinkies almost intertwining. 
“Tonight was nice,” He says casually. 
“Yeah, it was,” You agree, bobbing your head. 
“Would you—I dunno, maybe want to hang out again?”
“With you guys? ‘Course we would, I’m sure the girls would love to.” You smile, casting a glance at your friends. They’ve all coincidentally already gotten into the car, but if you squint hard enough you can see them gawking at Lando and yourself through the windshield.
How very not subtle of them. 
Lando rocks on the balls of his feet almost nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No, I meant, like…just the two of us.” 
“You mean, like, alone?” 
“A date. I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” He blurts, nose scrunching. “And failing miserably apparently.” 
“Oh!” You feel your face burn hot, yet you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. You’re about to take him up on the offer, but before you can say a word, another voice pops into the conversation. 
“Yes! She says yes! Whatever you’re asking, her answer is yes!” Samira yells through the window enthusiastically, muffled through the glass but still very audible.
Neither you nor Lando can stop the laughs that escape your mouths, especially when you turn around and all three girls are shooting you excited thumbs ups. 
“Guess that’s settled then,” You giggle, turning back to face him. 
“It’s a date.” He pushes forward, catching you by surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. As cliche as it sounds, the touch of his lips against your skin, although fleeting, sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. “I’ll text you later to plan, yeah? Get home safe.” 
He waits for you to pull around the circular driveway, and as his waving form gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of hope worms its way through you. 
In the back of your mind, you know you should keep it in check. This could be totally casual. A short summer fling that won’t hurt anyone no matter how it ends. But maybe, just maybe, it could turn into something more. 
-------
Your schedules don't end up giving you a free afternoon together until a few days later, though you come to realize it only makes you look forward to seeing Lando again even more. 
You're supposed to be meeting him at the local market in the center of town at half past one, but you find yourself there early, wanting to get a lay of the land before he gets there.
Evidently Lando had the same idea, because you spot him within the first few steps into the open air marketplace, squatting next to a stand with crates and buckets of bright flowers. He’s already got a bouquet clutched in his hands, but still he browses through the different bunches. 
“Flowers for Max?” You joke. 
Lando shoots to his feet so fast he nearly hits his head on the lightbulb hanging above, only managing to miss it by mere inches as he startles at the sudden voice. When he realizes it’s just you, he snorts with laughter. “He wishes! They’re for you, actually.” 
“Me?” 
“Yeah, you,” He says teasingly. You don’t even know what to say. Flowers on the first date might be normal, yet nobody’s ever done it for you before. You’re touched, but he must take your silence as something else, because his smile drops the tiniest bit. “Unless you see something you like better? I can still put these back.” 
You study the flowers he’s picked out already. A little on the smaller side, it boasts a beautiful mix of both soft and brighter colors while still being simple—it’s exactly the sort of thing you would’ve chosen if you were buying flowers for yourself. “They’re perfect.” 
He pays for the flowers and passes them over to you with the biggest smile on his face, one that grows even bigger when you tuck them carefully into the crook of your arm after giving the delicate blossoms a sniff. 
You notice the camera hanging around his neck at that moment, despite knowing close to nothing about golf, you do know a thing or two about photography. “Golfer and photographer? Impressive.” 
“Amateur at best.” 
“Oh, I’m sure you're just being modest.” 
“Not even a little bit. I just enjoy taking pictures of things I like.” 
He swings around to face you fully, bringing the camera up to his eye and pausing only a second to make sure you're in focus before snapping a photo of you. The shutter clicks twice before you have the sense to hold up a hand out in front of you, a surprised laugh spilling from your mouth. Even then he grins, takes another one before lowering the camera. "What, you don't like having your photo taken?" 
“I’m just not very photogenic!” 
Lando scoffs immediately, shooting you a pointed look. “That is such a lie.” 
“I probably just broke your fancy expensive camera,” You joke. 
“We’ll just have to wait til I get it developed and see. I think it’ll turn out wonderful.” 
“And if it doesn’t?” 
“I’ll buy you dinner. If I’m right, then…you let me buy you dinner.” 
You let out a noise of surprise. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, does it? You’d have to buy me dinner either way.” 
“I can think of worse things than taking a pretty girl out for a nice meal.” His words take you by surprise, but judging by the smug grin on his face, Lando takes pride in eliciting a reaction from you. “Shall we?” And just like that, he’s sauntering off down the path like he didn’t just leave you at a loss for words, pep in his step even as he turns around to shoot you a roguish smile. “You coming or what?” 
You push aside the fluttering in your chest, giving your head an amused shake before catching up with him. It’s cute that he thinks he’s funny. Even cuter that he seems rather eager to take you out on a second date before the first one has even started. 
The two of you wander through the market aimlessly, stopping here and there at various stalls to have a look around. If you had the means, you’d buy everything you see. You wind up picking up some gorgeous looking fruit and a bottle of locally pressed wine, a few small souvenirs for your family back home, but the most important thing you buy isn’t even for you. 
Lando had lingered at a stall selling handmade jewelry early on, seemingly interested in a woven bracelet of blues and whites, but didn't pick it up. Part of you wonders why, but it sparks an idea in your head. 
You tug at Lando’s arm lightly, smiling guiltily when he turns to look at you. “I think I left my phone at that fruit stand a few stalls back.” 
“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, you muppet,” He chides, shaking his head fondly. “C’mon, let’s find it.” 
“No, I can get it. Why don’t you find us something good for lunch? I’m starving.” 
“Are you sure?” Lando cocks his head, shoulder bumping against yours. “I don’t mind.” 
“I’ll be right back,” You promise. To sweeten the deal, you make the bold move of pressing a kiss to his cheek. He freezes under your touch, but you pass it off as him not expecting it and being taken by surprise. “Two minutes, okay? Maybe less.” 
As soon as you confirm he isn’t paying any attention to you, you slip back through the crowd, finding the same stall and buying the bracelet he’d been looking at. You tuck it safely into your pocket, quickly making your way back to Lando before he realizes you’ve been gone long and comes looking for you. 
“All good?” He asks upon noticing you reappear by his side. 
You wiggle your phone in the air. “Never better. What's for lunch?” 
Lando grins happily, reciting the spiel that the very friendly older man at the food stand gave to him when he’d decided on the delicious looking food. Sure, maybe he stumbles over his pronunciation a little bit, but you find his giggled embarrassment sweet. 
You find a semi-secluded bench a little jaunt away to enjoy your food, and you do enjoy it. You think it might be one of the best things you’ve ever had, and when you tell Lando, he looks pleasantly surprised. As you continue to savor every bite, Lando’s eyes light up with amusement, so much so that you wonder what’s suddenly got him all smiling big like this. 
“What?” You say incredulously. 
He gestures to the lower part of his face. “You’ve got a little…” 
Mortified, you mirror his actions on your own face, searching for the food you’ve somehow gotten smudged on your chin. After a few tries that have him shaking his head, you whine, “Help me, please?”, to which he obliges with a soft chuckle. He reaches out, thumb rubbing at the corner of your mouth briefly. 
This moment almost seems too intimate, but then again, so have a lot of moments between the two of you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve still got something on your face, but then his gaze flicks down to your lips again almost imperceptibly, and you have an inkling of what’s about to happen. 
“Did you get it?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you break the silence, but it's definitely not because you don’t want him to kiss you. If you think about it, you’ve wanted Lando to kiss you this whole time. 
“Yeah. Yeah, I got it," He replies. His hand lingers, long fingers splaying flat under the curve of your jaw now. You surprise yourself by shifting forward slightly, as if encouraging Lando to close the gap. He leans in closer and closer still, and your eyes fall shut on their own accord, heartbeat hammering against your rib cage. 
You nearly melt the moment his lips touch yours, held up only by the firm grasp of his hand cupping your face. It’s a little awkward with the food in between the two of you blocking you from pushing closer to him, but you make it work, reaching over it to wrap your fingers around Lando’s forearm. You feel like you need it to ground yourself, because holy shit, you’re kissing him. 
Well, more like he’s kissing you, because you’re definitely not the one leading the way. Lando kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by how you feel weak in the knees when you’re not even standing, he does know exactly what he’s doing. 
You’re falling, falling, falling, getting lost in him, until��� 
“Wait, hang on,” He breathes, pulling away. Your eyes flutter open in an almost dazed sort of way, focusing on him in hopes of finding him in the same state, but all you’re met with is…guilt? Sadness? Shame? Maybe a mixture of everything, you’re not sure. All you know is that it has your heart plummeting in your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 
Everything hits you at once, and suddenly you’re crashing back down to reality. Lando thinks kissing you was a mistake. You were so sure he liked you back, sure enough to go on a date with him, and now here you are with egg on your face, feeling unbelievably stupid. Hurt. 
“I’m gonna—I have to go,” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, you just need to get out of here, get away from Lando before you spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment. 
His hand encircles your wrist before you can make it even a step away. 
“No, no, don’t! Please, just let me…let me explain. I promise things will all make sense in a second, if you’ll just hear me out,” He says pleadingly. Despite your better judgment, you sit back down, expression guarded. Lando blows out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Look, I like you. I really like you, and I wish things were as simple as that, but there’s things I’ve not told you. Things that, if you knew, you might not want to be with me.” 
You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, burying your burning face into your hands with a muffled groan. “Oh my god, you are in the mafia, aren’t you?” 
“The—what?” Lando blurts, sounding wildly confused. “No, I’m not, I’m not in the mafia. Are you mad? I’m a Formula 1 driver!” 
You crack one eye open, then the other. “Formula 1.” You repeat, disbelieving. “Like, the racing thing?”  
He nods enthusiastically, tells you everything—how his childhood dream turned into a career, how he gets to travel all around the world doing what he loves. The fame, the lifestyle, the opportunities he’s worked so hard for, all while sounding entirely humble and grateful for everything and everyone who’ve gotten him to where he is today. 
It’s impressive, to say the least. The fact that he’s still fairly young and has already accomplished more than what some people have in a whole lifetime. Then he gets to how the chaos that doing what he does at the level he does it at wreaks havoc on other parts of his life, and you feel a wave of sympathy roll over you. 
The tradeoff for all that success is not getting to have a normal life in almost every aspect, and given the downward set of his brow as he tells you about it, this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation with someone. 
“It makes being in a relationship…difficult, is the best way I can describe it. I’m never in one place more than a week most times, and the whole time zones thing makes it harder too. And after these two weeks are up, I’m already off to somewhere else, jumping right back into the second half of the season and hitting the ground running.” 
Realization hits you like a truck at this point, and you have to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Of course Lando is who he is. Of course you had to form a connection with someone with a life as complicated and as far away from your own as possible, someone who couldn’t be in a normal relationship even if he wanted to. 
“I wish it were different, but I just—I wanted you to know what you might be getting into if we…” He trails off, but you know what he means. If we want to get involved with each other. If we want to be together. 
“So like, long distance, but infinitely harder.” You’re doing your best to put a light spin on the massive amount of new information you’ve just acquired, but you’re barely managing to process it all, let alone even think about what it would be like to date someone as well known as Lando. 
“Yeah, something like that,” He says softly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. “It’s—well, it’s a lot of baggage for anyone to have to deal with. Lots of eyes and ears, pretty public. Not really your cup of tea, I’ve noticed.” 
He’s right. You’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, preferring to fly under the radar. Blend into the background. And you hate to say it, but knowing all of what he’s just told you changes things. You don’t think you can handle being thrust into the public eye, and it makes you feel like the most selfish person in the world to walk away from him just because of who he happens to be. 
Your life would be forever altered, your sense of privacy and security gone, and that isn’t something you want to compromise. You’re comfortable being nobody significant. With Lando, that would change, no matter how many measures you take to make sure it doesn’t. 
As much as you’ve come to like him—and you really like him—it’s just not something you can see yourself being fully okay with. 
“I’m so sorry, Lando,” You say quietly. He just smiles sadly, like he already knew it was coming, and you can't help but think about how many relationships—platonic or romantic—that he's lost out on because of his status. The thought alone makes you feel even worse. “I like you too, but I can’t—I don’t think I can be what you want me to be. It’s not me, it’s not the way I can live my life.” 
“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t got a reason to be,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing across your knuckles comfortingly. “Knew it was too good to be true, didn’t I?” 
“I’m sorry,” You say again, hoping that Lando knows you truly mean it. “I wish it were different, but—”
Lando shakes his head, interrupting before you can grasp for any other ways to apologize. He squeezes your hand reassuringly again. “Hey. It’s alright, I promise. I’d never ask anyone to do something they aren’t comfortable with. Especially not you.” 
Even when he’s sad, he’s still so thoughtful. It would take a different kind of awful monster not to want to be with him. Apparently that monster is you. 
You wish you were someone else, someone who could take huge changes in stride and never miss a step, but you’re not. Someone who knows what they want and goes for it—who knows who they want and doesn’t let anything get in their way. 
Unfortunately, you’re not that kind of person. 
“What do we do now?” 
Lando drops your hand to run his fingers through his curls, down to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Dunno about you, but I’ve—d’you think there’s any chance we can still be friends? I really do enjoy spending time with you lot, we all do.” 
“Friends would be nice,” You say softly. It feels strange to agree with him so wholeheartedly. 
Maybe it’ll be awkward between the two of you, maybe you won’t even be able to sit next to each other with what’s happened today, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. The only thought running through your mind is that you don’t want to lose Lando, even as just a friend. 
You’ve gotten attached. 
The bracelet you’d bought Lando burns a hole through your pocket. It would be weird to give it to him now, after you’d just turned him down, but you can’t exactly just return it either. You don’t really want to. 
Maybe it won’t go to him, but you’re sure you’ll find something to do with it someday.
The girls are waiting in the living room when you finally make your way home, gathered on the sofa with identical innocent smiles like you hadn’t seen them with their heads poked through the curtains. Samira bounces off the cushions with what you can only describe as a gleeful cackle to grab your flowers, showing them off to the other two like a game show host before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the center of their blanket pile. 
You know they're expecting good news and you wish you could give it to them, but you can’t. 
“So??? How’d it go?” 
“He got her flowers, obviously it went well!” 
“Okay, spill, now,” Camille presses, easing the bouquet out of Samira’s hands and setting it on the coffee table. “What’s he like, what’d you do—” 
“When’s your second date?” chimes in Maren excitedly. The other two nod their vigorous agreement. 
“Lando’s amazing,” You sigh, letting yourself fall back against the plush pillows. “He’s super sweet and really funny, we walked around and looked at all the vendors, and then we had lunch and talked for ages, and…there won’t be a second date.”
“What? That’s impossible, you guys were like, made for each other!” 
You sigh, rub at a flower petal that’s fallen away from the bouquet. “It’s complicated. I don’t—I’m not ready to get into all of it again this soon, but long story short, our lives are just too different. Being with him would mean compromising things I’m just not ready to lose right now.” 
If any of them wants to push for a better explanation, and you know they do, they refrain from doing so. They know you’ll tell them when you’re ready. 
But even Samira can tell you’re not quite as okay as you insist you are, and she’s been rooting for you extra hard. She leans her head onto your shoulder, squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You did what was best for you, and that’s all that matters.” 
“We agreed to still be friends, so we can still hang out with the guys and stuff like that, but—I mean, yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You don’t think you sound very convincing at all, but it’s the bed you've made, you’ve got to lay in it. “I just don’t really want to talk about it right now, but it's fine. I'm fine.” 
It has to be. You have to be. You’ve made sure of it.
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kiyawritesforf1 · 1 month ago
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THE SILENT TREATMENT
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Pairing - Oscar Piastri x Reader
It had started as a casual idea. Y/N had been lounging on the couch one evening when the thought occurred to her. What would happen if she just ignored Oscar for an entire day? Oscar, who was usually so easygoing and chill, might actually take it in stride, right? But Y/N wasn’t so sure. She’d been itching for a little harmless mischief, and who better to prank than her ever-patient boyfriend?
So, she casually floated the idea past Max one evening when the two were hanging out in the kitchen, sipping wine.
“You should totally do it,” Max said, grinning ear to ear. “Oscar won’t know what hit him. I bet you he cracks within a few hours.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
“Absolutely,” Max replied. “He’s usually so calm, but he’s not used to being ignored.”
That was all the encouragement Y/N needed. The plan was set: she was going to completely ignore Oscar for an entire day and see how long it took for him to crack. And so, Y/N spent the rest of the night laughing to herself, imagining Oscar’s reaction when she pulled the silent treatment on him.
The Morning of the Prank
It was a Saturday, the perfect day for a little chaos. Oscar had been up early, making them both coffee and starting on breakfast while Y/N pretended to sleep in. She heard him moving around in the kitchen, but instead of getting up and joining him like she usually would, Y/N pulled the covers over her head and sank into the warmth of the bed.
Oscar, ever the thoughtful one, brought her a coffee in bed as usual. He entered the room, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.
“Morning, babe,” he said softly, placing the mug on the nightstand.
Y/N, pretending to be still asleep, didn’t even acknowledge him.
Oscar paused, watching her for a second, then gently nudged her arm. “Y/N? You okay?”
No response.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not… still asleep, are you?”
Still nothing.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Oscar was no stranger to Y/N’s quirky side, but this was different. “Alright, then,” he muttered, not really sure what to make of it. “I guess I’ll let you sleep.”
He walked out of the room, but Y/N could feel his eyes lingering for a moment, no doubt wondering if something was off. She tried her hardest not to laugh. This was going to be so much fun.
Mid-Morning – The First Test
By 11 a.m., Oscar was starting to get suspicious. He’d noticed Y/N hadn’t come downstairs, so he brought her some breakfast—a couple of croissants and some fruit. As he entered the living room, he found her on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She hadn’t even looked up at him.
“Hey,” Oscar said, trying to keep his voice casual. “I brought you breakfast.”
No response.
Oscar’s eyebrows furrowed. Was she still mad at him for something? Did he forget their anniversary or something? He racked his brain, trying to figure it out, but nothing came to mind.
He cleared his throat. “Y/N?”
Still nothing.
“Alright, if you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.” He sat down beside her, nudging her with his shoulder.
She didn’t even flinch.
Oscar leaned in closer, squinting at her phone screen to see if it was something distracting her. “Are you seriously ignoring me?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of frustration.
Y/N just glanced at him briefly, her expression cool and unaffected, and went right back to scrolling.
Oscar stared at her, trying to decide if he should just go along with it or call it out. He couldn’t figure out whether she was pulling some weird prank on him or if she was just genuinely annoyed.
“Okay,” he said, his voice getting a little more firm. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Y/N didn’t even look at him.
Oscar stood up, pacing a few steps away. He was beginning to feel an odd mixture of confusion and concern. “Y/N, you’re really not going to say anything?”
Y/N finally put her phone down, but instead of acknowledging him, she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes, as if she were perfectly content. Oscar let out a frustrated sigh.
“Alright, fine,” he muttered, grabbing the breakfast tray from the table and heading back to the kitchen.
Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.
Early Afternoon – The Turning Point
By 2 p.m., Oscar had had enough.
He’d gone about his usual routine, pretending like nothing was amiss, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that Y/N was acting unusually distant. She wasn’t responding to his texts, his calls, and every time he tried to engage in conversation, she gave him nothing but silence.
At first, he thought maybe she was just in a bad mood. Maybe something had happened that he hadn’t picked up on. But by now, the silence was starting to feel deliberate.
“Alright, what is going on?” Oscar demanded, as he stood in front of Y/N, who was lounging on the couch, flicking through a magazine. He placed his hands on his hips, staring down at her. “You’re really going to keep this up?”
Y/N didn’t even look at him. She didn’t acknowledge his presence. Instead, she casually turned a page, as if he wasn’t even there.
Oscar blinked in disbelief. “You know, I really thought I was the patient one in this relationship, but this… this is something else.”
Still nothing.
“Oh, for god’s sake, I’m going crazy,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What did I do? Did I say something wrong? Are you mad at me?”
Y/N leaned back and finally gave him a quick glance, but it was all calculated. She wasn’t giving him an inch. Oscar’s eyes widened in frustration.
“Y/N,” he said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to lose it.”
That was when she finally cracked a smile.
Oscar’s eyes lit up. “Wait… you were pranking me?”
Y/N bit her lip, trying her hardest to hold back her laughter. “Maybe.”
Oscar blinked, looking absolutely exasperated but also completely amused. “Are you seriously telling me that I’ve been ignored all day for a joke?”
Y/N gave him an exaggerated shrug, still trying to suppress her grin. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face.”
Oscar shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “I’m so going to get you back for this. You have no idea.”
Y/N chuckled, feeling victorious. “I’d like to see you try. But I think you’ve just met your match, babe.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’ll get you. Don’t you worry.”
He leaned in to kiss her, playfully pinning her down on the couch. “But you know what? That was pretty funny.”
Y/N laughed, finally breaking character. “I’m glad you think so. It was worth it just to see your face when you cracked.”
Oscar rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ll get you back. You can count on that.”
End.
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luveline · 2 years ago
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Derek and shy!reader maybe? Meeting the team for the first time and none of them are expecting Derek's partner to be standing half-hidden behind him, shyly waving at them instead of saying anything
thank you for ur request! fem!reader
"So what's the deal?" Emily asks Penelope, licking the stem of her paper umbrella dry before dropping it onto a napkin. "He's suddenly going steady?" 
"Can you call five months sudden?" Rossi asks. 
Hotch nudges him. 
"What?" Rossi asks. "Can you? Five months is a long time." 
"And that's why you had to send Christmas cards to three different divorce lawyers this year," Emily says. 
Emily has a penchant for saying the occasional brazen comment, but JJ confiscates her friend's margarita anyways, before the booze loosens her lips and she says something worse. It's a small jet. 
"It's not like Morgan," Spencer agrees, standing at Rossi's other side, looking less out of place than usual. 
"It's totally like him," Penelope says.
Hotch's smile is hard to read, which is a spectacle considering current company. "I agree." 
"Here he is now," Penelope says excitedly, clapping her hands in front of her chest. 
Derek strides into the bar and past its patrons without a care in the world. He looks happy, content, and the team doesn't need to see you to know you're with him. He smiles at his phone at work exactly as he smiles now, with his arm stretched backwards to tether you along. 
You come into view as the crowd thins. You're not what anyone's expecting, certainly not plain but nor are you dressed up. Emily, in her tipsiness, declares that you look adorable, and receives a reproachful look from Hotch in reward. 
"Hey Derek!" JJ calls as soon as he's near enough. 
"Hey, guys. Mama, you remember what we talked about?" Derek asks Penelope. 
She nods sagely. "Restraint. I'm restraining myself. Oh my god you're so cute, I'm Penelope! I'm so happy to meet you." 
"Hi," you say. 
No less than five pairs of eyes fall to your hand as you twist your fingers into Derek's sleeve. He doesn't bat an eye, taking a half step in front of you, a picture of casualness as he introduces you to each of them in turn. 
"It's nice to meet you," Hotch says, seemingly speaking for the whole group. 
You raise your hand and give a stilted wave. Your eyes look sad and stressed at once, but you don't sound either, softly saying, "You too." 
Derek wraps a muscled arm behind your neck, grinning while he meets Penelope's eyes. "What are we drinking tonight?"
Your eyebrows pinch up at the starts. You smile at them all despite your obvious nervousness, and it's enough for each of them to reach the same conclusion simultaneously. You're shy, but you're good. A broad sweep yet easy to make. It's obvious how much you care for Derek if you'd been willing to meet them like this when you clearly don't feel comfortable.
Luckily for you, Penelope is excellent as making people feel welcome. "We're drinking Y/N's choice. What do you like? Sugar shots? Mojitos?" 
Your lips part, unprepared for a direct question so soon. 
Derek turns his head to yours, giving you what Emily deems the most ridiculous puppy dog eyed smile anyone has ever given, and what Rossi knows is a ring waiting to happen. He should know. 
"Let's go figure it out. Another round, from me?" he offers. 
He's quick to steer you away, but not too quick to miss Rossi's, "Something strong if you want us old timers to stay!" 
They wait for you to be safely out of earshot before they condense, bad gossips and worse actors off the job. "Who would've thought?" Emily asks. 
"She's not what I was expecting," JJ says. 
"Are we that intimidating?" Rossi asks, raising his eyebrows. The answer being yes, of course, though none of them are aware of just how scary they can be. You'd felt like you were standing in front of a pack of wolves. 
"She seemed nice," Spencer says. Trust him to say something sweet. Trust the rest of Derek's friends to agree, the group nodding and humming at various pitches.
"She seemed silent," Emily jokes. 
Penelope crosses her fingers and closes her eyes, earrings swinging against the blond tresses of her curled hair as she drops her head. "God, my muffin deserves nice. Please let this work out, she looks so sweet. I just wanna pinch her cheeks." 
"It's gonna work out," Hotch says surely. 
If Derek could hear him, he'd agree on the spot, but he's too busy praising you halfway across the room for such a stellar introduction. 
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ilguna · 2 months ago
Text
☼ say it like you mean it (Finnick Odair) ☼
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summary; over time, you’ve learned his techniques, and you’re really not entertained by it. if he likes you as much as he says he does, then why does he just say so?
warnings; swearing,
wc; 3.2k
--
The summer heat has finally decided to catch up with District Four it seems, and it only took until mid-August for it to do so. It’s not gentle by any means, either. All you’re doing is getting ready for the day, and it feels as if you live in a tin can smack-dab in the middle of the desert. 
This house is small enough as it is, the last thing you need to be baked alive in it. You think your mother is on the same train of thought that you are, because she’s opened every single window in hopes that a breeze will roll through. 
You find her in the kitchen, fanning herself with a thin book, boiling a pot of water on the stove to loosen up the metal for the hooks that are laid out across the dining room table. You would just use a torch to make the hooks easier to bend, but you weren’t cleared for a permit since the house is flammable, and it’s in a fairly nice neighborhood.
So, you have no choice but to use water, even though it’s more time consuming. Between you and your mother making hooks, it’s getting harder and harder to make the Peacekeeper’s deadlines on time. It would be just a little bit easier if you had one more person to help, but then you’d be given a bigger workload.
“How long are you planning on being out for today, honey?” Your mother asks, pausing her fanning long enough to look your way.
“It shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.” You tell her, gathering the bags of hooks to place into your tote bag. “Just a few errands to run and I’ll collect what I need for my hooks along the way. Once I drop them off at the docks, I’ll come straight back.”
She nods, “PLease be careful when you speak to the Peacekeepers, you can’t afford another warning.”
“I will be.” You say, turning your back to her. 
You pull the tote bag onto your shoulder, rolling your eyes. It’s not your fault the Peacekeeper’s are a bunch of sensitive wimps—none of them can take a joke. All you did last week was tell them that you may or may not see them the following day to make the drop.
This resulted in several Peacekeepers being sent to your door in the morning to escort you straight to the docks to deliver your hooks. When you tried to tell them that you weren’t being serious, you were met with a citation, but really it was just a warning. If you get another one, then you’ll be taken into custody until they think you’ve learned your lesson.
Talk about ridiculous, right?
“Love you, mom.” You murmur, opening the front door, hand reaching to push the screen door out of the way before you even see it.
“I’ll see you soon, honey.” She says back, her footsteps fading away.
Your hand comes into contact with cloth, hand squishing into whatever it is. You yank your hand back, as if you’ve just touched the hot stove, eyes peering around the door. 
As soon as you see who it is, your shoulders drop, worry leaving you in an instant. Your face twists at the sight of Finnick, leaned up against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his face. You begin to dread what the rest of your day is going to look like, if he’s here already.
Usually he has enough courtesy to give you a headstart before ruining your afternoon.
“Please, not this today.” You groan, pushing past him to get out of your house. You pull the front door shut with a slam, heading down the steps without waiting for him to say anything.
“Good afternoon.” He muses, following behind you. He must not shut the screen door, because you can hear it squeal as it swings back into place. “You don’t want me here?”
“I wouldn’t mind as much as I do if you weren’t so annoying. How long were you waiting out there for?” You ask him.
“Long enough to hear your mom ask you to be careful.” He says, taking long strides to catch up with your pace. “Which she won’t have to worry about, because I don’t plan on leaving your side today.”
“Of course you don’t.” You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.
He ignores your comment. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“I’ve spent all week trading for fishing lure while you were in the Capitol, so I’m picking it all up today.” You tell him.
“What’d you trade them with?” He asks. “If you’d waited for me—”
“I don’t need you to negotiate for me, Finnick.” You shake your head. “I’ve been doing this since we were in school, I know how to get what I want without being scammed. Besides, I didn’t have time to wait for you, the Peacekeepers wanted the new hooks as soon as possible, and you weren’t here when the request came in.”
“How long ago?”
‘A week and a half ago.” You reach into your bag, pace slowing to go up to the first house. 
“You still didn’t answer my question on what you traded them for.” Finnick comes to a stop, back to the door so you have to look at him.
“We paid for some of them, and on some of the others I offered specialty hooks.” You tell him, going up to the house. 
The man that lives here answers the door after the first round of knocks, a smile on his face. You hold a polite conversation with him, while you unravel the cloth that covers the hook you made. He wanted it purely for decoration, since he’s been long-retired from being on the boats. He gave you the rest of his lure for free, no strings attached.
“Have a good afternoon.” You tell him, waving before you go back down to Finnick.
“How much did you pay?”
You really hate it when he gets on a roll with the questions. You’re not sure why it matters how much you paid for the lure, in the end you’ll be making a bigger profit with the Peacekeepers. And people don’t really have a need for lure when the Capitol provides good hooks for them in the first place. They just want something for them so they’re able to afford an extra meal.
“Not much.”
“You’re making more than what you paid, right?”
You stop walking, turning to Finnick. “Do you really take me for an idiot?”
He stares at you. “No.”
“Then why are you asking me questions like that?” You tilt your head. 
“Because I don’t want them to take advantage of you, (Y/n). You do a lot for the docks, whether these people know that or not.”
“I’m aware of that. And I don’t care if they appreciate my work. I’m just doing what I have to in order to survive. It’s not a huge deal.” You tell him, starting to walk again. “I’d rather prick my fingers a hundred times with the barb than have to deal with the boats.”
“You wouldn’t have to deal with either if you let me take care of you.”
Your face scrunches up at the thought. Once for the fact that he just said that to you, and twice for the idea of being supported on his Capitol money, which you despise. He earned his dollar of his money by beating the Hunger Games at such a young age, you’ll admit that.
But you’ll never come to terms with the person the Capitol has turned him into. 
The old Finnick—the one you grew up with before he got reaped—would never have said half of the things he does to you. His flirtatious comments are constant, they’re everyday, and they’re borderlining disrespectful. You’re not sure how many times you’ve told him to quiet it, and he never listens.
He’s not laying it on as thick today, but that might have something to do with what you said to him before he got on the train in July. You’d met him at the station after the reaping to wish him luck, because he’s still your friend, and he made a joke about taking you to the Capitol with him and showing you what luxury is.
You felt disgusted at the suggestion, because he should know that you’d rather be at the bottom of the ocean than in the Capitol. You backed away from him, and with a shake of your head, you told him that you’d never go there, much less with him. You left the train station after that, not bothering to give him the goodbye you usually do.
You hate the fact that he’s required to mentor the tributes. You think it’s a good idea, because Finnick broke the record for the youngest victor, but the person it turns him into… it’s just gross. He used to be friendly, funny and courteous, and a couple of years ago he changed. 
There were no signs, one year he went to the Capitol to mentor, and a month later he came out this insufferable Capitol brat. It only got worse when he mentored Annie Cresta, causing her to win the Games two years ago. Ever since, he’s been cocky, as if the world owes it to him.
You’re sick of dealing with it. Especially when it lasts for months, and by the time he seems to be getting better about his attitude, it’s Hunger Games season again. The cycle is never-ending.
“That’s nice, Finnick.” You mutter, pace quickening, as if you’ll be able to leave him behind.
“What?” He asks, as if he’s clueless. “It’s true. If you were with me, you’d never have to worry about half the things you do.” He begins to catch up with you. “There’d be dinner on the table every night, you’d have access to hot water in the winter, you’d be able to buy anything you want. You could’ve woken up in an air conditioned house today.”
“While that all sounds nice, I don’t want a life like that.” You tell him, eyes on the ground.
“Why not? Everyone wants a life like that.” He throws his arms out, you can tell by his shadow. “And I want to give it to you.”
“Because that means nothing to me.”
“Nothing?” Finnick asks. “So you’re telling me you don’t like the necklaces and jewels and—”
“Finnick!” You shout, irritated. You stop to look him dead in the eye. “What you’re doing isn’t working on me. I will never fall for the facade you put on for the Capitol.” You place a hand over your heart. “It’s all an act, and you need to give it a rest.”
Finnick’s face has dropped. “(Y/n), I mean everything I say.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel like it.” You throw a hand out. “Your lines are rehearsed. How many other girls have you talked to like that and believed it?” 
“I don’t talk to other girls, (Y/n). I’m not interested in them.”
“I don’t believe you.” 
Finnick stares at you for a long moment. “What can I do to prove to you that I do actually want you.”
“You can’t figure that out on your own?” You roll your eyes. “How long have we known each other? Have you ever listened to anything I’ve said?” When he doesn’t speak, you wave your hand. “Just go, Finnick. I’m sick of this, really. I got stuff to do and you’re slowing me down.”
Finnick looks down at the dirt, making a face. “All right.”
You watch as he walks off in the direction of Victor’s Village, looking like a kicked puppy. As soon as he hangs his head, you close your eyes, tilting your head back to take in the sun. You have half the mind to call him back and apologize, but you are running behind.
You turn to continue down the street, heading for the next house. You really hope he doesn’t give up entirely because of what you’ve said, you just want him to listen to what you’re telling him. 
It’s not like you don’t enjoy his company, because you do. He’s your favorite person to hang out with when he’s not being uptight. You think that if he were to ask you to be his girlfriend properly, you’d say yes, but you want it to be real. This doesn’t feel real, with the expensive jewelry, the money, the constant presents. It’s insane. 
You try to be quick to get done within the next hour, paying several people back for their kindness. You barely make it in time to the docks before they shut down for the rest of the day. While the Peacekeepers trust your handiwork, their Head Peacekeeper likes to inspect the hooks to ensure they’re good quality.
You’ve never had a hook sent back.
You tuck the money from the Peacekeepers into your bag, taking your time heading home. You’re sure mom has lunch ready, and most of her part of the work creating the hook has to be done by now. You’ll just need to attach the new lures and sharpen the barb.
When you make it home, it’s late afternoon. The front door and the screen have been opened to their max capacity to allow fresh air to enter the house. You pass right through the doorway, thinking nothing of it, until you come to a stop in your kitchen.
Finnick is leaning against your countertop, inspecting a hook you made last night. “Have you two ever considered opening up a shop closer to the dock? That way you don’t have to walk as far.”
“We have, but it’s expensive next to the dock. We know we’d probably make the money we need, but we can’t know for sure.”
“Have you considered a pop-up?” 
“A stand?” Your mom asks, considering it for a moment. “No, but I’m sure if we tried, the Peacekeepers would deny the permit, like they’ve denied everything else we’ve requested.”
“I’m home.” You tell them, mood fading. “I thought you went home, Finnick.”
“I did, but then I came here to wait for you.” Finnick says. “You should go and put on something more loose and comfortable.”
“For what?” You ask, setting your tote bag down by the door.
“Don’t worry about the details.” Finnick smiles. “I’ve got it all planned out.”
“I don’t have the time. I’ve got hooks to do.” You shake your head.
“Oh, leave them.” Your mom says, winking at you. “I’ll take care of it. The stove has been burning hotter lately because of the heat, I was able to get most of my work done. I’ll get you started.”
“I can’t have you do all the work.” You reason.
“(Y/n), you need a break.” She tilts her head down at you. “Go get changed. You can enjoy a proper day off for once.”
“Mom.” 
“Now, (Y/n).” She tells you.
You look at Finnick, a little upset by the fact that he’s ruined your plans for the rest of the day, but you know better than to argue any further with your mom. You pass them to go to the back of the house, where your small bedroom is. You swing the door shut with a single push, sitting down on your bed as you stare into the closet.
He said something more loose and comfortable—but you’re already wearing that. A regular shirt, a baggy pair of pants that once belonged to your father. You wish he’d given you more details.
You stand back up, mindlessly swiping through your tops before you stumble upon a tank top with thin straps that you haven’t worn in a while. You pull it off the hanger, throwing it over your arm as you turn to the small pile of jeans and shorts that line the wall. You crouch down, picking through them, finding a nice pair of light blue shorts that’ll reach your mid-thigh. 
You change quickly, throwing your previous clothes into the hamper, retying your shoes. When you join your mom and Finnick back in the kitchen, they both seem pleased with your choices.
“I’ll see you later this evening, honey.” Your mom tells you, touching your shoulder. “Finnick will take good care of you.”
You look at Finnick, who has a brighter smile on his face. He hands you your tote bag, which is no longer empty, like it had been when you dropped it off by the door. Now, there’s a neatly folded thin blanket inside. 
“Where are we going?” You ask Finnick, weirded out.
“Nowhere you haven’t been before.” He tells you, motioning for you to leave first. “Thank you, Ms. (L/n).”
“No problem, Finnick.” She waves.
The walk with Finnick is mostly quiet, not a lot of conversation is exchanged. You feel the need to apologize for what you said to him earlier, but you were just expressing how you felt, again. If he would just listen to you, then there wouldn’t be a need to be so straight-forward.
He brings you to the beach, under one of the few palm trees, where he lays out the blanket from the tote bag. Which reveals a couple of snack boxes underneath, containing fruit, crackers, spreads and juices. You stare at Finnick, wanting to tell him you’re not interested in experiencing the Capitol, when he completely takes you off-guard.
“Welcome to our first date.” Finnick laughs, “Sit, please.”
“A date?” You ask, pulling off your shoes to sit on the blanket. “Usually you have to ask the girl out first.”
“I would’ve, but you were already mad at me. That’s why I asked your mom for help.” He smiles. “Sorry, by the way, but I couldn’t let you be after what you said.”
You can’t help it, now. “I’m sorry, Finnick, I just—”
“You don’t have to apologize, I get it. Your mom explained it pretty well, actually.” He sits beside you, popping open the lids on the boxes. “I know where you’re coming from, and I know most of it is because of a rumor.” 
You nod, agreeing. 
“It started in the Capitol.” He tells you, shaking his head. “And as much as I hate it, I can’t escape what they say about me, so I’ve stopped trying. But I want you to know that I don’t talk to any other girls. You are the only one I talk to, because you’re the only one that’s stuck by me after my Games.”
“I’m your friend, Finnick.”
“Not everyone saw me that way.” He says. “They either stuck around because I was rich or left because I was a Capitol darling—a status I can’t help. They labeled me that way.”
“Oh.” You murmur.
He pauses for a moment, looking out at the water. “There’s a lot that happens in the Capitol when I go every year, and it’s partly why I act the way I do, and I’m trying to work on it.” He then looks back at you, taking your hand. “But I’m serious when it comes to my feelings about you, (Y/n). I really do like you, and I would like you to be my girlfriend.”
You stare at him, heart pumping in your chest, “I would love to, Finnick.”
He gives you a smile, “I thought you’d say-so.”
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1d1195 · 9 months ago
Text
Green Skies, Pink Grass
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~2.6k words
From me: Going with another one shot for Monday. This very much jumps into the middle of a storyline that I'll never write but just wanted to post something small in between Most updates.
Warnings: jealousy, enemies(?) to lovers
Summary: It is very obvious Harry gets enjoyment out of irritating her. But not when she can't take it anymore.
“Excuse me,” she approached like she owned the table. She slid right between Harry and the girl that was talking to him. She stood at the corner of the square table made for four. But there were only two, Harry and the girl that had every right to be sitting at one of the right angles so they could be closer together.
For nearly the entire night, she watched another girl touch Harry’s arm and flirt with her eyes as they spoke. All while he leaned close and whispered God knows what. Who knew what secrets he was telling her. The stuff that she dreamed of knowing and not just figuring out from her friends or him taunting her. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Rebecca,” she stated and looked around her intruding body so she could peek at Harry. This was ridiculous. She was talking to him and there was no reason for her to have intruded like that and get in between Harry and him. Everyone knew they didn’t like each other. Of all the people that could have taken his attention from her it couldn’t have been the girl that wanted to wring his neck.
Her backside was directly in front of Harry’s vision. He paid nearly no mind to the intrusion—almost like he expected it. In fact, he took the moment to sip his drink because while he wasn’t proud of it, he was extremely grateful for the reaction it caused from her. All night he felt her stare from across the restaurant. Her gaze bored into him. It was painful how long it took to come to this in his opinion. Now he couldn’t wait to see what she was going to do next. She didn’t even flinch as she approached; her sure-footed steps had her heels clicking across the floor with a power that made Harry’s body warm over. The confidence she had was so sexy. The only thing that could have made the current interaction better than having her perfect ass right in front of his face, would have been being able to see her pretty, angry face as she glared at the girl he was chatting with. “Can I help you?” Becca asked.
Harry smirked, grateful neither one of them could see him because he was very much looking forward to this.
“Yeah, umm…” she swallowed that swagger and confidence suddenly wavering.
Harry wasn’t hers. Not by a long shot. They argued about almost everything there was to argue about. They had opposite movie tastes. He never took her suggestion for making dinner recipes better. His driving directions to get somewhere the fastest were always different than hers. She swore he would argue the sky was green if given half the chance. They weren’t that close, but Niall was her favorite coworker and quite possibly her best friend. But that meant she had to spend an infinite amount of time with his best friend, Harry.
She could have taken all his misgivings in stride, honestly. Tt wouldn’t have been that bad nor hard to have. She liked a bit of a challenge in her life. If Harry hadn’t looked down on her the first time that they met, they might not have been on this frustrating path of annoying one another.
It was no secret that Harry was one of the most gorgeous men she had ever met. His handshake was warm and firm but that was as far as his warmth went—at least when it came to her. She wasn’t oblivious to the way his voice sounded when he talked about his mum, sister, or niece. He donated to a ton of charities and was constantly helping his friends.
It was just her.
He was cold and standoffish the day they met. It hurt. Mainly because Niall told her that she would love him, and she was excited to make a new friend. How often did someone in their late twenties make new friends?
But after their introduction and awkward silences while Niall tried to get them chatting about their similarities instead of their differences, she overheard him whispering to Niall in the kitchen while they got plates and drinks for the pizza they ordered. Only catching some of the words that included dislike, irritating, and know-it-all. She prided herself on being kind, never making anyone feel inferior, but Harry made it seem like a fault and didn’t see her that way at all.
Harry wondered where she was possibly going to go with her irritation at Becca. Only moments before the evening began, she wanted to strangle him. He could see it in her eyes and knew she truly thought about wrapping her hands around his throat because he made some comment about her not getting fucked properly in front of Niall. He smiled impishly at her as the rage filled her eyes. It made her eye twitch in that cute way of hers. The way that made him want to keep pissing her off so it would continue twitching. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch just next to her eye and hope that it would make her crazier but also so he could ease that tension all the same.
But it was clear she was lost here. There was no follow through for this moment and seeing Miss Prim & Proper discombobulated was one of Harry’s favorite kinds of sights. But even still, she didn’t deserve to be this lost. It wasn’t her fault the little envious monster took hold of her without a way out of the situation.
“Hey love,” he hummed quietly, pressed a hand on her lower back. She stepped away like he shocked her—or stabbed her. Her eyes were wild as she glanced at Harry briefly. He smiled, his lips straining a little too much to keep him from smiling mischievously—just like before they entered the restaurant. That little quirk that made her eye start to twitch just the same as well.
 That stupid dimple, that knowing look. She wanted to strangle him again.
He knew what she was feeling all too well. Fortunately, it hadn’t happened tonight, but he knew the irksome feeling that heated his stomach and chest when anyone bought her a drink or complimented her smile while he was in earshot.
It was a beautiful smile, but it made him sick to hear other people say it to her and not him.
“Do you have something to say or what? I was talking to Harry.”
Perhaps the alcohol she had ingested was cause for the bravery that resulted in her walking across the restaurant and planning to tell the girl off. But what was she supposed to say? Harry wasn’t hers. There was nothing she could say that would deter Rebecca from spending time with him. Nothing to stop Harry from spending time with Rebecca.
It seemed Harry noticed she was floundering but for once he didn’t make fun of her nor antagonize her further. Instead, without warning, there was a warm hand on the small of her back. “Kitten,” he hummed. His voice was low, directly in her ear, and full of caution. “Let’s go,” he pressed his fingers into her back in effort to get her away from the table. “Sorry, Becca, I gotta go,” he grabbed his drink, tossing the remaining sip back and settling it back on the table.
She said nothing, glaring at her feet with heated cheeks. While the woman who had taken Harry’s attention but wasn’t going to keep it smiled bitterly. “You’re really going to leave? Just because she interrupted?” Harry ignored her, rolled his eyes but not even the girl he had his hands on could see it.
Harry’s lack of response made her burn with anger more and she wished she knew why she went over to interrupt them. Harry was behind her, his body so close to hers she thought a piece of paper couldn’t fit between them. “Wow can’t even fight back—”
She started to move back for Rebecca, but Harry yanked her closer to him. Not even a molecule of air could have fit between them, before she could even take a full step. His arm was wrapped around the front of her stomach, his lips went directly to her earlobe. “M’here, kitten. She’s not worth y’time,” he assured her. “Walk,” he ordered quietly. Normally, she would fight back and tell him not to order her around. But the alcohol in her system simultaneously subdued her anger toward Harry and amplified it toward everyone else. So she walked.
She could hear the way Rebecca laughed calling her pathetic loudly to anyone that walked by. Harry snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly each time he heard one of Rebecca’s taunts and the following pull of her muscles to turn around to continue her chat with her.
Once they were out of the restaurant, he continued to usher her up the road away from the offensive restaurant. There was a cool chill in the air that hadn’t been there when they entered the venue. Confident she wouldn’t make a break for it and return to give Becca a piece of her mind, Harry released her briefly.
In an instant, he pulled his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her waist again. He gave her a warm squeeze then walked beside her; his other hand stuffed in his pocket. They didn't speak as they walked. After a block and a half, she bit the inside of her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Harry hadn't ever heard an apology directed at him from her mouth. "Am I dead?" He murmured.
She sighed. "I don't know what came over me," she admitted.
Harry knew. He knew because he knew exactly how she was feeling. "Yeah," he nodded.
More silence followed and they just kept walking. The shoes she was wearing weren’t really conducive to a city walk but she was willing to have a blister on each toe and her heel if it meant Harry’s warm arm and a jacket that smelled like him was going to be wrapped around her. “Did you like her?” She asked.
Harry smirked. “She was fine.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“Kitten,” he chuckled. “She was fine, but I’d’ve much preferred you sitting next t’me all night.”
“But you don’t like me.”
Harry snorted. “Honestly, right now, I don’t. Think I could throw y’into traffic for such a remark. What are y’talking ‘bout, love? M’obsessed with you,” he rolled his eyes.
“Obsessed?”
“Obsessed.”
Her heart fluttered. She stopped walking. Mainly because her feet hurt, but also because she was floored that he admitted such a thing. After all the time she spent wondering why he taunted her and made her want to strangle him. Her voice shook as she asked her next question. Because it was mean spirited of him. “Is this a trick? Like that time Niall was setting me up on a date and you convinced me I got the date wrong, and I sat at the coffee shop for hours before—”
Harry chuckled at the memory. Proud of his handy work and grateful she didn’t go on a date with that prick (who was actually a really nice guy that probably deserved her more than Harry did). “No, s’not a trick.”
She was staring at him like he had ten heads and honestly there was nothing better than seeing her little eye twitch. “You like me?” She asked.
“Very much, kitten,” he nodded and stuffed both hands in his pockets while she processed this.
“Can we sit? These shoes are killing me,” she frowned. Harry followed her to the bench out in front of a closed café. He reached for her feet and unclipped the strap from one ankle then the other.
“You really like me?” She asked again while Harry untied his dress shoes. Harry had this thing about always wearing two pairs of socks. It alleviated blisters, of his own dress shoes and there had been countless times Gemma hated her own high heels after a long night at a family wedding. He slid off the top pair and put them on her feet without fanfare.
“I really like you,” he assured her.
“But you...” She frowned, her stomach aching at the kindness he was showing her. Finally. The nice thing about the cute little sock thing he was doing? She had never seen him do it for anyone else. This was a treat for her as far as she knew. He retied his shoes and settled her feet back to the sidewalk. He held her shoes beside him on the bench.
“I what?” His smile was adorable, mischievous as always, dimple appearing cutely in his left cheek, but it didn’t make her eye twitch and even though he missed it, he liked her soft expression, analyzing him more.
“You said I was a know-it-all. And... irritating.”
“You are irritating,” she glared at him so cutely, he wanted to take a picture of her and make it his phone background and print it on a poster to hang on the ceiling above his bed. “When did I call y’irritating?”
“When you met me. You said you disliked me."
He tilted his head. “Do y’mean at Niall’s?” She nodded. He was clearly processing that and tried to think back. She was finally quiet, while he thought. Didn't try to further their discussion because part of her thought she would turn it into an argument just by accident. “Is that why y’always keep me a foot away from you? Why y’never let me get a word in? Why y’argue with everything I say? Swear y’would tell me the grass is pink jus’ t’argue,” She didn’t dare dignify that with a response. Or that she felt the same way. Harry tugged her legs back up and shifted her so she draped across his lap. His arm around her back while her bum warmed his thigh. He brought his hand slowly up her leg, over the socks he had put on her that looked ridiculous with her dress. His fingers skimmed over her knee and up her thigh while his eyelids hooded his gaze as he followed the path of his hand. He tickled her skin, his fingers circling her wrist in her own lap before he brought it to his shoulder. Then he brought his fingers to her face, cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’m going t’kiss y’now,” he murmured. “Because m’not going t’explain how ridiculous y’are for thinking the first time I met you I called you irritating, or that I disliked you...or thought you were a know-it-all.”
She blushed. “Oh...” she swallowed feeling woozy Harry's face was so close to hers. He smelled so good. He looked so good.
“Don’t y’think it was much more likely I called Niall an irritating know-it-all that I would fall so hard for you and I disliked how right he was?” She remained silent, dropped her gaze again, until Harry tilted her chin up once more. “You are irritating,” he murmured his mouth a breath away from hers. He could feel the warmth of her lips pulling an invisible string to his. Like he had already touched them without touching them. “But I love when y’irritate me,” he assured her and closed that final breath between their lips.
The sky could be green. The grass could be pink. Harry was done arguing with her about it.
--
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p0orbaby · 6 months ago
Note
can u do r and lessi being in the gym together and less won’t stop teasing and annoying reader
i switched this around because it fit what i was going for better. hope you don’t mind !
-
The gym is air-conditioned within an inch of its life, but Alessia is still sweating. Proper athlete sweating, the kind where her cheeks are flushed and her hair’s falling out of its ponytail in damp little wisps. She’s in a matching navy-blue set that makes her look like she’s about to film an Adidas advert, and you’re doing absolutely nothing to help.
You’re sitting cross-legged on a yoga mat in the corner, sipping from a water bottle you don’t need because you’re not the one working out. You’re on holiday, after all. Alessia’s the lunatic who insisted she needed “just an hour” in the gym, despite the private beach literally shimmering outside.
“What exactly are you training for?” you ask, watching as she bends forward into some sort of stretch that’s objectively impressive but mostly just funny.
“Pre-season,” she says through gritted teeth, reaching for her toes. “Fitness doesn’t take a holiday”
“Oh, that’s inspiring.” You take another sip of water, just to make a point. “Maybe Adidas should use that. Fitness doesn’t take a holiday, but your girlfriend will”
“Don’t you have something better to do?” she asks, glaring at you from under her sweaty fringe.
“Not really. This is pretty entertaining”
She ignores you and moves to the weights section, picking up two dumbbells that look unnecessarily heavy. You watch as she starts a set of bicep curls, her form perfect, of course, because she’s Alessia Russo and nothing she does is ever less than perfect.
“Nice guns,” you say, resting your chin in your hand. “Bet you could carry all the shopping in one trip”
“Do you want me to throw this at you?” she asks, but there’s a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“You wouldn’t. You’d miss me too much when I’m unconscious”
She rolls her eyes and moves to the resistance bands. She hooks one around her foot, stretches it, and starts some sort of kickback movement that you can’t take seriously because it looks absurd.
“Are you trying to win a world title or auditioning for the Rockettes?”
That one gets a laugh, though she tries to cover it with a cough.
“Seriously, Less, you’re on holiday,” you continue, leaning back on your hands. “Why are you torturing yourself in here when we could be doing literally anything else?”
“Because I don’t want to lose momentum,” she says, switching legs.
You tilt your head. “Is that what you call it? I call it masochism”
“Shut up”
“You know, I’m proud of you, babe. Really. But if you fall over in those squats, I’m recording it”
She pauses mid-rep to glare at you, and you grin innocently.
When she finally finishes her workout, she’s glistening like a Greek statue come to life. She tosses the resistance band onto a bench and strides over to you, towering above where you’re still sitting like a particularly lazy house cat.
“You done?” you ask sweetly, looking up at her.
“Yep,” she says, and without warning, she reaches down, grabs your hands, and hauls you to your feet in one swift motion.
“Alessia!” you yelp, stumbling into her chest.
She smirks, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Thought you could use a break , seeing as you’ve been sitting there running your mouth for the last hour.”
“I am pretty tired,” you quip, though your heart is pounding slightly from the sudden closeness. “Do you know how much effort it takes to keep up with you?”
She laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Come on, lazy. Let’s hit the beach”
“Finally,” you say, though you secretly think she looks ridiculously good in that gym kit and you might not mind her dragging you back here tomorrow.
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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 2 years ago
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imagine bucky being drunk
warning: kinda spicy at the end
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"He's doing it again."
Sam nudged you in the ribs, tearing your eyes away from Carol; who had been giving you the latest details on her life. The two of you frowned but then Carol smirked, nodding to your boyfriend across the small dive bar she had taken everyone to. Bucky was standing next to Steve and he was pretend punching him in the face. Steve was laughing whilst blocking his friend's air punches.
"I love drunk Barnes," Carol sighed contently and you agreed.
"He's so cute when he's drunk."
"Sure, real cute when the tab is over a grand because it takes a whole brewery to get him tipsy."
Ignoring Sam, you promised Carol you'd return to hear the rest of her story and she smirked, holding up her beer. "We have all night."
Stepping away from the table, you smiled at the bickering going on behind you as to who was going to pay for the tab. Leaving Wilson and Danvers to settle that argument, you walked over to the oldest men in the bar. Bucky's eyes moved to you and he grinned like a little puppy, pushing Steve aside to stumble over to you.
"God, you're so cute," he hollered, pretending to grab a piece of you to eat. He consumed air you and you laughed, grabbing his hand before he could take another bite.
Bucky quickly engulfed you into a hug, squeezing so tight you had to holler for him to release you. "I love a good strangling, but let's keep that for the bedroom, babe."
Steve groaned. "Come on, man."
You smirked, allowing Bucky to pull your back against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders. "Sounds like Stevie boy needs a little fun."
"That's what it sounds like," you echoed Bucky's sentiments and Steve rolled his eyes when you suggested Carol up as a potential booty call. "What? She's fucking hot. Smart. Funny."
"Captain America, Captain Marvel..." Bucky slurred out a burp and the two of you busted into laughter - giggling like children. Steve instantly turned red and that just made the laughter louder until Carol called out to see what was so funny.
"Don't say a word," Steve grumbled under his breath, pulling at his shirt. "...stay here."
Bucky and you watched as Steve made his way to the booth, sliding next to Carol, who smiled at him. Sam looked over to you and Bucky held a hazy finger to his lips - the veteran understood and quickly excused himself from the booth. He didn't bother walking over to Bucky and you, because everyone knew the two of you were ridiculous together, sober or drunk. Most people couldn't stand being in a room with the two of you for more than a few minutes; hands all over each other or worse, jokes and laughter that seemed endless.
Turning to face your boyfriend, you squished his cheeks and he practically beamed. He was totally drunk and you were totally in love. He kissed you on the lips, at first gently but then his grip tightened at your waist and you buckled against his body.
"....so cute I could eat."
"What's stopping you? The bathroom is unisex..."
Bucky practically welp, gathering you up in his arms in a haste. Having a former super solider as a boyfriend had its perks - his stamina was endless, his physique would make a grown man cry, but his strength? That man could lift hundreds of pounds, so no matter your weight - this motherfucker made you feel light as a feather. And boy, you could get him stiff as a board.
"I just know you're thinking nasty shit," he groaned, moving you towards the bathroom.
"I am but pure of heart, James."
Bucky smiled contently, kicking the bathroom open. It was as good as a bar restroom could get. He placed you gently on the sink and made sure the door was locked. Two strides, that's all it took for him to get on his knees and pulling your panties down from under your skirt. His eyes rolled back for a moment as he took in the sight, but then he glanced up at you with a devilish smile as he firmly spread your legs.
"I love you," he whispered right before diving in-between your thighs.
Rendered speechless, all you could do was grip his hair and lean back into the sink mirror; the lowlights flickering as Bucky reminded you how much you loved drunk him. When all his inhibitions disappeared and he got to enjoy the little things in life - which included going to bars with your closest friends, running the highest of tabs, trying to hook up friends, and most importantly, going down on your girlfriend in a dingy bathroom.
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leviathanspain · 1 year ago
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money, power, and all your glory
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coriolanus snow x reader, sejanus plinth x reader
synopsis: coriolanus snow knew that you would be his cash cow, only issue was, the budding romance between you and his best friend.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“coryo.” you couldn’t believe your eyes. he stood handsome and proud, wearing a shirt that had once been his fathers. no longer a boy, he filled it out as a man. coryo smiled brightly, always keen to your tones, “might i say you look dashing? perhaps too dashing?” just as you said it, sejanus strode up, “more dashing than i?” he pretended as if he were hurt, feigning a broken heart as he sat in his chair.
you blushed at sejanus, smiling as he sat down, “no. never.” you breathed, giving coryo one last look before heading back to your seat.
coriolanus thought your schoolgirl crush on his best friend was ridiculous. it was getting worse with each passing day, your admiration for the boy, and how he acted, was practically all you talked about, irritated him more and more.
coryo sat down beside sejanus, a devious smile on his face. he looked back at you once before he settled in, “wow.” he exhaled, and sejanus looked at him, “what?” the confusion on his face was clear, but there was also something he wasn’t telling him.
“you and y/n.” coriolanus didn’t divulge into the details, instead leaving it up to sejanus.
sejanus shrugged, “she’s gorgeous, what about it?” he said it so casually that coriolanus almost fell over.
he paused, thinking how he would proceed, “yeah, she is, isn’t she?” he looked over at sejanus, “my grandma’am loves her.” coryo’s lie slipped out so easily. it surprised even himself, and he gave a proud look to sejanus, who expressed his surprise.
“oh. i didn’t know you and y/n were….” sejanus faltered as coryo smiled coyly, never would’ve thought that coryo would even have interest in any of the girls here, he was always on and on about the plinth prize.
“also..” sejanus knew he would have to tell his friend before it was announced, “there’s no more prize.” he whispered.
you could see their figures talking and whispering from your seat. you were in the farthest row, because your father ‘didn’t like the look of those boys’ even though they were both filthy rich.
your mind filtered out most of highbottom’s speech. you couldn’t take him seriously with all the little vials you’ve seen him pound down before each class. until he revealed that there was to be a rule change.
you were to mentor a tribute, akin to fattening a pig for the slaughter.
you gulped thickly, feeling nauseated as he started assigning your classmates to their tributes.
“y/n!” highbottom called you to attention and you looked up, “district three. you get the girl.” he lazily spoke, pointing to the overhead screens, showcasing your tribute.
you stayed emotionless as the reality of what was happening, sunk in. you hadn’t even realized that sejanus was assigned to a former classmate from two.
“sej!” you called his name as you were all released. you could see his and coryo’s figures striding out of the academy, “sejanus.” you called his full name as he finally stopped.
“hey.” he didn’t seem too happy, why would anyone if they were assigned to mentor someone who used to be their equal.
“i’m so sorry about marcus.” you couldn’t help but grab his arm, comforting him.
sejanus shrugged, “it was my father’s doing.” he was clearly upset, he hated the games enough to begin with, now he was majorly involved?
coriolanus didn’t let the hand on his go unnoticed. he cleared his throat and you let go of sejanus, awkwardly stepping back. coryo could see that you forgot he was there, “coryo. i see you got that enchanting songbird?” he nodded in response to your question, “yes i did.”
sejanus looked at you and coryo, “i better leave you two alone. i’ll see you around, y/n.” he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked away from where you stood with coriolanus.
“how odd that sejanus said ‘leave you two alone’,” you had been reliving the interaction in your mind, only now saying it out loud. it caught coryo’s attention, who had been rambling on and on about what he would do about his tribute.
“why would he say that, coryo?” you stopped dead in your tracks, “i mean, we’re just friends.” you didn’t ever see coriolanus as anything but your friend. yes, he was handsome and often too good-looking for his own good, but he wasn’t the one you wanted.
coriolanus looked down at you, shrugging coolly, “maybe he sees something we don’t.” he could almost beam at how good of an excuse he had made up.
your eyebrows furrowed, “oh.” there was disappointment evident in your voice, disappointment that sejanus didn’t even think twice about you. he just assumed you and coryo had something going on.
“could he be wrong?” coryo looked at you again, searching for a crack in your expression, a way for him to get in. a union with you would benefit him in more ways than one.
you sighed, perhaps this was how it was supposed to go. sejanus didn’t like you, he never would.
you looked at coriolanus, eyes catching on his handsome face and the way his curls fell over his eyes. you grabbed his hand, pulling him in close, “the cook always makes extra. stay for dinner?” you were just a few feet away from your apartment, coriolanus had never seen the inside of it, but he imagined it just as lavish as your entire family appeared to be.
coryo nodded, ignoring the throbbing rumbles of his empty stomach as you sealed your fate.
you rose up to kiss him, and coryo met you halfway, kissing you roughly that you were pushed into the brick of the building. you pulled away for a breath, and realized that sejanus had been onto something.
coryo couldn’t help but feel satisfied that his plan had worked. sejanus did have an affection for you, years of it. but he didn’t want you to ever know, and hid it better than you did, even letting you go for his best friend.
“mother, father, this is-“
“snow.” your father had cut you off, leaning back in his seat as he stared at coryo, “what is he doing here?” he looked at you and you pursed your lips, “he’s my boyfriend, father. his name is coriolanus.” your father didn’t like the snows much, he thought crassus to be a myriad of insults.
coriolanus smiled, “i am told to be nothing like him.” he had this charming way about him, that a single sentence like that was enough to calm your father.
it had gotten late. coriolanus had been polite and indulged your father in all of his questions and random stories, but you knew he had to go home sometime.
you walked him out to the hall, “goodbye coryo.” you kissed his cheek, and coryo bent down to kiss you on your lips, biting them gently as he pulled back, “i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.” he always picked you up from your apartment as friends. it was weird to think that the next time he did it, it would be as your boyfriend.
“i’ve never..” you faltered, “done this before, coryo.” you made a point to be clear with him. your feelings for him weren’t as strong as you felt they should be, it was very much just tossed together. you hoped that in time, your love for him would grow.
coriolanus nodded, “i understand. i’ll be gentle.” he commented with a smirk as he kissed your forehead, “goodnight.”
you wished you could say you were happy. it had been just a few days since the beginning of your relationship with coryo, and the beginning of your mentorship.
coryo had gone to great lengths to promote his tribute, the songbird as everyone had been calling her. he had even sacrificed his lunch for the girl, which you had found to be ‘very noble’ as sejanus did the same.
you brought your food as well, going with them to visit your own tribute.
the girl had been quiet. you were nice, offering it to her as you talked to her a little bit. she had made a point that she wouldn’t survive, as if she knew it to be the truth. you had nothing to say to that, instead filling the silence with more food.
sejanus strode up to you as coryo and his songbird were featured on camera. you looked at them, noticing how close the girl was to your boyfriend but ignored it.
“sej.” you stood up from your spot with your tribute and smiled at him, “i haven’t seen you in days.” you commented, “i missed you.”
sejanus laughed, “yeah, well.” he looked over at coryo, “couldn’t have missed me that much now that you’re with coryo.” he knew.
of course he knew, he was coriolanus’ best friend. they told each other everything, at least almost everything.
you shrugged, “doesn’t mean i still don’t miss you.” you had only started spending more time with coriolanus because sejanus had been too caught up in rebelling against his father, but before, sejanus had been your only friend.
“yeah.” sejanus didn’t know what to say. he had tried to avoid you, knowing you were his best friend’s girlfriend, he had to ignore the feelings that came around when you did.
coriolanus called your name, and you sighed, watching as he strode over to you both, “y/n, sejanus. should we head back?” he looked at you expectantly and you smiled, nodding as you slipped an arm around his waist, “yes.”
sejanus watched as you two walked ahead of him, swallowing thickly. he shouldn’t feel jealously at the two of you, he had no right. coryo was the one who had got to you first, and you chose him.
“y/n.” you turned your head just as the arena started crumbling. “get down!” someone shouted at you, and you ran, rolling on the floor as more pieces of concrete and metal fell onto the ground. you couldn’t see anything with the dust, you looked around for your tribute, but you couldn’t see her.
and you couldn’t see coryo, who had been with his tribute, not too far from you.
“coryo!” you shouted, and you heard his cries, “help me!” he shouted. you tried to stand up, feet wobbling over the uneven ground. the dust was settling as only a few pieces crumbling off now. you saw a tribute zip past coryo and his tribute, muttering something to the girl before running off.
you stared in confusion, collapsing before you even reached coriolanus.
you awoke with a start.
you could feel an ache in your body, unsure where but it was there, nonetheless. you blinked, lips crusted as you looked around the room. in a bed, next to you, was coriolanus, who laid unconscious. his back was wrapped, injured from the arena as well.
you stood up, limping over to his bed. you examined the wrappings, looking over at his face, you brushed a curl back with your hand. you found yourself worried when you had heard him crying out for help, someone had did the heroic effort of saving his life, and someone did the same for you.
you kissed his cheek, heading back to your own bed as he laid quiet.
you didn’t know who had saved you. coryo had woken up, and when he did, you had been introduced to his cousin, tigris.
she was incredibly sweet, a gem to coryo’s life. you and her had chatted for a bit as coryo and sejanus watched the tributes interview.
from your knowledge, your tribute had been crushed under pieces of the arena, and you were no longer a mentor. you could’ve been just like your tribute, crushed under some rubble, but sejanus had been the one to save you.
he played it off, and continued his conversation with coryo, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that it meant much more.
you got discharged before coryo. he had injuries to his back that required another day of observation. you had mild injuries in comparison.
“sej.” you saw him exiting coryo’s room, the one where you had been in as well, “i’ve been discharged, do you mind walking me home?”
sejanus hesitated to nod, before speaking, “the driver can just drop you off.” he walked, and you followed after him.
“i wanted to,” you paused as the driver opened the door for you, sejanus right behind you. you scooted all the way in, and sejanus remained with a good amount of space between you, “thank you, for saving my life.”
sejanus shrugged, “of course. i-“ he didn’t say anything, “you’re welcome.” he elected to say.
you scooted closer to him, “sej, i know that i haven’t really been able to see you as often anymore, but i still care about you.” he was your only friend for many years, you wanted him to know that you didn’t forget about him.
“it’s okay, y/n. you and coryo…i understand.” he sounded off, and you looked at him, “do you?”
sejanus couldn’t lie to you. if he did, there were always telltale signs that he was lying. he knew you’d be able to tell, and he was nervously clutching onto the seat’s fabric.
you watched his expression change and your breath hitched, “sej…” you faltered, “why did you never tell me?”
he liked you. as you liked him.
“i was going to tell you the other day, after highbottom’s announcement, i was going to buy you dinner, and introduce you to my father…” he trailed off, shaking his head of those thoughts, “but coryo mentioned his grand-ma’am and how she loved you- and i knew.”
you looked at him, confused as ever, “i’ve never met coriolanus’ grandmother.” you swallowed thickly, “are you sure that’s what he said? why would he say that?”
sejanus shrugged, “no clue. but that’s what he said, and that’s when i assumed you were together.”
the driver stopped suddenly and you realized it was in front of your apartment. you looked over at sejanus, and sighed, “thank you, for saving my life and for the ride. i-“ you shook your head, “i wish things had ended up differently.”
sejanus nodded, leaning in close to you, “i do too.”
there was a moment of silence before you kissed him.
there was a difference in the way his lips felt against yours. he was gentle, sweet, loving. as if that kiss had been everything he had been waiting for.
you pulled away, the guilt of having kissed another man crept in, and you opened the door without saying anything, running inside as the car sped off.
you ran to your bedroom, sobbing as guilt washed over you.
you had tried to get over sejanus plinth, tried to fall in love with coryo, but you wanted sejanus, now more than ever, especially with knowing the truth.
coriolanus stopped by your apartment on the day of his discharge.
in his hand, he had a small rose, just as your parents greeted him.
“coryo!” you exclaimed with surprise as he stood in your drawing room, “how are you feeling? are you alright?” your hand reached out for his and you pulled him towards you, throwing a look to your parents. they quietly excused themselves and you and coryo stood alone by the doorway.
“this is for you.” he presented it to you, and you smelled it, breathing the rose scent as he looked at you.
“i’m alright. i just wanted to see my girl.” he brushed a lock of hair from your face, and leaned in to kiss you.
you kissed him, matching his intensity as he gripped your hip. you pulled away for a moment, grabbing his hand as you led him to your bedroom.
you slammed the door shut and coryo threw his bag onto your bed, grabbing you as you rushed in to kiss him again.
you didn’t know what was coming over you, why you had this intense urge to want to rip his clothes off, even if he was barely discharged from the hospital.
he groaned slightly and you realized that perhaps he was still in pain.
you pulled away, panting. “we should stop.” you breathed, looking at coryo and the lipstick that was smudged over his mouth. he shook his head, “no..i want you.” he whispered.
you shook your head, “we can’t. you’re still healing, coryo.” you sat down on the bed, “maybe after you win. a big reward for a big win.” you teased, and coriolanus smiled, “you think?”
he sat on the bed beside you, “i do.” you spoke, staring deep into his blue eyes. “that tribute, how are you going to do it?” you whispered.
coryo shrugged, “however i may have to.” as he finished speaking, he hadn’t realized that you had been trembling the entire time, shaking like a leaf. as if you were hiding something.
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