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#that video has me visibly shaking
goodnightwindy · 1 year
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good morning. it's 8 am and i just woke up from probably the scariest dream ive ever had
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bfbkg · 8 months
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I KNOW but bakugou doing interviews like youtube brand ones and he’s sitting slouched in the chair with an all black outfit????? eating my knuckles. doing the gq video of going through his everyday bag. chunky ass prada boots, black cargos and a random black but well fitted henley top. he’s harsh and he’s blunt and he laughs loud. has to censor his language but if he forgets he just adds a shrug. clearly doesn’t want to be there but when he gets into it he leans on his knees. decides how to introduce himself differently every time. sometimes dynamight or katsuki or bakugou or bakugou katsuki or katsuki bakugou. depends how he feels. quirks an eyebrow at intimate questions and scratches his chin when he’s thinking hard. rings on his fingers and the only tattoo showing is the one on the back of his hand.
listens to the public share their opinions about him through questions and comments, something he usually avoids when he’s back home. rolling his eyes at people saying how attractive they find him, grunting when people compare him to the oddest things. shy smile when he gets comments from strangers being proud of him.
shows off random talents and facts. like how he knows seven languages and he can juggle. how he really enjoys cooking and is a plant dad.
wipes his face to hide his grin at the mention of you since your relationship is public and if he’s been away from home for a while, he finds out the company reached out to you to send him in a video question and suddenly he wakes up completely. grabbing for the ipad. it doesn’t matter he saw you on facetime last night. he recognises the outfit you’re wearing in the video from last week and he wonders how you were able to keep this little secret. the question you ask is sweet, cute, typical. has him grinning at the device. watching it twice before handing back the ipad to the interviewer.
“hey katsuki!!! i’ve got a question for you, don’t worry i’m not gonna say anything embarrassing.” you giggle in the video, “just wanted to ask, are you missing me? because i’m missing you!” and you give a little wave, “love you! come home safe!”
he hears your voice replay in his head even once it’s over. visibly shaking his head so he can hear the interviewer.
“so what’s your answer?”
“course ‘m missin’ her,” his voice gets quieter without meaning to, crossing his arms across his chest, “missin’ her more than she’ll ever know.”
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3minsover · 4 months
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modern steddie au
Pottery thrower!Steve who makes tiktoks of him making bowls and vases - he and Robin own a small company and social media is the best way to promote their products. While Robin sculpts and molds little trinkets - figurines and tchotchkes, Steve throws larger items.
They get some pretty good engagement with Robin's quirkily edited 'day in the life'-style videos and Steve's 'trust the process' content, but there's one video that sends the account rocketing into the stratosphere.
The camera is positioned at a low angle, looking over the studio. Steve enters the frame, visible only from the waist down at first with a large lump of clay in his hands. He sits down at the wheel, and that's when it's clear that beneath his overalls, he's not wearing a shirt. His shoulders are bare, tanned and kissed intermittently by moles, and the muscles beneath flex and shift underneath his skin as he lifts the clay and throws it down. Hard. The rest of the video is exactly as normal - Steve squeezing a sponge saturated with slip to wet the clay, pushing his fingers into the well in the center as he forms it into what will become a large salad bowl. Every so often, he looks up at the camera with a pleased smile, a lock of hair falling over his eyebrow. His hands are covered in slick gray, his biceps straining with the effort of precision, and there's a tiny swipe of slip drying across his forehead where he'd attempted to brush his hair aside.
Steve's best friend Eddie sees this video on his 'for you' page and is utterly overcome by the quiet strength of Steve's toned arms, the wide spread of his knees and steady workings of his hands. Confident in his anonymity - he's on his entirely anonymous private account, after all - Eddie leaves a comment on the video, detailing exactly what Eddie wishes Steve would do with his hands instead of throw clay. He hits post, scrubbing back to watch the moment Steve throws the clay down over and over again. He even saves the video to his phone - for instructive reasons, obviously. Nothing untoward, that's his best friend!
Eventually, Eddie scrolls on and for a few minutes forgets about the video. And then he remembers it again, but this time, the flush of attraction is accompanied by a creeping sense of unease that crawls across his skin. Eddie heads straight to Steve and Robin's account and taps the video. His thumb shakes a little as he opens the comments, now littered with others just as thirsty as his own - to which Steve has graciously replied turning them down - and finds that- oh fuck.
ewmunson: throw me around like that lump of clay i actually beg.
Eddie's not on his private.
He's gonna be sick.
Until he sees Steve's reply.
birdandbatpottery: Come over. Let's find out if I can?
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rae-writes · 1 year
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An Angel...
om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon)
wc : 1.k
warnings : simping bois, humor, some sprinkled suggestive comments
synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you (though that’s nothing new)
a/n : this audio scratches an itch in my brain and I needed to do something with it
angel ver. 
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<Asmodeus> GUYS!!!  YOU HAVE TO WATCH THIS!!!! NOW!!!!! LIKE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!
[attachment sent]
Casually clicking on the video file, his interest peaked immediately when he saw you. Clad in your RAD uniform, you were positioned in frame a couple steps back. 
“Who are you?” 
He watched you slowly stalk forward with a smile on your face; it was both reassuring and off putting. Only someone like him would be able to notice. 
“An angel…”
You held out your hand towards the camera gently, as if beckoning someone closer. 
“What’s your name?”
The transition was fast— smooth. In an instant, your hand came up and grabbed the phone, like you were choking someone, causing the frame to shake. 
“Satan.”
Once the shaking transition stopped, with your hand still in its previous position, his mouth dropped. You had completely transformed yourself into what he assumed is your version of their demon form. 
Realistic black sheep horns protruded from your head, curling backwards around your ear and ending at your middle jaw. There were light purple extensions added here and there, blending with your hair perfectly. Your free hand had come up to splay over your malicious grin- showing off the fangs you’d added and the sharpness of your new nails. The outfit you wore was revealing- black with shiny accents and shiner jewelry - easily showing the intricate marks you’d drawn over the exposed skin. 
[8 people saved a video attachment] 
Lucifer
His stupidly handsome face forms the most obnoxious smug smirk imaginable 
Don’t get me wrong, he was absolutely flustered. On the inside. 
On the outside though, he radiated pride and smugness 
Like ‘yeah. That’s my Mc. mine. Eat it.’ 
Not that he would ever speak those words. Totally not
Was he also slightly bugged that Asmo seemed to be the only one who had access to this video? Sure. 
Was he gonna make sure his brothers, Diavolo, and Barbatos deleted this from everything they owned? Of course. 
But first, he’s gotta get you to dress up like that for him in person 
Mammon
Mans was astonished. Eyebrows had shot through the heavens, mouth was dropped down to sea floor level, cheeks were a blazing inferno— he was in awe 
First thought : ‘HELL YEAH, MC, YA LOOK HOT!’ 
Second thought : ‘WAIT HOLD UP, THE OTHERS ARE SEEIN THIS TOO-‘ 
Really though, Mammon is just so in awe at how gorgeous you looked 
especially in that gold he knows he bought you
Immediately takes a screenshot of you in that getup and makes it his home screen wallpaper
Then he texts you, begging demanding you dress up like that again because he wants to make videos with you in his demon form too!
I mean, if he doesn’t get to have his hands all over you and his mouth on you like that, how will anyone get the message you’re only for him?
Levi
Someone call the equivalent of 911 for the Devildom, Levi might just be coding 
Actually- don’t even worry about it, he’s just a big puddle on the floor! No worries! 
He. Is. FLUSTERED! Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it really- 
Levi can't breathe, can’t talk, can’t even wave his hands around frantically to express his lost words
Irl version of a windows restart. 
But as soon as he does reboot, he’s doing his best impression of Oprah into his pillow with how high pitched he’s screaming 
Would love to take a picture with you in that outfit while he’s in his demon form or have you sit on him 
He’ll send you a bunch of emojis in show of his approval but his normal skin tone still isn’t visible under the blush for hours
Satan
Smug as fuck about the audio itself. Definitely silently bragging
Aside from that, Satan is absolutely willing to kneel for you in that outfit 
He’s studied with you on seductive speechcraft but this? He was not ready
Has to take a minute to get his bearings together and to wipe that blush off his face
Satan’s actually pretty speechless for a good 30 minutes 
Not that he’d let you know. He will, however, be telling you how fucking good you looked
Wants to ask if you’ll walk around town with him in his demon form too so everyone can see 
Power couple ™— Take that Lucifer 
Asmo
Azzy is on his knees in an instant- pliant and ready for you to fucking step all over him 
The moment he saw the video he was liking, favoriting, commenting, saving, sharing- everything 
He’d suggested something similar for you to do in the past but you just. 
You went light years beyond what he was expecting the outcome to be and he is here for it 
#1 supporter and immediately is coming up with different- sexier -outfits for you to wear
Will ask, beg if he has to, if you’d come have a photo shoot with him (surprisingly he mainly wants to take photos of just you) 
Admitting to anyone who listens that your beauty is absolutely on par with his 
On his way to your room right this instant- but only after he shares the video with the others 
Beel
Choked. 
You’d think he hadn’t ate in years with how much he was drooling but no
He was just looking at you in that outfit. Which he thought was amazing. 
You are easily the most delicious thing he’s ever laid eyes on (“Gorgeous too…”) and he can’t wait to tell you to your face 
Wonders if you’d have a tail or wings if you really did have a demon form 
Wants to ask Diavolo if there’s magic to make you a real, temporary demon form to find out
Please come to one of his Fangol games dressed like that. He’d promise to win for the rest of the season- and succeed
Overall flustered with his cute blush present, but unlike Satan or Levi, he doesn’t mind showing you 
Belphie
Two words : “holy. fuck.” or alternatively : “fuck. me.”
He is sprinting- yes, sprinting- throughout the fucking house and barreling straight through your door
On his knees faster than Asmo was and is ready at light speed to crawl at your feet and wrap his arms around your leg 
All of his usual curt expressions are thrown out the window without a care in the world
No pure thoughts behind those doe eyes. Not a single one. 
Convinces you to let him take a picture from underneath you while you’re choking him to put as his lock screen because he needed it
Will not be letting you go for the next 24 hours or longer
Fakes innocence like a pro when the others accuse him of hogging you to himself (“they are mine” he snips, even though you have the metaphorical leash right now)
Barbatos 
Mmmmmm, the silent simping is strong in this one
He was simultaneously so fucking ready and so very much not ready for that
Does not know what to do with himself for the next 2-7 business days
Had to put down shit he was cleaning multiple times before he broke something (because you actually broke him)
Straight up doesn’t even ask to show up in your room this time, he just does and immediately beelines to shove his face into your neck 
No, his ears are not red. I believe you might be color blind Mc…
Won’t outright admit how badly you affected him- he just lets out a small ‘you look lovely’ like yeah, Barb? Just lovely? 
Please wear this to the next formal event you attend to watch him lose his cool for split second intervals all night
Diavolo 
If he didn’t have millennia of training on composure, he’d been screaming as loud as Levi 
Instead he settles for slamming his hand on his desk like that meme Asmo showed him 
Concerning his butler a bit, but Diavolo is a proud simp- he ADMITS it
Please come sit on him. Let HIM sit on YOU, for all he cares
You look so good?? What the fuck?? Marry him?? (<<exact texts he sends you)
Tries to find ways to give you a real demon form before getting scolded
Volunteers whole heartedly to let Asmo take pictures of both of you while you’re dressed like that
Ring, ring, Lucifer, he’s coming over ASAP, don’t be alarmed when he shows up at the door
Bonus : 
Solomon
Fuck this man is so down bad for you
I mean, he knew that before but this is just something else, Mc, what have you done to him? 
Knows you’re still human but god does he crave having your pact mark seared into his body (it’s a guilty pleasure of his)
Maybe you’ll just create one and tattoo it on anyway
No second thoughts, teleports to your room immediately to yank you into a kiss
Door is locked- Solomon refuses to let the brothers snatch you away from him rn
Please get on top of him and show him how real your fake fangs and nails feel
Will actually beg without a fight
Simeon
Thinks he should not find this as attractive as he does but the heat flooding through his body disagrees
Gets so hot and flustered, it would be concerning if he wasn’t an actual angel 
Drinks a whole ass cup of water in less than 2 seconds 
Personification of ‘hold my mf halo’ as he makes his way to your place once he calms down a bit
Yes, he’ll take pictures with you with his wings on display and yes, he may or may not be into this (and if you start a little roleplay with him? He’s ascending.)
Don’t tease and make fun of him, he can’t help it! He’s not trying to blush- though he isn’t trying to hide it either
Lies through his teeth without hesitation when he gets questioned about the faint lines on his shoulders 
Heaven’s filthiest angel, on brand
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omg i understand its okay🥹🤍
then can i request a fic w lando where the reader is really down lately, not eating or sleeping and just like sad because she’s feeling rly nostalgic and theyre away from home and she’s like scared of growing up (even tho she’s like barely 21) and lando gets really concerned when he notices shes losing weight and sleep and stuff so he confronts her and she breaks down😔 sry if that made no sense again just smthn im going through because i keep listening to ribs by lorde
We Have A Life Together - LN
First of all, I hope you're ok. Please make sure you're taking care of yourself, if you're that young it's so important to know that you there's good and bad days for all of us. But never ever put selfceare as the last priority.
I am going to alter this slightly. I'm going to make her closer to Lando's age, if that's ok, just bc I have an idea that I feel like would work well for the fearing growing up idea.
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Y/n loves nothing more than being there to support Lando, she wants to see him succeeding. But sometimes these things come at a cost for herself.
Y/n hasn't been sleeping or eating for what feels like weeks, maybe months now.
"Baby...are you coming with me or joining later?" Lando asks, waking her up from the depth of sleep as he kisses her shoulder, his hands either side of her body to keep himself held up over her.
"Later. I'm still tired." Y/n murmurs not opening her eyes and while she hears a sigh from the driver before he kisses her skin softly again.
"Ok, I'll see you later." He states while she tries not to grimace, though her face is pressed mostly into the pillow so he can't really see it. "Make sure you order something from room service. You missed breakfast."
Y/n knows it's a new low to pretend to sleep just so she can rot in bed but it's the only thing she has the energy to today. In the moment, she can't possibly think of anything worse than getting up and trying to look presentable.
When her alarm goes to let her know she's really pushing her luck to get showered, ready and to the paddock before Lando is actually out on the track. She finally peels herself out of the bed and drags herself to the bathroom.
She's began to lose the ability to recognise herself. The dark bags weighing her whole face down, she's exhausted. The lack of sleep is visibly and her face has hollowed out by the lack of appetite that's meant she's lost weight too, only adding to her woes.
It's only a matter of time before Lando breaks up with her. They might be getting older but the two of them are not nearing the point of "for better or worse" so he's got no obligation to stay with her while she stops taking care of herself.
After her best efforts to look more alive and less like a dead body walking. She finally leaves, getting a car to the paddock and making her way inside.
Her mind wanders, as it seems to a lot recently, leaving her bumping into a body and with her lack of eating means her ability to react quick enough to catch herself leaves her landing ungracefully on the ground.
"Ow." Y/n winces as the body she bumps into rushes to aid her getting up.
"Y/n, I'm so sorry." George states as he hooks his hands under her armpits and nearly throws her up onto her feet. "Oh bloody hell, sorry. You're lighter than I expected. Nearly caused more injury there. Are you alright?"
"No. No. I'm fine. It's my fault, I wasn't even looking where I was going." Y/n rambles shaking her head and noticing George frown at her. "Have you seen Lando? Just easier to ask than go looking and find he's not in the unit."
"I saw him doing some video content with Oscar. I think they're out on the track to be honest." George states then clearing his throat. "Are you sure you're alright? You hit the ground pretty hard."
Y/n thinks of the ache humming through her bones from the impact. Losing weight certainly means less cushioning for falls in clumsy moments.
"I'm good, certainly landed myself with worse injuries on a night out on the town." Y/n jokes managing to give the blonde brit a genuine smile. "I should go, I got here late. Needed extra sleep."
That seems to go unbelieved if George's expression is anything to go off of. Not that she's surprised, her attempts at covering up her exhaustion haven't done much to really improve anything.
"I'll see you guys later." Y/n smiles before she rushes off trying to locate her boyfriend. The last thing she really wants is to have to deal with other people, she was hoping to find him on his own. The marketing girls can get a little possessive over the McLaren drivers' attention being on anyone but them when they're trying to make content and Lando is...easily distracted by his girlfriend.
After about 10 minutes of looking, she manages to locate them.
They're doing some sort of race but as she appears she sees the marketing team deflate.
Lando is in the car with Oscar and when she walks over to the team, one particularly nasty girl looks her up and down.
"You look awful, when Lando said you'd be here late. I thought you might be actually making an effort when you come here." Katie comments making her sigh a little before deciding to remain quiet with young woman.
"Baby! There you are. I got your message but I was told off for being on my phone." Lando chuckles as he jumps out the car and moves to her, though he notices an injury both her and George really hadn't noticed. "Are you bleeding?"
His large hand grabs her wrist and shoves a scrap that she really hadn't noticed.
"Oh, uh...yeah. I bumped into George when I was on my way and fell over like an idiot." Y/n explains trying to be nonchalant as Lando inspects her injury. "Honestly, just wasn't looking where I was going."
"Guys, are we done?" Lando asks looking at the marketing team.
"Well we wanted to-"
"Sounds like a yes. I'm just taking y/n to the medical centre to clean her up." Lando states making the marketing team watch with strained smiles as they nod.
At one point they had tried to speak up to Lando about y/n disrupting content recording. So he told them that if they had something like that to say ever again then he'd be happy to tell them to fuck off, as he did on that occasion.
After she's cleaned up with instruction to be more careful Lando pulls her to his drivers' room.
"What did you get to eat?" Lando asks, already knowing the answer that she's about to give him.
"Oh uhh...I ended up not ordering. Figured I'd get something here." Y/n smiles always trying to appear happy and positive with her boyfriend especially when they're in the paddock and around his work.
"Baby, we need to talk." Lando states making her swallow thickly and look at him with a sigh. "What's going on?"
"What do you me?" Y/n questions with a small laugh and strained smile.
"Y/n, you're exhausted. You think I don't know you're not sleeping and not eating? I'm not blind. So can you please tell me why so I can help you however I need to so you are sleeping and eating again?"
Y/n knows that for Lando to call her out, it's his breaking-point. He doesn't like to talk about this sort of thing unless completely necessary.
"I'm scared." Y/n whispers knowing that to try and deny it would be a pointless effort.
"Scared of what?" Lando asks softly, almost fearing that it's him that's scaring her.
"It's just...everything is moving so quickly. You're 25 next year, and then I'm 25 after that and I miss home-god, I just I feel so homesick but then when I go home. I almost feel homesick with being away from you. I just feel like I'm getting left behind or being dragged along and I feel like such a burden to you. The anxiety is stopping me from sleeping and just the thought of food when it's in front of me makes me feel nauseous." Y/n starts crying harder and harder as she speaks and rambles.
"Ok, ok. Ok, let's just breathe and calm down." Lando soothes standing up and rushing to stand with her. "I've got you, just breathe with me."
His arms squeeze her as tightly as he feels like he can without making her heavy breathing worse.
Bjut eventually she's calmed down.
"Alright, baby. Do you know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think we need to get our families coming out to a few more races so you don't have to feel so homesick. We need to get more of your stuff over to our place in Monaco so you feel more at home. And you need to remember that...we are getting older but whenever I think of our future I think of...what ring I might get you...how you might look when I see you on the day of our wedding being walked down the aisle by your dad...how amazing you're going to look pregnant with any one of our kids...what we're going to speak the years after I retire doing because god we'll have so much time that you'll wish I would just leave you alone, but I won't. I can't imagine a future without you, but we have soooo much time before all of that. Well...most of it, maybe somethings will be coming sooner rather than later."
Y/n does finally smile in a way that he knows is her real genuine smile that isn't forced for anyone else's benefit.
"You're confident I'll be saying yes to a proposal."
"You can say that, but we both know I'm not wrong...look, it's ok to get in your head. But just tell me and I'll reassure you and let you know if it's worth being so neglectful towards yourself. Which for the record it's not. Especially when I am superhuman and can and will do anything and everything as a solution to whatever you're upset about, ok?"
"Ok."
"So does everything I said sound ok? Are you happy for us to figure this out all together?"
"Yes."
"Now, can we get you like three plates of food to eat. I'm going to sit with you and eat too, and make sure you eat everything I give you."
"Alright."
"Good. Well lets get moving because no better time like the present. Plus I'm hungry too." Lando smiles while moving to kiss her which she is more than accepting of before he manages to scoop her up. "Just in case you were planning on making a run for it. Or bumping into another driver who can apparently cause more damage than you realise."
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pucksandpower · 8 months
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okeyyyy!
but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them
Loving this series so much
Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card
Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers
Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you
Series Masterlist
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The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.
Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”
The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.
A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.
George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.
Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.
***
Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.
As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.
After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”
The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.
***
The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.
Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.
As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.
Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”
Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”
Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”
***
As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.
Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”
***
A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.
As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”
Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”
Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”
Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.
Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”
George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”
Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”
You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”
Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”
***
Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.
The movie choice? “Cars” of course.
Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”
Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.
***
It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.
As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”
Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”
Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”
You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, ���Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”
As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”
Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.
***
The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.
Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”
Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.
George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.
Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.
You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.
Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”
Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”
“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”
Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”
You really loved your grid kids.
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Text
The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - three.
simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader
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word count: 4,057
synopsis: you get wasted in a pub and Ghost has to take care of you.
warnings: mentions of drinking, occasional swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, Ghost being a softie
notes: I had a lot of fun writing this. Here are the main videos that inspired some scenes (potential spoiler alert): one, two
reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)
find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five
masterlist
three.
The traditional post-mission gathering at the pub was in full swing in the late hours of the night, despite it being a Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was almost cosy and relaxed if you were to overlook the three people on the karaoke stage and the way their out-of-sync voices resounded throughout the room.
Seated at one of the tables with a glass of sparkling water, Captain Price exchanged a distressed look with Ghost, who was nursing a shot of Kentucky Bourbon. It was the captain's turn to drive so alcoholic drinks were out of the equation for him.
So he had to spend the entire night watching you, Gaz and Soap getting wasted and trying every form of entertainment the pub offered. You'd started slow with a game of darts, the loser having to drink a shot of whatever the winner decided. As the night progressed you went on to the pool table, had a break to tell stories and debate the key moments of the mission and eventually ended up at the karaoke bar, drunkenly singing to whatever songs were popular at the moment.
You were currently wedged between Gaz and Soap, leaning against each other for support, swaying and gesturing with exaggerated expressions when a new song would come on. You had lost track of the quantity of alcohol you consumed a while ago, yet everything seemed brighter and more colourful than before, so you didn't mind. You didn't know most of the songs that were playing at the karaoke bar, but that did not stop you from singing along, even if your voice was slightly out of tune. What you knew is that you were happy, perhaps happier than ever and, out of a sudden, you felt the need to express that in the loudest way possible, by taking Soap’s phone from his hands and picking the next song.
Surprised by your sudden move, Soap chuckled and gestured to the bartender to prepare three more drinks, even though he had his arm sloppily thrown around your shoulder, and was fighting a tough battle with gravitation. On your right side, Gaz was sloppily reaching towards the microphones, almost tripping over an imaginary wire. You caught him in the last second, grabbing a seat and forcing him to stay put as the first notes of the song echoed through the pub. A surge of drunken determination rushed through your veins as you took one of the microphones and turned towards the table Ghost and Price were seated at, wobbling slightly in the process.
“Captain, Lieutenant - I just… I just wanted to say this is for you. To Price - always being the helicopter, yet cool dad of the group!”. The drunken cheers of Soap’s and Gaz’s quickly accompanied your words, none of them realising how quiet the room had got. Everyone else left in the pub at that hour seemed to put whatever they were doing on hold and watch the inebriated toast with interest.
“And to Ghost!”, you went on unaware of the mood shift, your voice gaining momentum with each word, “who is always taking care of us during missions and let me fall asleep on him once! Cheers!”
Shaking his head in an attempt to hide the grin dancing on his lips, Price raised his glass and beckoned Ghost to do so too. At that moment, Simon was glad he was wearing the balaclava - he could feel an uncharacteristic blush spread across his face, not to mention that he could not control the visible twitching of his lips. The public seemed to be satisfied with the makeshift speech as a round of applause rippled through the crowd, but stopped as suddenly as it began. A familiar tune began to play in the background, and Simon almost pinched his forehead in frustration and disbelief when he saw the drunken determination and the over-confident grin plastered on your face: he had seen that expression before, it meant you were up to no good. His fears were instantly confirmed when the opening chords of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” filled the space, being quickly accompanied by the shouts and whistles coming from the crowd.
You, Gaz and Soap began swaying to the rhythm of the music, humming along to the first part of the song. Ghost was actually impressed that you made it sound nice, keeping your voices low and soft and singing in sync for once. He turned his head to Price, not surprised to see the older man had reached for his phone and was filming the trio like a proud father on recital day.
That is until the part of the choreo came. And literal chaos ensued, as the three of you began screaming because that was definitely not singing, the high notes, even stopping to gasp for air every once in a while.
"I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you've dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this, I'm wishing you love!"
He did not know when he made eye contact with you, but Simon found himself trapped inside your E/C eyes. The bourbon tasted sweet on his lips, but it did not compare to the joyful and carefree expression you wore on your face as you tried to keep up with the lyrics of the song, occasionally stumbling across Johnny and Kyle who were just as inebriated and dedicated to the artistic moment as you were. The familiar feeling of warmth and comfort was once again blooming in his chest, and for the first time, he decided to let it grow and see where it would take him.
---
You hadn't meant to lock eyes with Simon, definitely not when you were singing a romantic song you handpicked for the occasion. Yet your judgement was clouded by all the alcohol you'd consumed up to that point and now you couldn't tear your eyes away from his chocolate ones. And from his soft blonde eyelashes that made your heart flutter every time you saw them- making you even stutter on the lyrics of the song that you kept close to your heart. At one point you weren't even aware of the words leaving your mouth, just going along with Gaz and Soap, the two literally putting their hearts into the song.
That was until the second part of the choreo came. And you were so into it that you all fell down on your knees, pathetically crying and shrieking the high-pitched notes that Whitney Houston handled with ease.
Simon did not even know why the three of you bothered to come to training and shooting practices. In moments like that, your voices were lethal weapons alone.
And when the song came to an end, the crowd politely applauded you, secretly glad that it was over. Price was careful to save the video twice so as not to lose it, the proud and amused expression on his face not faltering once:
"I think it's high time we took them home, don't you think?", he asked Simon in an unusual cheery mode, downing his glass of sparkling water.
Ghost could only nod as his eyes were trained on your swaying figure. You were leaning against Gaz, a drunken smile on your face as you downed the drink the bartender slid to you with a wink. For a moment, Simon was too caught up in studying the way your eyes crinkled at the corners to notice them widen in an instant as you brought up a hand to your mouth. His jaw tightened when he realised you were stumbling towards the bathroom, probably sick from one too many a drink, and subtly gestured to Price that he'd get you and meet him at the car, before heading towards the bathroom himself.
However, he slowed down in his steps when he realised he wasn't the only one headed in that direction; the bartender had already beaten him to it. Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, his fists involuntarily clenching as he noticed the man standing near the entrance to the ladies' room, wearing an almost expectant expression, his gaze directed towards the toilets. The sound of you throwing up was the only thing that could be heard against the muffled background sound of the pub, followed eventually by the rush of flushing water.
Washing your hands and face, you took a look at your pale face in the mirror, closing your eyes in defeat. It was definitely time to call it a night and find a ride home or crash on someone's couch, and you accepted the thought as you made your way out of the restroom. Yet you didn't manage to go far as a man you vaguely recognized as the bartender stopped in front of you, hands crossed over his chest in what was supposed to be a masculine stance. You internally scoffed at his posture; you have seen it all during the years you've spent in the military.
"Hey!", he eventually said, a light smile on his face. "Hello! Do you mind, I would like to go back to my friends?", you briefly asked, already trying to sneak past him.
But the man was insistent and stepped in the same direction, making you stop once more.
"Look, I just wanted to say I really enjoyed the show you put on tonight!". You raised a single eyebrow, a poker look on your face. "You and your friends, I mean!", he quickly added, blushing slightly. "And I was just wondering if you would like to stay for a drink after my shift is over and, you know, perhaps go to my place afterwards and…" Rolling your eyes in frustration, you let out an impatient sigh and tried to go past him again, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your arm.
"Look, you should really think about it-" "I wouldn't do that if I were you. She may be drunk, but she can still kick your ass in at least six different ways."
Drunk as you were, you couldn't hide the grin that spread quickly across your face as you took in the imposing figure of the Lieutenant, his skull balaclava lending him a threatening air in the dim light of the hallway. The bartender swiftly let you go, his eyes darting between you two as you staggered towards Ghost, too busy to fully take him in to take note of the hand that was softly placed on the small of your back.
"Oh, mate, I think this is a misunderstanding! I was just… but who the hell are you actually? Do you know him, darling?"
You grimaced at the unjustified use of the endearment, a plain expression of distaste replacing the previous smile. You swayed slightly, having to lean against Ghost as you mumbled something unintelligible about the toast. An unexpected wave of fatigue hit you out of nowhere, making you nestle your head against his chest, your arms weakly wrapping around his shoulders.
"I'm tired, I wanna go home, Ghost!", you murmured gently into his shirt, the vibrations of your voice sending a quiver down his spine. Yet if Ghost was affected by the unexpected display of clinginess, he did not let it show. Instead, he made a quick job of scooping you into his arms, your head nestling in the crook of his neck. Letting out a satisfied sigh, you closed your eyes and unconsciously nuzzled your cheek against the soft material of the balaclava, breathing in the scent of his cologne, your hands still clinging onto his shoulders in a koala-like grip.
For a fleeting moment, he became utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his mind consumed by the moment, struggling to make sense of the situation in which both of you had found yourselves. He didn't exactly freeze, but his brain didn't work properly either as the feeling of your breaths against his balaclava sent an electrifying jolt through him. You may have just washed your face and the perfume you wore must have faded during the night, but the subtle smell of your shampoo lingered, sweet enough to leave an impression that he knew would stay with him for the days to come. When he eventually realised you weren't alone, that the bartender was still loitering by the restroom's entrance, Ghost shrugged, remembering your previous words:
"You should have listened to the toast, mate!"
---
Carrying you to Price's pickup trunk proved to be no easy feat for Simon; he was too distracted by the hold you had on him, both literally and figuratively. It was as if his mind had turned to jelly and he could not distinguish dream from reality. And at that moment, he experienced the sensation of living within a pleasant dream, you being in his arms just as he often yearned for when trying to fall asleep in the solitude of his room.
If Price was surprised by the state you found yourself in, he showed no signs. He had just managed to secure Soap in the passenger seat, while Gaz was passed out in the back, head leaning against the window, an empty look on his face.
"I'm sorry Simon but you'll have to sit in the middle tonight", the captain chuckled under his breath as he was watching Ghost put two and two together while you were still clinging to him as if your life depended on it.
He would not be able to get in the car while also preserving the position you found yourself in, yet he did not want to give it up. For a passing instant, he actually thought of walking to your place- a weak attempt at trying to make the moment last longer. But he could feel Price's badly concealed smirk like the heat of the sun in July and he had to fight, actually fight the groan that threatened to leave him as he nudged you with his shoulder.
"Wake up, Bambi! We've got to get you home, come on!" His words reached your ears as a distant sound and instead, you chose to relish in the vibrations that resonated against your skin, letting out a small hum of approval.
"Ok means okay, come on!" "Mhm, sure…" "Y/N…" "Simon…"
Clinging on him like a koala had no visible effect on him, but you saying his name, his real name, made Ghost freeze and set his dark eyes on you. He could not control the cocktail of feelings swimming in his orbs, ranging from surprise to pure adoration, and the thought of hiding them did not even cross his mind at that moment.
Until you were both showered in a sudden burst of light, quickly followed by a camera shutter. Behind the Polaroid camera, Price did not even bother to hide his satisfied expression as he watched the picture develop with a soft whirring sound.
You, on the other hand, instantly jumped from Ghost's arms, the flash of the camera making you look like a deer caught in the headlights. You were still inebriated, as the world was spinning much more than it should have, but the drowsiness from earlier had evaporated in an instant. Shaking his head in disbelief and muttering something along the lines of "fucking hell", Ghost did not even bother to answer Soap's cheers. He just squeezed into the backseat of Price's car, seating himself next to Gaz and trying his best to ensure you would not hit your head and get in safely. And the giddy smile he got as a response was worth it.
Price was the last to get in the car. As he positioned himself behind the wheel, Ghost couldn't help but wonder where he'd hidden the Polaroid camera and the picture. Knowing the older man, he could only hope the instant shot would not be displayed in the lounging room, alongside other just as embarrassing moments.
Not that he had something against you or the picture.
He just thought that the moment was rather special, even intimate to him and that it should not be shared with all other SAS operators who spent their time in the lounging room when on base.
"You three did quite a show out there!", Price half-turned towards Soap and the backseat riders, a comic expression on his face.
"Thanks, dad!", you replied in an awfully cheery tone, swaying slightly from one side to another. You kept humming to yourself, not taking note of the awkward silence that had settled in the car.
"Bambi, did you just call Price 'dad'?", Soap asked from the front seat, his shit-eating grin being reflected in the rearview mirror.
"Do you see me as a father figure, Y/N?", Price quipped in, smiling softly at your confused expression. Simon did not even dare to glance in your direction - he knew the doe eyes were making a comeback and he was definitely not inebriated enough to handle them.
"I certainly do!"
Gaz's voice was muffled as his cheek was currently squished against the window. But the message got across and you reached across Ghost to pat his shoulder, aggressively nodding in compliance.
"And this is why", you began by raising a finger in the air as if to strengthen your point, "you are my brother, Gaz!".
Your drunken determination was almost comical to watch, but it topped when you squealed in excitement:
"Let me give you a kiss!"
"No, you won't! I'm definitely not getting caught up in the middle of this!"
Ghost's answer, more of a growl actually, was instantly followed by Soap's booming laughter as the Scot was trying to turn and face the backseat, extending a grabby hand towards you:
"I'm happily accepting your kisses if you'll let me, bonnie!", he slurred half of the sentence, his head comfortably propped on the headrest as he puckered his lips in your direction.
"No one's getting any kisses!"
----
"Come on, careful, there's a step there!" "I wanna go home…" "We are almost there, Bambi. Now, do you have your key?" "Yeah, it should be in my pocket. Let me… let me look for it…"
Murmuring to yourself, you fished the keychain and held it before your eyes, a small chuckle escaping your lips as the keys kept jingling. The tiredness from the pub was making a comeback and Ghost had to carry you inside after he managed to open the door while also balancing your swaying silhouette.
"Oh, this couch looks good!", you muttered to yourself, letting yourself fall on it.
But instead of touching the plush pillows, you felt two strong arms sneaking around your waist and keeping you partially suspended in the air. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you were aware of it, you were headed in the direction of your bedroom, a warm hand placed on the small of your back.
"You should change into something more comfortable…", Ghost muttered, frowning when you started shaking your head and slurring: "I'll do it in the morning."
He already felt like he was prying, being inside your home, in the privacy of your bedroom, so he did not push the topic and instead, knelt down and removed your sneakers.
"You should at least clean your face." He pressed on the issue, all too aware of your fixation with skincare and how you would complain to anyone on the base about the latest breakout on your face. "Mhm.." "Mhm means yes, Bambi!", he groaned in frustration as he bent down to scoop you in his arms again and carried you to the bathroom, where he laid you on the fitted furniture so that your faces were at the same level.
Ghost was no stranger to makeup removal techniques - he had his fair share of experiences he had gone through when learning what worked best for the black paint he used to smudge the area around his eyes. But he began to grow tired as well, and being in your house took him way out of his comfort zone, so he resumed reaching for a pack of makeup wipes, instead of looking for a cleansing balm or micellar water. His touch was gentle against your face, his fingers applying the suitable amount of pressure needed to get rid of any traces of eyeshadow and whatnot. There was a faint tremor in his hand when he reached your lips, but the remnants of lipstick had to be removed too.
He was not prepared for the sudden shiver that raced down his spine the moment his fingertips brushed against your lips. His breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat as he continued to delicately trace the outline of your lips, the warm and comforting sensation he'd felt before, making a return. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you locked at the moment, Ghost's eyes fervently searching for yours, as he rested a gloved hand against your face.
Letting out a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.
"Don't fall asleep on me…", Ghost hummed under his breath, involuntarily rubbing his thumb against your cheek. His gentle touch was a far cry from the deadly one that had become second nature on the battlefield.
"I trust you'll catch me", you whispered back, a delicate smile on your face.
And he did. With a tender grin under his balaclava, Ghost lifted you into his arms once more, cradling you like the treasure you were. Your head rested against his chest as he carried you back to your bedroom, each step filled with a quiet intimacy, completely new to him.
He entered the dark room, gently lying you down on the soft sheets, almost amazed at how quickly you passed out, again. Yes, you may have been wasted, completely inebriated, but you also trusted him to let him take care of you in your state.
Even if the action was foreign to him, Ghost tucked you in as best as he could, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His internal conflict was a raging storm, but he eventually let the few shots of bourbon get to his head. With shaky gestures, he peeled the mask up to his nose and brought his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss. His warm breath lingered over your face for a couple of seconds before he quietly exited the room, leaving you in a peaceful slumber.
---
Bonus scene
Sitting by himself at the small table in the kitchen, Simon lifted the balaclava up to his nose and breathed in the scent of Earl Grey, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. He could see the tendrils of steam rolling out of the freshly brewed mug, the late autumn morning sun filtering through the blinds and bathing the room in warmth and light.
After every single evening spent celebrating in the pub, you, Gaz and Soap had to take the day off and volunteer yourselves for the night watch. Ghost had grown so accustomed to the usual agitation, whether it was Gaz jogging in the kitchen for a snack, Soap casually napping in the lounging room, or you, asking everyone where they had hidden the cookies, and he was finding it weird to spend the day in relative silence and peace.
And he was so lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the previous night in his head, that he failed to notice the private who was lingering in the doorway and looking at him with a mixture of fear and admiration. It wasn't until he reached for the milk, that he took note of his presence and gave him a questioning look. "Captain Price asked me to deliver this personally to you, sir!" The private placed a white envelope on the table, saluted and quickly left the room. Simon had no time to analyze the interaction as his eyes settled on the letter.
Only it was not a letter, but a photograph. And after double checking, he was alone in the room, Simon actually let out a small chuckle as he held the polaroid in the sunlight, his eyes softening at the sight of you cradled in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest.
taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar
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sturnioloskyline · 25 days
Note
Matt x reader
The triplets are filming a random video and somewhere during the video they try smelling salts Chris calls reader to try them not telling her why it is and she has a funny reaction but a couple seconds after she has a massive nosebleed.<3
nosebleed
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pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader
warnings: language, smelling salts(?), blood, pain, yelling
summary: your boyfriend's brother makes you try smelling salts without a warning.
thank u for the request, anon! 😚
your boyfriend, matt, had invited you to spend the night with him at his and his brothers' house. you were sitting on the couch in their living room, scrolling on your phone while the triplets were all in the kitchen.
nick had informed his brothers just yesterday that they didn't have enough content for their vlog that was supposed to be out in a few days. as a result, the three of them had been carrying cameras around all day trying to record as much as they could.
chris had ordered something on amazon for his brothers to try on camera, and he was currently trying to convince them to do it for the vlog.
"c'mon, just try it!" chris giggled. his brothers looked at him as if he were insane.
"i don't trust you," nick said, his eyes flicking to the unlabelled bottle in chris's hand.
"yeah, just tell us what it is chris," matt agreed with nick, backing away from chris.
"ugh, just try it! it'll be funny!" chris whined, getting fed up with his brothers' refusal to participate.
"chris, we're not gonna sniff something out of a random bottle you ordered from amazon," nick rolled his eyes.
chris looked at the camera in defeat, before noticing you sitting on the couch on your phone. an idea immediately popped into his head.
"hey, y/n, can you come over here and smell this for the vlog?" your head snapped up at the request. you didn't think much of it, tossing your phone on the couch and getting up to join the boys by the counter.
"what is it?" you asked chris, looking at matt and nick, who just shrugged their shoulders.
"you'll see," chris replied secretively, twisting open the bottle and setting the cap down on the counter. he handed the bottle to you. "just take a big ol' whiff."
you hesitantly brought the bottle under your nose, before inhaling deeply. you were immediately hit by an intense burning sensation in your nose. you slammed the bottle down on the counter, doubling over.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, CHRIS?!" you yelled out, causing chris and his brothers to break out into a fit of laughter. chris picked up the camera from where he had it propped up, angling it to record your reaction. a lightheaded rush washed over you as tears welled up in your eyes, and your nose felt like it was on fire.
matt walked up behind you and placed his hands on your hips. he was laughing softly at your outburst, but the longer you stayed leaning against the counter, the more he grew concerned.
"are you okay?" matt whispered, rubbing your waist with his thumbs. you sniffed and let out a groan, shaking your head. the lightheadedness you were feeling quickly turned into a throbbing headache. matt's smile faltered a bit, but chris and nick just kept laughing.
"can you get me a tissue?" you croaked out a request to matt. he immediately rushed to grab a box of tissues, setting it down beside you on the counter. you grabbed a tissue and wiped your eyes, before using it to blow your nose. you sighed and stepped back from the counter, rubbing your nose and letting out a sigh.
"OH MY GOD," chris exclaimed when your face was visible again, his eyes widening. you looked at him in worry, before looking down at the tissue in your hand. the tissue was now almost completely dyed red with blood from your nose. you looked back up at chris before feeling liquid rush out of your nose again.
"oh my god!" you shrieked back, quickly grabbing another tissue and bringing it to your nose. nick was at chris's side, clapping a hand over his mouth when he noticed the bloodied tissues.
matt stepped in front of you so he could see what was going on, his jaw dropping at the sight of blood filling the tissue pressed under your nose.
"chris, what did you do?" matt yelled at his brother, not taking his eyes off you. he moved the tissue you were holding to better assess the situation, wincing when he saw blood smeared on your upper lip.
"i didn't know they could make her nose bleed!" chris set the camera down, turning it away.
"what the fuck is in that bottle chris?" nick yelled in confusion and concern.
"smelling salts! i thought people used them to like, get better at sports!" chris tried to defend himself. nick buried his face in his hands.
matt turned away from you to stare at chris in shock. "chris, those are fucking dangerous! they can seriously hurt if you don't use them right!"
"i'm sorry, i didn't know!" chris apologized regrettfully, watching matt as he wet a tissue and tried to wipe the blood from your face.
"it's okay chris," your voice was muffled from the tissue matt was using to dab your nose. chris frowned at you with remorse.
by the time your nose had finally stopped bleeding, matt was still inspecting your face, his eyebrows still knitted with worry.
"matt.." you chuckled softly, hoping to ease some of his tension. "i'm okay now. everything's fine."
matt met your eyes and smiled softly at you, pulling you into a tight hug. chris picked the camera back up and pointed it at you, teasing matt.
"shut the fuck up chris," matt turned around to look at his brother, rolling his eyes. "don't ever try some shit like this again."
chris was unfazed by matt's comments, knowing that matt wasn't actually mad at him. he smiled at him through the camera.
"we have to put this in wednesday's video." chris looked at you for confirmation.
"yeah, of course? i didn't do that shit for nothing," you scoffed, holding back a smile.
"yes y/n!" chris cheered, panning the camera to nick and matt. nick still had his face in his hands, turning away from the camera while matt shook his head.
"you guys are insane," matt mumbled, walking out of the kitchen to his room. you and chris looked at each other and burst out laughing.
...
COMMENTS[extra!!!]:
holy shit chris almost killed y/n 😭
HELP THE SMELLING SALTS?!?!
matt hugging y/n my heart 🥹🥹
chris + y/n = underrated duo
...
author's note: ngl i didn’t actually know what smelling salts were before this…
838 notes · View notes
eveningepiphany · 8 months
Text
welcome to the final show | H.S oneshot
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my masterlist!
summary: you take a beautiful sign to the final show and have the sweetest interaction with harry. then somehow bump into him in italy 2 days later.
warnings: nothing but fluff, and a few little mentions of how he saved your life!
a/n: i am so fucking proud of h. i want to give him a hug more than anything. this is for all my lovelies who love hslot so fckn much it makes them ill.
also this is such an unrealistic oneshot but like that’s just the way for it ig
———
There’s a certain type of atmosphere that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.
It’s one that no matter how many photos or videos you take, you can’t capture it. One that no word has enough emotional range behind it to convey the feeling it opens up in you.
That is the only way to get close to even describe standing where you are.
You can’t lie, you had waited hours upon hours in the Italian sun just to feel the warm metal of the barricade underneath your palms.
You’d waited years just to get here in general.
When you turn your head to look behind you, you see tens of thousands of people there. Going from visible, overwhelmingly happy faces to a sea of tiny dots.
But you’re here. At the front.
You smile because you made it. This has, albeit dramatic, been a home to you over the past 2 years.
A creature comfort. One you followed every step of the way. And somehow you can’t believe you made it here, and neither would the girl back 18 months ago watching a pixelated Instagram livestream.
Standing in your outift, which took more rhinestones and glitter than you could ever have kept track of.
But you shined under the sun like a mirrorball, so it all felt worth it. Even though you swear there’s still glue stuck under your nails.
Your friends around you shared water, staying hydrated as the show starting neared. Wetleg had already preformed their final set. And tears had been randomly springing on you all day.
You heard the power in the crowd as they sung the prelude songs, goosebumps dotting over your body as you realise he’s probably able to hear it now.
Soon enough he’ll be looking at it. In all of its 100,000 people glory.
“You okay lovely?” Sofia, an Italian girl you’d met in the line checked in on you.
You nodded with a heartfelt smile. The whole experience was so bittersweet. Full of lasts.
“I’m okay. Just so so proud.” You nodded and she softly chuckles.
Her outfit was an electric blue that contrasted her tan skin, “I have some granola bars in my bag if you’re hungry? You should eat, we’ve been standing in the heat all day.”
Your best friend from your other side peered over, drawn back into conversation after being lost in the magic of the crowd surrounding her.
“On cry number— let me guess— 24 of the day?” She said it teasingly.
“Saying that as if you don’t already have mascara stains half down your face.” You grumble back jokingly, leaning your head back to look at the pastel blue sky.
You turned back to Sofia, “We’ll save them for after, maybe lay down on the ground and eat them or something.”
You only said no because you felt like you could probably be sick right now.
“Amore sciocco, troppo testardo il tuo bene, mio dio.” She mutters under her breath with a laugh, shaking her head at you disapprovingly.
“Trash talking her again in Spanish. God I wish I knew how to speak it.” You elbow your best friend at her quip.
You could stay in this moment forever.
As Bohemian Rhapsody begins playing you watch the sun go down, and in this very moment, It is your forever.
You live and breathe every second of it. All the way into peace piece, and as you’re gripping the girls around you for dear life as the lights start to dim along with the setting sun.
Harry coming has the arena screaming so loud it would have been heard for miles. He looks beautiful.
Like a shiny star up on stage. Blowing kisses and sending thank you’s to as many areas of the crowd be possibly could.
Mouthing words in Italian, causing Sofia to almost pass out beside you she screeched that hard the first time he did it.
And him counting in Golden with their language, speaking proudly into the mic— “Uno, due— uno, due, tres!”
“HES— WHAT THE FUCK!!” You’re laughing, holding her hand as she shouts frantically.
Songs bleed into one after another, going on your part from embarrassing screaming and dancing onto equally embarrassing crying.
The overwhelming feeling of seeing him so close— so damn close you can see each individual sequin on his silver outfit when his on the main stage at his mic stand in the centre.
You don’t even realise he’s doing a sign reading interlude until Sofia hands you yours from where it leant on the bottom of the barricade at your feet.
You were enamoured by him.
Taking the sign, your hands shook a little as he was on the main stage. Right in front of you.
His eyes are scanning the crowd, glancing over some signs and smiling.
“We have a choice tonight,” he begins, voice echoing through the speakers.
“we can either move quickly through signs, in which case, we’ll be able to give you some more songs!” An array of screams come from everyone, and you feel sick just at the prospect he was suggesting. The fact he could pull out any song.
He chuckles, walking further towards the area of the pit where you are, “Just an idea, just an idea!”
You’re pretty sure the girls are yelling something about him walking over, but you’re stunned at what’s happening overall, and you can’t even process what they’re saying.
But contradictory to what he’d just said. He stops a moment.
From his perspective, he saw a handful of very bright colours in the front of the crowd. One holding up an equally eye catching sign.
But he takes a moment to blink, focus in on the person holding it.
This girl has her eyes locked dead onto him, like as if he moves an inch— something could implode at any moment. Yet it somehow comes across in a flattering way.
And then he reads the sign.
‘you saved me. i cant thank you enough for that. BTW…’
His heart immediately pangs. Already too emotional at this whole event to be reading a sign like that.
You are in shock. Because he certainly just made eye contact with you and he’s been staring at your sign for a few good seconds.
“Can— wait can you turn that for me, love?” His voice falters a little.
As if Harry Styles just asked you to do something, you move with a haste you never had.
However you misinterpreted his question, turning the sign clockwise like as if it was upside down. Feeling a little embarrassed in yourself that it was around the wrong way.
He chuckles into the mic, causing a small uproar at the softness of it.
“Wrong way, it has B-T-W on it so I’m assuming there’s more on the back.”
“Oh, god— sorry!” You shout out to him, it sounding a little shaky, and you can’t lie that tears were threatening to spill from your eyes.
You had waited so fucking long to have a chance to tell him that he genuinely saved your life. And you’re finally doing it.
Also spinning the sign so the back of it is facing him, and his eyes flit gently over it too.
‘you have by far the prettiest smile ever.’ It reads, with a few large red hearts around it, decorated with glitter and rhinestones.
A dimple pops out on his cheek and he covers his mouth with a hand, flattered as ever.
“Why thank you.” He does a little bow as well, and you’re laughing out of shock. You’re interacting with him right now.
He straightens up, “I’m flattered as ever.” Prodding one of his dimples as he shows off just how pretty his smile is.
“And thank you for coming, it means everything to me.” He flushes a little, laughing at himself and your still starstruck reaction.
“You are stronger than you probably think. What’s your name?”
A tear breaks past your waterline, and you call out, “Y/N!”
Both girls at your side are clutching you like no tomorrow, and Harry takes his in-ear out to hear you better.
You call it out again, he makes only one off guess before he gets it. And your name rolling off his accent tongue makes your stomach flip.
“Y/N? That’s right— well that was a pretty good record for name guessing—“ he laughs, walking over as close as he can to the edge of the stage.
He holds the mic up to his mouth, “make some noise for Y/N everyone!”
You are in complete shock as you hear the whole arena cheer and holler for you, and Harry has this wholesome feeling of adoration wash over him as he sees your reaction.
The tears slipping down your pink cheeks. If he could, he honestly would go down there and wipe them off.
Not something he often find himself thinking. Yet here he is.
“Thank you for coming Y/N. What do you say we do some more songs?” He asks, smiling at the shocked raise of your brows.
“Yes, please.” You enthusiastically reply.
“Alright, you heard her. More songs it is!”
And so the show continues on. The second he breaks eye contact and moves away, a sob tears out of you.
You can’t believe that just happened. And the fact the rest of the show— unless you’re delusional, and making this up in your head— he lingers anytime he’s going past where you are. Catching your eyes, and smiling a little wider.
And you’re absolutely a wreck at the speech he makes, even though Sofia has to translate every word that leaves his mouth.
But if that nearly killed you, the piano ballad was honestly your final straw.
You cried so hard you couldn’t see the fucking stage at one point. And you wish you could say you were embarrassed for him to see you as he did one last round of goodbyes. But you couldn’t.
It was all your love and appreciation for him, poured out of you through the tears streaming down your face.
To your disbelief, he stops in front of you again, blowing a kiss to your friends and then one to you.
Bending down a little further to look at you, lips starting to move— from what your could hardly hear, and mostly got from reading his lips, he said ‘thank you, I love you.”
You blow a kiss back.
And before you know it, the show has ended. And there’s this full, yet hollow feeling inside of you.
Like you’re not sure how to feel. You miss him already, but that was by far the most amazing experience of your life.
You’re overwhelmed, with love and gratitude. And you, Sofia and your best friend end up doing what you’d proposed earlier before the show.
Eating chocolate granola bars with your back up against the barricade, tears still falling from your eyes.
———
Post love on tour depression is a real thing.
There is no normal explanation for having to force yourself to get up to have an amazing brunch in Italy of all places.
But 2 days after the show day, you’re doing just that. Dressing in a nice summer outfit at the very least, and taking your LOT bag with you.
The streets aren’t too busy considering it’s midday, and you make your way through them peacefully. Stoping to peak into stores, or take photos of little things you like every now and again.
And all your adventuring leads you to a beautiful little corner-cafe. One that the second you step foot into, you are comforted by its cozy feel & strong aroma of coffee.
The building itself had all its historic bones, but had been modernised. Fitted with sleek wooden floors and new furniture. Walls painted a crisp white to brighten up the already light filled room.
You find the menu hanging above where the counter is, on large pretty chalkboards.
You’re mulling over what to get when you hear a voice from beside you.
It causes you to jump a little at it’s unexpectedness, “I like your bag.”
It’s said with the tone that you can tell someone is smiling. And you turn to greet the person who had just spoken to you.
That’s when you’re met with a sight that knocks the wind from you.
Beside you— standing tall, with his tousled brown curls and rolled up linen long-sleeve is quite literally the man you saw on stage 2 nights ago.
“Oh my god—“ you jump a little at the realisation, it hitting you like a train within seconds. But you’re trying to keep you voice down, as to not cause some kind of scene.
He laughs at your stunned reaction, the way your ringed hand goes over your mouth. It’s a reaction he’s accustomed to. But the way your pretty features portray the expression has him all the more intrigued.
He does his classic introduction, “Hi, love. I’m harry.” Sticking his hand out, smiling. Like as if you didn’t know.
“I— well I did notice that.” You rush out in a nervous laugh. Glancing around looking for some kind of film camera, gauging if this is a set up and not a coincidence.
You’re left realising it’s just the two of you, and some older guy with a newspaper a few metres away at a window seat.
But no one with a camera or phone out filming this interaction.
You shake his hand after a moment of hesitation, telling yourself mentally you’re not going to cry as your relish the feeling of his calloused fingertips against the base of your wrist.
“Hi…” You flush profusely.
“What are you ordering?” He smiles at you, and your eyes are so obviously darting over his every feature.
Which you feel like you couldn’t stop from happening when he’s this close, and you’re able to fully see the plains of his beautiful face.
The structure of his jawline— that’s dotted with a light stubble—his cupids bow lips, the definition in his cheekbones. And fuck his eyes.
That are very intensely locked onto yours…
“Oh. I’m sorry. I…” you fumble for words a little, “probably like a tea. That’s usually my go to.”
He nods, “let me get it for you, please. How do you have it?”
“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t need to do that.” You insist immediately, because even though the gestures small, it feels like too much.
“Y/N.” He tuts gently.
“Weird that you remember that.” You think aloud, unable to filter the shock at the fact he just said your name. Even though the show was only 2 days ago, when he learnt it.
“Of course I do. You had quite the sign. I won’t lie, it made me tear up a bit.” He laughs, pushing a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.
“Well, It was true. Not to be cheesy or anything, but your music genuinely means everything to me.” You say carefully. Not wanting to come across as weird.
“And love on tour was one of the best experiences of my life. So… thank you for that.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at your shyness. And you recall the fact you told him he had a pretty smile.
Prettiest smile. The fact he knows you think that?
You wonder if he’s thought the same thing at all in the last 5 minutes.
“Your support means as much to me. Wouldn’t be able t’do what I do if it weren’t for people like you.”
“Now, how you have your tea?” He reiterates, asking for an answer, not for another polite declination.
“I— okay. Since it’s clear you’re not going to take no for an answer.” You sigh. Corners of your mouth upturning anyway at his stubborn ways.
You rattle off how you have it, and he nods, mentally noting it down like this is going to be a regular occurrence.
He walks over to the counter and you shuffle over to the side that you’ll pick up the order from. Watching carefully as he goes up, you take in his much more causal appearance to the usual extravagance of the outfits he adorns on stage.
Hes got a pair of denim shorts on—strong legs on display— paired with a white longsleeve that’s rolled up his fore arms.
You avert your gaze to the older Italian man at the register, clueless to who he is serving.
Until a younger girl, say 15, walks from the back room and does the biggest double take youve ever witnessed.
Harry has to be used to it, because there was no way anyone could miss that.
You’re feeling like you’re in a parallel universe. Because Harry is just casually strolling back over to you, like you’ve known each other for more than a total of two, 5 minute interactions.
You take a breath, reminding yourself simply that he is a human. Just like you are. He wakes up in the morning, has bad days and good days, has habits and routines he follows— just like anyone else.
You keep this in consideration as you open your mouth to speak, “Thank you for doing that. How have you been?”
He smiles at your shy tone, a tiny wholesome feeling bubbling up at your question.
“I’m good, honestly. It’s been a big start to the year. I’m excited to take some time off even though wrapping it up the other night was really hard.” He nods, eyes casually trailing the man who was making the drinks.
“If it makes any difference, I was sobbing like a baby at pretty much every point of the show.” You laughed.
“I did see your very tear stained cheeks.” He shocks himself little with his continuation,
“Would’ve jumped down and given you a hug if I had the bloody time.” And he smiles with gratification as you mask your shocked reaction as much as possible. However, tiny little micro-movements in your face were still popping through. “I went a little overtime with the speech.”
Just human to human. You drew a tiny breath through your nose, “Which was great by the way. I mean my friend had to translate the whole thing, but was also another tear jerker.”
He goes to say something else, interrupted by the call of his name from the counter.
In which he collects the drinks from the lovely man, smiling at him with a warm thank you before turning to come back to you.
“Here you go, darling.” He hands over yours, and his green eyes look bright as ever.
The darling makes your stomach flip. He’s British, they use pet names like this in passing conversation often. But fuck if you didn’t know any better you’d think there was a chance he was flirting with you.
“Thank you. You really didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” You repeat.
“You have a different accent, you’re not from Italy no?” He interjects and you’re a little confused at the sudden change of topic.
“No I’m not from here…?” you laugh.
“So you’ve travelled all this way to come see me I’m assuming, the least I can do is buy you a tea. Think of it as a thank you.”
He tests the waters a little further, “i don’t usually stay in cafes for overly long but, if you have time to sit for a bit…”
“You continue to amaze me.” You chuckle, slowly following behind him as he pulls up a chair, back to the window.
“You also made me a very flattering sign. So im just being courteous, as a way to return the favour.” He smirks almost. And you’re honestly not strong enough to endure this.
“And that little piano thing you did? Is this compensation for my mental health?” You hold the cup up and he lets out a surprised laugh at your gentle quip.
“Yes, I’ve heard word that it came across as emotional as I’d intended.”
“You could hear a pin drop in the whole arena.” You nodded, taking a sip of the tea he’d bought you.
“I was so worried I was gonna fuck it up somehow.” He shakes his head, hand running through his hair as though he was anxious just at the thought.
“It sounded amazing, Harry. Made me feel a lot how fine line did when I first listened to it.”
He looks sincere with gratitude as you talk. And it stays that way as he continues on conversation with you.
You know heaps about him— you’re a fangirl that’s practically your job— yet he doesn’t know anything about you. Leaving him curious about many aspects of your life, and also with plenty of questions. Ones he really can’t believe he is even asking given you’re a fan, and he’s never actually done this before.
Whatever this is, because it felt a lot like a first date. With the way he asked where you were from, who you came to Italy with, where you grew up.
The whole lot. Your drinks both long since finished, but the questions still flowing between you two. Like there was never enough information to be learned.
He was interrupted by a call, and it almost popped this little bubble you’d made around yourselves.
Which possibly wasn’t a bad thing for him. But it served as a reality check for you.
You’re still just a fan at the end of the day. Even though your not sure how that term stands after he knows about your favourite foods, or childhood stories from your younger years. Because you feel like now that he knows that, the dynamic feels different to you.
But most of all you dreaded the fact you had to say goodbye again. But now you have to say it knowing that he walks away from this knowing things personal to you.
You realise he’s on the phone to his mum as he talks, “Yea, tell Gem to grab them anyway… I’ll be back soonish.”
He glances up at your after a moment of brief silence, “I’m just out with a friend of mine I… bumped into. So I’ll see you soon, okay?”
A friend of his?
“Alright, bye, I love you.”
And just like that the phone hung up.
“I’m feeling very special at my label. A friend of yours.” You laugh, but not lying whatsoever.
“Was m’mum. We’re having a late lunch at her BNB.” He explained, and the fact he didn’t object his choice of wording meant even more to you than anything.
You stare at him a moment, both mutually realising that this moment was seemingly going to have to end at some point.
“I don’t often do things like this.” He shrugs, watching your eyes train on random objects around the room as you get lost in thought.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Never sat down with a fan and just had a drink. It was lovely, thank you for being so polite.” He smiles again at you.
It surprised him just how far he went with it. But you had this gentle aura about you. He knew of all people, you were safe to share this private slice of himself with.
“Thank you for buying my drink… to have spent this time talking, it— well it meant a lot to me.”
“I would give you my number if my manager wouldn’t kill me.”
As stated, he continues to surprise himself just how far he’s going.
Your brain stalls at his comment.
“You could just have mine? Buy a burner phone and text me off it.” You make the first suggestion that comes to mind and he barks out a laugh.
“Could just reaffirm that you weren’t going to sell my number off to fans on Twitter?”
“Ah, that could also work too.” You nod, raising your brows.
He pulls his phone from his pocket, and your heart genuinely palpitates. Because how the fuck had you managed this.
“Gimmie yours, if you’d like?” He slides it over, and you feel like you’re picking up something with more value than just a phone. I mean it’s Harry Styles’ phone of all things.
You begin to type it in, glancing up as his gaze is trained on you, “how many numbers of fans do you have banked up in here?”
He rolls his eyes at your tease, still smiling, “I’ll have you know you’ll be the first. If my mums counts though, then only two.”
“I just…” he pauses, pursing his lips as he looks for the right words, “knew I’d regret it if I didn’t have a way to get in touch with you. I’d say we’ve got a lot in common and it’s always nice to meet new people. And I don’t want to be thinking later ‘wow, she was lovely, wish I could have kept in touch’. Y’know?”
You send yourself a text, just a simple ‘:)’ so it saves in his recent messages. “Well, I suppose I’d be a little sad too. Probably start sending emails to your manager trying to find a way to get in touch again.”
He laughs at this, standing up from his chair and pocketing his phone in his shorts once you hand it back to him.
You also rise from the table, watching his movements keenly.
“Makes this part less sad.” He says, in reference to the impending goodbye, “I’m not leaving Italy for a little bit though, and if you’re sticking around as well, maybe I can buy your more cups of tea— to make you feel even more guilty about it, of course.”
You let out a soft chuckle, “Yea, I’m not leaving for a little while…”
He walks to your side of the table, not hesitating to pull you into a hug that leaves you winded.
You freeze a millisecond before jumping to embrace it. Enjoying the gentle yet strong feeling of his body holding yours. And the way his hands are ever-so-slightly caressing your lower back.
“Thanks for hanging out, alright? Don’t be shy to message me.” He murmurs into your hair.
“I— okay. I won’t. Thank you, Harry.” You smile into the crook of his neck.
He gives a final squeeze before pulling back. Fighting the internal urge to press a little kiss to your temple.
“I’ll see you around, hopefully. Bye Y/N.” He gives you a final smile before waving goodbye, and heading out the cafe.
Your head is reeling as he exits. Unsure if you just imagined that whole thing. You needed someone to pinch you, because as far as your concerned that whole interaction was something you dreamed up.
You check your phone to see the time.
1:53pm
1 new notification
Unknown Number | :)
So that actually did just happen.
———
To reaffirm that you weren’t the only person in the world to witness what happened today, you see a tweet reposted on an update account that reads,
so, i just saw harry styles in the cafe i work at, and he sat down and drank a tea with someone he talked to at a show. not naming the interaction for privacy but like… what the fuck?
And secretly you smile. Maybe this is something you’ll keep to yourself for a bit. Like he’s a new secret friend of yours.
———
part two!!
1K notes · View notes
ellavatorz · 1 year
Text
Kiss me Plenty || c.b. x reader
summary: you play the “I can’t stop kissing you,” prank on colby.
tags/cw: implied smut, kisses (lots of ‘em), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, established relationship, youtuber(s) relationship.
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a/n: there isn’t much for me to say except that I have a very strong yearn for colby to be kissed 24/7. if that man isn’t being kissed at every second of the day like he deserves, then the world is a cruel joke of a place.
and a huge thank you to everyone who enjoyed my last work, you guys are so sweet T.T happy holidays!
- - -
You have the camera set up first thing in the morning. It’s hidden out of visible-sight and is focused on Colby’s usual spot; his desk, where he normally films intros to videos amongst other tasks in respect to his shared channel with Sam.
The plot of your video to be filmed today is explained to your audience. All while a grin is spread on your lips. “Today’s goal is to annoy the shit out of Colby by kissing the hell out of him. I don’t know how he’ll react considering he’s hyper-affectionate as it is… but its also normally something he does rather than me initiating it. So maybe he’ll suspect something right off the bat? Who knows!”
By the time Colby has migrated from your shared bed to his desk, you’re just outside the door, anxiously prepared for whatever may come of the situation. Without much of an extravagant entrance, you move toward where he is and stand behind him. His eyes are glued to the screen and you pretend to seem intrigued by whatever it is he’s looking at.
A yawn escapes his mouth as he reaches an arm behind himself, subconsciously searching for any part of you to grasp onto and reel in. “Good morning, baby.” He rasps, last night’s rest still grappling at his body.
“Morning,” you reply, allowing him to pull you closer. You take this as an advantage to wrap your arms around his shoulders from where you now stand beside him. “What are you working on today?”
Colby’s gaze is still caught on the screen when his own arm is snaked around your waist. His eyes flicker from one end to another, clearly focused on whatever he’s reading. “Just emails right now. I have a bit of review and editing tasks to get done on the apparel website too..”
“Ah, I see.” You sigh. Your eyes flash a mischievous glint toward the camera before you begin leaning into his space to plant a soft peck to his cheek. “Do you need anything? Water? Snacks?”
Still enraptured by work, he acknowledges your question half-heartedly. “No, love. Thank you though.”
You feign a frown at his response and begin swaying his chair left to right when the hold on your waist is replaced by the computer’s mouse. He scrolls through several pages, reading what he can manage to as you continue rocking his chair.
“What time do you think you’ll be done?” You question innocently, though you both are aware that his work is capable of enveloping the entirety of his day. He shrugs, too focused to respond. You take this as an opportunity to leave a kiss on the crown of his head, moving behind his chair to loosely circle your arms around his neck. “I think I’m gonna finish my Christmas shopping while you’re still here.”
He hums and it’s evident that he isn’t regarding your presence to the full extent that it’s normally at. You huff and lean over his shoulder to litter butterfly-light kisses along the side of his neck. He unconsciously cranes his neck, providing you with more access to the skin.
“Shouldn’t you come and eat breakfast first? You haven’t eaten anything.” You ponder aloud, and this time, he shakes his head.
“I’m fine, babe.“ he mutters, eyes squinting in the analysis of his emails. Your tongue comes out to swipe at your lips, wetting them before leaning further into his space and kissing him straight on the mouth. At this, he cocks his head to the side, granting you access for more.
You continue to press into him, feeling accomplished when you realize that now he’s fully focused on you. The kiss is languid and feels good enough to praise, but before you can fully enjoy it, Colby is pulling away with a pitiful smile. You don’t even have to question him because he’s apologizing in an instant.
“I’m sorry, petal. I really have to get these things done. I promise as soon as I get this out of the way, I’m all yours.” He says and you can’t help but feel a tug at your heart. God, he really is the cutest. With the way his eyes glimmer at you, you’re confident with the idea that this man could un-alive your childhood pet and get away with it by just looking at you with those damned ocean eyes.
“Just a minute more?” shaking off the thought of ending the video early out of awe for your boyfriend, you continue your antics. You plead instead, batting your lashes tauntingly while returning to his side.
He blinks owlishly at you and ultimately accepts, pulling you into his lap by the hips and allowing you to straddle him comfortably. You grin, wasting no time and diving straight in for a passionate kiss. His hands snake around you to land on your ass, giving a gentle squeeze to which you groan into his lips for.
For a second, you’re convinced that this moment would last for an eternity with the pace that he’s taking. Theres not a doubt that he’d absolutely waste an entire day just to kiss you, and in this case you want this to be one of those days. His kiss is smooth, gentle, yet fierce and meaningful. Your hands move on their own accord; one pressing into the broad of his chest and the other entangling into his hair.
There’s a moan serenading your ears after a few rough tugs to the strands on his head. However, before you know it, he’s giving you one last playful tug to your lip and placing a good space between the two of you. While you’re grateful for this moment to breathe, you also fall clueless as to why the hell he stopped.. until, of course, you remember that you’re filming a video, and he’s working. Hello!
“Do you know how distracting you can be?” Colby chuckles, and you take a few seconds to take in his appearance; hair tussled, eyes dark and dilated, lips swollen with a few teeth indentations caused due to your own accord. You almost want to spend the rest of the video admiring your work, but conclude that the show must go on.
“What ever do you mean, coleslaw?” You quip, pushing against his hands from where they’ve been placed on your shoulders to distance you from him.
He immediately motions for you to get off of him, his hands already shoving at your chest. “Coleslaw? You’re done. Get off of me.”
You laugh and reluctantly remove yourself from his lap only to make an attempt at lifting him up with you. As if knowing exactly what you’re about to do, he drops his weight into his chair. You grunt, tugging on his arms with all your might. He doesn’t budge.
“Baby,” you whine, and add a childish stomp for emphasis. “Can’t you just take today off to spend time with me? Please?”
He falls limp at your words, tossing his head back against the chair’s headrest and huffs in thought. “We already hung out yesterday. The entire day! What do you want to do anyway?”
Pouting, you take advantage of his loose posture to throne his lap once more. Again, circling his neck with your arms and trying to pull him impossibly closer. Though, he does his best to keep a stoic expression and an emotional stiffness to prevent persuasion.
“I miss you,” the words seemingly fall on deaf ears as he remains unfazed, eyes wandering around the room; in other words, anywhere but you. “..just wanted to kiss you today.. but i guess you don’t want my kisses. guess I’ll just find someone else who does—“
His sigh mimics one of defeat. His hold on your tightens in protectiveness, as if afraid you may be taken from him. You begin to feel that bubble of mischief rising to your cheeks, tugging your lips into a smile. Yes! It’s working!
“One more kiss, and i seriously have to get back to work, okay?” He gambles, and suddenly your smile is fading into a frown. He directs his stare back to you, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. “What, isn’t that what you want? Take it or leave it, baby.”
You bare your teeth in grimace, eyes twinkling with competitiveness before you dive in. Planting your lips on his, you nip and lap at the opening he gives you. Without much hesitance, he’s reciprocating in eagerness. Your tongues dance in the heat of the moment, teeth clashing with force. It’s clear how much you two want each other. And it’s even more evident just how far you’re willing to go for it.
“God, what’s gotten into you?” He manages to slur through the daze you’ve entrapped him in. The intimacy in the kiss exceeds even deeper when you apply pressure against his crotch, gaining a desperate reaction in return. He whimpers against your lips, bringing you impossibly closer to his form as he ruts against you.
“just.. really.. want.. you.” Your voice tapers off into a moan with each breath you take in between. And that’s when you realize. Oh shit. he’s hard.
A probing feeling at your clothed entrance is all it takes for you to pull back and freeze, hands instantly darting for the camera from where it was hidden just a few minutes ago. You focus the rest of the footage toward you, regarding your boyfriend’s lustful daze as a sign to come clean. Placing one hand on his cheek while the other holds the camera, you give a breathy and worried giggle.
“Are you—“ you start, motioning toward the evident tent in his sweats. His eyes waver from your face for a mere second to assess the situation before returning to you. “Colby?”
“Is this is a prank?” He mumbles, cocking his head toward the camera in your hand. You nod, curtaining your smile by placing a palm over your mouth. “Oh,”
“Colby, It’s a prank. I didn’t expect it to go this far!” You admit, and suddenly the giddiness you had been shielding from escaping you throughout the video is released. You laugh in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh. Guys, if you saw anything…. No you didn’t. Haha! But seriously, my poor baby suffered today so if you enjoyed the video, be sure to like and subscribe. Until next time, bye!”
The moment the video comes to an end, Colby is cursing you up and down for the scheme you had hidden from him. However, his scolding shortly concludes with a soft, and admittedly disappointing, “—had me all excited..”
“Oh my poor baby,” you coo, both of you now free from an audience’s presence via camera. Holding his face in your hands, you apply pressure to his cheeks, forcing his lips to pucker when you go in for a gentle kiss. “‘M sorry. The fans really wanted to see what you’d do.”
“Well now they know, so can we please not do that again. you’re very irresistible and convincing you know that?”
You press a gentle peck to his cheek and huff. “Yeah I’ve heard it a few times from my boyfriend.”
“Wow. I feel bad for your boyfriend.” Colby jokes playfully.
“Do you? Hm. Guess I should be a little nicer to him.”
“Maybe.” He pouts his lips toward you, proceeding to lift you from where the two of you sit on his office chair. Your legs wrap around his middle as he travels toward your shared bed. “I think your boyfriend deserves it.”
“I think so too,” you smile. Continuing from where you had left off, you both spend the rest of the morning doing exactly as you begged for; spending the day together. And making out, of course. And maybe a little more than that.
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headcanonenthusiast · 3 months
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Valeria Garza NSFW headcanons. 
This was made with fem readers in mind.
Also quick note, I apologize in advance if this isn't as detailed as my headcanons on some other characters. It was definitely harder for me to come up w/ stuff for Val, especially bc girlie is nowhere near one of my favorites (I'm sorry 😔) but what better way to expand on writing then doing headcanons of characters you rarely think about? So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy! 
(I completely understand that this type of content is not everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok! But, please scroll and ignore if this type of content isn't your thing as opposed to leaving any sort of negative comments.)
NSFW under the cut.
-THE brat tamer.
-Absolutely will not take your shit if you disobey her in any way, shape or form. 
-"What did you just say to me? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?" 
-Gets this look of absolute disbelief on her face if you dare to act like a brat, then her eyes turn dark and she's suddenly dragging you to bed. 
-"I'm the woman who decides whether or not you get to cum every night, querida. And if you're gonna keep acting like a fucking brat, then it looks like you won't get to cum for the rest of the week." 
-Her favorite forms of punishment include anything to do with orgasms. Whether it be edging you, overstimulating you or even denying you the right to cum entirely, she loves making you squirm and beg to release. 
-Shakes her head and clicks her tongue, as if you begging to cum is the most ridiculous thing she's ever heard after you've misbehaved. 
-"Oh, so now you're sorry? Chica, a sorry isn't going to cut it. I warned you about acting like a little brat, but you didn't listen. You never fucking listen to me." 
-Proceeds to lecture you and switch between degrading you in English and Spanish as she either forces a strap down your throat or harshly plays with your clit. 
-"Perra estúpida. Never listening to me and then acting surprised when I don't let you cum." 
-Will also partake in bondage, cuffing up your wrists to the headboard before she runs a vibrator painfully slow over your pussy. 
-As rough as she is when it comes to sex, if you're genuinely feeling upset about something, her gaze will turn more sympathetic (which she refuses to show to anyone besides you.) 
-"What? What's wrong, amor?" 
-And you're welcome to tell her about all of your troubles while she gently eats you out. 
-Probably has multiple straps. Prefers buying the thickest one possible but she does have one that's much longer for when you really piss her off. 
-Is very willing to spoil you with new sex toys and lingerie. Anything to make her pretty girl happy. 
-Also, I feel like she'd switch between wanting to see you touch yourself and not letting you at all. 
-When she's not there with you, she probably encourages you to masterbate and send her tons of videos of you doing so.
-But, if she's actually there and catches you touching yourself, it won't be pretty. 
-"Oh, can I not satisfy you enough anymore? Is that it?" 
-Then she fingers you so well your legs are shaking as she rants. 
-"Look at you, cumming just from my fingers. What a slut."
-"And you really thought you could make yourself cum the same way I do? No, no, estás loca por pensar eso, querida." 
-She wants anything sexual to be completely dependent on either her or toys she picks out for you. 
-In other words, very dominant. 
-In other other words, if you ever asked or God forbid tried to make her submit, you're a dead woman. 
-"Thats it. You're getting too fucking bratty for your own good. Get over my Goddamn lap right now if you know what's good for you." 
-And when you are on her lap, she'll switch between spanking your ass and spanking your pussy. 
-Leaves hickeys on the most visible spots on purpose. 
-Smirks when you get all shy about it, gently brushing your hair away as she chuckles. 
-"Don't worry, amor. I won't make the marks too visible." 
-But then she does, so she buys you the prettiest necklace with her name engraved on it as an apology, and another reminder of who you belong you. 
-Some translations for the Spanish stuff, chica = girl, querida = darling, perra estúpida = stupid bitch, amor = love and "no, no, estás loca por pensar eso, querida" = no, no, you're crazy for thinking that, darling. 
(Also I apologize if anything in Spanish is incorrect, online translators can only get you so far 😕)
Look at me go, writing about a character I don't even like and am not even attracted to because I'm straighter than a wooden ruler 🙃
This was honestly fun to write though! Valeria takes up like 0% of my thinking space, so coming up w/ headcanons for her when I barely remember she exists nor am attracted to her at all was a bit more challenging. Hoping y'all enjoyed this! 
Rudy NSFW headcanons r coming up next, so be sure to lookout for those in the near future 🤭
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shiggybrainr0t · 3 months
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i was going through @willowser writing tag and reading all their stuff, as one does, and found their response to how bakugo would react whenever you tell him about a creepy guy and it got me thinking….yall know that tiktok trend about the fake Dimitri voicemail 💀 this turned out to be 90% domestic katsuki and only 10% him responding to a creepy guy so I’m sorry 😞
divider made by @cafekitsune 🖤
warnings: one fake creepy guy, comment about abuse and anxiety (not from bakugo)
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Whenever you walk inside your shared apartment, you make sure to school your face into one of neutrality. You feel like you should know better than to do something like this, but Denki got this little prank into your mind and said he would give you 3,000 yen if you actually did it and well- who are you to turn that down.
Katsuki is sprawled shirtless on your couch, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips as he snoozes with his arms behind his head. He makes the couch look hilariously tiny, with the way one leg is hanging off the edge and the other is bent just so his torso will fit. You can tell he has just taken a shower by the way his hair is a couple shades darker than normal and sticking about in odd ways. Seeing him there makes you forget about what you were set on doing, and you gaze at his golden form for a minute until you shifting has the floor creaking and one of his eyes opening lazily.
You know that he knew you were here the moment your keys jingled outside the door, but it was you not coming over and immediately plopping on top of him like usual that prompts him to make a grabby hand in your direction, a soft scowl on his face as you continue to stand there.
“Why’re you just standing there?”
His rumbling, sleepy voice breaks you out of your stupor and you continue on your journey towards your boyfriend. Unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his form, making him grunt at the impact even though he was expecting it. It’s muscle memory the way your legs tangle with his, and the way one strong arm wraps around you to grip at the squishy part of your side, all insecurities long lost in the safety of his arms.
His scent surrounds you, the smell of caramelized sugar and his body wash filling your senses, making you wiggle up to place your nose into the crook of his neck. You sniff loudly, giggling when he palms your face to push you away.
“Fuckin’ weirdo.”
After settling, you both bask in each other’s presence for a little while. You’re content to end the evening like this, until Denki’s stupid face flashes through your mind. Nonchalantly, you start to trace little patterns on Katsuki’s smooth chest, saying his name softly. At his responding hum, you start telling your tale.
“You know we have a new neighbor downstairs….” He doesn’t reply, only adjusting his grip on you slightly and raising one blonde eyebrow whenever you look up at him.
“Well, his name is Dimitri and he isn’t from here. He seemed a little lost, and he doesn’t really know anybody yet, so I gave him my number in case he needed help.”
“…..I don’t like where this is going.” Katsuki looks down at you, giving himself a double chin because of the angle. Annoyingly, he’s still gorgeous.
Put on, you sigh and trace “I love you” lightly into his skin. You know he got it, because he buries his nose into your hair and kisses your forehead in response.
“He started calling me a lot, even after I told him I had a boyfriend who could snap him in half-“
“Fuck yeah I could.”
“-and he left me this voicemail that was weird.”
You trail off, and at his raised eyebrows and slight shake of his head saying “well?” grab your phone and pull up the video Denki sent you, making sure the screen isn’t visible and press play.
The grainy sound of a voicemail fills the space, “Dimitri’s” voice starting up quickly.
“It’s Dimitri again. I left you a message a couple days ago. Now here’s the way I work: I don’t like leaving second messages.”
Your boyfriend’s jaw drops slightly at the sudden change of tone in Dimitri’s voice.
As “Dimitri” begins to tell you all his attributes, Katsuki’s face begins to screw up. The list of why “Dimitri” is an amazing guy and why he should be your boyfriend is a long one, and you can see Katsuki becoming more and more irritated as the voicemail continues.
“I’m giving you until 3 o’clock to return my call. I can understand if you’ve got some other issues…like maybe you were abused or you have an anxiety disorder and you’re on medicine for that-“
A warm and calloused hand engulfs yours to turn your phone off. Katsuki gently shoves you off of him, standing up and stretching lightly before turning to you.
“What apartment is he in again?” Your shocked face makes him turn around, quickly putting on some slippers and forgoing a shirt to step out of your apartment and into the hallway.
“I’ll find it.”
He’s already down the hall, bare back tense and cocking his head to the side as he jabs at the elevator buttons whenever you make it off the couch and out the door.
An apartment down, your neighbor perks up when she hears your voice, and goes to peek out her door. Where you are, your hunk of a boyfriend isn’t far behind.
“Kat-Katsuki it was a prank!”
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roseykat · 3 months
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TITLE: Stray Kids and Kinks
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SUMMARY: Stray Kids members and each of their kinks (in my personal opinion). They’d most likely have more than one as well.
WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.
TAGS: smut, discussions around sex, breath play, choking, public sex, slight voyeurism, begging, pictophilia, degradation, use of the names ‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘fucktoy’, ‘cumslut’, collars, cuckolding, bondage/shibari.
MASTERLIST
A/N: to the people who were on my main taglist for my works, I’m so sorry because I’ve lost the list I had with everyone’s names on it. I’ll keep trying to search through my documents for them just in case. If I can’t, please message me if you still want to be added, no pressure!
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BANG CHAN - Breath play
He’s adopted breath play techniques to help intensify your orgasms. For example, he’ll have a hand around your throat, squeezing at the sides as you’re about to cum. Then, just as you do, he’ll take his hand away so that more oxygen rushes to your brain as you orgasm hard around his dick. Seeing you cum your brains out from it only made him want to do it more.
But it just so happens that Chan also likes to be choked. He folds whenever you’re on top riding him and you extend a hand down his throat to squeeze. As a result, he’s bound to cum inside you without question. Or maybe when you’re both making out, Chan likes to feel your hand apply that snug restriction around the sides of his neck.
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MINHO - Public Sex
Public sex is a staple aspect of bringing spontaneity into your relationship with Minho and it’s a major turn on for him. Whenever you’re both on the go, there’s always a time where he’s horny. Fucking in a club was the first time either of you had done anything in public - and you’re sure that someone was in one of the stalls watching through the gap in the door of Minho bending you over the sink.
Now, his horizons have expanded to fucking you in a tent when you both go camping, fucking in a room at some pension when you and the other guys go away for a holiday, giving him head underneath the table at a overly crowded restaurant, fucking you against a brick wall down some alleyway as you’re both walking back home because neither of you could wait. The possibilities are endless for him, and so far you haven’t been caught.
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CHANGBIN - Begging
Changbin’s ego inflates whenever you beg him to do something in the bedroom. It not only means that you need him to do whatever it is, but that there’s nobody else in the world who can satisfy you other than him. He just thrives off of it. Begging him to let you cum is his ultimate weak point, but not as much as when you beg him to eat you out.
You could both be fifteen minutes into making out, touching each other, and he would deliberately refrain from doing anything further until he hears you pleading for him to go down on you. Only when he says ‘yes’, he’ll eat you out slowly and delicately, right to the point where you get frustrated and have to beg him again. This time to make you cum.
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HYUNJIN - Pictophilia
Has countless polaroids, pictures, and videos of yours and his naked body. Will take photos of you from behind, you with his cum on your tits or face, videos of his dick visibly disappearing inside your pussy and sliding back out, videos of him making you orgasm that you can see your legs shake in the frame. He likes revisiting those memories and then creating more to see later on.
Sometimes you’ll watch them back together, that’s if Hyunjin doesn’t get all shy about it. He likes watching you, just not himself so much. In the moment, when he’s fucking your brains out, he can be an animal and say ‘how good your pussy feels’, tell you how much ‘you’re creaming around him’. But the minute you both watch it over together, he gets embarrassed hearing himself say those things to you on camera. 
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HAN - Degradation
At first you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to call Jisung such degrading names when he asked you to. It wasn’t until you really tried and saw how much he enjoyed it. His eyes glass over like he’s suddenly under your control, which he is. Calling him names like ‘whore’, ‘slut’, or ‘fucktoy’ is guaranteed to make him cum even harder.
Pairing that with any type of overstimulation or orgasm control gives you a very needy Jisung who’s brain turns into mush just from hearing those sorts of names. He isn’t too sure why or how degradation works so well for him, how it makes his orgasms feel ten times more stronger than just normal verbal communication during sex. That being said, Jisung, like you’ve told him many times, is a ‘cumslut’ who enjoys just orgasming. So much that if degradation helps him get there, then he’s all for it.
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FELIX - Collar Kink
Each collar is carefully selected by him for you to wear. He cares and stores them the way that he does with his keyboards. His favourites are the ones with metal rings or heart shaped loops at the front so that he can hook his finger in it and bring you closer to whatever it is he’s doing. They’re very personal statements that he takes pride in not only collecting but also creating as well.
Felix customises and curates them especially for you. He selects the leathers from black to pale pinks to deep reds. Some will have studs or multiple metal loops, others will be classic and plain. The point of the matter is that Felix swells inside with excitement every time he gets to fasten or buckle the collar around your neck.
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SEUNGMIN - Cuckolding
This man has a kink for essentially watching you get railed by another man - maybe two sometimes. He doesn’t strike as the type of person to share you, but he compromises when his fantasies come into focus. When he presented you with this peculiar idea to see you have sex with someone other than himself, you were all in it. To test things out, he thought it would be best to invite someone you both know. Someone who would be into the same idea.
That person ended up being Jisung who was a perfect fit for the night and it’s never been awkward since. These types of experiences make having sex with Seungmin even more special and intimate when it’s just the two of you. There’s not another man who makes you cum the way he does - none of the men he’s watched you have sex with.
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Jeongin - Bondage
Jeongin enjoys tying you up, but especially in shibari. An intricate practice of bondage that passes off more as art than something sexual. He’s perfected the craft of skilfully binding your body to create beautiful ties and wraps. His slender and long fingers help with threading multiple lengths of ropes into different loops at the same time. In some cases, shibari is just for people to look at and doesn’t involve sex.
Almost similar to BDSM in some cases. But Jeongin will fuck you in it. There’s a side to him that can be very irrational and heated. The way the rope tightens around your body or the way the patterns contrast with your skin, makes him impulsive. He will involve other sexual practices like BDSM, maybe sensation play, edging, orgasm denying - anything to see you struggle against the rope.
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Text
Arrogant Ex-Husband - Chapt 1
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Character: Mob!Bucky x Model!Reader
Summary: In a strategic alliance marriage arranged for political gain, reluctant bride Y/N, dreaming of a modeling career, finds herself unwillingly wed to James 'Bucky' Barnes, a reluctant groom.
Words Count: 1,816
Series Masterlist with Prologue and Moodboard
Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓
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Y/N stared out the tinted car window, the city lights flickering in the distance. Her father, a seasoned politician, clenched his jaw as he spoke into the phone, his voice seething with anger.
"Unbelievable! I trusted you, Rick. Trusted you with our family's reputation, and this is how you repay me?" Y/N's father barked into the phone, the tension in the car palpable.
Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, stealing glances at her father's furrowed brow and the visible strain in his eyes.
The weight of the scandal involving her step-brother was evident (private video got leaked), threatening to unravel her family's name and her father's political career.
"What do you mean you can't contain this? I need a solution, not excuses," her father continued, tightening his grip on the phone.
The distant hum of the city echoed the frustration in the car. Y/N caught snippets of her father's conversation as he navigated the chaotic political landscape.
"You know what's at stake here, Rick. My candidacy, the family legacy — everything! I can't have this scandal tarnishing our name."
The car sped through the city streets, the outside world oblivious to the turmoil within the vehicle. Y/N's father listened intently to the voice on the other end, occasionally gritting his teeth.
"Handle it discreetly? No, that ship has sailed, Rick. You need to fix this, and you need to fix it now. I don't care what it takes. If you can't, then don't bother showing your face again."
The call ended abruptly, leaving the car in silence except for the distant sounds of the city. Y/N's father took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but the frustration lingered in his eyes.
"Y/N," he finally spoke, turning to his daughter. "We need a solution, and it seems Harold Barnes is offering one. I don't like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures."
Y/N nodded, her gaze shifting to the city lights, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with challenges and unexpected alliances. The weight of the situation settled on her shoulders like an unshakeable burden.
There was a helplessness in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment that she couldn't escape the intricate web of family ties and political obligations.
Suddenly, Y/n received a message from her best friend, Honey, telling her that there was a casting for a famous brand that had just opened. 
Of course, Y/n wants to join; her eyes lightened up. Her father noticed it. He grabs her phone and puts it in his shirt pocket. He said something that hurt her dream. 
"Forget it, you're going to be a rich wife. Why would you ever want to be a model?"
That's hurt Y/N's feelings. 
Did her father forget that his former wife used to be a famous model? 
Did he also didn't know what his daughter wanted?
In the confined space of the car, surrounded by the distant glow of the city, Y/N felt the suffocating lack of freedom.
The walls of her father's decisions closed in on her, leaving her with no escape. Her once-promising dreams were now tethered to the demands of a family in disarray, the consequences of choices she didn't make.
It was her step-brother who ruined her father's image. But why it has to be her who fixes the mistakes?
Y/N sighed heavily. What could she do?
Her father didn't even care about her anymore since she brought his mistress into the house without apologizing that because of his adultery, Y/N's mother took her own life.
************
As the car moved through the city's labyrinthine streets, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her every move dictated by a situation she had no control over.
The path ahead seemed like an unpredictable journey, with the enigmatic figure of Bucky Barnes's grandfather looming as both a lifeline and a shaper of her destiny.
When the car arrived at Barnes Residence, Y/N and her father were welcomed by Harold Barnes, a formidable figure with a commanding presence.
The imposing mansion, nestled in the city's heart, exuded an air of authority that matched the reputation of the Barnes mafia family.
As the car stopped, Harold Barnes stepped forward to greet them. His steely gaze assessed the situation, and a subtle nod conveyed acknowledgment and expectation.
"Senator [L/N], Y/N," Harold greeted with a firm handshake for Y/N's father and a courteous nod to Y/N.
Though measured, his voice held an undeniable weight that spoke of years spent navigating the intricate world of politics and organized crime.
"We appreciate your timely arrival," Harold continued, his tone hinting of formality. "Please, come inside. We have much to discuss."
Y/N exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with her father before following Harold Barnes into the opulent residence, where shadows seemed to dance across the grandeur of the mafia leader's abode.
The air hung heavy with unspoken agreements and the looming presence of a pact about to be forged. 
In the expansive Barnes Residence, as Y/N's father engaged in a serious discussion with Harold Barnes, Y/N found herself wandering through the mansion's labyrinthine halls.
The grandeur of the house overwhelmed her, each room a testament to the power and history of the Barnes family.
As she strolled, she saw a slightly ajar door, a subtle invitation into the unknown. Driven by curiosity and the need for a momentary escape, Y/N couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.
*****************
The room beyond was dimly lit, the shadows playing on the edges of the walls. In the center, bathed in a pool of muted light, sat Bucky Barnes in a wheelchair. His presence carried an air of solemnity, and for a moment, their eyes met in an unspoken exchange.
Though physically present, Bucky seemed to inhabit a world of his own. The room, filled with an unspoken weight, held traces of a life altered by unforeseen circumstances. Y/N hesitated, sensing the vulnerability in his gaze.
The silence between them spoke volumes, a shared understanding of their challenges. In that fleeting moment, Y/N glimpsed a complexity in Bucky that transcended the public perception of the disgraced figure.
There was a story etched in the lines on his face, a narrative that begged to be unraveled.
Harold was about to call the butler when he saw Y/N wavered to enter the library room.
Ever perceptive, Harold Barnes noticed Y/N's hesitation at the library entrance. With a measured stride, he approached her, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate situation unfolding.
"Y/N," he said in a voice that held both authority and understanding. "Allow me to introduce you to Bucky Barnes." With a gracious gesture, Harold opened the door wider, revealing the dimly lit room and the figure in the wheelchair.
Harold followed suit as Y/N stepped into the room, guiding her toward Bucky. The air in the library seemed to shift, carrying an unspoken weight that Harold acknowledged with a subtle nod.
"Y/N, meet Bucky Barnes," Harold said, his voice a low hum in the quiet room. "Bucky, this is Y/N [L/N], the daughter of Senator [L/N]."
His gaze meeting Y/N's once again, Bucky offered a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes were complex, a silent invitation to understand the unspoken stories that lingered in the room.
Sensing the need for a private exchange, Harold excused himself with a nod. "I'll leave you two to talk. Take your time," he said before quietly closing the library door, leaving Y/N and Bucky in a space where the echoes of their shared circumstances seemed to resonate.
Y/N offered an awkward introduction in the hushed library, her voice breaking the stillness. "Hi, Bucky. I'm Y/N." Should she continue her introduction by saying, 'I’m also your future wife. Next week we will get married.'
Bucky remained silent, his gaze steady yet revealing little. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, threading through the quiet room.
Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N glanced around the library briefly before her eyes settled on Bucky's face. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but notice his striking features—handsome, yet marked by the complexities of a life altered.
As her gaze traveled to his left arm, the room seemed to hold its breath. There, in the dim light, she observed the bionic limb, a symbol of both strength and vulnerability. Y/N's eyes lingered, recognizing the silent struggles etched in the contours of that prosthetic.
As Y/N's gaze lingered on Bucky's missing left arm, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Bucky, wise to her scrutiny, felt a twinge of discomfort and offense.
The unspoken vulnerability that Y/N had observed seemed to boil over into a harsh reaction.
"What, never seen a guy with a missing arm before?" Bucky's words, laced with bitterness, cut through the silence. His eyes, once steady, now held a glint of wounded pride.
"You probably think I'm some kind of freak, right?" His tone grew sharper, the pain beneath the surface manifesting as anger. "Well, get used to it. This is what I am now."
Y/N, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, tried to find the right words. Before she could respond, Bucky's words turned more cutting.
"And what's your game here, huh?" Bucky's voice escalated, the accusation palpable. "Marrying me for my family's wealth? Just like your father, always after power and money."
The words hung in the air, a heavy accusation stung with a truth Y/N hadn't expected. Bucky's resentment, fueled by his insecurities, lashed out, and in that moment, the library became a battleground for emotions too raw to be contained.
As Y/N absorbed the harsh words, an apology caught in her throat. Unable to face the hostility, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before swiftly leaving the room.
The door closed behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the dimly lit library. As the echo of her departure lingered, an unexpected pang of regret stirred in Bucky's chest. He couldn't quite comprehend why he had lashed out with such venom. She hadn't done anything to deserve his bitter words.
Now alone with his thoughts, Bucky replayed the scene in his mind. The realization of his unjust accusations settled heavily on his shoulders. He clenched his jaw, grappling with a surge of remorse that, though unexpected, held a raw truth—he shouldn't have said those words to her.
Bucky gazed at the window behind him, overwhelmed with guilt for involving an innocent woman in his troubled life. The agony of losing his left arm was unbearable, and the need for therapy for his leg added to his suffering.
He felt like a villain as if he had intentionally trapped an innocent woman in this marriage.
The weight of his actions pressed down on him, and the city beyond the window seemed to mock the dramatic turmoil within his soul.
At that moment, Bucky couldn't escape the feeling that he was playing the role of a heartless antagonist, making an unwitting woman suffer in the shadows of his pain.
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Author Note :
Hey friends,
If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!
Here's the link: Ko-fi
Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!
I'm now offering faster release and bonus chapters for Ko-fi members. If you enjoy my content and want early access, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!
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Chapter:
1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7, 8 , 9 ,10 , 11, 12 , End
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sereneres · 4 months
Text
“ln yn forgetting she’s an idol f…” ⁰
le sserafim x lsfm 6th member!reader / 1.1k
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summary. — “ln yn forgetting she’s an idol for five minutes and a few seconds (aka yn having no filter).”
warnings. — cursing / somewhat vulgar language / typical slurring from lsfm!yn / yn encouraging parasocial activities / video-format by @/jihyoruri
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“unnie, stop touchin’ m’like that.”
chaewon blinks. yunjin freezes. kazuha promptly looks away from the camera, desperately trying–and failing–to hold back her laughter. eunchae was already snorting. sakura, in an attempt to do damage control, continued talking cheerfully to the camera, subtly shifting so that she could cover whatever was happening behind her with her head.
“practice has been pretty hard.” she says, sighing. “not because the dance is hard, though that’s a reason too, but because it ends pretty late into the night.”
“yah, ln yn!” chaewon’s voice is heard, followed by the sound of skin hitting skin–likely her hand slapping some part of your body–and a muffled yelp. “if you say things like that, people are going to misunderstand!”
“but unnie, you keep touchin’ me ‘n weird places.” the younger whines. “what else ‘m i s’pposed t’say?”
sakura, having given up, just slumped onto the floor, letting those watching the live see what was happening behind her.
chaewon was practically on top of you, shaking you back and forth by your shoulders. yunjin was snickering as she attempted to get the leader off of you with little to no success. eunchae was still laughing, her face red, and kazuha, at somepoint, had joined in on her laughter.
“ln yn!” chaewon screams, her cheeks reddening. “you’re an idol, for goodness sake, an idol! don’t say that kind of thing!”
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“‘where is yn?’”
“yn is currently preoccupied in the kitchen.” chaewon answered, eyeing something off screen. “both kazuha and eunchae are helping her which is why they aren’t here either.”
“they’re making cookies.” yunjin added, smiling. “erm, chocolate chip cookies, if i’m not–”
the sound of a door opening violently interrupts the american’s words, and the two girls on screen look to their left with surprised looks on their faces.
“chaewon’nie, the stove’s ‘n fire.” following your words is the high pitched beeping of what is undoubtedly the dorms fire alarms going off.
“what?!” chaewon stands up, with yunjin following suit. “what do you mean it’s on fire?!”
“‘s ‘n fire.”
yunjin, seemingly having remembered that the live was still going on, quickly ducked into view of the camera. “sorry, guys, we’ll be right back.”
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“ow, ow, fuck, ow–”
sakura, frowning, looked over to where you were presumably standing off screen. “ynnie, are you alright?”
she isn’t facing the camera, her head turned just enough so that those watching could tell she was worried by how tense her jaw was but not enough that they could see how her eyes had widened in alarm. you had cursed, after all, and in the middle of a live no less.
“m’fine, jus’ slammed the cabinet on m’finger.” you murmured, trudging into view with a hand wrapped tightly around your wounded finger. “it really hurt, ‘kura-unnie.”
oddly enough, you don’t seem all that worried about having potentially ruined your image as an idol by cursing. if anything, it seemed as though you hadn’t realized you had cursed aloud at all.
sakura, who is more than worried enough for the both of you, hums in response, absentmindedly checking your finger as she glanced at the live’s comment section. fortunately, it looked like no one was put out by your cursing, finding it more hilarious than upsetting.
“‘nnie, why’re they all laughin’? did somethin’ funny happen?”
“err… not exactly.”
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“unnie, wou’d you accept a kiss fro’me as a present?”
yunjin blinks, visibly stunned by your words. chaewon and sakura, both having realized just what you said, glance at the staff member standing behind the camera nervously. eunchae and kazuha, on the other hand, had quickly got over their shock and were giving you incredulous looks.
“oh my god-”
“…’s tha a yes or a no?”
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“ln yn, just what do you think you are doing?”
you freeze, giving sakura a panicked look–to which she responds with an amused smile–before slowly turning around to face your angry leader. “erm, h’llo, chaewon’nie.”
“hand.”
behind you, you could faintly hear yunjin and eunchae whispering about how chaewon sounded like she was speaking to a dog, ordering for it to give her a paw or something.
chaewon, unamused by your lack of response, both verbally and physically, raised a brow. “yn.”
you sigh, reluctantly doing as the older girl ordered and give her your hand, where a long cut glared an angry red on your skin.
“ooh~ unnie is in trouble~” eunchae murmured, smiling innocently at you when you turned to glare at her.
“yn, how did you get this?”
“…erm, i accident’lly stabbed m’self with scissors?…”
yunjin chortled, enjoying the scene before her all too much. “cut, more like.”
“not helping, unnie.”
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“‘kura-unnie’s basically m’ sugar m’mmy.” you mumbled to the camera, eagerly showing off the brand new pair of sneakers you had gotten–been gifted–earlier that day. “see? she bought m’ the shoes i was lookin’ at the other day.”
eunchae, who had been quiet until this moment leans into view of the camera, snorted. “unnie, you call anyone who’s ever bought you anything your sugar mommy.”
“sug-ar mom-my?” kazuha repeated slowly, tilting her head as she turned to look at chaewon, who sighed and shook her head with a look of disappointment on her face.
noticing how irritated the leader looked, the ballerina wisely decided to stay quiet and mind her own business.
“‘m not wrong though.” you point out to the unimpressed girl. “‘kura-unnie ‘s really m’sugar m’mmy. she buys me s’much stuff…” you giggle sleepily, turning back to the camera. “th’nk you, ‘kura-unnie~”
at that, chaewon, probably having realized just how… weird the conversation has gotten, clicked her tongue, drawing both your and eunchae’s attention.
“should i tell her to stop buying you things then?” she asked rhetorically, an eyebrow raised. “after all, we can’t have an idol, much less a girl group idol, being called ‘sugar mommy’ by one of her members…”
panicked, you sit up. “s’rry ‘nnie, i’ll ask ‘em to cut it out, ‘kay? don’t tell ‘kura-unnie anythin’!”
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“to those who’re sayin’ that they wanna marry me…” you start absentmindedly, staring at the screen of your phone before raising your head to look at the camera. “‘you bein’ serious? ‘cause if you are…”
[ lsfms#1fan: yes. desperatehoe: YES?!!! reasonableperson: uh no r u not a minor??? desperatehoe#2: PLEASE BE MY GIRFLRIEDNHSJQBWBS ]
reading the more or less desperate comments your fans were making, you smile lazily, though it looks more like a smirk than anything else.
“if tha’s the case, then,” you continued, clearing your throat as you kept your eyes on the camera. “please sign a prenup agreement.” from the corner of your eye, you could see a variety of confused comments. “then, and only then, will i consider being married to you.”
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masterlist.
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myosotisa · 9 months
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Steve needing comfort angst ?
ah yes, the best. someone give this boy a hug!!!!!!
Running Late
ǁ  summary: Steve is late picking you up after work and fears the worst from you when he does show up.
ǁ  tags: hurt/comfort, established relationship. gender neutral, no pronouns, no y/n, nicknames are honey and sweetheart for reader. Steve has anxiety, description of symptoms similar to an anxiety attack, comfort for the man.
ǁ  word count: 2.1k
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Your boyfriend Steve had picked you up after work every day since the two of you had started dating 6 months ago.
He insisted it wasn’t a big deal – it was on his way home from his own job and it also meant he got to see you everyday, which he always insisted was the highlight of his day. You didn’t really enjoy walking home, and you did enjoy getting to look at Steve Harrington, so it seemed like a win-win.
You didn’t really think too much into it until tonight.
After your shift ended, you did the same thing you always did: you cleaned up a bit, clocked out, and pushed your way out of the back door and into the night air. When you looked over to where Steve was normally parked, leaning on his hood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, you only saw empty space.
Shrugging it off, you stepped to the side to lean back against the brick wall and wait. He’d never been late before but there was a first time for everything. Who isn’t late sometimes?
You waited an hour.
During that time, you’d stepped inside to try to call his house (no answer) and Family Video (wasn’t there). One of your coworkers had walked past and asked if you needed a ride home, but you were still positive Steve was coming to get you, so you waved him off. He wasn’t the type to just forget. Maybe he’d lost track of time or, god forbid, he got in some sort of accident.
You’d been considering just walking home and trying to call him again later when his maroon BMW comes careening into the parking lot.
It skids until the wheels lock up a safe distance away from the building, and by extension you, and has barely come to a full stop before the driver’s side door is rocketing open and a severely distressed Steve is jumping out.
“Honey! Hey, I’m…” He rounds the car toward you in a jog, voice raspy from being out of breath. “I’m so sorry I’m late, I can’t believe – wait, how late am I?” He flips his watch toward his face, squinting behind his wire rim glasses to try to read the time in the dark before they grow wide and flick back to you. “Oh my god, I didn’t – I’m so sorry – Sweetheart, I swear…”
He isn’t even able to finish a thought before the next one starts as his breathing only seems to start coming through faster, chest rising and falling visibly with the force of his inhales. When he reaches his hands out toward you, there’s a noticeable tremble in them and that, along with the flush of red crawling up his chest, clues you in that something is really not right.
“Steve, hey,” you step into his space, bypassing his outstretched hands and placing one of yours on his jaw and the other on his chest. “It’s okay, it’s really fine.”
“No, it’s not fine,” he murmurs, the space between his eyebrows folding into a sharp pinch. The next inhale he takes is choked, getting trapped in the bulk of his chest. “I’m so, so sorry. I… There’s no excuse, really, honest to god, there isn’t, I’m so sorry.”
Growing more concerned by the second, you step closer to try to ground him with your presence. You’ve seen Steve in moments like these before, when his anxiety feels like a python constricting around his chest, but it never gets any easier to watch. Especially not as his eyes start to water at the corners and the tremble of his hands infects the rest of him in a subtle shake.
“Hey, baby,” the petname, one that normally calms him down, produces a sharp inhale this time, like it was the wrong thing to say. “Why don’t you come sit in the backseat with me? Is that okay?” Your tone is slightly placating and you wish it wasn’t, but you’re at a bit of a loss for the best way to navigate this situation. Especially since you have little to no idea of what is causing his panic.
His eyes squeeze shut as the rest of his muscles go stiff, the tears that were collecting in the corners of his eyes falling swiftly down his reddened cheeks. Though it looks like it pains him, he gives a stunted nod and allows you to lead him back over to his car. You open the rear passenger side door and look over at him – he looks so lost and scared like this, 2 things you’re not used to your boyfriend being. But you’re here for it either way and motion for him to go in first, waiting for him to settle in the middle of the back before you slide in after him and shut the door behind you both.
The seal of the door makes the ambient noise of the outside fall away, leaving only the hum of the AC coming from the still running BMW. While you had worried it would feel too cramped for him at first, he had later explained to you that he didn’t find it cramped. It felt contained, which helped his panic when it came.
Twisting in your seat, you face him with a hand on his forearm. He stares straight forward, focusing far off. “I’m gonna sit in your lap, is that okay?” He doesn’t answer, just opens his arms and adjusts his legs to give you room to hop on. With the sedan’s low ceiling, it takes a bit of maneuvering, but you manage to crawl over to straddle his lap: knees by his hips, ass on his thighs, and hands resting on his chest. Almost instinctively, his arms wrap around you and pull you in to press along the entire front of his body.
Tucking your forehead against the side of his neck, you let him adjust as needed until he stills with his arms looped over your back. Like this, you’re effectively a warm, weighted blanket for him. A living, breathing one that grounds him to reality and gives him something to focus on. You make your breathing as obvious as you can, giving him a chance to try to mimic it, and listen to his heart rate slowly begin to lower with your ear pressed to his chest.
While the tension comes and goes in the silence between you for a little while, you know the worst of it has passed when his hands start to move. From stationary, they move into a subtle stroke along your curved spine from your position. Small at first, but gradually growing in length and firmness as he calms down further. You don’t want to push it, don’t want to move too soon, don’t want to cause him more upset, so you allow yourself to melt further into him with the soft touches and wait for him to be ready.
Eventually, Steve heaves a deep breath that comes much easier and fuller than those previous. It’s accompanied by a low hum that you feel more than hear from your place against his chest. His hands skate down to rest on your hips, giving a soft squeeze, before he murmurs, “Hey honey.”
With that, you slowly withdraw from your spot and straighten as much as you can, putting a few inches between your faces. His face is ruddy and his cheeks are damp, like he spent a lot of your hidden time crying, and you offer a sad smile through the stab of pain the sight causes you. “Hi handsome,” you hum back, tension easing when his mouth tilts in a shy smile. “You come here often?”
“Too often,” he replies with a soft, self-deprecating laugh. His hands slide further – from your hips to resting on the tops of your thighs. When he speaks next it’s rough and broken at the edges. “I’m sorry.”
Quick to react, you use your hands to cup both sides of his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with you to try to ebb any possibility of a second attack. “No sorries, no more.” You lean in to press a soft kiss to his pouting lips, pulling away just enough to press your forehead to his. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad, I’m not upset. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
His mouth presses into a tight line, jaw muscle rolling with tension as he clenches his teeth together. “I told Lucas I would drive him home after his game at the school tonight,” he explains through a sigh, eyes closed gently. “They went into overtime and he was out in the game, not even on the bench like he normally is, and I was just so excited for him. I completely lost track of time.”
“That’s okay, Steve,” you press your forehead a bit tighter before relaxing again. “That’s great for Lucas and I’m glad you had fun watching. It happens, losing track of time. Everyone does it once in awhile.” He heaves another shaky breath, the exhale ghosting warm over the lower half of your face from the proximity. “Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
You leave it up to him with no judgement. Sometimes he will say no, he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. But you always want to give him the option to talk about it right then when it’s fresh on his mind.
“I, uh… I thought you’d be mad.” He admits quietly, sounding ashamed. “Maybe not even mad but just… Disappointed?” 
Your expression cracks, sadness filling you, but you wait to make sure you don’t end up interrupting. You’d learned your lesson that if you tried to make it too much back and forth, he would get distracted and lose his train of thought.
“I guess I was worried that being late would make you feel like you can’t trust me anymore. That I’m unreliable. And if I’m unreliable, then maybe you won’t want me to give you rides anymore. And if I don’t drive you home from work anymore then…” He pauses, the continuous train of thought reaching its conclusion that he hadn’t anticipated at the beginning. “If I stop being useful, you won’t want me around anymore.”
“Oh, baby…” You can’t help but sigh, heart twisting in pain for the boy in front of you. “I don’t spend time with you because you’re ‘useful’. I’m not dating you because of the things you do for me or something like that. I like you because you’re you, Steve Harrington.” His eyes open when you say his full name, a bit watery behind the now smudged lenses. “You’re kind and loving and brave and genuine. Not to mention, kind of a stud muffin.”
He huffs a small, wet laugh at that, bringing little smiles to both of your faces. The sadness in his eyes begins to shift, steadily growing into awe and adoration the longer he looks at you. “You could never pick me up from work again and I would still be just as stupid crazy for you as I am right now, swear to god.”
“Oh yeah?” He sniffles slightly, clearing his throat as he tries to regain some footing. “How stupid crazy are we talking here? Because I think I might be a little bit deeper,” he teases, hands squeezing the meat of your thighs as his smile slowly grows.
“How about this,” you lean in to press one more quick kiss to his pink lips before you pull back to look at him head on. “How about we agree that I’m crazy for you and you’re stupid for me and we’re even in our prospective fields?”
“Prospective fields?” His head shakes with his shoulders when he chuckles again, the warmth of his smile once again meeting his bright eyes. “You’re kind of a nerd, you know that right?”
“Yup!” You answer happily, “That’s why I’m the crazy one and you’re the stupid one.”
“Oh gee, thanks,” comes his mocking reply, eyes rolling heavily. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, because you’re trouble.”
Fingers trailing down from his jaw to rest on the front of his chest, you aren’t able to bite back your cheeky grin. “I thought you liked that about me.”
With a grin that mirrors your own, his hands make an opposite trail, going from your thighs, brushing over the flesh of your ass before gripping tight on your hips again. “I do. I like everything about you actually.”
Flustered suddenly by the flattery, you hide your sudden shyness by leaning back in and wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug. He returns the embrace, leaving the two of you closer to how you had been when you first got in the car.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair, fingers once again brushing up and down your spine. “For everything.”
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