#I think I’m so witty and I hide it in here

[seventhemaverick]

Astro Observations 🌱

Disclaimer: This is my first Astrology post! I tried to do this earlier this year but tumblr lagged and it deleted all of my hard work lol. But now I’ve gained the courage to give it another go! I’m not a professional astrologer. I just study it in depth when I have time. Still very much a beginner. Please be kind and if I’m misinformed let me know! If you want to repost my work please credit me. This also has personal opinions in here don’t take it too seriously babes!

🌾 I don’t typically think Leo’s and Scorpios go together romantically BUT any other relationship outside of that exudes power team. For ex: Kylie and Kris Jenner. Scorpios are known to love power and Leo’s love the spotlight! Kylie was bound to be a favorite after her « ugly duckling » phase. Kylie rolls in the dough and Kris keeps that empire going. I’ve seen many Scorpio parents with Leo kids and they really seem to love them the most lol

Let’s talk about underdeveloped placements real quick!

🌿 Having a parent that is toxic or underdeveloped and has placements that fall into your second house can obliterate your self worth. ESPECIALLY if you have planets in that house and their placements are exactly conjunct 0° or 1-3°.

🌾 If your mars sign is exactly square one of your parents mars or 1-5° orb… 🌚 take the steps to move out if you haven’t already it’s for the best.

🌿 Capricorn moons I wish I could hug all of you. You had to grow up so fast and got handed some of the worst cards. But nevertheless resilience is your middle name. As you age things will get easier if you stand on business! Integrity is key.

🌾 I know libras are known to be superficial or whatever and I’m kinda one of them lol. I literally live off of aesthetics and I typically have nice skin but when I have a massive break out? I literally want to hide until they’re gone. My stress is next level when I don’t look my best.. I’m also a Leo Venus 😅 in the tenth house at that and have cancelled plans when I look and feel shitty.

🌿 All of the air signs almost always value intellectual stimulation first from their partner. Someone they can have great rapport, banter with. Someone that’s witty and knows a wide variety of subjects or has many interests is very hot. Sagittarius is the air sign of the fire signs so I’ll loop them in on this too.

If we lost any zodiac element, it would bring chaos to the entire world.

🌾 Air brings logic and reasoning, water brings compassion and empathy, earth brings grounding and patience, fire brings passion and vitality. Life is about interconnectedness.

🌿 I remember reading a blog that the gods put the constellation of Libra in between Virgo and Scorpio because they were too much alike and it’s so true lol. Both signs can be so compulsive and it’s overwhelming from what I’ve heard from Virgo and Scorpio placements. I can also see this easy going equivalence being the case for Sagittarius being in between Scorpio and Capricorn. The benefics happy go luckies in between the malefics drained and over it.

🌾… moon 3rd house overlay is addictive especially combined with 7th/8th/12th overlays in that synastry. I don’t think I can ever do that again unless we both have it overlaying each others charts. Someone’s moon in your 3rd house, their mind fascinates you and it’s easy to communicate with them you feel seen and heard. You dream about them, you think about them all the freaking time. It is the most annoying thing because why are you taking up my brain space like that bro? I had this with someone and I still think about them it’s been over for quite some time now. Another person that’s in love with me, my moon falls into their 3rd house and they tell me how much they think about me and day dream about me. I had said issue of daydreaming with the other guy. 2/10 would not recommend unless moon person is developed.

🌿 When the moon transits your first house you’re more likely to be more emotional and make drastic changes to your physical features! When Doja Cat shaved her head the moon was transiting her first house and I literally did mine the next day when it was transiting my first house.

🌾 Opinion but I love Pisces placements they are so helpful and loving when developed. I think the underdeveloped ones are too but they expect something out of it where the developed ones are just really selfless. I’m a Pisces Stan! I have so many in my life lol I have no Pisces placements. My 5H is in Pisces lol

🌿 Degree theory is that gworl. It helps you relate to the planet and it’s placement more depending on what the degree rules. For example I was dating a Sagittarius Venus in the 9th house at the 9° and he embodied that free spirited nature of Sag Venus fr. Another example, you can be a Pisces Venus but it’s in your first house at the first degree and the way you love embodies a more aries way of loving. Fiery, passionate a bit aggressive but very deep and tender to the core.

🌾 I’ve also heard the theory of when you reach the age of certain degrees of the placements you have you unlock that placements characteristics. Something significant happens to you during that age or you might master that placement regarding the planet and house placement.

🌿 The degree of your rising sign is more than likely the age of something significant happen in your physical life/to you physically. This is tea y’all.

🌾 You most likely share placements or degrees in your chart with your siblings. My sister is a Scorpio sun, Aries rising, Virgo moon and I’m a Libra sun, Scorpio rising, Aries moon. If I was born two days earlier I would’ve been a Virgo sun and if she was born one or two days later she would’ve been a Libra moon. So I think thats pretty cool. We’re also both Venus dominant and she has a Libra stellium 💗. You really choose your family for your next life lol like that’s so crazy to me.

🌿 Ima say dis with my chest. STOP doing wrong by Saturn ruled placements!!! Saturn is ruled by Capricorn, Aquarius in traditional astrology and we cannot forget about its exalted sign in Libra. As a Libra, I receive karma with the quickness but also people that have done wrong by me their quality of life decreases and or whichever house Saturn is in their chart is deeply affected in the worst ways.. daddy Saturn don’t play bout his! Be fair and follow the golden rule. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

🌾 Having heavy Sagittarius placements in your chart makes you open to learn different languages or different cultures.. just always wanting to learn. Whatever house it’s in you want to master in life.

🌿 The mutables Gemini Virgo Sagittarius Pisces love their niches, they are the teachers and preachers of the zodiac.

🌾 Geminis have the gift of gab more than any other zodiac. Sagittarius could possibly go toe to toe with them

🌿 If anyone ever tries to degrade you for studying astrology and eggs you on to prove this practice to be true, get their birth info and read them their Chiron sign and house placement. Hit ‘em where it hurts!

🌾 Scorpio and Libra placements are usually the generational trauma breakers of their family. Honorable mention- Saturns children, Capricorn and Aquarius

🌿 An undeveloped Capricorn placement that enters your life is literally satan reincarnated to torture you for whatever you did wrong in your past life. And I (if u were raised around Christianity) believe Jesus was a Pisces/Aries! I can argue about this all day! In tarot Capricorn rules the devil! Like hellooooo

🌾 Sixth house/Virgo placements are pretty good at taking care of pets and plants. They feel the most sane around nature and animals.

🌿 Personal planets harmoniously aspected to Neptune make the person seem very angelic like. Very soft souls, earth angels. Hard aspects have people having an even more distorted projection of you.

🌾 Personal planets harmoniously aspected or not to Uranus gives you that shock factor some people will be repelled and some people will be very intrigued.

🌿 Aries placements especially sun and moon are really loyal! I’m talking mostly platonically. Once they see you as their person they are truly ride or die.

🌾 Cancer placements can be one of the most loving and giving when developed. Some spiteful mfs when underdeveloped omg.

🌿 I realize cancer placement women get treated with the cutest romantic gestures. I think they lovers want to do these things for them because they give off ethereal or princess vibes but they’re also real nasty in the sheets lol

🌾 Cancers don’t really get a bad rep even when they do shady things. For example: Selena Gomez when she dated Abel even tho she was cool with Bella was super weird. And I think a lot of people forgot how Kevin hart cheated on his wife like it was nothing lol. Ariana grande with the donuts and now the Ethan thing chileee. It’s like they get a second of backlash and then everyone adores them again lol.

🌿 Having a grand trine in your chart can make you so damn lazy in the houses those planets/figures are in 🥹🥲. It’s crazy cuz that talent(s) will come natural to you and you’ll over look it! Please don’t.

🌾 Grand squares are TOUGH but it pushes you to break cycles and overcome so much in your life. Same with t-squares

🌱 Astrology is really a map. It shows you which path you can take and where you can end up when you include discernment and discipline into your daily life. It’s never an excuse to behave the way you do. Ultimately it helps us reach our most aligned and enlighten self! I hope you all enjoyed. 🌱

Idk why I can’t figure out how to delete this question thing so let’s do a cute lil questionnaire!

#astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astrology observations #degree theory #scorpio #libra

[wonwoosstuff]

Daddy's Dilemma | Seungcheol (non-idol) x fem.Reader

Genre: family chaos, fluff (kinda), they have three daughters (Scoups is so girl dad coded sorry not sorry), the youngest is a drama queen, husband-wife-dynamic, pet names (love, honey,baby) no warnings

Synopsis: Seungcheol, a devoted father of three daughters, finds himself in the midst of chaos on his free day as he juggles parenting duties while his wife is at work. In a desperate attempt to maintain order, he FaceTimes her, seeking advice and connection amidst the mayhem.

---

The living room was a battlefield of toys, spilled juice, and laughter that bordered on uncontrollable chaos. The energetic trio—Seungha, Jiyoung, and the youngest Cheolmin- were testing their father’s patience and multitasking abilities.

Seungcheol, a mixture of exhaustion and determination etched across his face, glanced at the clock, realizing it was almost time to cook dinner. He fumbled with his phone, fingers tapping anxiously as he dialed your number.

The screen flickered to life, revealing you, busy in your office. You greeted him with a warm smile. "Hey, love. I need your expertise. It's a war zone here."

You chuckled, understanding the struggle. "What's going on?"

Seungcheol pointed the phone toward the whirlwind of activity behind him. "Our kids decided it's the perfect day for mayhem."

"Well, first things first. Take a deep breath. You're doing great." You added.

Seungcheol managed a weak smile, the chaos blaring in the background. "Any tips on taming this madness?"

“Maybe set up an activity to keep them engaged. And don't forget about snacks!" You spoke.

Your husband nodded, attempting to corral the little ones. "Got it. Anything else?"

"And most importantly, don't hesitate to ask for help. Maybe call in reinforcements—my mom is probably not that busy. I feel like calling your brother would also help.”

The dad sighed, realizing the truth in your words. "I just miss having you here."

Your expression softened. “I miss you too, honey. Just wait until I get back home. It won’t take long, I promise!“

As the chaos continued, Seungcheol felt a renewed sense of determination. "Thanks, love. I think I’ll handle this.”

“Mommy!” A happy squeal came out from the youngest child. “Cheolmin, my baby!” you squealed back at your daughter. Cheolmin climbed onto your husband’s lap and took over the phone call.

“Have you been behaving well?” You asked her.

Silence. Her dad looked at her. And she looked back at him. A laugh escaped your mouth.

She was witty just like you but resembled her dad a lot. That is what made you laugh. Both of them were just too cute to handle.

“Yes mom. I did.” She proudly answered. Your husband rolled his eyes funnily at her statement and pinched her cheeks playfully: “You little liar. Look at you hiding your real you in front of your mom.” He smiled and laughed at his daughter.

Since Cheolmin was a bit sensitive due to her lack of energy she abruptly started crying. Seungcheol panicked and looked at you with his eyes widening. “Oh no- baby- that’s not what I meant. I’m so so sorry.” Your husband wiped her tears away and kissed his daughter’s cheek softly.

After Cheolmin had calmed down her drowsiness drove her into sleep. Later on she fell asleep in Seungcheols arms. He signaled a wait and placed his phone- with his daughter still hugging his neck- on a table making you wait for him.

When Seungcheol entered the girls room the two other girls were sleeping peacefully in their beds. Letting out a quiet sigh he tucked his girls into their beds making sure that the cold did not get to them.

He came back to the living room and took a seat on the couch. “Mrs Choi, are you still there?”

“Yes. Oh my- you made it. It was so quiet all of the sudden.” You answered.

“I don’t know how they fell asleep but they did eventually. This is crazy. Love, how do even manage to do that every day? This isn’t easy at all!”

“I don’t know. Maybe they just listen better to their mother.” You chuckled.

“Oh, damn.” Seungcheol scratched the back of his head. “Well, that could be a reason.”

You grinned, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I really gotta go back to work honey.” You exclaimed.

“No worries, baby. Just come home early. I miss you badly.”

“I will, Sir.” You both laughed.

“Love you.”

“I love you too.”

And with that the chaotic face time call had ended.

You couldn’t wait to get off work just to see your lovely family. That was your only motivation to finish quickly.

———————————————————————-

Nobody fathers more than Seungcheol Choi. Omg I need to write moreeeeeee.

#scoups x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #scoups #seungcheol #wonwoosstuff

[sunvmars]

sour | s.r. [2]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of abortion, pregnancy/pregnant reader- that's ab it

summary: you and steve discuss plans for the pregnancy, steve faces the consequences of his actions

a/n: oh boy have i got a little plot twist coming for y'all soon. also, the chapters will get longer as more of the story is revealed!

“I’m pregnant, Steve.”

Steve's hold on you became a little tighter. He found himself unable to fully process the information you'd just dropped on him; you being pregnant wasn't something he had even considered. You stood still in his arms, allowing him time to process the news and awaiting any type of response from him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The words kept repeating in his head; she’s pregnant, she's pregnant, she's…pregnant.

"Steve? Did you hear me?" you questioned, voice slightly muffled by how you were being pressed into his chest.

Only after hearing your voice again did he move. He released his grip on you and took a step back to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression containing a mix of disbelief and confusion. There was something else hidden below the surface of his gaze too- a deep-rooted concern. A concern not only for you but for the tiny little life growing inside of you too, the life both of you created.

"What..? I'm sorry, this is just, uhm, wow."

You cock an eyebrow up at him, "That's all you've got to say?"

When he doesn't respond, you scoff. His eyes search the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with you.

"Well, now that you've made this abnormally awkward, I think I'm gonna go home now," you chuckle, trying to hide your irritation, ''Since I'm having your baby, please feel free to call me when you've got something else to add, alright?"

He grabs your arm when you turn to leave, "Wait. I'm sorry, y/n. Come inside, please. We can talk in here.”

Reluctantly, you allowed Steve to guide you into the apartment. His grip on your arm stayed gentle but firm like he thought you were gonna turn and run away at any moment. Once fully inside, you noticed how everything seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Most of the pictures were off the wall except for two.

One picture was one that Tony had taken at the beach a year ago. The photo was of you, Steve, and Bucky sitting in the sand. You were laying in Steve's lap with your head resting on his chest while playing rock, paper, scissors with Bucky for the last slice of Steve's birthday cake.

The other photo just had you and Steve on your first date. You'd made him take a picture with you in front of the movie theater you went to. It was the oldest theater in town and, at some point during the night, you made a joke about how the theater was the only thing as old as him in the city.

He'd rolled his eyes at the joke but found himself unable to contain a smile when he saw your face light up as you laughed. You were witty, and that was his favorite thing about you, even if he was on the butt end of the joke. As long as you still had that pretty smile on your face, he didn't care how many jokes you made about him.

The soft, white couch you'd picked out together when the two of you first moved in was still there too and so was your favorite vase. The vase was missing the flowers though- the flowers he'd come home with every Friday without fail. More often than not, the ones he bought the week before weren't even dead yet, but he'd buy you new ones anyways.

"Ma used to tell me that if someone buys you flowers and they don't die for a long time, that means they really love you. But it's unavoidable that they'll die eventually, right? So I figured that if I buy you new ones before the old ones die then you'll never get the chance to forget how much I love you," he explained, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

"Right, but what if I forget anyway?" you joked with a smile.

And then he shrugged and gave you a peck on your nose, "Then it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you, honey," he cooed.

You bit your tongue, forcing the lump in your throat to go back down upon remembering all of the moments you shared. This was your home until just a couple of months ago, and now it felt like you were standing in a shell of what used to be your safe space.

Steve led you to the living room, the last room you'd been in before he gave up on your future together. He gestured for you to take a seat and you plopped into your favorite recliner that didn't even seem like it'd been touched since you left. The tension in the room was palpable as he sat on the far end of the couch, the side farthest away from you.

"You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" you joked, rubbing a hand over your aching stomach.

He gave a short-lived chuckle before speaking, "Listen, I'm sorry for my reaction," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect this, and I'm sure you didn't either."

You nodded to show your understanding, "It's alright, this is a lot for both of us."

"What do you wanna do..?"

"Me?"

His brain blanks as he tries to think of whether or not he'd said something wrong.

"Yeah?" he finally says, almost saying it like a question.

"It's not just my decision, Steven. You get a say in this too."

"I do?"

You laugh a little at his confusion, "Yes. You do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that with everything that happened I... I'm trying to say that I'd understand if you didn't want me involved in this decision," he says, looking down at the floor to avoid your eyes.

"Steve, look at me," you begin, pausing until he looks back up at you, "I wouldn't leave this choice up to just me. Whatever decision we make has to work for both of us though."

He looks up at you with surprise etched all over his face, "Thank you, y/n. It's more than I deserve."

"Mhm, tell me about it," you sigh while still rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach, trying to ease the nausea.

He's silent, avoiding the dreaded breakup conversation. Luckily enough, neither of you are ready to have that discussion yet. He claps his hands together in his lap quietly and clears his throat to get rid of the silence.

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"No, not yet. I have to find a doctor. I'll ask Tony to make the call for me tomorrow."

"So, what do you wanna do?" he asks again, emphasizing the 'you,' "Have you thought about...you know?"

"The alternative? Yeah, I thought about it for a bit, but I think I wanna keep it. I've only known about the little guy for less than an hour and I'm already attached."

What you said was true, you did think about every possible alternative from abortion to adoption; but at some point on the way here, you'd decided on keeping it. You feel a bit of hope when you look down at your stomach. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting all your troubles. Though your smile is quickly replaced with a frown when you remember the situation at hand. You look up to lock eyes with him, seeing he's clearly hesitating to respond.

"But if you don't want this, I can raise him or her alone. Y'know, move out of town or move a few states away to be closer to family so there are no unwanted run-ins. The whole nine yards," you say softly, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.

"Oh, y/n," he mumbles, "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this- I didn't want any of this."

You take in his words, trying to make sense of them. You felt your heart beginning to break as he remained silent. How can he just give up so easily before it even gets hard? Not that you'd pressure him into raising a kid he didn't want, I mean you did give him the choice, but his words still come as a surprise.

"So, the whole nine yards it is then?"

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

“I need you to look at me and say it, please.”

Steve looked around the room, appearing as though he was about to cry. His eyes finally land on you and you swear there's bits of guilt and regret in them.

"I don't want this baby."

That was all you needed. Hearing him say the words to you only solidified that y/n l/n and Steve Rogers didn't stand another damn chance. You sniffled as you stood up, trying to conceal any glimpse of sadness he could possibly see in you. You make your way to the door and go to turn the handle only for him to start speaking and stop you in your tracks.

"Y/n. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't expecting any of this. I don't know what I want yet."

"Of course you do, Steven, you just said it," you say with a fake smile as you turn to look at him, "I'm not upset with you for not wanting this, but I'm disappointed that you're not the man I thought you were. If you change your mind, you know where to find me, but decide soon because I won't let you be in and out of our lives."

With that, you leave and quietly shut the door behind you.

The drive back to the tower is entirely too slow and painful. You slipped your shoes off once back inside the comfort of your room and made your way to the bathroom to run a bath. After sinking in the warm bubbles and water, you unlocked your phone to unblock Steve's number. You awaited a text as you bathed- a text that never came, that is. You felt a little silly for ever thinking he'd want this with you but brush the feeling off quickly as it makes you feel physically sick.

You dry off, slip into your favorite night clothes, then slip under your covers. After trying to fall asleep for four hours and either waking up after a few minutes or not being able to fall asleep at all, you text Bucky to see if he's awake. It's about 3 a.m., but he responds after only five minutes to tell you he's coming to your room. The fact that he knew you wanted him to come over without saying it had a smile spreading across your lips.

When he arrived, you hugged him tightly and let out a shaky breath you'd been holding. He pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a concerned expression painted on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, hands resting on your arms.

"I'm pregnant, Buck."

You laugh a little to hide the way your voice cracked but Bucky sees right through it. He frowns at the sight of you, taking in the dark bags under your eyes and your skin that was paler than your usual tone.

"Let's go sit down, yeah?" he smiles warmly.

The two of you sit on your bed in silence as you lay your head on his shoulder. You make small talk after a few minutes, Bucky mainly asking questions about what you plan to do and how you feel.

"I'm guessing you told Steve?" he inquires.

He feels you nod slowly against his shoulder and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"And how did he take it?"

You shrug before speaking, "It seemed like he wanted to be a part of it all at first...then he said he didn't want this, but then he said he wasn't sure."

"Huh," he sighs out of confusion, "You know I'm here for you though, right? Both of you are my best friends, no matter how stupid he's being."

"I know you are," you reply.

"I know it's early and all, but have you thought about if you want a girl or boy?" he asks cautiously, worried the topic might upset you, "If you keep it, that is," he quickly adds.

"Buck, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I went to Steve's to get his input, but I think I decided to keep it as soon as I found out about it. I hate Steve so much right now, but this baby is a piece of both of us. I can't bring myself to get rid of something so innocent just for being a part of him," you explain, "I know it's not that simple for other people, but I did want kids with him eventually. I'm not unhappy with the pregnancy, I'm unhappy with the circumstances. Boy or girl, I'll be overjoyed either way."

He smiles to himself briefly, "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? You'll be a wonderful mother, y/n, and I mean that."

As hard as he tries to come up with an explanation for his friend's odd behavior, he can't. He'd promised you that he wouldn't go digging for answers when you broke up, you'd told him you didn't care to know and that it wasn't his problem. You're his friend, so he respected that. But now? Now it wasn't just you that Steve was abandoning, which meant that now he had to have answers.

Your breathing slows after a little bit, a sign that he recognizes as you getting sleepy. Slowly, he lays down, cradling your body so that you lay down with him. He lets you rest your head on him as he strokes your hair back soothingly. He waits until he hears your soft snores to gently ease your head onto your pillow before getting off the bed. He'd decided that he was going to get answers, even if it was three-forty in the morning.

Back at the apartment, Steve had only moved once to turn off the lights, pour a glass of alcohol, and sit in your recliner. He would never say it now but he hated being alone in the apartment without you. This wasn't his home, and it never was, not without you there with him. The space that used to be filled with your laughter and your love now felt void of anything other than cold. He sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, as he did almost every night since you broke up.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. The timing of him getting a message was unusual given the late hour. He picked up the phone and saw it was from Bucky, he smiled softly in hopes that his friend would offer some sort of help. He was sadly mistaken.

Bucky: We need to talk.

Steve frowned at the cryptic message as he typed a response.

Steve: About what?

Bucky's reply was swift.

Bucky: You know exactly what.

A knock sounded at the door no more than ten minutes later. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever talking to he was about to get.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Bucky. As he walked in, the light from outside lit up his face and allowed Steve to see his expression of concern and irritation. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face Steve.

"I'm starting to worry you're turning into a vampire or something, punk. Why are you sitting with all the lights off again? Haven't we had this talk before?" he questions, flipping the overhead light on, "Have you been crying again?"

Steve groans and rubs his wet eyes with his free hand, "No," he lies.

His eyes narrow in Bucky's direction as he walks towards where he's sitting. Steve then brings the drink up to his lips to take a sip only to have it yanked away.

"Buck-"

"Now this is new, is this alcohol?" Bucky asks, bringing the glass up to his nose only to recoil at the scent, "Steve, oh my God, What is in this?"

"Whiskey, tequila, a little bit of everything. Well, everything she left here."

Bucky looks away, desperately trying to contain a laugh, "You can't even get drunk. What are you doing? What's the end goal here?"

"The taste helps me forget how big of an idiot I am," Steve confesses as he snatches his drink back, "It's like a punishment."

"Glad you know you're an idiot, it makes my job here easier."

"Did she send you over here," Steve asks, looking up at Bucky through his eyelashes.

"No, she didn't. But she told me what happened and I came here on my own," Bucky responds, "You know as well as I do that she can fight her own battles."

"Then why are you here?"

"To check on you. And like you said, you're an idiot. I'm here to figure out why you're being such an idiot, though. Whatever Steve you've been for the last four months isn't the Steve I know."

When he doesn't answer, Bucky continues talking, "I've let this go on for far too long. I should've asked when I noticed you were acting weird, but I chalked it up to how rough that last Hydra mission was. But this whole baby thing is the last straw, Steve. I've had to put up with your dumb decisions recently, I deserve an explanation. The woman carrying your child does more so, but we'll get to that."

Steve let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escaping the conversation. Bucky had always been a straightforward friend. For as long as they knew each other, he was never one to beat around the bush, and he wasn't about to start letting Steve get away with stuff now.

"I don't even know where to start," Steve admits, his voice laced with frustration.

He takes another sip of his drink, hoping it might give him the kick he needs to explain himself. His face turns up at the taste and Bucky tries yet again to conceal a laugh.

"Okay, enough of that," he says, taking the drink back out of Steve's hands.

Bucky crosses his arms and sits on the end of the couch closest to Steve, giving him a stern look, "How about you try starting with why you decided to walk away from her? She's the best thing that ever happened to you, Steve, we both know that."

Steve winces at his words. He knew Bucky was right, as he usually was, but facing the same truth every day didn't make it hurt any less. It actually hurt worse since he knew that this entire situation was his fault.

"So?" Bucky says, urging Steve to speak.

Bucky instinctively brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip. His expression turns from understanding to disgust as he spits the drink back into the cup.

Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"

"Think it was the feeling of the cup in my hand, not sure why I did that. Guess old habits do die hard," Bucky explains, "Anyways, get to the explaining."

"I... I don't know, Buck. I messed up, bad."

"We already know that, care to elaborate?" Bucky prodded.

"It wasn't up to me, Buck," Steve sighs, speaking again when he sees Bucky's confused look, "Remember that Hydra mission you were just talking about?"

taglist! @vicmc624 @tooruen @athenabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :) submissions and asks are now also open

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x reader angst #angst #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #steve rogers x reader angst #the winter solider

[namiusedbubble]

When they have a crush on you

SEBASTIAN SALLOW:

☠️  Sebastian is not the type to hide his crush. Even before he figures it out, everyone around him will know because of how differently he’ll treat you compared to everyone else.

☠️  He’s charming and friendly towards you, which happens to be his biggest tell as he can be quite snappy and temperamental to anyone who interrupts him.

☠️  He tends to become hyper-focused on things, whether it be spending hours with his head buried in a book or diligently searching spider-infested catacombs for a dark relic, there is no stopping him until he gets what he wants. That naturally extends to wooing you.

☠️  Suddenly he’ll find any and all reasons to spend time with you. Oh, you’re good at Herbology? It just so happens that Sebastian is in desperate need of a tutor! Oh, you’re a good duelist? Please help me take down this goblin camp real quick before meeting my family Why don’t you join this exclusive little dueling club I’m in? 

☠️  Not only does he want to spend as much time with you as possible, he also wants to be as close as physically possible without crossing any of your boundaries. He’ll push you behind him when facing enemies, he’ll constantly lean against things with his arm next to your head, and he’ll offer his hand to help you up and down ledges or off your broom.  

☠️  He has a jealous streak, so if he sees you becoming particularly close with anyone he deems a potential romantic threat, he’ll insert himself into the situation and either make an excuse to pull you away or pout and glare until the other person becomes uncomfortable enough that they’ll excuse themselves just to get away from him.

☠️  In any case, I don’t imagine you’ll remain in the “crush zone” for very long. Sebastian can hardly go five minutes around you without saying too much or revealing his or someone else’s secrets, let alone try to keep his feelings hidden when they grow every day you spend with each other.

OMINS GAUNT:

🐍  Ominis is a bit more subtle in his affections than Sebastian. It will take him a while before he approaches you, just so he can be sure he actually wants to pursue you and it isn’t just a fleeting crush. 🐍  He’ll sit near you, but not next to you, in classes and at meal times. He likes hearing your voice as you chat to your friends or make snide remarks about the professors when you think nobody is listening. Sebastian will often catch him smiling at seemingly nothing whenever you’re around. 🐍  You’re both desperately trying to keep yourselves awake in History of Magic one day when Ominis makes a witty comment at the expense of Binns, and he’s floored when you laugh next to him, quietly leaning over to share your own comments about the professor’s riveting tale about another centuries old wizarding war. 🐍  From that day on, Ominis went out of his way to make you laugh. Whenever he’d find you in-between classes, he would sit next to you on the bench and make passing remarks about the other students. It seemed he knew everything about everyone and had something to say about all of it, and you found his little quips absolutely hilarious. You’d always thought Ominis Gaunt was a refined, quiet gentleman, yet here he was tearing into Leander Prewett with no remorse and telling first years that the giant squid liked to feast on children walking too close to the lake. 🐍  He would be so sweet to you, doting, even. If you’d had a particularly stressful week catching up on assignments or running errands for everyone and their dog, Ominis would offer to keep breakfast for you so you could sleep for just a few minutes longer. When he notices you rushing about the castle, he’d stop you to ask if you’d taken a break that day and if you’d like to accompany him to the library for a spot of light reading. On the various occasions you’d come back injured, he would offer you his arm as a way to keep you steady. Eventually, offering you his hand or arm becomes second nature and you’ll find yourselves walking like that even when there’s no need to support you physically. 🐍  I think it would take a long time before Ominis admits his feelings. He enjoys the safety of the courting stage because his family are less likely to involve themselves. He’s also afraid you’ll reject a serious relationship with him because of their reputation and behaviour. He might huff and puff about how it’s a gentleman’s responsibility, but he’d secretly appreciate if you were the one to make the next move.

GARRETH WEASLEY:

🧪  I imagine Garreth would have to be friends with someone before he develops a crush on them. 🧪  While this social butterfly could easily make friends with a wall, that doesn’t mean he knows how to flirt with one. He’s so subtle with his intentions that it’s easy to assume he’s just being his regular, friendly self.

🧪  He would take a break from his experiments to brew you an endless supply of Wiggenweld potions for your adventures. He knew you were capable of handling yourself, but he worries about you and wants to help in any way he can.

🧪  He’d make it a point to accompany you around the castle, offering to carry your books or help with extra assignments. He’d refrain from using you as a guinea pig, but he would ask you to help him find ingredients for various potions, sometimes even at strange hours of the night. Most of the time, he has no use for the things he is asking for, he just wants to spend time with you.

🧪  Despite the Weasleys not having a lot of money, Garreth would always offer to treat you to a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. He often buys (and occasionally swipes) bags of your favourite sweets from Honeydukes, even though he isn’t partial to them himself. He thinks he’s being subtle by asking you to share, but it doesn’t escape your notice that he never takes a single one, instead leaving them all to you.

🧪  Garreth eventually confesses his feelings to you while drunk on the effects of Felix Felicius. He had been trying to brew it for you, knowing you had a particularly difficult mission ahead, but he had to try it first to make sure it wouldn’t turn you purple or make you break out in boils.

AMIT THAKKAR:

⭐  This poor boy somehow manages to be both a stuttering and word vomiting mess around you.  

⭐  One minute he is telling you all about the great tales he plans to write, how Binns will be assigning his books to every student at Hogwarts by the end of the decade, and then you’ll give him that smile and he’s suddenly blushing and stuttering uncontrollably.  

⭐  He’s most comfortable around you at night, when the stars are there to calm his nerves. This is when you’ll get to see the true Amit, the cute, gentle boy who will point constellations out to you for hours if you’re interested. Although he’d much prefer to find real constellations and their associated imagery, you can occasionally rope him into a silly game of ‘connect the stars’, only because he loves the way your face brightens when you vaguely recognise a mooncalf or niffler dotted in the sky. 

⭐  He is incredibly intelligent, so if you ever need help with a subject, you can rest assured that Amit is more than willing to offer you (and only you) his tutoring services, free of charge! ⭐  Amit is 100% going to support you in all of your endeavors, regardless of how much interest he has in them himself. You play on the Quidditch team? He’ll be at every single practice session to cheer you on. You enjoy ballroom dancing in a room full of dead people? He’s now practicing in his common room every night so he won’t step on your feet (Go to sleep Amit, it’s three in the morning!). You name it, he’ll be there, probably reading a theory book about the history of the hobby. ⭐  It might take him ages, but he will 100% confess to you in the cheesiest way possible. Maybe it will be through an original poem personally delivered to you by owl, or maybe it will be through spelling “I  ❤️ U” in the stars. Regardless, he’ll make sure you’ll be melted into a puddle by his sweetness.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagines #hogwarts legacy headcanon #sebastian sallow #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #ominis gaunt #harry potter #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #amit thakkar x reader

[hard-core-super-star]

my rotten mind and how much it worships you [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you and hailee slowly figure out your feelings for each other and start to do something about them instead of arguing.

warnings: a bit of everything, fluff, angst, and spice; slightly suggestive themes but no actual smut; still technically enemies-to-lovers but more focused on the lovers part; PR messes + glass closets; still 100% inspired by lacy...and rock bottom

wordcount: 1.6k

a/n: this is part two of the sweetest torture one could bear. i had a bunch of scattered ideas for this but the amazing @anninastv truly encouraged me to write this so shoutout to her for always having incredible ideas. i tried to lean harder into the fluff than the angst but uh...well, i have a lot of thoughts, okay? rubix stop getting attached to your one-shots challenge.

* * * * * * *

The morning sun peeks through the thick curtains of your hotel room, bringing in enough light to rouse you from the depths of sleep. 

You groan and attempt to roll over to hide from the warm light that fills the room. Your attempt massively fails however and that’s when you realize the weight pressed up right against your back…along with the arm loosely draped over your waist. 

The realization is more than enough for you to shake off the drowsiness that clings to your mind. It takes a few seconds but then, all at once, the memories of the night before come back. Hailee offering to let you sleep in the one bed in the room instead of the couch, her outburst of emotions, the easy conversation that flowed, and…the kiss. 

The one kiss that eventually led to a lot more.

You shiver just thinking about the things the two of you got up to after that. The soft looks and careful touches you won’t be able to take back even if you wanted to. Which, you’re not sure if you want to.

You’re not sure about a lot right now. 

All you really know is being in Hailee’s arms feels better than you ever thought possible. And you really want to hate the feeling but you can’t. Just like you can’t hate her despite how much easier everything would be if you did.

“I can hear you overthinking from here.”

The sound of her voice makes you jump out of your own head and back into the present. You can practically see the grin that’s definitely on her face right now, the one that makes her eyes warm and her face soft.

“I’m not overthinking,” you mumble in response.  

“Right…” She, surprisingly, doesn’t argue any further than that.

You’re clearly not the only one whose feelings have gotten incredibly complicated. Although, maybe she’s actually taking your advice to heart and going after what she wants. 

It's hard to believe you're what she truly wants, though.

The brunette makes some sort of noise, something between a sigh and a groan, before you feel her lips against the bare skin of your shoulder. She’s gotten far too good at reading you in the span of this stupid vacation. 

Her soft kisses feel incredible but you still haven’t fully shed your need to push her buttons whenever possible. “If I would’ve known you’d be this touchy in the morning, I would’ve slept on the couch.”

“Mmm, has anyone ever told you you’re a horrible liar?” Her comment is mumbled against your skin and you actively have to stop yourself from groaning.

“You had no problem believing I hated you.”

“So…that was all a lie?”

Shit.

You walked yourself right into that one. No amount of witty comments and half-assed jokes are going to be enough to get you out of this. So, you settle on silence. You’d rather not open the Pandora’s box of hidden feelings you’ve been hiding under all your sarcasm.

Hailee doesn’t want silence, though, and she makes that crystal clear. 

“I want you.”

You know what she's talking about but the mere thought of it is too much to comprehend so you do what you do best: deflect. 

“You've been awake for ten minutes and you're already thinking about sex?”

“That's not what I mean.”

“I know,” you say through a sigh. “But sleeping together doesn't mean we're fated to fall in love.”

Her hands tug at your waist, a silent request for you to turn over. You don’t want to fulfill it and yet your body moves before you can stop it. You turn onto your other side and pretend not to notice the satisfied grin on her face.

“Can't a girl be a hopeless romantic?” She mutters once her eyes find yours.

“I don't think you can afford to be much of anything right now.”

It's subtle but it's a reminder of why you're here. You're not a real couple, you're not friends, and you barely even like each other…or at least, that's what you thought before last night.

She's quiet for a few seconds and you foolishly assume she's changed her mind. But of course, she hasn't. Because when has Hailee Steinfeld ever made things easy for you?

“I want to try.” Her voice is barely above a whisper but it carries more weight than you’re used to hearing from her. “I want to be with you.”

“Why?” You blurt out. “You don't even like me.”

You half-expect her to roll her eyes at you or call you stubborn but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even try to put her walls back up. For once in a long time, Hailee’s finally being honest, with herself and with you. “Because you get me. You see through all the bullshit without even batting an eyelash. It's annoying but it's refreshing. And I think I’d have to be an idiot to let you slip away.”

“You are an idiot.”

Despite your words, you’re already halfway to kissing her. It might be a foolish decision but it feels far too right for you to ignore. 

Most of your day is spent like that, kissing Hailee and letting her show you how much she means her words. And, considering the amount of marks she leaves all over your neck, she really means them.

It’s not until late afternoon that the two of you manage to untangle from each other. The brunette keeps her hands to herself long enough for you to shower and by the time you come back, her whole demeanor has changed. 

You’re about to ask her what’s wrong when you notice the way she’s clutching her phone. 

Right.

You’re still in the middle of a, frankly ridiculous, PR stunt and whatever it is you’re doing doesn’t fit the narrative the media has created. One that’s very intent on keeping Hailee inside her glass closet. 

“y/n-”

You stop her before she can get too far, not ready to hear the hundreds of excuses she always has on hand. “It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know.” She sighs. “But I meant it. I want this. With you.”

It would be incredibly easy to push back. To tell her you’ve changed your mind and you want no part in whatever PR mess she’s created for you…but that’s not the truth.

And, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re far too deep to turn back now. 

“Just keep your hands to yourself during dinner, Steinfeld.”

The smile she gives you is the only evidence you need that you’re doing the right thing. Even if it’s not necessarily the easiest thing.

The time for your dinner reservation arrives far quicker than you’d like and before you know it, you and Hailee are sitting out in the open in some random restaurant pretending you don’t notice the bunch of paparazzi waiting on your every move.

It’s strange but also not the weirdest thing you’ve ever done so you do your best to focus on the brunette and nothing else.

“They’ll go away in a bit,” Hailee says while her hand finds yours under the table. “They’ll take a few pictures and then leave once nothing exciting happens.”

“You don’t think I’m exciting?” You reply, allowing her to intertwine your fingers.

“You’re impossible.”

You merely chuckle and listen to her while she swiftly changes the topic. You nod along as she tells you some random story from her time shooting Hawkeye, trying your best not to get distracted by her affectionate touches.

You’ve learned a lot of things about her during this fake vacation and yet, her constant need to be in contact with you might be your favorite one. Twenty-four hours ago you couldn’t wait to never see her again and now you’re actively trying to plan out when to spend more time with her. 

You’re in the middle of wondering how the hell you got here when you feel her arm wrap around your shoulders. You assume the paparazzi are gone so you don’t say anything. You merely let her rest her chin on your shoulder and admire you like you’re some priceless painting.

“You okay?” She whispers.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

You turn slightly to be able to look at her and she takes the opportunity to kiss you. Your hand reaches up to cup her face as you return the kiss, completely oblivious to the pictures that get snapped at that moment.

You don't even make it to dessert before both of your phones are blowing up with endless posts and tweets, all talking about the two of you and the sweet kiss you're sharing in the attached pictures.

“Hailee,” you say softly, your voice tinged with the slightest bit of regret. “I’m sorry.”

“Don't be.” She shakes her head before turning off her phone and giving you her undivided attention once again. “I created this whole mess in the first place, I can deal with the backlash. I just…don't want to hide anymore.”

“Who are you and what have you done with the real Hailee Steinfeld?” You joke.

She rolls her eyes but there's no annoyance in the action anymore. There's nothing but that goofy grin she can't contain no matter how many times you push her buttons on purpose.

“And somehow I'm the one who doesn't have feelings.”

You have no time to reply and for once, you don't really care. All you care about is the feeling of her lips against yours.

Everything else can wait until later.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

[love-bugsy]

meet cut(e) | jason todd

the worst thing about love (two) / (one)

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me

only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)

You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.

“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom. 

First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.

Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.

Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol. 

Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.

Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.

“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.

“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.

“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole. 

“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.

“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?”  Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel. 

“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.

“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”

You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.

He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.

“You can have some coffee, you know.”

“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.

“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.

“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.

“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.

You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.

You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.

“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.

Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.

He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.

“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums. 

~

You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’. 

Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.

~

A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.

It feels like all you see lately.

Are the nightmares getting worse?

Lie.

Stayin’ out of trouble?

Lie.

Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?

Lie.

Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.

You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.

His death isn’t reported on the news.

Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.

Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter. 

His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him. 

Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.

oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!

with love, bugsy

#series: the worst thing about love #love-bugsy #jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd reader insert #x reader

[pomegranateshrimp]

⚕️Finding you in the break room having a panic attack. (1)

Oneshot, Fluff, Comfort

James Wilson x Gn!reader

omg this gif of him>>

——————————————————

You worked on Houses team, and you were used to his usual berating of you and witty insults but today, today was different. Maybe he didn’t have the Vicodin. Maybe that was it. You didn’t know. Truthfully you didn’t care. What he said to you can’t just be blamed on his addiction. It truly shook you to your core, ringing in your ears as tears well up in your eyes. You were going to crack and didn’t want anyone else watching you while you did. You took your break early and marched into the break room. You didn’t have much time, as House didn’t give his team members any. But you decided to use what you had to just cry.

No one else was in the room, just you alone with your thoughts. You sat at the seat farthest from the door, in case anyone walked in, and you just started sobbing uncontrollably. Tears flowing out of you, spilling over your lash-line. You couldn’t stop them. You just kept thinking about what he said.

You killed the patient! You killed them and it’s all your fucking fault!

Your hands reached up to your head and you sulked. Your brain was going a million miles a minute. Was I cut out to work here? Should I just quit? House definitely seems to want me gone and I’m not exactly—

Your thinking was interrupted by the door swinging open lightly, and a familiar oncologist entering with a smile on his face and his lunch in his hand. He looked up and his cheery, warm, comfortable look on his face was replaced with one of worry.

“L/n? Are you okay?” The kind man quickly took a seat next to you, only wanting to help in any way he could.

You nodded wiping the tears from your eyes and returning to a stoic expression, acting as if you hadn’t been bawling a second ago; although Wilson could tell something was up.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned down a bit to try and look up at you, to just see what you were feeling, to try and understand and help. He wanted nothing more than to comfort you. Bless his heart, you had barely known the man and he was the person who was there for you the most.

“House yelled at me..” you mumble hoping he wouldn’t hear, tears pulling at your eyes again. You felt humiliated on so many levels, even if you knew Wilson’s intentions.

“What’d he say?”

You took a deep breath before continuing, making sure you didn’t break down mid-sentence.

“That I killed a patient. Except a lot worse than that.”

Wilson put a hand on your shoulder.

“Listen, I know House can be difficult, believe me, but you’re an amazing doctor, and an even better person. House is just dealing with his own stuff right now and wants to make other people just as miserable as he is. You didn’t kill anyone. Okay?”

You looked up finally and stared into his glossy kind eyes. You broke down, you couldn’t stop it but his kindness was so welcoming and you were running out of time on your break and you needed to let it out. You knew House would scold you if he knew you were crying like a bitch about his ‘light hearted jokes’. As if you were possessed, your body lunged forward and wrapped your arms tight around James, taking him by surprise and almost knocking the breath out of him. Despite his shock he welcomed you into his arms, letting your head rest on his chest. Everyone in the hospital knew about his endless string of flings with the staff, but right now, you didn’t care. He could’ve just been trying to get in your pants sure, but he wasn’t that kind of man. At least if he was, he did a good job at hiding it. He made you feel loved and cared for more than anyone else in this moment. And you adored every second of it.

As you soaked his shirt with your tears he brought a hand up from your back to your hair and started, not exactly playing, but more petting your hair. Not in a creepy way, just in a soothing way. He was trying to calm you down, and it was working. His other hand making small circles on your back as he whispered into your ear sweet phrases:

Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here for you.

And he really was.

A/N: oh em gee im so sry for not posting more 😭 Ik this was short but I hope it’s okay! reminder my requests are open (pls). ALSO I’m gonna do a part 2 so if you’ve made it this far, tysm for reading! Which character do you want to see in part 2?

#house md #fanfic #gregory house #james wilson #oneshot #hate crimes md #james wilson x reader #dr wilson #wilson x reader #medical malpractice #robert sean leonard #fyp #comfort #flufftober #angst #lisa cuddy #robert chase #IM ONLY ON SEASON 2 #pls like #x reader

[lydscare]

ponyboy curtis dating/relationship headcanons

warnings/notes: ponyboy is a softie; no warnings 🙌 (pony is a little insecure, though)

a/n: yooo 😃, it’s been a hot minute; sorry school drama is being a b*tch right now and has been exhausting me from writing 😭 [why do guys gotta be so immature!?] anyways, “the outsiders” hyperfixation kicked in and made me write this, enjoy!!

reader is gender-neutral / my masterlist 

he’s a sweetie :))

he likes to calls you sunshine or hun

he LOVES taking you to watch sunsets. (he was probably watching one with you when he realized that he was in love with you–)

discussions with him can be so funny when taken out of context. they can go from goofy not too serious questions to an entire exsistensial crisis about the universe

“do crabs think we walk sideways?”

“...pony–”

he is the first to say “i love you”

being close to him allows you to get to know his witty (and kinda smartass) side. 

he also loves being able to make you laugh with any of his sarcastic remarks

“if mr. ray gives us another homework assignment i’m to go to dally for some help.”

*yn laughing*

*ponyboy trying to hide the proudest smile on his face :))*

pony loves, loves the sound of your laugh too

it’s just comforting to him :’)

i also think that after ponyboy comes out of his shell more that he’d 100% be the type to gossip (and never get caught) mainly stuff that he heard from two-bit, dally and johnny tho/tbh

y’all can communicate with no words, (it’s honestly sometimes pretty creepy); y’know through you eyes and facial  expressions and whatnot

he learns to read you really well. your body language and everything, so he’ll know that if you’re uncomfortable and he’ll try to get you out of whatever situation as soon as possible

he gets jealous a bit (he’s a little more insecure though) but he tends to wallow quietly in loathing, giving them the stink eye and what not

you go to his track meetings, just sitting on a bench nearby. he’s so happy that you’re there and supporting him :’)

if you cheer him on loudly tho, he will sink into the floor. out of embarrassment or just being overwhelmed by your love and support, who knows? 

if you guys are walking to his house later at night (or anytime, really) and a soc car drives up next to you guys, he’ll block you from their view so you hopefully won’t get catcalled. (in general he walks on the side of the street near the curb) 

if the group of socs does catcall you from their car or make you uncomfy he’ll tell them to shove off (protective boy fr fr)

also likes to kiss you all over your face

forehead kisses <3

passing notes in class

i don’t know why but i kinda feel like he’s insecure about his smile, so please reassure him that you love him whole :’)

he’s a great listener

ends up stealing a lot of you pencils because he’s always losing them 😭

sketches u <3

random deep talks at 3 in the morning 

recommending books and movies to each other

while he reads a book you recommend to him he writes little annotations of what he thought of the book (you do this for him also) 

has defiantely drawen both of your initials in a heart 

draws on your hands, lets you draw on his

he feels happy seeing you walk around with his little drawings on your hand 🥹

people honestly think that you guys are just really close friends; which is a  fair assumption, there isn’t too much pda with him/you probably don’t do anything too sterotypically couplely in public

he’s 14 (anyone who’s 17+ and reading this, 😐 wtf–) and you’re proably the first relationship he’s ever been in, so he kinda is trying to see how it goes + is always a bit afraid he might be overstepping (at least early on in the relationship)

pt.2 here cuz apparently i went over the word limit :'))

#lydscare; #the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders x reader #ponyboy curtis #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy michael curtis x reader #ponyboy imagine #ponyboy curtis imagine

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - First Meeting 1/4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 and end

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Hero stopped on the threshold of the old warehouse. They examined their surroundings, as if to check what was hiding beyond them. Of course they could see nothing. There wasn’t any light. The voice itself seemed slightly deformed with some kind of white noise – it had to be a transmission.

“Why ?” they asked politely.

“Because you won’t see another day again if you step in.”

Hero tilted their head. They grabbed their flashlight, and – what ? They squinted their eyes, but the ray of light bounced on the darkness and went back to them.

Now, that didn’t seem very normal.

“I see what you mean,” they said.

Then they shrugged and entered. A booming laugh resonated as the doors locked themselves brutally behind Hero:

“You’re mine now ! Miiiine ! You belong to the eternal night of everlasting darkness !”

“Uh. Um, okay.”

The laugh stopped and the voice sounded suddenly a bit sulking:

“That’s all ? No witty remark ? No cutting repartee ? I thought you were a Hero. I’m disappointed.”

“Sorry. I’m just trying to do my job. But I have things to say.”

“Let’s hear it, my little prey.”

“Well, there were a bunch of burglaries in this part of the town, and the managers of the stores always complained about the lights that went out no matter what they did before the act. So I’ve investigated a little and I’ve pinpointed this location.”

“How very smart of you, prisoner. You’re the only one who could find the truth and stay alive this long. No doubt you must be special.”

Embarrassed, Hero rubbed the back of their neck.

“Nah, I’m not very high-ranked, actually.”

“I’ve seen you before, though. I remember.”

Hero stroked one of their crochet twists and absentmindedly smiled:

“Yeah, the rainbow beads help, usually. It’s not because I work as hard as I can that I’m very important.”

“Why are you on my trail all by yourself, then ?”

“ As far as I know, you haven’t killed anyone. You just stole the supplies you need, I have the list... so forgive me if I’m not very much intimidated. I mean, you took a lot of Twinkies ?”

“Food’s survivor.”

“It doesn’t even last very long, actually.”

“...You must be the life of the party. Well, it doesn’t matter. I salute you for your efforts, but your time has come to an end.”

“Is that so ?”

“I control shadows, little Hero. My powers are beyond your reach.”

“Yeah, but you use them to steal Twinkies.”

“Would you stop with that ? Very well, I shall make you forget all about them. Behold my lair and despair !”

Pale blue dots weakly illuminated the huge warehouse. A large screen appeared by the ceiling, revealing a hooded figure, but Hero’s attention was somewhere else. There were forms around them that at first they took for furniture – and in a certain sense they were. One of them could certainly be viewed as a chair, if you forgot the huge spikes on the seat, just as the wooden frame in front of it had been made for people to lay down, if the manacles could be taken into account. Hero stared at all this, at the cages on the ground, at the chains on the walls, and stopped walking, their heart suddenly beating way faster. There were traces of red here and there. All of this was separated from them thanks to a glass wall.

“Have I just seen you shudder, Hero ?” simpered the voice. “Or are you still convinced that I’m not so dangerous ?”

Hero did wince. They also took a step back and a deep breath before seeking for an opening.

“I can assure you there’s no way out”, said Villain. “Unless you are strong enough to smash the doors you came from, but then you’d have already broken out by now. Or do you think I’m foolish enough to be around ? Are you so mad for revenge that you have to seek me out?”

“I’m not mad yet. I just want to check something.”

“You should be. I count my victims by the dozens and no one realized that because you heroes are that disastrous. Many disappeared, but no one cared about them. You want to make me think you do? ”

“Yes.”

Hero finally found what looked like a door. After fumbling for a moment, their hand closed on a handle and they could get to the other side. Surrounded by darkness, the torture instruments looked as sinister and impressive as their function implied. Right until the moment when Hero’s fingers brushed against a huge spike and pushed.

Their thumb went into the metal with no problem and left a mark. This time, it was Hero’s laugh that boomed in the room.

“It’s tin, isn’t it ?” they asked to the hooded figure. “Man, it’s impressive. You made me believe it for a minute. The blood is painting, right ?”

“...Maybe.”

“It’s like you’ve made a ghost train ride all by yourself. You’re an artist. I mean it.”

They rubbed their hands together to get rid of the red painting:

“But I have to catch you now.”

The voice growled in answer:

“Then come to find me, nemesis. That’s what you’ve just become.”

“Thank you. I will bring you Twinkies in prison.”

“Oh, I will end you.”

*

(Yes, it's the first time these two dorks have met. Sequel here)

Back to the These Two Dorks masterlist.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #writing dialogue #these two dorks #hero and villain #heroes and villains #hero x villain

[merakiui]

we have discussed clingy, codependent boyfriend azul, but now allow me to present to you: scummy, sleazy floyd.

(nsfw + female reader)

scummy, sleazy floyd who you meet at some club deep in the shadowed corner of the city. he smells of alcohol and cigarette smoke, and he’s leering lasciviously as he leans against the bar, blocking your view of another guy who’d been attempting to strike up conversation. he doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s interested, and you only let him stay because he keeps you on your toes with his witty and blunt retorts. you tell him you’re not looking for a quick fuck and his lips spread in an easy grin and he answers with: “and i’m just here to hold hands and make friends.”

he buys you a drink; you gaze at the flashy silver and gold adorning his fingers when he passes the cocktail to you. some of those rings look expensive: bejeweled with the brightest gemstones and glittering with sterling silver. his sleeves are rolled up; he’s got tattoo sleeves of what looks to be various marine creatures, all predatory with their curling tentacles and sharpened maws. his ears are pierced, too, and so is his tongue. not that you’re looking at his lips, but when he smiles his entire face lights up. one moment he looks pure and sweet with his broad grins; the next he looks as if he’s just undressed you with his gaze alone. and under the dim, sensual neon lighting, something about the latter look has you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

you talk to him as you drink. horrifyingly enough, he’s good company. you almost wish you’d come with a friend so you could have an excuse to leave. it’s not that you’re uncomfortable. it’s just that you weren’t expecting to find someone here who’d genuinely listen to you—and not just so he can wheedle you into sex! he’s a rare specimen, or maybe you’re just too buzzed to see through the deceptively appealing haze that’s fallen over him.

“so why are you still here?”

“cuz you’re fun to talk to.”

“but don’t you want to fuck?”

“do you?” he smirks at your flustered sputtering. “don’t ask for somethin’ you don’t want.”

“huh…”

“you’re cute.” it catches you off guard, but then so does the nickname he throws out next. “like a little shrimp. think i’ll start callin’ ya shrimpy from now on.”

“please don’t.”

“too late.”

you quirk an amused smile and reach out to shove him away. he doesn’t budge. not that you put any force into it. you don’t want him to leave. not yet.

“you never gave me your name.”

“ya never asked.”

“okay, smooth talker, what’s your name?”

he smiles, gleeful mismatched eyes flicking to your fingers as they curl around the handle of your empty glass. he gazes at you next. “floyd.”

“nice to meet you, floyd. i’m (name).”

“s’pretty, but i still think shrimpy sounds better.”

you roll your eyes and angle your body so that you’re facing him entirely. you know you’ve been sitting here for quite some time now because suddenly he’s the only one you want to look at. maybe it’s the alcohol, but you feel so stupidly incoherent when you stand on unsteady legs. it takes you a moment to balance on the wedge platforms, and floyd offers a muscled arm for you to lean on. you grab it and squeeze his bicep out of drunken curiosity. he’s strong…

he’s eyeing your mini skirt and fishnet stockings with sharp eyes. you know it’s bad news; you know you shouldn’t get carried away like this, especially since you just came out of a very vanilla, very normal, very non-sexual romance. but that relationship didn’t work out; this one…is different. it’s not a relationship. it’s a hook-up. it’s temporary. it’s not permanent.

your eyes tell him all he needs to know. he giggles as he guides you through a tight hall to the bathroom. the music is a muffled hum now, bass reverberating through your rib cage as if it’s a heartbeat. impatiently, he pushes you into a stall, not bothering to lock the door. you scramble for purchase when he shoves you up against the wall. it’s been graffitied with all sorts of nonsense: magicam usernames, some circled and others crossed out, phone numbers, dirty words, incoherent scribbles of poorly drawn penises… it’s filthy and you wouldn’t fuck even your worst enemy in a place as horrid as this, but tonight it feels right.

you fumble to grab his shoulders while his hands hike your mini skirt further up your hips. it feels fast and slow all at once. is this happening? are you even alive right now? did you pass out from the alcohol? is this a dream? his voice brings you back to earth next.

“changed your mind?” he teases, pressing his thumbs into your sides to gauge just how plush your waist is. and from what he’s feeling he seems to approve, for he squeezes you playfully. the coolness of his rings settles your overheated nerves.

“s-shut up…”

“ya ever had sex before?”

it takes a long minute for you to process that, but once you do you hurry to respond. “of course i have!”

“liar.”

“’m not,” you mumble, shaking your head.

“yeah, yeah. lemme guess. you want it, but you’re too scared to take it.”

“…not true.”

he barks out a laugh. “ya serious? really? that’s it?”

you push his face away. he’s still laughing.

“that’s not true!”

“ya ever use any toys?” at your limp shrug, he throws his head back and whistles. “man. why’re you even here? what’s an inexperienced thing like you doin’ in a club?”

you stare hard at the floor, suddenly ashamed. “i… i wanted to lose it…tonight…”

or something like that.

“don’t ya have someone special who can take it? not that i ain’t special, but ya know… s’different. a partner or somethin’ like that.”

“there’s no one.”

floyd hums as if he’s considering something before promptly lowering to his knees. he doesn’t seem to mind the sticky floor, but then he’s more focused on the space between your legs. he winks when he catches your gaze, lips peeling to reveal rows of sharp, pearly teeth.

“then i’d better treat ya extra special tonight.”

you don’t object. he wasn’t expecting you to.

maybe if you were more sober and level-headed you might find the sensation unusual. but his tongue (and the cold metal of his accompanying piercing) feels so unfathomably good against your clit. he braces himself against your legs, strong hands wrapped firmly around your thighs as if they’re garters. his nose is buried in your crotch while he angles his head to lave his tongue over your slick pussy, leaving you a shuddering, gasping mess above. you grab at his hair, tugging teal strands to keep yourself afloat amidst inebriation and waves of tantalizing pleasure, each crashing into you as if you’re a poor, fragile sailboat on a vast, tumultuous sea.

he’s the best (and only) fuck you’ve ever had, so when his tongue flashes into your pussy you throw your head back against the stall and wail, your stomach untying its many knots as you come undone. you’re a mess, shuddering and panting, reduced to nothing before something so… so… great? perfect?

something so floyd.

and while you grind against his mouth he laps eagerly at your wetness, unbothered by the shower he just endured. he’s laughing when he pulls away, voice raspy and thick with good-natured mischief.

“shrimpy’s so easy…”

you scowl at him, but it falls apart the moment he licks his lips.

“you’re just too…”

“yeah?” he nods, encouraging you to continue. “too what? you can say it.”

you almost don’t want to give him that satisfaction, but then he’s pinching your clit and you’re melting against the stall. suddenly being vindictive is the least of your priorities.

“t-too good!”

“see? shrimpy knows the right words.” he rises to his feet in the cramped space, shucking his trousers as he goes. they pool at his ankles, momentarily forgotten. you stare at the outline of his half-hard cock against his boxers. “good girl.”

that... wow. okay. that’s…something new. you don’t want it to hit, but it does. and you hate that it does. you try not to let it show, but he’s so eerily perceptive despite all of the carnal lust and physical attraction. how he’s even able to focus all of his attention on you while he lazily works himself in one hand is beyond you, but then you surmise he’s likely had plenty of experience and so by now he knows the basic steps by heart. it hurts a little—that you’re not his first, that you aren’t anyone special to him, that you’re just another body he’s pinned to a dingy stall wall—but you don’t dare let your sentimental feelings spoil the mood.

you watch him roll a condom on one-handed and—god, even his dick is pierced—your anticipation couldn’t be any more palpable. he rocks himself against you, his leaking cock pressed to your stomach. he pokes at an area just above his tip.

“you think it’ll go all the way up to here?” he hums while you try (and fail) to say something coherent. “only one way to find out, yeah?”

“mhm…”

floyd laughs. “don’t go gettin’ dazed on me now, shrimpy. i haven’t even put it in yet!”

he turns you so you’re facing the wall and lifts one of your legs. the position stings for a moment, but then his dick is prodding at your pussy and if you had any doubts now they’re all washed away when he snaps his hips forwards, filling you all at once, so much that the breath is punched out of you and you crumple against the wall. you scramble to grab onto something, but he keeps you plastered to the wall, one hand curled around your waist and the other holding your leg up so that he’s fucking you at an angle. each thrust pushes you up against the stall, and you howl like a mutt in heat, no longer worried about slipping.

it’s so gross. you’re tacky with sweat and your panties are soaked through, and every time he connects his body to yours you can hear the lewd squelching of skin on skin. it’s vile and loveless, but god it’s good. everything about him is temporary; he’s not your forever. you know this, but for tonight he’s your temporary and that feels like a dreamy eternity.

he fucks you like you’re the only one left in this world, and your lashes flutter against your cheekbones, vision whiting out. you shudder through your orgasm, sobbing pleasured relief, and it takes just a few more well-aimed thrusts until he’s spilling hot, groaning lowly in your ear.

he stays pressed to you for a few seconds, rolling his hips slowly as if riding out a glorious high, and you blink rapidly as you return to yourself. he waves his hand in front of you and, stupidly, you reach out and clasp it tight. his fingers entwine with yours. temporary, you remind yourself.

it’s sweaty and sticky and so unbearably hot when he separates himself, slipping out with ease. you almost lower yourself to the ground, exhausted and in need of a bath, so he supports you with one arm while he tugs the now-filled condom off.

floyd peers at you with glazed eyes and leans in to kiss you on the cheek. it’s the cherry on top—a job well done.

“you got a friend nearby?”

“what?”

“someone to pick ya up.” he tries to clean you, balling toilet paper and using it to wipe you down. it doesn’t really work. you still feel filthy even after he’s adjusted your panties and pulled your mini skirt down. it’s the effort that counts, though. “shrimpy’s not really in the right mind.”

“i’m in the best mind, thank you and fuck you!”

“kinda did that last one already.”

he lets you tear yourself away from him. as he observes you clinging to the wall for support, he fits himself back into his boxers and yanks his trousers up.

“gimme your phone.”

“no way. you might do something weird.”

floyd rolls his eyes. “lemme call ya a ride. you need it.”

“ooh, chivalry isn’t dead…”

you pass it to him after fumbling to unlock it. floyd spends an awful long time typing, but before you know it he’s calling someone. you listen to him as he talks, his voice a playful drawl. alcohol aside, he definitely rearranged your guts and your brain. it’s a wonder you’re still conscious.

“hi, jadeee. do me a favor, yeah? will you come pick us up? we gotta drop shrimpy off at her place.” there’s silence; you strain to hear the person on the other side. “nah. s’just a little lady i met tonight. she’s cute. maybe your type if you don’t mind sloppy seconds.” there’s more silence; your skin prickles when you realize he’s talking about you to whoever this jade person is. “kay, so you’ll pick us up?”

the exchange lasts another minute before he’s hanging up and sliding your phone into your pocket. you’re relieved when he tells you he’s found you a ride home because it allows you to mumble your address before you lose yourself to exhaustion entirely. you don’t remember the ride home or how you even got into your apartment or what your roommate said when a mysterious man carried your unconscious body inside like you were a sack of flour he’d slung over his shoulder. but when you wake up the next day, hungover, sticky, sweaty, and still tired, you aren’t spared the details from your roommate. it’s a story you find hard to believe.

you, going out to a club and hooking up? as if. you can hardly fit a dildo inside without tightening up out of fright.

but before you step into the shower, you check your phone for any proof. sure enough, after scrolling through your contacts, there’s a new one. his name is floyd. you stare at the number and it all comes rushing back.

horrified, you text him: why is your number in my phone?

he responds minutes later: thought u might want it.

well i don’t want it.

then delete it :p i’m not stopping u, he writes back.

you stare at his message long enough for those three dots to return.

he sends another message: gonna take a guess and say u wanna keep me in ur phone :)

you hate that emoticon. there’s nothing to smile about.

i’m going to delete you after my shower!

we’ll see

you shut your phone off. you hate that you allowed yourself to get so swept up last night, but most of all you hate that he’s right. you do want him to stay. at least now you have a means of staying in touch. not that you’ll utilize it! but…

it never hurts to talk every now and then, right?

#meraki mumbles #n/sfw #me: i’ll just write a little bit of this thought #also me: *writes an entire scene for a potential fic* #orz sometimes you just want to be fucked in a dingy bathroom stall by a mafia eel #this is an essential need!!!

[jasonsmirrorball]

WHERE YOU LEAD JASON TODD

↳ roommate!jason + gilmore girls

“Hey have you-what are you watching?”

You look up from where you’re nestled under your bedsheets and all thoughts of what he was going to ask promptly empty out of Jason’s head. He’s paused, leaning against your doorframe. This is a common occurrence, the wood has borne his weight so many times he wonders if he hasn’t left a dent in the frame.

He likes the routine the both of you have, and that for all you argue with him, you don’t seem to mind too much when he comes in to talk to you. If he had to pick a favourite spot in the apartment, Jason thinks he’d probably choose this, here. Standing in your doorway, the smell of the candles you’d burned the night before lingering in the air and the clutter of trinkets lining your desk.

Your laptop lays atop your sheets, and Jason leans closer to get a look at what’s on your screen.

“I’m watching my show,” you say and he notes the weariness lining your features.

A pang of sympathy strikes through him. He knows the week has been long, and the shadows under your eyes are deeper than they usually appear. He’s given you a wide berth these last few days, not wanting to piss you off any more than you already have been.

“Is that new?” He asks curiously. “Haven’t seen you watch that before.”

You make a face at him, slightly incredulous. “Jason, yes, you have. You literally saw me watching it last week, when you came home from work, remember?”

He squints. The faces on your screen do look vaguely familiar. You sigh.

“Forget about it. What were you saying?”

He grimaces. “Ah, I’ve forgotten now. Your show distracted me.”

You shake your head. When he lingers in the doorway, you look at him funny. “Do you…want to watch?”

Jason shrugs, making his way over. He’s sufficiently curious now, and you move over on your bed to make space for him. Briefly he wonders why the both of you don’t just watch it in the living room, but when he settles onto your mattress and the smell of your laundry detergent hits his nose, he doesn’t mind so much. Your bed is soft, and your room warm against the autumn chill.

The multitude of pillows on your bed make him snicker as he adjusts them, thinking of the various pillow forts he’d coerced his brother into making when they’d been younger. The tv show you’re watching is decidedly a lot tamer than the horror movies they’d stayed up all night watching, always ending with Dick and him creeping into Bruce’s room in the middle of the night, but he finds himself enjoying it all the same.

“So, what’s going on?” He asks and you pause it, looking troubled.

“Maybe we should watch the pilot,” you say. “You aren’t going to get everything that’s going on even if I explain it to you.”

He looks at you flatly. “Seriously? I can do fine on my own with context clues if you’re too lazy to explain it.”

You squawk at him indignantly, swatting his arm. “I am not lazy, you just need to be fully immersed!”

“Whatever, put the pilot on,” he grumbles and you nod, navigating through the website to start the show from the beginning.

And he really doesn’t think he’s going to enjoy it too much–they’re so quippy, it reminds him of Tim and Steph but the sun sinks in the sky and he’s curled up against you, watching mother and daughter exchange witty jokes, enraptured.

You lean against his side, commenting every so often on the nuances of Gilmore Girls, giggling when he scoffs at the characters, muttering his opinions to you in between the lines.

“This Luke guy’s the only sane one here,” he says and you snort. He looks down at you, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, pressing your fingers to your mouth to hide your smile. He nudges you. “It’s just–I knew you’d say that. He’s so you.”

“He’s so grumpy,” Jason protests and you raise your eyebrows pointedly. His mouth drops open. "You think I'm grumpy?"

"You're not exactly all smiles," you argue, sitting up properly to look at him. He's still reclined against the pillows and for a moment he thinks he sees something flash in your eyes, faltering for the briefest moment before you continue. "You've always got something smart to say."

He laughs. "That's because you make it too easy."

You roll your eyes, and sit back, curling up under the blankets. Jason adjusts your laptop where it had been jostled. "Whatever, shut up and watch the show."

You fall asleep against him to the sounds of Emily and Lorelai arguing, and Jason thinks that when the next weekend comes around, he might have to negotiate with you so that he can continue watching it.

thank u for this request mage!! i hope you don't mind, but i thought it fit in well in the roommate au <3

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #roommate!jason #jason todd x reader #x reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd imagine

[ofstoriesandstardust]

forever winter (lt. jake “hangman” seresin)

a/n: i feel like we don’t talk about Jake post-suicide mission enough, so i wrote this. honestly this has been the most difficult thing i’ve ever written and i’m so glad to be done with it. i don't know why introspective pieces about Jake give me so much creative trouble but they do

summary: He knows, that on some level at least, he’s not good enough, no matter how much he pretends to be. So he puts on the facade, the “too good to be true” act, and hope no one sees through the cracks. The cracks though, are getting harder and harder to hide. Because he wasn’t good enough, was he? Sure, he saved them, but he still wasn’t enough. And maybe... maybe he’s not good enough to be here. With them. With the Navy. Maybe it’s time he start to figure out life outside the Navy, re-find and meet Jake, a person he hasn’t seen in so long, since the Hangman persona took over. 

Because Hangman’s the reason no one likes him, the reason no one wants him around. They say they do now, but all good things must come to an end. It’s only a matter of time. 

And then he meets her. 

inspired by taylor swift’s “forever winter” and you should definitely listen while you read it.

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: kissing, insecurities, swearing, hurt/comfort, angst with a hopeful ending, panic attacks, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts (if you look very closely), PTSD, child abuse, alcohol, lowkey a character study, as in the relationship is not the main focus, my hometown knowledge pulled through for this one, the author believes men’s mental health needs more attention, gross abuse of italics, i did minimal research about resignation from the Navy

word count: 6,416

The lockers around him open and close as he reviews that day’s training over and over in his head, wondering where he went wrong. 

You’re not good enough. 

Someone claps him on the shoulder, startling him. He blinks the thoughts away, to see the face of his best friend, looking down at him worriedly. “You coming Hangman?” 

He takes a deep breath, running his palms down his flight suit. He still hasn’t changed, the only one. 

You’ll never change. 

“Nah, nah, I think I’m gonna pass on this one.” Coyote bites his lip, searching for an answer before Rooster’s cutting him off. 

“Hangman, you’ve hardly come out with us at all recently. Think you’re avoiding us or something. Decide you’re too good for all us mere mortals?” 

Bradshaw’s tone is teasing, meant to be a friendly jab, but Jake’s skin prickles at the teasing regardless. Coyote sighs, grip on his shoulder tightening. His touch burns him. 

Coyote deserves better, he knows it. Coyote, who’s been such a good friend, a loyal one. He can already see it, that one day he’ll realize that he’s become so accepted by the rest of the Daggers that- why did he ever really need Jake in the first place? 

It’s what Coyote deserves. He wants that for him honestly. To not be dragged down by Hangman anymore, to be confined to the box that puts him in. He hasn’t made it easy for him, he knows. 

So better for the break to just be clean, to stop coming around, to stop setting himself up for failure. Sure, they all seem to like him right now, but these things don’t last forever and he knows it’s only a matter of time before they go back to how they were before. He can’t ask Coyote to do that, can’t ask Coyote to go back to living on the island with him, to give up all these great friends he’s made. He doesn’t want to hope that these people might stay his friends, doesn’t know how to. 

So he won’t. He won’t let any of that happen. Won’t set himself up for failure once again. 

“Hangman?” 

It’s Bob’s voice this time. 

He swallows, looking up to meet the brown of eyes of the soft-spoken boy of their team. “You good? You zoned out there for a few minutes.” 

He stands up, ignoring the looks he’s getting from his team mates, making him want to run and hide. He wants to come up with a witty response, shake the concern, but his mouth feels dry, like it’s full of cotton and he’s blanking on the words that usually come so naturally to him. So instead, he just grabs his shower stuff, shutting the locker behind him, leaving his not-friends-just-coworkers confused and concerned in his wake. 

-

He isn’t sure why he pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley and arcade, a good twenty minute drive from Miramar without traffic. It’s across town, in El Cajon, and honestly, he isn’t sure why this is where he ended up. He just knows that once he pulled out of the parking lot, drove off base, he picked one direction and drove. 

He ignores the fact that he waited for everyone to leave the locker room and even longer in the parking lot to make sure everyone else had gone. 

His grip tightens around the steering wheel and then untightens as he swallows, working up the nerve to go inside. He had no business being here, no friends to meet up with. 

No friends. 

He winces at the thought, letting out a sigh as he turns the ignition off, the car falling silent. He weighs his options, to go inside, to people watch, to eat shitty food, or to go back to an empty home where the silence rages louder than any noisy bowling alley. 

The decision is made in a split second and he’s pulling his seatbelt off as he gets out of the car, something fueling every step towards the doors. Pulling them open, he’s immediately greeted by the sounds of bowling balls hitting the lane, the machines returning balls, the music from 2012 only overshadowed by the loud cheers of different groups of friends. He lets his eyes map out the room as he walks towards the food area, stomach jumping at the greasy pizza he can see behind the counter. His eyes skim over the menu, unable to stomach the thought of any of this food. 

Never mind the fact that he’s struggled to keep down any food since the mission, unable to bring himself to eat in the first place. He turns, unsure of what to do with himself now that he’s in here. He has no business being here and suddenly it feels like it shows. Like everyone can read him, like everyone knows. 

His fingers are twitching as he slides down at a table near the back, looking out at all the lanes. It’s a Tuesday night, so the alley is half-full, maybe. The largest group happens to be at the closest to him, their laughter the loudest thing in the room. 

It makes some part of him ache, thinking about how badly he wants that. How badly he doesn’t deserve it. 

He thinks of his team, at the Hard Deck, probably a mirror image of the sight in front of him. 

They don’t need him.

He blinks, realizing someone’s appeared in front of him. She offers him a small smile as he clears his throat. “Hi.” She says, momentarily pulling one the hands that’s holding her bowling ball to wave at him. “Came to return this, can never pick the right size, but you seem... kind of upset.” 

She turns as someone from the group calls her name and she looks over. “Stop talking to strangers!” They shout, laughing. She rolls her eyes, ignoring them. 

“Sorry if I’m... being weird or like... creepy? You just seemed kind of upset and you’ve been sitting here all alone, for like, fifteen minutes.” 

He blinks, wondering if he’s really been lost in his thoughts for that long. He shakes his head, looking back up to the girl. “I’m good.” He says, forcing a smile. It hurts, makes him dizzy with the force he puts into making it believable. 

She tilts her head, clearly not quite believing him. “Well, if you, uh, wanted to join my friends and I, we wouldn’t mind. Unless, you’re waiting on someone, which is totally cool, I just- sorry.” She rushes out, cheeks going an unmistakeable red, even in the dark lighting of the bowling alley. 

His chest tightens at the thought of joining her group, the group that’s caught his eye since he got here. Something akin to hope flares in his chest as he realizes she doesn’t know him. 

They don’t know you. Not like the team does. 

This could be a chance to see if there’s still something in him left worth saving and so he finds himself nodding, standing up from the table. Her smile is bright as she turns, walking back to her table, him trailing a few steps behind. You turn to the group, introducing them all to him. One of her friends, Blaise (he’s pretty sure that’s what she introduced him as), smirks. 

“And what’s your friend’s name?” 

You pause, turning to him. “I guess I didn’t get your name.” 

“Jake.” He says, the words sounding strange on his tongue, so used to introducing himself by his callsign. 

They don’t need to know Hangman. 

You nod, introducing yourself to him. “Nice to meet you Jake.” 

One of the girls, Morgan, joins in with Blaise’s teasing. “So distracted by the attractive man you forgot to get a new bowling ball. It’s your turn, by the way.” 

You immediately blush, smiling sheepishly at him. Muttering an apology, you turn and jog back to exchange the ball and jog back in order to take your turn. He takes a few steps back from the group, watching you play as he sticks his hand in the pockets. 

It’s not good.

The ball barely stays in the lane before slipping into the gutter as your friends boo. You walk back to the group as Blaise gets up to take his own turn. 

“You’re not very good at this.” He says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

He winces, waiting for you to immediately rescind the nice gesture that had been you inviting him over here. Instead, you just laugh, nodding your head. “Oh extraordinarily. But I got outvoted tonight.” 

“Outvoted?”

“Oh, we just sort take a vote to decide where we go on nights out. Or nights in, depending. But the consensus was the bowling alley, and I lost 5-to-1. I’d much rather be next door at the arcade. Consider myself a Skee-ball champ.”

“Oh yeah?” You nod, confirming. “Well, why don’t we go find out?” He says, some of his confidence returning to him. He isn’t sure where it’s coming from, haven’t seen it in weeks. Months, if he’s honest with himself. 

Not since Mitchell passed him up. 

You smile. “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.” You nudge Morgan, telling her where you’re going, and she nods as the two of you head over to the arcade. The arcade is even quieter than the bowling alley, leaving the three Skee-ball lanes completely open for the two of you. He stares at the machine as you wander off to get tokens, realizing he’s never played Skee-ball in his life. 

Not like there was all that much in his hometown, and the best escape from his Dad was drives to the next town over, which was only marginally better in that they had a movie theatre that played four movies instead of three. 

You reappear at his shoulder, counting through the tokens in the little cup. You hand them to him, setting the rest of your stuff off to the side. “So, how do you play?” He asks nervously, fighting to keep them hidden from his voice. He pretty sure he fails. “We didn’t have an arcade where I grew up.”

You don’t tease him, just explain the game to him as he feels the tokens grow sweaty in his palm. It’s simple enough, and if they let him fly the multi-million dollar planes for a living, he’s sure he can figure out an arcade game. 

May not be flying for much longer. 

He squeezes his eyes shut at the thought, willing himself to listen to you instead of his thoughts for once. 

“So where are you from Jake?” 

“Texas. You?”

“I’m a native San Diegan. ‘Bout as Californian as they get.” 

He nods. “You should meet my buddy Rooster. He embraces the fact that he’s also from San Diego. Annoys the shit out of our team.” 

“Rooster?” You ask curiously, scoring another set of points. You look up at him, raising an eyebrow as he cringes, realizing he’s let the man’s callsign slip, and then looking down at the ball still in his hand. He hasn’t even started playing. 

“Work for the Navy as a pilot. We use callsigns.” 

You nod. “Oh, gotcha. One of my family friend’s worked on the Midway before it was decommissioned and turned into a museum.” 

In all honesty, he hasn’t been to the Midway, even though he’s been stationed permanently in Miramar for the last six months. No point in driving out there to see the inside of a decommissioned aircraft carrier when he’s seen more of those than his own house in his life. 

You don’t say anything more. Usually, when girls learn he works for the Navy, they’re drooling at his feet, wanting him to tell them some epic story, usually trying to slip their way into his bed. Usually, it works. 

Jake tosses the ball up, finally deciding to start playing. 

-

He isn’t sure how long the two of you stand there playing, but it’s long enough that his legs begin to ache, even though he’s begging himself to ignore it, wanting to stand here for a few minutes more with you. It was easy. You never pushed, always just listening. Returning his competitive streak, you offered him kind smile and a loud laugh when he beat you. 

It was simple, not like the push-and-pull of his team. It was a simplicity he could see himself getting used to. 

Blaise appears at your shoulder and you turn to him as you pause your throw. “I know you’re enjoying your time with your new attractive man-friend, but we’re headed out and I am your ride.” Before Jake can open his mouth to say he could drive you, Blaise is giving him a once over and turning back to you. “And I’m not in the business of letting one of my friends wander off into a car to be murdered by a strange man she met in the bowling alley, so we’re going.” 

Jake turns, trying to remind himself that it’s not personal. Entirely reasonable. He wouldn’t let Phoenix or Halo wander off alone and get into a car with a random man they met in a bowling alley either. 

You sigh, tossing the last ball into the machine, the score flashing across the top. He isn’t sure if it’s his ears that are ringing or the machine as you take your purse from Blaise. “Give me a second. I’ll meet you at the car.” 

Blaise eyes you and then Jake. “Five minutes and then I’m coming back inside and you’re not getting a choice. I’m setting a timer as we speak.” You concede, waving him off. You sigh, turning back to him.

“Sorry, you date one shitty man and it’s game over.” You shake your head. “Anyways, it was really nice to meet you Jake.” He can’t bring himself to say anything, a lump forming his throat. Can hardly bring himself to breathe. “Um, if you wanted- I could give you my number? I’d love to see you again. Unless this is weird and you think I’m weird and you never want to see me again-”

“I’d love your number.” 

You smile through a deep breath, sliding your phone out of your back pocket to let him enter his number. He does, noting the time and swallowing as he saves the contact. “Well, it was nice to meet you Jake.” 

He nods, realizing he hasn’t thought about his shitty day since you walked over to his table two hours ago. “You as well.” 

-

He really doesn’t believe you’ll text him. It was just a passing thing, nothing more than a moment. Yet there your text is the very next morning, asking if he wants to join you for the farmers market in La Mesa on Saturday. His fingers fly over the keyboard, confirming he’ll meet you there, bright and early. 

It gives him something to look forward to, something outside the team he doesn’t really feel a part of. Maybe this is his chance to cut the cord, to walk away, before someone gets hurt. 

He feels himself being pulled back down to Earth by the thought of seeing you, of your texts, sending him pictures of your family dog and the sunset from your backyard. He reciprocates, sending back pictures of the dinner he cooked (because that’s the new thing he’s trying, cooking, as he tries to sort out his life) and the book he picked up after work that day, because that’s the other new thing he’s trying too. Anything to keep the thoughts at bay, from making a decision he can’t unmake. From doing something he’ll regret, even though right now it’s looking like the best thing. 

If the team notices a change in his behavior, they don’t say anything, though Rooster is always at his wing when they fly, Javy hovering. Jake hasn’t been to the Hard Deck in days and ignores the Dagger group chat as Saturday morning rolls around. 

The farmers market is the perfect balance of quiet and busy, bringing him a moment of calm in a stormy week. Stormy couple of months. The conversation is easy, you telling him about all the years you (and your siblings) went to preschool in the neighborhood as the two of you pick through old records and fresh fruit. He observes the obvious fact that the Saturday farmers market is part of your routine as you chat with the family that sells locally-grown honey. His heart clenches at the thought you letting him slip into your life and routine so easily. 

It’s as you’re picking through flowers for your house, asking for his opinion that he realizes this is too delicate, too fragile, to push the boundaries. 

When asked if you should get the sunflowers or wildflowers, he blurts out that he can’t date you. He isn’t sure why he says it aloud, although he knows that the words are too true. He’d break you and he’s done ruining things. Ruining people. 

You just nod and assure him that it’s okay, that you’re not looking to date either. That you’re always open to a new friend. He swallows and nods, telling you to get the wildflowers. That they suit you. 

Wild with a quiet beauty. 

The friendship grows from there, a lunch out at the Mexican restaurant just across the street from the market to a Sunday brunch turning into Taco Tuesday to drinks on Friday to another Saturday farmer’s market with lunch afterwards. He finds himself leaning more and more into your friendship, pulling farther and farther from his team mates. 

They don’t need him anyways. 

Nights away from the Hard Deck turn into weeks as he spends the time with you instead. Sometimes your friends join, sometimes it’s just the two of you. Your friends have warmed up to him, welcoming him into the group naturally. Even Blaise has settled in, joking with him, letting him into what has been a years-long friendship. 

He’s sure the Daggers don’t miss him around. Don’t miss his competitive streak, his arrogance, his jabbing and prodding and poking. 

They were better off without him.

Maybe Javy does, always feels the man hovering, waiting for Jake to talk about where he’s been disappearing off to when his feet hit the ground. But it’s been a while of this and even if Javy missed him at the beginning, he probably doesn’t miss him now. Too happy with his finally solid friendships to miss the one that had kept him out of the group in the first place. 

He’s better off without him. 

-

He knows what he has right now is fragile, delicate. One wrong move could send you spiraling out of his life with the door slamming shut behind you. He tries his best to let you go before he could hurt you, because that’s what he does. You don’t let him though, always encouraging him to stay, to talk about what’s bothering him. 

He hadn’t even mentioned that anything was wrong. 

He doesn’t mention that it’s been getting harder these days. That everyday he gets closer to walking away from the team, before someone can get hurt, before he can get someone killed. 

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

He knows what he has right now is fragile, delicate. He can’t act on the feelings simmering just below the surface, can’t act on his desires. You’re too good. He’ll ruin you. It’s only a matter of time before you see what everyone else does, before you leave. No one stays.

-

It’s quiet the night he finally caves, fingers sliding over the call button before he can lose his nerve. 

He needs you. 

The phone rings once, and then twice, and- shit is it really three am? 

He goes to click the red button, to end the call, say it was an accident and sorry for bothering you when it clicks, signaling that you’ve answered. 

“Hello?” 

He doesn’t answer, suddenly forgetting how to breathe. 

“Jake? You okay?” 

He wants to answer, but he can’t remember how. 

Why had he called you again?

“Jake? You’re worrying me. Is everything okay?” 

He begins to pace again, crossing the shitty hardwood of his shitty rental, as he runs a hand up to pull through his blonde hair. Tugs at the roots, as he tries to remember what he wanted to say. “I can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself saying, because it’s true. 

He can’t lead this team, can’t be here, shouldn’t be in the Navy. He’s not good enough, never enough. 

If was enough, Mitchell would’ve chosen him as wingman. Mitchell would’ve trusted him. 

He hadn’t. Had trusted Rooster instead. 

If he’d been enough, he would’ve been faster. Wouldn’t have had so close of a shot, would’ve been there with plenty of time.

“Okay... Is it work stuff? You wanna talk about it?” Your voice is soft, kind, and he tugs at his hair harder. 

He’s going to ruin you. He’s sure of it.

Only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave. 

“I’m sorry.” He says flatly instead. “I shouldn’t have- it’s late.” 

“It’s fine.” You say automatically. “I was up anyways. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?” 

“No, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have called.” 

“Jake-” 

“Goodnight.” 

He ends the call before you can protest, struggling to breathe as he lets the phone fall from his grip as he tugs at his hair again. He barely hears the phone clatter to the floor over the ringing in his ears, his chest tightening. 

Panic attacks aren’t new to him lately, but this one brings him his knees as he realizes how badly he needs you. How much he doesn't want to let you go. How much he knows he has to. 

It isn’t fair to you, to ruin you. To hurt you. He needs to get out, before he can hurt anyone else. 

Only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

-

He sits there, back pressed up against the foot of his bed as his ears never stop ringing. The night passes him by, dawn rolling in, bringing pink splashes through the cracks in his blinds. 

He should be getting ready for work when the phone rings again. He watches numbly as your name crosses his phone. He lets it ring once, and then twice. It rings a third time and then the screen flashes bright with a text. 

I’m worried. 

What’s going on? 

Jake, are you okay?

Jake, answer me. 

His chest aches at the hurt and worry he’s causing you. What he swore not to do. 

Fine. Just stressed about work. 

Never mind, didn’t mean to worry you. 

Sorry. 

He clicks the phone on do not disturb, pulling himself up from the ground. His limbs protest, his chest still feeling tight. He shouldn’t fly today, shouldn’t go into work. 

Shouldn’t go into work ever again. 

He swallows as he changes. 

It’s only a matter of time before the Navy agrees.

-

His skin feels taut as he goes through the motions of the day, running on no sleep and pure nerves. 

He started off his day right, slipping the paperwork into Admiral Simpson’s office and ending his pre-flight checks in Mitchell’s office, being asked what the hell is this?

I think you know exactly what that is sir. 

He’d fumbled the trainings for the day, leading to Phoenix yelling at him over the comms. All he could hear in his head, over and over again, was Javy’s disappointed sigh over the comms as he left another person behind. 

The water of the shower is scorching his skin as it falls over him, his head resting against the tile. Distantly, he can hear his teammates, chatting amongst themselves. His fingers twitch as he thinks about calling you, asking you to come over. He stretches them out as he thinks about what it would like to come home to you, pull you close to him, and just rest.

His chest aches at the thought of all that he can’t have. 

He turns the shower off, pulling himself out of his daze as he walks to his locker. He hears the door to the locker room slam open as he pulls his pants on but he doesn’t turn. It catches his attention when his body is being shoved against the locker, causing their team mates to protest and stand up, moving to stand between the two of them. 

It’s Bradshaw.

“What the hell man? I thought we were a team.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, ignoring the way his shoulder is protesting at the sudden collision against the metal lockers. “What are you on about?” 

Bradshaw, Rooster, is seething. “You know exactly what I’m on about.” 

He rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the locker and swatting Payback’s hand away. “If you’re really that mad about training today, get over it.” 

Rooster turns to Coyote, who’s watching the two of them warily. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Hangman almost grimaces as he turns back around, opening the locker up to pull his shirt over his head. 

Time’s up. Secret’s out. 

“Seresin’s leaving us.” 

He forces himself to chance a glance at Coyote, who looks nothing short of betrayed. 

“What, decide you’re too good for our team?” Fanboy teases, but he can hear the hurt underneath the joke all the same. 

“This why you haven’t been hanging out with us?” Omaha asks, settling on the bench. 

“You know, my world does not revolve around me going to the bar with you people and listening to Bradshaw play the same shitty song from the ‘80s and playing the same game of pool over and over again. I’ve got better things to do with my time.” 

He’s being cruel now, he knows it. Pulling at any frayed thread, to make the whole thing come unraveling. To say, look it was never meant to work in the first place. 

Rooster takes a step back from him. “C’mon man, I thought we were friends.” 

“Don’t kid yourself Bradshaw. How do you even know anyways?” 

“Mav told me.”

He almost scoffs. “Of course he did.”

“He wants you to stay.”

He wants to roll his eyes and turn away. “That’s not his decision. Nor is it yours.”

“Hangman-”

“You know, it’s really none of your business whether or not I want to stay in the Navy. Nobody’s business where I go after I leave here. We’re not friends.” He snaps, not missing the way Coyote’s body language changes from defeated to guarded.

“So much for all those years we haven’t been friends Seresin.” Coyote mutters, turning away from him. 

His heart cracks at that, soul stinging in the way he’d let Hangman take over, to push these people away. “Coyote-”

“Just forget it Bagman.” Bob says, his own hurt coloring the words as his arm slings over Coyote’s shoulder as the two of them turns towards the door. Rooster shoots him one last look before he’s grabbing his bag, following them out the door. 

He can do little but watch the way the team filters out of the locker room, all tossing him looks of hurt and anger as they leave for the day. Finally, he sinks down, head in his hands as he thinks about what he’s done. 

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave. 

-

You’re waiting for him as he pulls into his driveway, sitting on his front porch. He sighs as he slips out of his truck, shutting the door behind him. 

He doesn’t want to do this with you now. Not today. Not after he sat in Mitchell’s office, being told he couldn’t resign without a valid reason. Couldn’t look the man in the eye all day after the conversation that morning. He still wasn’t sure how the paperwork had ended up on his desk so quickly, in matter of thirty minutes or less, but the day had made him feel hopeless. 

There was no out. Nothing left for him. 

The only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.

He wordlessly unlocks the front door, leaving it open behind him for you as he walks towards the kitchen, pulling the whiskey out of the cabinet. He hears the front door shut as he knocks the liquid back, gritting his teeth at the burn. He hasn’t medicated the pain away with alcohol since you came into his life but he’s feeling his control slip after the day he’s had.

“Jake.” You say, appearing next to him. He pours himself another shot, but you pry his fingers off the glass before he can down it. He lets you, reveling in your soft touch. 

Won’t get that for much longer. 

“Jake, you scared me last night.”

“Sorry, won’t happen again.” His words are cold, detached, as he wills himself to do this one last thing. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re friends. We-” 

“You should leave.”

You jerk back, fingers leaving his own as if they had burned you. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice doesn’t feel like it’s his own, floating somewhere above him as some part of desperately begs him to stop. 

“Jake, something’s clearly wrong. I’m not leaving you.” 

“Well, I don’t want you here.” 

“Well, too fucking bad because you’re my friend and I want to be here for you.” 

He cautiously raises his eyes to meet your own. 

You want to stay? For him?

Where would he even start though?

I tried to resign from the Navy today?

My Dad used to hit me?

One of my not friends, co-worker at best, almost died because I wasn’t fast enough?

If I stay, someone’s gonna get killed because of me?

“I don’t know what to say.” He whispers and you nod. 

“That’s okay.” You say softly, hand returning to his. “Why don’t we go sit down? You don’t have to talk, but let’s just sit.” He nods, letting you guide him to the couch. He thinks he can count on one hand all the times he’s sat on the piece of furniture. You don’t let go of him as you both sit. 

He can’t meet your eye, can’t begin to tell you the truth. If you knew, you’d run. 

Maybe that’d be best. 

“You should go. I’ll only hurt you.” He says quietly, turning away from you. 

“Jake.” 

“’M not good. I- I hurt people. I ruin them. I- You need to leave.” His voice is begging now, pleading with you to see reason. 

“Jake, look at me.” You say softly. “You don’t ruin people. You’re so good, so so good. I can’t believe you don’t see it.” 

“I tried to- I need to-”

The words are trapped in his chest and it feels like he’s choking. Like if he speaks the words, he’ll be giving him the rope to hang himself with. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk. It’s alright.” 

So he swallows, nods, and sits there. Allows himself to let you touch him. To rub your thumb over his shoulder blade as his head falls back against the couch.

It’s some time again before you speak.

“One of my friends in college was in the Marines.” You say quietly. “Not the same thing as the Navy, I know, but still. He wouldn’t talk about it, even if he was asked. I don’t know if he ever learned to talk about it.” He turns to look at you, even as your movements don’t cease. “We had lost touch after we graduated but-” You shift, shaking your head. “Something I’ve been thinking about lately. You don’t talk to me much about your work. ” 

He swallows, watching you as you watch him. You don’t say anything more and he realizes you’re opening the door for him to talk about it. About all of it. 

“There was this mission.” He feels himself begin to say, voice almost detached from him. He can’t bring himself to look away from you. “Almost a year ago now. Reason I got stationed out here. We- we weren’t meant to come home. One of my fr- coworkers almost died.” You just wait, listening, and he takes that as encouragement to continue. You haven’t run away yet. “He said something, about how the only place I’ll lead anyone is an early grave. Can’t help but feel like he’s right.” 

Your touch burns him, eyes staring into his soul as he wrestles with himself to lay it all bare in front of you. He pulls away, standing up to pace the small living room. You let him, simply just watching him. 

“I’m going to get them killed. There’s a reason I wasn’t selected to fly the mission. I’m- I’m gonna hurt them, gonna get someone killed. I shouldn’t be there. I’m not good enough and it’s going to cost someone their life.” 

His hands reach up to his hair, going to tug at it again, the familiar feeling of trying to ground himself as everything spins out of his control. 

“I- I feel out of control all the time. I can’t look them in the eye. I feel like I can’t breathe up there, that the only time I’m safe is on the ground. They don’t need me anyways.” 

He chances a glance back to you and every part of your face is screaming pitypitypity

He doesn’t need your pity. 

“I wanted to resign from the Navy. My CO told me no.” 

You finally break your silence, shifting up. “I’m sorry, he told you no?” 

He waves you off, starting a new round of pacing. “He needs a valid reason.”

“A valid reason? What’s more valid than I want to-?”

“Leaving is complicated and there’s a lot of paperwork, you have to have all these forms and a letter-”

“That a big decision, Jake.” You breath out, interrupting his explanation, moving to the end of the couch, looking like you might walk over to him. He hopes you don’t, despite how badly he wants to be next to you. “Are you sure of this?” 

He pauses, feeling the tears sting his eyes. 

He will do anything to not break right now. Not in front of you. 

Bitterly, he can hear his Dad in the back of his head, reminding him how weak he is. 

Real men don’t cry.

“I just don’t know what else to do.” He whispers, afraid of the words he’s speaking into the night. “I just need it all to stop.” 

That’s what propels you off the couch as you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him. The feeling of you holding him close makes him buckle as his resolve cracks and crumbles, the tears taking over as his knees sink to the floor. His sobs rack his body as he reaches up to clutch tightly at your shirt. You run your fingers through his hair as you try to soothe him. 

“Jake, I-” You swallow, your hand stilling in his hair. 

Here it comes. When you tell him this is too much, that you didn't sign up for this, that he should never contact you again-

You kneel to be eye-level with him, pulling his face into your hands. “Jake, I am so sorry. You deserve so much better than that. And I wish there was something more I could do for you, more for me to say. All I can say is that it’s going to get better. Things will always get better and I will be here to help you. I’ll always be here.” 

He swallows, wanting so badly to believe your words. He almost does, if he squeezes his eyes shut and forces his Dad’s words out of his brain. “I want to believe you. I don’t know how.” 

“That’s okay. I’m here, Jake. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You can’t fix me. You can’t make me better.”

The words are blunt, cruel. You don’t flinch away or move back. 

“I don’t want to.” You move closer to him. “I just want to help you. Let me help you.” 

Without thinking, he surges forward, kissing you before he can think about the consequences of his actions. He knows in the half-second before you freeze that he’s fucked up. 

You pull away, ducking your head as your bottom lip catches between your teeth. Neither of you say anything as your chests heave with what just happened, unable to meet the other’s eyes. Your hands haven’t left his face as you swallow, finally pulling up to look at him. 

“Jake-” 

He shakes his head, pulling out of your grasp to stand again. “Don’t. Don’t. Please don’t. I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.” 

You stand too, sighing. “Jake, please-”

“Just go.” His voice wavers, cracking, a reflection of how he feels on the inside. 

“Jake, this isn’t- Now’s not a good time-”

“Don’t make excuses. You don’t return my feelings and that fine. Just- get out, please.” His back is still turned from you as he waits for your footsteps to signal that you’re going to leave, just like everyone else. He succeeded in driving you away. 

He does hear your footsteps but they don’t leave through his front door. No, there you are, figure blurry in front of him through the tears he’s been trying to suppress. 

“Jake.” You softly, and he feels his lip tremble as he wraps his arms around himself, wanting to make himself small. “It’s not that I don’t return your feelings and I’m not saying never, but- you’re going through a lot right now. You need a friend, not a new relationship, and I’m happy to be here in whatever capacity I can be for you. You deserve the world Jake Seresin and I’ll be here no matter what.” 

Your hands reach to his face and he allows his hands to unwrap from around his body, pulling you close to him. His head falls into the crook of your neck as he takes a shaky breath. “Don’t leave.” The words are muffled against your skin. “Please.” The words are like a prayer as he grips you ever so tighter. 

“Never. Believe me Jake, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” 

For the first time in months, he takes what feels like his real breath, feeling like he isn’t drowning under the waves of his own mind. 

For the first time in months, he allows himself to consider that things might actually turn out okay. 

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fics #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fics #jake seresin fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fics #jake seresin x female!reader

[jjungkookislife]

"Oh, Mr. Kim"

pairing: ceo!jungkook x secretary!reader

genre: ceo au, established relationship, fluff and implied smut [18+]

summary: Jungkook is tired of hiding his relationship.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: self-deprecating thoughts, alcohol use/mention, mention of anxiety, elopement, implied smut, i've had this sitting in my drafts for years, oops!

date: November 12, 2023

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” you squeal, clutching Jungkook’s hand tightly in yours as you go up the steps in your heels.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Jungkook asks nervously when you reach the roof of one of his hotels. The garden on the rooftop is fantastic, and the gazebo in the center has a perfect view of the skyline. Inside awaits the officiant waiting to marry you.

“Of course not! I’m beyond excited!” You assure him, kissing his lips before you lead him toward the gazebo. Jungkook has a goofy smile on his lips, his cheeks dusted pink. He doesn’t think he’s ever loved someone as much as he loves you, and for you to become his wife in a few brief minutes thrills him.

It had been a whirlwind of a proposal. The two of you were too in love and too eager to wait months to plan an extravagant wedding, so you chose to elope—just the two of you and your officiant. You held your marriage license in your hand, greeting the officiant and handing it over to him.

Your smile was radiant, almost blinding, as you looked at Jungkook. You held his hands in yours, his thumb stroking your soft skin. His heart raced in his chest, and his blood pounded in his ears, but he was ecstatic. He’d been dreaming of this day for years, and although an elopement wasn’t precisely what he had in mind, he wouldn’t change it for the world. There would always be time for parties later on. He just wanted you to be his wife.

He sat in bed and watched you sleep when he awoke this morning. His hand caressed your back, tracing the curve of your waist. So beautiful, so delicate, and all his. He spent a moment just admiring you, thinking of all the mishaps and arguments that eventually led you here. Of course, he’d been a strict boss, but he found you attractive from the moment he laid eyes on you, and all he could do to keep from drooling over you was to keep you at arm’s length. But that could only do so much. 

You were resilient, confident, and not afraid to put him in his place if he crossed the line. He liked that you treated him like he deserved, despite being your boss. Few people were willing to step on his toes and put him in his place when he was an asshole. It made it easy to sort through people pleasers and people who were only after his money, fame, or company. But not you. You always knew how to rein him in when he was too much of a dick. It was a front he had to put up at work, something he didn’t quite care to do so much, but with you, he could tear down that persona and let you see who he really was.

Most people would be terrified they’d lose their job, and few lasted as his secretary. He usually had a queue at a staffing company ready to send in the next after the first one quit. He didn’t blame them; he was hard to put up with, expected perfection 100% of the time and would settle for nothing less. His being an ass was only icing on the cake for them to quit. Until you arrived, fresh-faced and eager to please… until he was a dick to you and you decided you didn’t care if you got fired or not. It was then that Jungkook got to see the fiery side of you, the one with the quick tongue and witty remarks. He found you interesting, and you did your job exceptionally well.

It wasn’t hard for him to get a crush on you almost immediately. He usually found himself staring at you from his office, unable to get much work done. He couldn’t help it. He often wondered what you liked, what you did outside of work, and what childhood stories you were too embarrassed to tell but would share just to get a laugh. He thought about you more often than not, which led to him avoiding you whenever he could. He’d never worked from home for so long until he was forced to come back into the office and see you sitting prettily at your desk. You’d asked if he was okay, even brought him homemade soup, and listened to him talk like a friend. He was in deep.

Lucky for him, you were falling for him as well. You tried to deny it at first, of course. You wanted to write it off as admiration for him being so successful, but it wasn’t long before your heart fluttered in your chest at the mere sight of him.

That wasn’t normal.

And your co-worker and nosy friend in marketing, Jung Hoseok, let you know. He’d often come to your floor to drop off reports or under the guise of needing to relay a message to you so that he could tease you about your crush. He was very observant, quickly picking up on the way you and Jungkook acted around each other. On days you wore an outfit he liked, he’d come in whistling a cheerful tune. You tried to deny it but put the theory to the test one day, and it irritated you to inform Hoseok he’d been correct after a few more testing dates.

Jungkook was your boss, the CEO, and you were just his secretary. His past love life had included models, idols, fashion designers, and movie stars. He wouldn’t date his secretary. So you put on a bright wide grin and stifled your feelings for him… except they only got worse as you got to know him.

He wasn’t this domineering giant you thought of him to be. He was lovely, soft, and had a boyish charm that made him fun to be around. That side of him was solely for you. He confessed one night while you were working late in his office.

It had been a long, spine-breaking day. The two of you were stuck in his office long after everyone had gone home. That included the cleaning staff. The only other people in the building were security; they only came to your floor once an hour. Jungkook’s bodyguards lingered around the floor, alert but not crowding his office. So it was just the two of you sitting across from each other on his couch, the desk long forgotten when you’d both grown uncomfortable sitting on stiff chairs. He’d have you order new ones in the morning.

Can your heart skyrocket out of your chest? It sure felt like it would when your fingers brushed upon reaching for the same report. You both froze, your eyes meeting his painfully slow.

Was his heart thundering in his chest like yours was? Had he felt that too? Or was this all in your head, and you were projecting?

“Y/n,” he said your name so softly, you wondered if you imagined it. He had never called you by your first name, always your last name, always professional.

You looked at him in bewilderment; had you heard him correctly?

“Yes?” you responded, mind still whirring with thoughts, your fingers still touching. You were both too stunned to make a move.

Jungkook seemed to hesitate, biting his tongue to keep himself professional, but he couldn’t be the only one feeling this. He couldn’t be. Not with how you were gazing at him, eyes glittering with hope.

“Do you feel it too?” he whispers, his fingers lacing with yours gently, not wanting to startle you or make the situation worse if you didn’t.

You swallowed thickly. Surely you were dreaming? You’d fallen asleep at your desk from exhaustion, and now you were in a very lucid dream with your boss.

Jungkook waits patiently for your answer, his palm pressing against yours.

“I feel it,” you finally answer, soothing his worries as a tiny smile pulls at his lips. He holds your hand for a moment, relishing in its softness and the relief that floods through him.

“I don’t-” Jungkook clears his throat, hoping to gather his wits. “I rarely do this. I don’t understand what is happening. All I do know is that I am infatuated with you. I want to know more about you, who you are, and what you like. Would you like to come to my place for dinner?”

Dream or not, you would not let this opportunity pass you by. You eagerly nodded, rising from your seat when he did. He smiled at you, his cheeks tinted pink as he hastily gathered his belongings and led you out of his office. He held the door for you, allowing you to pass by him and catch a whiff of your perfume. It was sweet but not overbearing, perfect for you.

Jungkook couldn’t help but stare as you walked, the sway of your hips so alluring. You looked at him over your shoulder and winked, making his face turn red as he loosened his tie before catching up to you.

You were thoroughly surprised that by dinner, Jungkook meant he’d cook for you. He must have been exhausted from such a long day—you know you were—so watching him cook for the both of you was such a sweet gesture. You offered to help, but he handed you a glass of wine and told you to make yourself comfortable. You did so, leaning against the counter as you watched him prepare your meal. 

Talking to Jungkook was easy. He made you feel comfortable, and that’s perhaps why the two of you sat on his couch talking long after dinner and after the wine. Never in a million years would you have imagined yourself sitting in his home, gazing into his eyes dreamily until his hand caressed your cheek, drawing you in for a kiss.

A kiss.

One kiss.

That’s all it took for Jungkook to know you were the one.

It had been a little over forty-eight hours since his proposal, and when you woke this morning, you didn’t think you’d be becoming Mrs. Jeon. And yet, here you were with the love of your life. You gazed lovingly into Jungkook’s eyes, smiling as you clasped his hands in yours. 

Jungkook had been excited, maybe even a tad nervous, when you peered open one eye and then the other, moaning at his soft touch on your back.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he’d said with a grin. 

“Morning, handsome.” you giggled when he looked away, his ears burning red. You knew he was smiling, even if he had hidden his face beneath his palms.

“When do you want to get married?” he asked off-handedly, his hand moving lower to caress your thigh instead.

“I’d marry you today if I could,” you answered honestly, your hand lacing with his as you sat up to meet his gaze.

He seemed surprised, his cute lips in the shape of an ‘o’. His long hair fell over his eyes, and you brushed it out of the way before cupping his face. Your thumb caressed his cheek, rubbing gentle circles on it as you smiled warmly. The stars in his eyes seemed to shine brighter as he waited for you to continue.

“I’d marry you right now, Jungkook. I love you and want to be with you always and forever.” Jungkook grew bashful, scooting closer to you before nuzzling his face into your neck. His arms wrapped around you, holding you in a warm embrace. You ran your fingers through his inky hair, planting kisses on the top as he held you.

“Let’s do it,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips planting kisses on the flesh.

“Hmm? Do what?” you asked as he moved away just enough to look you in the eyes.

“Let’s get married today,” he says. He’s smiling, but his eyes betray him by displaying the anxiety he holds in them. His heart was on his sleeve, and your rejection would sting, but he’d respect it. 

You raise a brow at him, searching for any uncertainty in his face, his eyes, but you find none. All you see is the man you’re hopelessly in love with.

“Okay, let’s do it!” you agree, excitement bubbling inside you and spilling out through laughter.

Jungkook’s pretty eyes widened. “You said yes?! Yes?!”

You nod frantically, grunting when he pushes you onto your back to cover your face in kisses, his hands gripping your hips.

“You said yes! You’ll marry me today?” Jungkook asks again to confirm.

You giggle. “Yes, baby. I’ll marry you today.”

Jungkook sprang out of bed, returning to kiss you before he dashed to the bathroom to shower and make phone calls. You sat up in bed, your eyes on your engagement ring. You were going to be his bride.

“Are we ready?” The officiant asks, looking at you and then at Jungkook. You both nod, “Yes.”

“Perfect,” the officiant starts.

Jungkook tries his best to pay attention, but how can he when you’re looking at him so lovingly? Squeezing his hand in reassurance that this is real. You’re going to be his wife in just a few minutes, and he couldn’t be any more over the moon. You giggle softly, a melodic sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. A coy smile tugs at your lips, making him grin widely as the officiant turns to him.

“Hmm?” Jungkook is puzzled; did he miss something?

The officiant smiles, “Do you, Jungkook, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, live in matrimony, love her, comfort her…?”

Jungkook knows he should pay attention the second time around, but his heart leaps into his throat. How wonderful this feeling is! Holding you as you become husband and wife.

“I do,” Jungkook answers with a blush.

The officiant is glad that he’s answered this time as he turns to you and repeats the same, but you blurt out “I do” before he’s finished his sentence.

Jungkook bursts out laughing, making you stick your tongue out at him before the officiant repeats himself, eyeing you cautiously to ensure he says his bit before you answer.

“I do.”

“Now we’re getting it!” The officiant jokes. “I talk, you talk. I talk, you talk.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as Jungkook pulls you closer. You exchange rings, repeating after the officiant as you place his ring on his finger and he places your ring on yours.

You're pronounced husband and wife with a few words and well wishes from the officiant. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, dipping you before pressing a kiss to your lips that has your toes curling. You grip his shoulders tightly, giggling into the kiss as he helps you stand. The officiant grins, taking pictures of both of you before handing you the signed marriage license.

Jungkook thanks him, taking you by the hand before you rush down the gazebo steps and head into the elevator.

“We’re married!” he shouts happily, pulling you to his side to press a kiss to your temple.

“We’re married!” you cheer, kissing his cheek.

“Let’s get this baby to the courthouse and get our certificate,” he states eagerly. You agree quickly, your lips capturing his for a moment. You were married to Jungkook. You were his wife. He’s your husband. It was the most incredible feeling in the world.

“Okay, I probably should have checked the calendar before rushing us off to the courthouse.” Jungkook cards a hand through his hair. You smile wholeheartedly when you see the ring on his finger.

“It’s fine, baby. We can celebrate tomorrow. I can rearrange your schedule, and we can go on a honeymoon if you want. I don’t care, either way, I promise,” you assure him honestly, knowing it’s difficult for him to put his work on pause even if he’d just gotten married.

“I want to take you on a honeymoon. I want to have everything with you, love. You’re my wife, and I-what?”

You look at Jungkook with his head quirked cutely to the side, confused.

“I’m your wife.” you state simply with a smile.

Jungkook chuckles, wrapping his arms around you tightly to pull you into his chest. His lips press a kiss to your cheek. “It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”

You place your hands on top of his, your finger running over his ring, “It does.”

Jungkook plants featherlight kisses on your neck, his hands gripping the hem of his shirt you’ve put on after consummating your marriage shortly after your trip to the courthouse.

“We’ve got time for another round before we need to get ready for the gala,” Jungkook informs you, kissing your shoulder as his hands grip your thighs.

“Say no more, my dear husband.” That’s all it takes for Jungkook to have you on the bed again, moaning and writhing as he holds your hands in his. 

“We’re late,” you hiss to your husband as you plaster on a smile. The dress he’s chosen for you hugs your body, accentuating your curves while exposing your skin with its backless design. You wonder if it will expose your butt when you sit, but you have to agree with Jungkook. You look phenomenal! 

“I know, but you just looked so good, I couldn’t help myself,” he whispers huskily into your ear, nipping at your lobe as he wraps his arm low around your waist.

It had been a commotion when you arrived, just like always. You stopped for pictures, shook some hands, and were led hastily by your husband inside due to your delay.

“They’re going to be judging my gown in a few minutes,” you mutter as you follow him through the crowd, smiling pleasantly as you go.

“I know, but you look gorgeous. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Jungkook stops in his tracks, his hands cupping your face as he presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Mr. Jeon! It’s nice to see you!” Jungkook groans at the sound of his name. He sends you an apologetic look before plastering a fake smile and walking over to the business partner that’s called him.

Left to your own devices, you scout the area in search of the open bar, spotting it across the room. Unfortunately, before you can take even one step in its direction, a voice has you rooted to your spot. Because of course he would be here tonight. Now, normally, you’d entertain yourself with him, if nothing, just to kill some time, but it was your wedding night, and you were already spending most of it with people you didn’t care to schmooze.

“Breaking dress code at a gala? Bold even for you, Ms. Y/L/N,” Kim Namjoon states with a shake of his head.

You roll your eyes. Was Namjoon really going to try this shit here?

“You seem to have brought your handy dandy notebook with you, Mr. Kim. You’d rather hold that than the hand of your date? Or did you come alone after dress coding them?” you retort with a saccharine smile that could fool anyone around you. Anyone but him, that is.

Jungkook looks over at you after a few minutes, his gaze darkening when he spots Namjoon approaching you. He notices the annoyed look on your face, so he politely excuses himself before walking over to you. His large palm presses to the skin of your back, and you immediately recognize his touch. You step back to get closer to your husband, biting back a smile.

Jungkook is smug, smiling as he speaks to his head of HR. “Oh, Mr. Kim, lovely to see you here. Are you writing up my wife again?”

Oh, the look on Namjoon’s face is priceless. You’ll have to thank Jungkook later in the bedroom. Nothing could beat witnessing the pure panic and shock on Kim Namjoon’s face! He can stuff his little notebook where the sun doesn’t shine!

Namjoon’s eyes widen in shock, stammering as his face burns red. 

“Your w-wife?” 

“Yes! We eloped this morning. We couldn’t continue to hide our relationship any longer. Seeing her at work every day is hard, knowing I can’t kiss or hold her when I please.”

“Oh.”

“Doesn’t she look beautiful tonight, Mr. Kim? Just as beautiful in a gown as in all the outfits I pick for her to wear at work. Such a radiant beauty, don’t you think so, Mr. Kim?” Jungkook challenges the head of HR with a raised brow. 

Namjoon wonders if he wills it hard enough the ground will open up and swallow him whole.  

“Stunning, sir.” Namjoon fakes a smile and excuses himself. He’d better look for another job. ASAP. 

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, covering your mouth as you giggle softly, hiding your face in his chest. 

Jungkook’s eyes glitter with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What did I do?”

“Oh, you’re awful,” you chuckle, shaking your head and taking his hand to make the rounds before he’s called away to make a toast. His shit-eating grin never leaves his face.

Jungkook steps up to the stage, standing at the podium with a smile. He blows you a kiss that has you flustered as he introduces you. You watch him from your seat, grinning as his eyes find you in the crowd. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight, but most of all, I want to thank my gorgeous wife. As of this morning, she is Mrs. Jeon, and I couldn’t be happier. I love you!” He exclaims. The crowd gasps before a loud round of applause fills the room. 

Jungkook brings your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on it before he’s waving at the crowd, encouraging them to enjoy their night. He leads you off the stage, kissing your cheek at the bottom of the steps. Guests quickly approached you, wishing you well and congratulating you both as Jungkook smiled and thanked them. He’s eager to get through the crowds, wanting nothing more than to have you all to himself.

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#bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader insert #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #ceo!jungkook #ceo!jungkook x secretary!reader

[hyperfixationstati0n]

When You Know, You Know (Pt.2)

An: lmk how you feel about this :) Idk where else to go form here as I didn't plan on making multiple parts but if a part 3 is wanted I'll figure it out!!

Pairing: Spencer x bookstore!owner!reader

Content warnings: none really, swears a little, both spencer and reader are still hella awkward

Word count: 875

Part one

I waited and waited for Spencer to come in again. 3 weeks of waiting, actually. I was starting to think I’d scared him off, although I didn’t know how I managed to do that. I was sulking, standing in front of the register with Lennon on a particularly slow day. Rose, the angel that she was, was helping stock books while I attempted to focus my mind and work on packaging online orders.

“I’m just delusional. I scared him off and now he’s never coming back!” I exclaim, earning a sideways look from Rose across the store.

“You can’t scare someone off if you’ve never talked to them,” Lennon says with a laugh. For someone younger than me he was such a bully. (lovingly, of course)

“But I did talk to him. And he knows I hide from him whenever he comes in.” 

“Girl, I swear to god if you don’t let me help you find that man’s Instagram or something I will lose my mind. you need to get out of your comfort zone and make a fucking mo-“

The bell chimed. My eyes widened. Lennon shut his mouth as quick as he opened it. 

Spencer was standing in my store, standing there with an awkward yet charming smile and a wave. I wave back, feeling my cheeks flush. As soon as he walks down an aisle, talking to Rose, I hit Lennon on the shoulder.

“Go take inventory or something.” I say under my breath.

“Ohh, so you like the register now” He teases, his voice a little louder than I would’ve preferred. I playfully shove him away and try to collect myself. I was going to act natural, I wasn’t going to be weird. I was going to be myself. I told myself he was just another customer, however untrue to me that might be. 

Thankfully though, this time around I had more time to prepare what I was going to say, something I needed if I was going to get through a few sentences with him without fumbling my words. He came to the register with a stack of 4 books. Seriously, my curiosity was piqued. How did he read this fast? I noticed this time one of them was a poetry book; ‘Leaves of Grass’ by Walt Whitman. Interesting. I always took note of what people were buying, and obviously, he was at the front of my mind. This selection surprised me. 

“You’re not hiding!” He comments. I nod and smile, slightly embarrassed at the fact he had pointed it out. 

“It’s very out of character, I know” I was trying to come off as witty, but truthfully I could only pray that what he saw. “so, how are you?”

“I’m great actually. I finally have a day off and decided I could come pick up a few new reads.” 

I nodded slowly but the question was still on my mind. I had to know.

“I hope I don’t overstep with this, but do you actually go through books as fast as you’re buying them?”

A smile twitches as his lips, a slight pink tinge covering his cheeks.

“I-yeah, I do. I…read really fast.” His voice seemed a little nervous. I wouldn’t press the matter right now, but it definitely caught my attention.

“I can tell” I chuckle softly, hitting a few buttons on the cash register as I finish ringing up his things. “You definitely bring a lot of business here”

He laughed softly, a sound I could’ve relished in. But my own mind stopped me-I was supposed to be acting normal. 

Then the unexpected happened. After he paid for his things with actual small talk from my end-he lingered. For once I was glad we didn’t have much business today, I got to really talk to him. He was kind, and clearly very smart. I found out we actually had a lot of mutual interests. Talking to him was weirdly easy, even if I had this consistent feeling of butterflies in my stomach. But then I heard his phone go off with a text.

“Shoot…I hate to cut our conversation short but I have to go.” He says as he tucks his phone back in his pocket. I nod, albeit a little sadly. I had Lennon's voice in the back of my mind 

“Make a fucking move, make a fucking move, make a fucking move…”

It was now or never.

“I was wondering if…maybe, only if you want…do you want to go out for coffee sometime? When you’re not working.” 

His eyes widened and I had this temporary moment of fear before his eyes softened and he smiled.

“I would-I would really love that.” 

I gestured slightly to his phone.

“Can I give you my number?”

“Oh yeah, yeah! yes, please do” He fumbles to get his phone back out and unlock it, only having one hand to do so as the other was still holding his bag of books.

I put my number in, and we said goodbye, but just as he was about to leave I asked one last thing.

“Spencer?”

He turns and looks at me again, waiting.

“How fast do you really read?”

“20,000 words per minute.”

What have I gotten myself into?

#criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #☆wykyk

[sprainedwriting]

come see inside my heart (1)

spencer reid x fem! reader

Summary: You’re rehabilitated! You swear on it! So, when a serial killer turns up, with the same killing method as you, it threatens everything you have worked not-so hard for.

tw/cw: CANON TYPICAL VOILENCE AND THEMES! This chapter is mild but! Further chapters will deal with mature topics, read at your own risk! I am not responsible for you guys. I take no critism btw

Read on AO3 for better formatting + tagging. Enjoy.

This isn’t Spencer´s scene. He knew it, his team knew it, and so did the woman and men who approached him. A successful caught criminal means a night out at a bar, or club in this scenario. Usually he could handle it, the people, the sounds, the overstimulation of his senses.

Sadly, today was a bad day, where everything was just a bit too much. So he excused himself to the restrooms, but he just ended up going through the back door, into an alley. It was dirty, with trash everywhere, but it was better then being inside right now. Spencer planned to be alone, for like 10 minutes to recharge and try again.

But, well, he wasn’t alone. A girl was crouching on the floor. Her arms over her knees, hiding away her face.

“I’m sorry… are you in need of assistance? Are you hurt?” Spencer carefully asked.

The girl lifted her head up, looking right at him with cold eyes. He wishes she was just looking at him, it felt like he was being looked right into. She was unraveling him, simply with her eyes. His soul was laid bare before her.

“…No, sorry if I scared you. I’m just trying to recharge my social battery.” Her hands rubbed over her forehead. She still made no move to get up.

Spencer carefully nodded, a small voice told him if he said the wrong thing, or made the wrong move that she would leave. He doesn’t want her to leave.

“I can relate to that, that’s why I also came out here.” Spencer said, he then tried to casually lean against the wall behind him. Once he came in contact with the wall, he felt it crumble under him. He quickly pulled away and wiped away the dirt from his cardigan.

And even though Spencer hates dirt, and he knows he will have to bleach his clothes and himself once he get’s home, he thinks it’s worth it. Simply because you giggled at him. He looked at you, still on the ground, but your lips were pulled into a grin. He couldn’t help but smile at you back.

“I thought you looked like a smart guy, guess I was wrong.” Your tone was teasing, and the playful insult causes him to blush in embarrassment.

“Yeah, well…Uhmm…Yeah..” And usually Spencer was quick with his words, his brain constantly on overdrive. And he could easily come up with some witty respond. His problem right now? The intense eye contact you guys held. Spencers only salvation was looking away. He took a deep breath and finally spoke,

“Well, actually I have three Phds and an IQ of 187. You tell me if that makes me an smart guy.”

“Three? Dude, how old are you?” You looked at him with big eyes.

“24.” At his answer you looked even more shocked, “Do I look that old?” He tried to tease you.

“No! No, its just I am 26 and I am not even close to three Phds, or an IQ of 187. I’m kind of envying you right now.” You slowly stood up, shaking out your legs.

“I also have eidetic memory.” You looked at him with confusion, “It’s, uh, commonly known as an photographic memory.”

“Now you’re just bragging. But being able to remember everything? That’s something I don’t envy. I love my mind for being able to repress things.”

“It’s true, it’s not always…easy. It’s very practical though in my line of work.” Spencer shifted from one leg to the other. Speaking to people wasn’t his forte, especially ones in his age rage who he was attracted to.

“Oh? What’s your occupation?” You tilted your head slightly to the side, looking him up and down.

“I work for the FBI, in the, uh, Behavioural Analysis Unit.” Spencer cleared his throat, trying to shake off his nervousness. He can talk to serial killers, but one pretty girl leaves him speechless.

“Wow! A doctor and agent? You are really an high achiever.” Spencer laughed slightly at your words, “Yeah, my name is Spencer Reid, by the way.”

You told him your name and stretched out your hands towards him. “Uhm, actually, did you know its safer to kiss then to shake hands? Yeah! It’s because of the-“

“Well, let’s kiss then.” You giggled at his stuttering, and the blush coating his cheeks and ears, “I’m just kidding! Unless..” Tip toeing towards him, you leaned your shoulder against the wall, looking right at Spencers side profile. He turned his head towards you, not wanting to miss a secound of looking at you.

His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands were starting to sweat.

“Can I have your number?” Spencer helplessly blurred out. Hopefully you were as interested in him as he was in you.

“Ah, I don’t think you will actually like me..” You trailed off, but still smiled at him.

“Why? You can’t know that.”

“Hmm, I do know, sadly. I’m not really…a good person, you know? I’m probably on some kind of watchlist.” You looked away from him, your finger was playing around with your lips.

“No way! I don’t believe you.” Spencer tried to convince you otherwise. In his head, he knew that this was a warn sign from you. Either you suffered from low self esteem, were not interested in him and tried to shake him off, or you were telling the truth. Please, be a liar. “What terrible thing did you commit?”

You hummed, your face losing its smile and you spoke in a whisper, “I’m a serial killer.”

Spencer’s blood ran cold at your words, he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not. But his question was quickly answered, because you started laughing, “You should have seen your face! For legal reasons I was joking, obviously.” You bumped your shoulder against his and made your way back to the door. “Bye bye, doctor Reid, you might get my number the next time we meet.” And with that you disappeared inside.

His saving grace was Morgan calling him, asking if he fell down the toilet or something. Spencer hurried back inside, the whole night he didn’t see your face again.

___

You always meet someone twice. Spencer could curse whoever came up with that phrase, but well. He also cursed himself. Wishing to meet the pretty stranger from last week shouldn’t be too much to ask for. But, with his bad luck, it is apparently.

Spencer got what he asked for, he met you again. Sadly, under bad circumstances. While he daydreamed about sitting across from you at a dinner, he didn’t really expect to see you sitting in the interrogation room at the DC police station. While he could see you through the glass, you weren’t able to see him.

Hotch and Gideon stood beside Spencer, looking into the room, studying you, “She won’t crack, she didn’t when she was 16 and she sure won’t now at 26.” Gideon said into the silent room, Hotch nodded his head.

“We still have to try, we have no other choice.” Hotch replied in his usual even tone.

Gideon looked at the file in his hand, he then made his way inside to you. He sat himself across from you and sighed, “Weren’t you supposed to keep out of trouble?”

“…I do.” Your voice was stable, your hand was playing around with your handcuff.

“Yeah? Well, it doesn’t look like that to me.” With that Gideon opened the file and put the pictures of the crime scenes on the table. Only catching a glimpse of the content of the pictures, you turn your head away to the wall. Spencer was able to catch you grimacing.

“Yikes, want me to pass out?”

“There is no blood in those pictures. Take a look at them.”

Slowly, you turned your head back towards Gideon, avoiding looking at the table. With a deep sigh you looked at the pictures, Your brows were furrowed, studying the pictures, or more like trying to, because after a few seconds you started gagging and quickly turned them around, so you didn’t have to see them again.

“What the hell does this have to do with me?”

The pictures weren’t even gruesome, for the standard of the FBI. It were simple corpses, no guts, blood, or even visible bruises.

“Where were you last Tuesday, from 8PM to 11PM?”

“…I was at home?”

“You have any witnesses?”

“Yeah, actually. We have cameras all around and inside the house. My car and phone are also both being constantly tracked. Don’t worry, Jason, I can’t make a step without everyone knowing.” And with that you leaned against your chair, your arms crossed across your chest. You were shutting down.

Gideon noticed this and got up, knowing this was as much as he could get. He joined the other men on the other side of the glass.

The team was depriving with the police department, on what next steps they should take.

“The Heart, known for his obsession with blood. It is actually an unsolved case in the FBI, the Heart was active from 2010 to 2013 and seemingly stopped his killing abruptly. The profile which was established back then was of a white male, in his 20’s to early 30’s, someone who was charismatic and worked in the medical field. What’s really interesting about this case is the time frame, or more like the time in which the kills committed. Usually, serial killers evolve, the time between kills becomes less and less, the need for a high rising. With this one here, the time frame between the kills becomes more, as if the killer is seemingly lost interest.” Spencer rambled on.

“That’s great and all, but what does this have to do with the girl we took into custody? I know her Daddy, and I’m afraid he will come in here raise Hell soon. Do we even have any evidence.” A random police officer called into the room.

“We are aware that our current custodee seems innocent, but we have reasons to believe that she is in fact the Heart killer. We just…weren’t able to prosecute her. This may change now. We can hold someone in custody without evidence for 48 hours, I advise that was use the time wisely.” Aaron said, establishing dominance. The team was aware that the police officers were antsy, convincing them to take you into custody was hard enough.

Their job was just about to become harder, because two men entered the police department.

“Tell me a good reason on why I shouldn’t sue you and your whole bloodline.” One of the men spoke angrily.

“Sir, do you know where your daughter was last Tuesday from 8PM to 11PM?” Gideon calmly asked the upset father, “She claims to have been at home. Can you support that statement?”

“I don’t have to, we have cameras at our hose. We can check right now, if you want to. The video files are uploaded to our cloud.” The father carefully phrased, not wanting to incriminate his daughter any further. He made eye contact with the other man, a lawyer, who nodded his head.

This was a quick process, the video files were send to Garcia and she checked for any kind of manipulation.

“Well, depending on who hears this, it’s either good or bad news. The alibi is waterproof, no! It’s bulletproof. Not even for last Tuesday, but for all the murder times. On the day she wasn’t home, you can easily track her to the campus library, where they have video surveillance. So, yeah, not our guy…gal.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” With that Hotch ended the phone call. He looked at the projection of you in your home in one video, in the next it’s set in the library. He really hoped this would be an easy wrap up.

“What if she has a partner?” Morgan threw into the room, wanting to nothing more then to send you away for life.

“No. She keeps to herself and seems to be introverted.” Hotch answered. “We have no other choice but to let her go. Reid, release her. This doesn’t mean we won’t keep an eye on her, of course.” With these words Hotch left the room, probably sharing the news with the other law enforcement members.

Spencer made his way to you, keys in his hand. He opened the door, and took his time studying you without the glass separating you both. It was the middle of the night, you simply wore a tank top and shorts, sleep wear. Across your legs and arms were countless bruises, some old and some new. Scars lined your skin, some on your neck, those were small and delicate. Others were an your arm, your wrists, your thighs. Of course, the mandatory knee scars from being a kid weren’t missing. And Spencer would nearly miss it, if he wasn’t painfully familiar with them.

Small, circular scars on your arm. Old track marks. They were scarred over and there was no bruising, a good sign.

You didn’t bother looking at who came through the door, your house being raided in the middle of the night kinda ruined your mood. All you want to do is sleep. For once in your life, you were innocent!

Spencer walked towards you, he then carefully unlocked your handcuffs. Looking up, you saw the cute guy from the club. You kinda missed him.

“I didn’t do it.” You quickly said, not knowing what else to do.

“…I know.” Spencer spoke quietly, your alibi saved you. “The, ah, victimology doesn’t fit at all, the Heart killed at random while this one, while using the same killing method, has a specific victim type.”

“Yeah, girls who look like me. Just because I’m squeamish as hell, doesn’t mean I can’t make the obvious connection.”

This is embarrassing for Spencer, because truthfully, he didn’t make the connection. Yet. Maybe he should look for a different career path. Once your hand was free, you massaged your temples. You left the room and walked into the police station, the officers looked uncomfortable. Spencer followed you.

“…It might be a copycat. The killing methods and Victimology suggest that it’s an obsessive fan. Have you noticed anyone following you recently? Or a constant feeling of being watched?” Spencer couldn’t help but ask you, any information is good information. And any attention from you is good attention.

You turned towards Spencer, looking up at him. He could feel the anger radiating off you.

“Or, unpopular opinion, I also didn’t commit the first murders and it’s the true killer returning. Ever thought of that, Phd boy? I was just accused of murder back then! Without any evidence! Why is there no evidence? Because I’m innocent! Just because your fucking senior over there used his what? Magic super powers of reading fucking body language? Get fucked, honestly.” You turned away from Spencer completely, choosing to only look at your father.

“We are…Sorry for the inconvenience, the profile just fit and we didn’t think it through. Life’s are at stake here, and you did commit a murder.” Hotch tried to defuse the tense atmosphere, the team knew that the police officers were very sceptical towards the BAU. This could ruin any relationship and progress they made.

“You call it murder, the Judge and I call it self defense. Agree to disagree, I guess? Or are you salty that you weren’t able to catch the phedophillic serial rapist back then? Sorry that I killed him when he attacked me, next time I will remember to just not defend myself, asshole.”

Your father put a hand on your shoulder, a signal to stop. Your lawyer thankfully didn’t look stressed out, so you didn’t say anything too incriminating. Crossing your hands over your chest, you decided to shut up for the rest of your stay here.

“We would love to help you, Agent. We truly do, but if this is all we would like to leave now.” Your father carefully said. Innocent until proven otherwise.

There is not much Hotch could do, since it was now clear that you were not behind the murders. He nodded his head, “Of course, once again we are sorry for the intrusion.”

With that you once again leave Spencer behind. How inappropriate would it have been to ask you for your number?

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #Spencer reid x yn #angst #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #criminal minds x y/n

[sparkle-d]

waiting game | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x you

summary: in which you switch your phone with daniel's without knowing

tags: falling in love; chatting and messages; kind of enemies to friends to lovers

warnings: insecure reader; f!reader; dumb people

chapter: 1/?

(you: blue/ daniel: orange)

chapter 1 - press start

unknown said: hey!!

unknown said: i think we switched phones last night

unknown said: my password is 123456

Daniel looks at the phone that’s sitting on his dinner table, with a frown that insists on staying on his forehead. The one he’s staring at with so much confusion right now, it obviously isn’t his cell phone.

The phone case is the same - a bright yellow one, but when he touches the screen, there’s a Ferrari wallpaper glowing in red shades, and Daniel knows that even his most drunk self wouldn’t change his wallpaper to a Ferrari one.

He thought it was perhaps a prank from Pierre or Max, but they’re too creative to only change it to a Ferrari design, and when the message pops up, it all makes sense. This isn’t his cell phone indeed, but now someone else is in possession of his, and he has this person’s phone weirdly standing on the table as if Daniel could get an infection by just touching it.

With care, Daniel enters the password and it naturally unlocks the phone in front of him.

you said: very clever password, i might say

you said: you should be like me and simply don’t use any password

unknown said: that’s dumb, i could hack all of your things if i wanted

you said: it’s called freedom, sweetheart

unknown said: or stupidity maybe

They have a point, but Daniel thinks one of his traits is that he’s witty sometimes, he always has the answer for everything. Daniel likes to be right almost all the time, to have the last word when necessary - and this person is triggering this side of him way too quickly. His mouth curves while thinking about an answer.

you said: you call it stupidity and i call it what saved our asses in this situation. my lack of security is what allowed you to message me in the first place

you said: also, i have nothing to hide. im an open book, for your information

Daniel stops for a second, thinking deeper about it.

you said: maybe don’t look into my photos, please

unknown said: uhm… i wouldn’t. ew

unknown said: i’m a woman of my word

unknown said: don’t go into mine too then

you said: i won’t, and i’m a man of my word as well.

Daniel knows she’s someone who attends the Formula 1 events, the possibility of her being from his group of friends being high, but he probably shouldn’t have drank so much last night, to the point where he can’t even remember the girls’ faces or names from last night. It’s a lost battle even if he tries to guess who’s the woman on his phone.

unknown said: sooo…

unknown said: we need to exchange phones right

unknown said: please tell me you, that for any reason, you’re in monaco too and already left the same way i did

you said: you’re not in australia anymore?

unknown said: heh nervous laughing 

unknown said: i’m not

unknown said: landed in monaco a while ago

Daniel squints his eyes to see the hour on the phone. He gets surprised, it’s way past noon. If he wasn’t in his hometown and decided to spend some more days here, he would’ve lost his plane as well. He also had no plans on going to Monaco these days, because he had some things to solve before the next race.

you said: may i ask you who you are?

you said: i’d like to know whos in possession of my phone

He can feel a headache increasing its pain the more he’s on his cell phone, but he needs to get this done sooner. Daniel wasn’t too worried because he had two phones, and gladly, the one he uses for work and serious matters he normally doesn’t go to parties with it in his pocket, of course. She has his personal phone, the one he uses with his family and friends. So nothing too serious.

unknown said: you may but i’d like to keep my identity a secret

unknown said: wouldn’t it be entertaining if you didn’t know a thing about how i look like

unknown said: and i didn’t know a thing about you 

unknown said: this way we could build a wonderful bond based only on our personalities

Daniel almost snorts at the answer. He just wants his phone back and he doesn’t get how this person isn’t freaking out about a stranger having her phone. On the contrary, she’s thinking about playing games in this situation.

Wait… a game? Daniel grins.

you said: you have a point

you said: sounding more like a challenge

you said: but i think i’m in

unknown said: challenge?

you said: yeah a challenge

you said: i won’t know who you are

you said: or what you look like

you said: and everyone that crosses my path i’ll think it’s you

unknown said: there’s a chance we’ve already met...

you said: it would be so sad if you were an old man that tricked me into this and ends up trying to seduce me and then break my heart

unknown said: i might just do that, you know ;)

Daniel raises one of his eyebrows. Oh.

unknown said: but i’m not an old man tho

unknown said: just in my twenties

you said: can i tell you something

you said: i’ve never done this before

unknown said: what, exchange messages with a stranger?

unknown said: or messaged a person at all

unknown said: also i like the idea of you having a thought about me but not knowing who i am

you said: haha funny

you said: message a stranger, ofc

you said: at the moment the only thought i have about you is that you’re crazy

you said: or something

unknown said: s-so this means i’m your first?

unknown said: i’m honored i might say

unknown said: (i’m something, don’t worry i’m not crazy)

you said: you should be ;)

you said: i don’t do this messaging thing with people i just met or that i didn’t meet at all but you are making my phone your hostage for some reason

Daniel finds himself smiling while chatting with this stranger. He still thinks this is all bullshit and they should tell each other who they are, exchange phones and go on with their lives. But he’s also excited to speak with someone without this person knowing he is Daniel Ricciardo, the Formula 1 racer. She’s treating him normally, not trying to impress him or even trying something else with him. She’s not even that worried about what Daniel might think of her and her quirky ideas.

Daniel vibes with this too, he likes a good challenge.

Another message appears on the screen of the phone, but this time it isn't from Daniel’s number - it has a contact name on it.

you said: oh, someone named ‘bubbles’ just messaged you and they’re waiting for you outside

unknown said: shit, i have to go then

unknown said: also you didn’t receive any messages maybe you’re the creepy one here

you said: i just disable my notifications because they are annoying

unknown said: that explains a lot, me thinks. do the same with mine! so you won’t be bothered and it won’t give away who i am

unknown said: i’m going out, do i take my hostage with me?

you said: sure, if i need i will contact you 

you said: we still need to figure it out how to exchange phones

unknown said: yeah

unknown said: save your contact in my phone i’ve already saved mine

you said: how did you save it

unknown said: when you get your phone back you will see it ;)

Daniel clicks to save his own number, a mischief grin growing on his lips. He doesn’t know who this girl is, but she’s not that worried about leaving her cell phone with him, she won’t mind if he puts anything as his contact.

He decides to go with ‘hot stuff’, nothing that will immediately tell who he is, but it isn’t a lie as well.

—

“You’re crazy.” Charles says after taking a bite from his dinner, he looks up at you and can only find your silly smile “You use your phone for everything, especially your work and now, after finding out you didn’t lose it, you just accept that a stranger is using it and live with it.”

“There’s nothing for me to do, he’s still in Australia and I’m here.” You shrug “Do you have a better idea of how I can handle this?”

“Maybe tell him who you are?” Now it’s Pierre’s time to scold you and put some sense in your head “And ask who he is too, you’re trusting someone you have no idea who he is.”

“I have a gut feeling he means no harm, especially because I also have his phone too. He does something against me and I will answer the same way.” You probably sound as insane as you imagine you do, but you can’t help the exciting feeling you get from this. This person will get to know you without looking at your looks, the way you dress, if your hair is frizzy or if you didn’t wash your sneakers last night. No, he will solely know your true core and if he dislikes you or not, it’s his true opinion “I’m on my vacations, enjoying my free time with my friends and messing around as I should do more often. I’m tired of being overly worried about everything.”

Pierre tsks “You worry about minimal things, but this - something you should really worry about - you decide you should live your life fantasy with it.”

“Exactly!” You shout and both of them roll their eyes “I’ll have my phone back eventually.”

“This is so out of character I don’t think I recognize you.” Charles stares at you “But I will keep an eye on it, if he doesn’t pass to you my messages, we will know what is up here.”

“He told me about your message today, Bubbles.” You say “I don’t think he knows you’re bubbles, obviously. Imagine when Pierre texts and he sees ‘buttercup’, he will be thrilled to mess with us.”

“At least your disguise will continue, he won’t know you’re our friend.”

“I’m always thinking ahead of things, this is almost perfect.” You sound and look ridiculous, but you know deep down your friends are with you in this. If you need their help with your story with this cell phone, they’ll be there for you. They have always been “Ah, a new message from him.”

ma fraise said: why is your icloud photo a pink bloob with a knife and your email [email protected]?

you said: IT’S A KIRBY!!

you said: and the email i was going through a phase with a band and really liked this song of theirs. nothing special about it

you said: now stop snooping on my phone

ma fraise said: i’m so bored and without my phone

ma fraise said: but i only went to disable the notifications

ma fraise said: no snooping in my side

you said: me neither

you said: you’re still a blank canvas to me

you said: and i haven’t asked about your wallpaper yet

you said: you already know i’m a ferrari fan

ma fraise said: well, that’s…

ma fraise said: i can’t tell you without saying much about myself

ma fraise said: when we meet i can tell you

You look at the phone, analyzing the wallpaper, perhaps if you stare too much into it, it will give you some clue. It says nothing to you, sadly. It's graffiti on a white wall written ‘hi, howare you?’ and an alien below it. You think about asking Pierre and Charles if they, by any chance, have seen this anywhere. But your guts tell you to not do it, after all, you were the one that said you should keep it a mystery.

you said: is there something you can tell me about you then

you said: that won’t give away who you are

you said: but you know 

you said: for us to get to know each other

you said: a secret for a secret

ma fraise said: is it a secret that you are a tifosi?

you said: well

you said: not exactly 

you said: just don’t tell bubbles i am

ma fraise said: noted

ma fraise said: thank you for sharing that too, now i really have something on you

you said: damn it

“Are you going to stay on that phone the whole night?” Pierre is always the most straightforward with things, so obviously he would show his annoyance first.

“Chill, you were the one telling me that I should know more about this man, because he’s with an intimate and precious object of mine.” You put the phone away, having all of your attention on your friends again “Actually, you haven’t said that exactly, but it’s what I think I should do.”

“Are you willing to be his friend?” Pierre peers through his glass of water, trying to solve the mess you were at the moment.

“I need him to trust me, so I can trust him with my phone. Everything is about trust here, you see.”

“She’s not wrong, for once.” Charles is siding with you in this, which he normally doesn’t do. Charles only sides with himself “I think I might be going insane by spending so much time with you, because when you say it now, it makes sense.”

“See? I’m not fooling around here. Everything is already planned inside here.” You point to your head, the corners of your lips jerking.

Pierre and Charles roll their eyes at you.

ma fraise said: so you’re a trio

ma fraise said: there’s bubbles buttercup and you’re blossom, i figured

ma fraise said: also you watch too many romcoms in your netflix account for my taste

you said: stop snooping!!

You curl up on your bed, hugging your phone for a moment. You’ve been embarrassed the whole time you were chatting, especially because you’re used to people not liking you, aside from Pierre and Charles who have been around too long. But this stranger seems to like you, for who you’re.

For some reason, the thought of someone enjoying your company without even knowing you, makes your heart warm, comfortable and at ease. You normally don’t feel like this at all, but this night, you sleep quickly and with a shy smile showing up on your face.

—

It’s after the Australian GP and they decided to go to a bar. It’s just a few drivers, crew members and some friends, sitting around together on a circular table. Daniel stares too much in Pierre’s direction, on the other side of the table. He’s discussing something with a girl, someone Daniel feels like he’s supposed to know who she is, but there’s no trace of resemblance inside his mind at the moment. All he can think about is that he likes the way her lips move when she speaks, or how her eyes close when she sighs to whatever Pierre says. They aren’t drinking at the same speed as Daniel, but definitely are already drunk.

Charles looks to Max’s side, seeing him typing non stop on his phone, and he snorts at it.

“Okay, enough.” He says loudly, catching everyone’s attention, even Daniel’s “Let’s enjoy the night, shall we?” All the people on their table agree with him “Cellphones on the center of the table, the first to touch their phone, are paying for the night.”

There’s people Daniel has never seen in his life there, friends of friends, new girlfriends and boyfriends, but each of them leave the phone on the center of their table. Daniel doesn’t mind leaving it there, no one knows who each phone is, and they’re too drunk to think about the consequences right now.

Without the phones, they socialize more with each other, drink more and listen to Pierre’s dumb stories, that make everyone laugh in the end. It’s a nice night, in Daniel’s opinion.

The pile of phones stays there for the rest of the night and when Daniel is already leaving, there’s not many phones there. He doesn’t have to search for his phone, actually. There’s no way someone has a bright yellow phone case like him.

—

ma fraise said: i just hope you’re not gasly, by any chance.

ma fraise said: but i do have his phone number saved

you said: ouch you hurt me saying this. i could be gasly with a new phone

you said: but why are you hoping i’m not gasly?

ma fraise said: let’s say i did something embarrassing in front of him

ma fraise said: actually you’re totally not him

ma fraise said: he would be laughing at my face right now if you were him

you said: i’m a good actor.

you said: i might be fooling you into trusting me just to laugh at your face when you least expect it

ma fraise said: w-would

ma fraise said: would you do it

ma fraise said: gasly, i know it’s not you

you said: jk i don’t even know who this gasly boy is

you said: but he sounds fun tho

you said: probably not fun to you

(next chap)

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fiction #hope this is not confusing #okay thats enough daniel maybe charles next? #idk #awriting