#know what I DEFINITELY could not win a fight against?

[foxufortunes]

Some days, I think too long on the Moriyamas and Nathan and the Hatfords and start seeing the code of the matrix (and also forgetting what's fanon and what's canon, send help there's so much) and realise that they're all so stupid when approached from at actual mafia angle and want to write proper scary villain mafia stories (you know, ones where intelligent scary villain is a code for SA and torture every chapter) because there is so much scope for interesting things and the Moriyamas and the mafia idea is so underplayed (and I'm mostly choosing to be generous and put this down to Neil just not getting it because it's not exy and he's very scared of his dad).

I mean, lets start off small, the Trojans would absolutely be under investigation for match fixing after their stunt vs the Foxes, one of the most common organised crime involvements in sport and you can bet there was one launched about the Foxes win (and you can also bet the Moriyamas had a bit of money on them just in case) why does fandom never look at this?

For the record, everything after this is critical engagement of character/plot/fan portrayals of certain things. Don't like, think everything is perfect, don't proceed.

But like, more seriously, I'm sorry, Mr Wesninski, the big British family maybe gave you, maybe arranged with your bosses and her, their daughter, who is at best a powerful mafia boss babe in her own right there as an ambassador to strengthen business ties, and at worse just a daughter to marry off, the equivalent of giving you an expensive shiney vase, and you (maybe) abuse her and (definitely) her son, well beyond what could be called "reasonable for a mob boss" (bc lbr who expects a mob boss to be paragon of virtue?), which, no matter which option you want to take for Mary's situation, tells the Hatfords what you think about them. They gave you a shiny vase with another shiny vase inside it and you shattered it? Where's the respect? They married off an ambassador to you and you abused her and her child? You just ruined business and contacts and gave the Wesninskis and Moriyamas a bad name. Even if we assume the Hatfords are an awful family and that's why Mary didn't want to go back to them, Mary is their property gifted to Nathan and he mistreated it showing a complete lack of respect for them and looking bad on the Moriyamas as his boss who probably arranged it.

Then I come to the question of what's the deal with the kids Moriyamas? Where do all the other kids go that aren't sold to Tetsuji? How big is the second branch? Just exy, in which case what are you doing with all the other kids? Killing them? Awful way to keep loyal followers, gotta say. It actually would make more sense for the majority of them to be at the nest, as hostages to keep your men loyal, assuming they care about their kids and using exy as a way to fight for their parents honour within the Moriyama's business in a similar way to Riko himself. And like the idea that you can't have kids goes basically against everything a lot of these families stand for. Even if you're not passing on your criminal empire, you're still looking to pass on your name a legacy. Also, I still can't make sense of if Neil was a gift, or sold, or some combo of both and if it was to Tetsuji or Riko or that's just Riko being Riko, and who the money actually came from, like did Mary steal Nathan's money considered Moriyamas bc everything Nathan owns is Moriyama or was it payment for Neil or was it actually Moriyama money?

And I can and have spent hours going through the complicated web of control that is Riko vs Tetsuji and where any power actually is because every time I think I've got it something else comes up and contradicts it.

And that's not even going into how the fandom portrays the mafia and Ichirou. Ichirou is like 90% ruined for me, he's an interesting character fanon has ruined to the point where I can't bring myself to touch fics involving him anymore because I know what you're going to do with him.

[rithmeres]

i don’t think i’ve rewatched atla since becoming a committed pacifist and i just finished what was probably my tenth rewatch and i have never loved aang more. i've seen it so many times but i still came away with a new appreciation for the way the end of the story was handled. aang is the only survivor of a genocide and he is clinging to the last remnants of his culture and religion, and everyone is telling him the only way to save the world is to kill the dictator whose regime is responsible for the genocide, but to do so would abandon the deeply held beliefs of his people. if aang goes against his beliefs and kills ozai, his people's way of life dies completely and sozin wins.

aang knows it would be wrong but he can't see another way out so he prays for an answer, and the universe hears him and the spirits send out the lion turtle, and the creator answers him. and here's the thing that i never put together before today: aang would not have been able to energybend ozai if he had given in and wanted to kill him. the lion turtle tells aang that only the incorruptible can bend another’s energy, or else they will become corrupted themselves. and i think that aang, because of his love for the fire nation as he had once known it, was never corrupted by personal hatred for the fire lord or the fire nation. he was able to expertly hold two conflicting beliefs in harmony better than any adult could, the belief that ozai is a horrible person and the world would be better off without him and that he's still a human being with a life that is sacred.

and i don't think it's a matter of selfishness like some people make it out to be. aang is not some immature little kid who doesn't want to kill because killing is for bad guys. he's an incredibly wise and spiritual person who was shaped by airbender beliefs and upholds airbender beliefs, and he can see beyond the scope of this war. the balance of the world depends on the existence of the four nations, and aang does not just represent the air nomads, he IS the air nomads. he's all that's left.

despite many people’s interpretation of the four past avatars’ advice, none of the past avatars outright tell him to kill ozai. they tell him to be decisive, to bring justice, to be proactive, to be sacrificial. but none of them tells him definitively to kill him. he doesn't disobey or ignore their advice, he follows their ancient wisdom while still staying true to his beliefs. yangchen actually comes the closest to outright telling him to kill ozai (even more than kiyoshi, surprisingly) but what she fails to account for is that aang is not just the avatar, he is the last airbender, and being the last airbender is far greater a burden than being the avatar. no matter what happens, once he dies, there will always be another avatar. but if he is not careful to preserve the airbender way of life, there will be no more airbenders. yangchen could sacrifice her air nomad way of life for the sake of her duty to the world because there were thousands of other air nomads to continue their traditions. aang has no such privilege.

and it's not that he doesn't want to kill, it's that he actually doesn't think he can do it -- both that he won't be able to emotionally bring himself to kili someone, and, prodigy that he is, he doesn't have the raw bending skill to overcome a comet-powered master firebender. and then it turns from 'i don't think i can do it' into ‘i can’t do it.’ and when the avatar state gives him enough power to actually do it, he changes the answer to ‘i won’t do it.’ he overcomes all the combined power of his past lives to say no, i have found another answer and i will remain incorruptible. to kill is to maintain the power struggle of the fire nation and to reject air nomad wisdom and without airbenders the world CANNOT be brought into balance.

the only thing ozai cares about is power, and that's what the entire fight with ozai is about, physically and ideologically, because ozai only sees power in terms of force, fear, threats, and violence. to ozai, aang (and his entire people) are weak and undeserving of life because they are largely pacifists, but he fails to see the magnificent power that the airbenders do hold, spiritual wisdom and mastery of the self and contentment and joy and harmony and a deep understanding of the world that a man like ozai could never obtain. to kill ozai would ratify ozai’s worldview that power as he defines it is the most important pursuit in the world and the only way to assert one's right to be in the world is to be cruel and violent like him. i think to ozai, becoming powerless might be worse than being dead. he wants power, or he wants death, and aang gives him neither. it upends everything he believed in. aang, the avatar, but more importantly, the last airbender, armed by his past lives' power and his people's love and the spirit world's blessing and the lion turtle's omniscience (and toph's mastery of true sight through neutral jing), ends the war 100 years to the day after the air nomad genocide, in the way that his people taught him, with power that goes beyond force and violence, with spiritual wisdom, with an incorruptible soul, with mercy -- mercy that is not weakness, mercy that brings justice.

[storiesforallfandoms]

winner ~ josh futturman;future man

word count: 2263

request?: no

description: in which she walks in on her best friend..."celebrating" his big win, and decides to help him

pairing: josh futterman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (masturbation, oral - m receiving, unprotected p in v, josh is a bottom bitch but we been knew)

masterlist (one, two, three)

My hand was raised to knock on the door when it suddenly swung open. Mrs. Futturman smiled at me. "Oh, hello (Y/N)! Come on in!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Futturman," I said as I stepped past her. "Is Josh home?"

"Yes, he's upstairs in his room playing that fantasy game he loves so much."

Of course he was. I could've predicted that. If Josh wasn't at work, he was locked in his bedroom trying to beat an unbeatable video game. If I was ever able to actually coax him out of his room to come over to my place, all he'd do was talk about the game. It was like an addiction for him. I guess it could've been worse; Josh could actually be socializing and getting a girlfriend.

Yeah, I know. Best girl friend with a crush on my best guy friend cliche. Unrequited crush on a friend and all that.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Mr. Futturman said as he came down the hallway. "Looking for Joshy?"

"That I am, Mr. Futturman. I know he's in his room."

"Diane and I are going out for a few hours. Help yourselves to whatever you want!"

Josh's dad patted me on the shoulder and his mom smiled at me before they both walked out. I watched as they got into their car, then turned to do exactly as Mr. Futturman said: help myself to whatever I wanted. I grabbed a can of soda from the fridge and one of Mrs. Futturman's famous cupcakes. I would've grabbed one for Josh, too, but if he was deep enough into his game I knew he wouldn't be eating for a while.

I climbed the stairs to Josh's room. If we hadn't been such good friends, I would've knocked on his door instead of just walking in. If I had paid more attention to the sounds coming from his room instead of his mom's delicious cupcake, I would've realized they were not the sounds of his video game.

Honestly, if I hadn't come over at all, I wouldn't have seen what I did.

Because instead of finding my best friend deep in his game, I found him with his head thrown back against his gaming chair and his hand wrapped around his cock, furiously pumping. The sounds coming from his mouth were sinful and things I definitely should not be hearing. I was frozen, watching the entire situation that I knew I should not have been watching. I was so shocked that my drink and cupcake slipped from my hand. The soda can clattered to the floor, soda spilling all over the floor at my feet. It was that sound that finally made Josh open his eyes and turn to look at me. I could only imagine my panicked expression matched the one on his face.

"Shit," he breathed, trying to pull up his boxers.

I finally remembered myself and turned away as he tried to cover himself. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"You could've knocked!"

"When do I ever knock, dickhead?" I could hear him still struggling. I fought every urge that was telling me to turn around and look at him again. "Your parents told me you were playing Biotic Wars."

"I was. I - uh - I beat the game. I was...celebrating."

Under different circumstances, I'd probably get very excited over Josh beating his game. That would make him the first person to ever beat Biotic Wars in the entire world. It was certainly an achievement worth celebrating.

But a different idea crossed my mind.

I turned back to Josh, who still had his pants around his ankles and his boxers haphazardly pulled up. I could still see the outline of his hard cock fighting against the material of his boxers.

"Maybe I can help you celebrate."

He looked at me in confusion. I swallowed my nerve and started across the room. Josh's eyes followed my every move as I came to stand in front of him. His eyes widened as I sank to my knees in front of him. I watched his face as I reached for the waistband of his boxers, waiting to see if he was going to protest.

"Please," he whimpered.

I couldn't help but smirk as I pulled his boxers down to meet his pants. His cock sprang free, red and painfully hard. I couldn't help but marvel at the size. I had definitely fantasized about him when I was alone, but I was definitely doing him an injustice with those fantasies.

I pushed Josh so he was sitting down in his gamer chair again. I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick and pumped slowly. Josh's mouth fell open as I took the tip in my mouth, still pumping my hand at the base. I swirled my tongue around the head every so slowly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I held his eye as I took more of him into my mouth, going down just enough for my mouth to meet where my fist was wrapped around him. His head fell back against his chair again as I began to bob my head on his dick.

I held on to his thigh with my other hand, trying to keep myself steady as I picked up the pace slightly. Josh was a moaning mess, putty in my hands (almost literally). I glanced up at him again, watching his Adam's apple bob with every lewd sound that came from his mouth.

"Can you take it any deeper?" he asked. "Please?"

There was something about the begging tone of his voice that turned me on even more. I removed my hand from the base of his dick, placing it on his other thigh and taking him further into my mouth. His eyes screwed shut as he moan out into the room again. I could feel his dick twitching in my mouth with every inch that I took in. Eventually I almost had him completely taken in, the tip all but touching the back of my throat. I had never felt so grateful to not have a gag reflex.

His hand found it's way to my hair, just resting there at first as I started to pull my head back. But then I was being shoved back down at such a quick speed that my eyes suddenly watered and I quickly had to pull off to start coughing.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just...it felt so good. I needed to be in your mouth again."

"It's okay," I said. "But maybe don't shove your dick down my throat suddenly, okay?"

He nodded quickly. "Okay, okay. Please put my dick in your mouth again."

I smirked up at him. "Well, since you're being so good and using your manners."

He moaned out as I took him into my mouth again. I didn't tease this time. I immediately picked up my pace. Saliva started dripping from my mouth and ran down his cock. I was somewhat impressed by the fact that his chair hadn't toppled over or broke or anything with the sheer force of what was going on.

Josh's hand fisted my hair as whimpers and moans escaped from his lips. I could feel his dick twitching, signaling that he was getting close to his release.

"Stop," he said, his hand pulling at my hair. "Wait, stop."

I pulled off and looked up at him. "Are you okay?"

"I am so much more than okay. I'm actually really close, but I want to be inside of you before I cum. If...if that's okay, I mean."

I was off my knees before he could even finish his sentence. I got onto his lap and pressed my lips to his. It caught him by surprise, but he was responding to my kiss quickly. His hands held my waist as I awkwardly straddled him in his chair, the plastic of the arm rests digging into my legs.

"We have to move to the bed," I said between kisses. "I can't fuck on this thing."

"I figured it was a long shot, but the thought was so hot to me," he said.

I got off his lap and he stood. He kicked his pants and boxers off into a pile on the floor before reaching for my shirt. He paused a moment, like he was waiting for my permission. I playfully rolled my eyes and pulled the shirt off myself and removing his as well. I started kissing him again, deciding to give him the pleasure of taking off my pants and panties himself. Once I had them kicked to the floor, joining the other discarded clothing, we both started backing up towards his bed. I lightly pushed him so he was laying down on the bed before climbing on top of him.

"Fuck," he breathed. "This is a nice view."

I giggled. "You're a real charmer, Josh."

I spit in my hand and lathered it over his already saliva soaked cock. I hovered over him, lining him up with my entrance, before slowly sinking down onto him. We moaned in unison as I went down until he was buried completely inside of me. His hands were gripping at my hips, no doubt leaving crescent indents in my skin.

"Please move," he begged. "Fuck, I need to feel you, please."

"I never took you to be such a sub," I teased. "But I like to hear you beg. Can you ask me nicely one more time to ride your cock?"

"God, please ride me. I need to cum so bad. I wanna feel you before I cum."

I put my hands against his bare chest to steady myself and slowly began to grind on his cock. He was buried so deep inside of me, hitting the one spot my past hook ups could only dream of hitting. With every slow grind, he was nudging that spot more and more, and his pubic bone was rubbing against my clit. I hadn't realized how turned on sucking his dick alone had made me, but I felt like I wasn't about to last long either.

I leaned over to kiss Josh's lips. His tongue ran along my bottom lip, asking for entrance, which I granted him. My grinds had turned into bounces on his cock, the pressure inside me building more and more by the second. I could tell by the way his dick was twitching that he was getting close too.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum," he breathed. "Fuck, I-I don't have a condom on."

"I'm on the pill," I assured him. "I want to feel you cum inside of me."

"Fuck!" he cried out, his head lulling back onto the pillow beneath him as he finally reached his climax. The feeling of his warmth filling me up was enough to push me over the edge as well, crying out into the otherwise silent house.

I sat on top of him as both of us tried to regain our breaths. Josh sat up, wrapping an arm around my lower back to cradled me as he flipped us over. I gasped as he slowly pulled out of me, feeling his seed running out of me.

"I had to clean my sheets anyways," he said, eyeing the mess between my legs. "Hold on, let me clean us up."

He hurried out of the room and returned with two cloths. He passed one to me and we both cleaned ourselves up. He tossed the cloths onto the floor with the rest of our discarded clothes before getting back onto his bed with me. I was a little shocked when he pulled me into his arms, but I wasn't about to protest to post-sex cuddles.

"So," he said, running his fingers up and down my arm, idly, "how long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Uh...since I went through puberty and realized what sex was?" I offered.

He whistled. "That long, huh? And you never told me?"

"How was I supposed to tell you? Hey Josh, I know we've been best friends since primary school and you probably don't view me like this, but I have a massive fucking crush on you. Anyways, enjoy your video game that you never stop playing."

"Who says I don't view you the same way?"

"Well, obviously you view me as someone you want to have sex with considering the fact that we just had sex."

"I view you as more than someone I want to have sex with - "

"Friends with benefits is still just seeing me as someone you wanna have sex with."

"Will you listen to me?" he said as he covered my mouth with his hand. "I mean I like you, too, (Y/N). I always have. But I thought you only saw me as a friend, so obviously I wasn't about to say anything."

I groaned and pushed his hand off of my mouth. "God, we are such a cliche, aren't we?"

He chuckled and placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head up so that he could kiss me on the lips again.

"At least this finally happened now that you finished that game," I said. "I never would've gotten your attention beforehand."

"That's not true!"

"Josh, you didn't pay attention to me before. Being your girlfriend wouldn't have made much of a difference."

"It totally would've!"

"Shut up before I decide to take back everything I said."

I kissed him before he could come up with a comeback.

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

[joonipertree]

Gang Leader Girlfriend Things™

Tags: Mikey x Fem!reader, Fluff, crack, no angst, he's only soft for you <3, love of his life

You know, I think the first rule of joining a gang should be 'don't piss off the leader'. Like, you wanna fight people who can whoop your ass? Go for it, that takes courage and respect. But you join a gang like Toman with 'Invincible Mikey' as the head, the one thing you should probably not do is make him mad.

(Nobody is stupid enough to do that though, much less Toman.)

Mikey personally didn't fight the weak, finds no joy in something that isn't a challenge. Two highschoolers that got recruited by Mitchy's crew? He could tell they were nothing from the back of their babbling heads.

"My god, there's no way a girl like that is here. She's so fucking hot."

"What's a girl even doing in a gang? There's no way she fights."

Mikey's eye twitched. Not only are you most definitely in Toman, with a gang jacket and everything (You had your own but you ended up wearing his most of the time, pretty in what's his.) One of Toman's strongest was Senju, someone who would kick their ass too.

"Do you think she's single?"

"She is not." Mikey drawled, eyes dead and head tilted. Draken came behind him, wondering why his captain was just standing there. Mikey was always friendly with new members but very evidently, those two were an exception.

"What a bummer. She could've been mine."

Draken wanted to laugh so badly but Mikey's hand was warning him into silence before he could.

Mikey couldn't see the dude's face but knew that he was too ugly for you. You weren't into pathetic fucks. And the only person Mikey was pathetic for, was you.

A lot of gang members' eyes were on them now, ready to bow to their captain but stopping when Draken raised his palm. They could tell something was off, looking at the two kids who just didn't bother turning. The aura around Mikey was practically tangible though, suffocating to anyone who took notice.

Yamagishi staggered towards his friends, ready to point out the very dangerous threat behind them. Of course, he was the one who recruited them. If he wasn't Takemitchy's friend, Mikey would've added him to his blacklist. Mikey's finger against his lip kept Yamagishi from saying anything. Their fates were sealed already.

"Man, I could probably take her boyfriend on. Easy win and I get her."

Draken choked, Yamagishi wanted to die, the few people who were close enough to listen stepped away. Mikey still didn't say anything, because the moment he was waiting for finally happened.

Chifuyu had let you know of the arrival with a nod of his head, pausing in his rant about a manga you guys had been reading. You saw Draken's head first, eyes lowering, knowing that Mikey would always fall close. And there he was, his blond ponytail the only thing you could see. Your heart filled up like it always did because fuck, you wanted to consume him in your love. His eyes peaked out and your smile stretched your cheeks.

You walked as if on auto pilot, feet having a pep in them as you did. He stepped out in full view and you squealed at his gentle eyes and outstretched arms. You practically ran to him, you missed him and missed him and missed him.

Your shoulder grazed someone's as you zoomed past and launched yourself into Manjiro's warm embrace. Strong arms encircled you immediately, his cheek squishing against yours. And before you knew it, your feet were off the ground as he twirled you around. Unabashed laughter left your lips, hanging onto him and letting his warm and wet kisses pepper your face. The swooping in your chest was welcomed, clinging to the boy you've loved for years. Your precious----

"Hi, Jiro~" You crooned, eyes open to catch his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.

He put your feet on the ground and pulled you close by the waist, noses touching each other's.

"Hi, baby." He said in a hushed voice.

You gave his cheek a peck, knowing one on the lips would result in him not getting off of you. There was supposed to be a meeting, so you decided to have him later. Being a gang leader's girlfriend was hard work.

"Did you have a good day?" You asked, knowing he woke up an hour ago, barely in the realm to text you a 'good morning, honey' ('Morning' in Mikey's realm was 1pm).

"Mhm." Mikey hummed, giving your cheek a kiss too. You relished in it.

"Where are you going?" Draken's voice came gruffly and you saw the tall man with his hands on two members' shoulders.

Your boyfriend's gaze fell on them, hardened and cold. It made you shiver, his arms tightening around you when you did. It didn't scare you, he looked hot but it never meant anything good.

You blinked at the two boys, confused and just now noticing the complete silence and the eyes of everyone on you.

I mean, you were a spectacle whenever Jiro was involved but weren't they used to it by now?

"You guys have really bad awareness if you didn't notice me even when I spoke up. I don't know if we want that in our gang." Mikey's words were sweet but dripping in venom, a grin to hide his clear rage.

"I'm so so sorry, boss! We didn't know she was yours, I swear!!" Dude no 1 got on his knees immediately, more so because his legs gave out.

"It's our first day, please have mercy." Dude no 2 shouted, bowing till his head met the floor.

Oh, you thought, they were actual idiots.

Seeing people bow and beg at your boyfriend was always surreal. You knew he had repertoire and respect because of years of being a gang leader. Personally, you never really understood gang things tm. But you knew your Mikey could kick ass and people looked up to him, so you always enjoyed the times he did gang leader things tm cuz it was hot.

"Yamagishi, you recruited them so you have responsibility. Have anything to add?" Mikey asked the frozen boy, who probably stopped breathing a long time ago.

"Uh, it was Takemitchy's idea?" The boy said, knowing who Mikey's kryptonite was.

"You're the one who asked me. Don't try to get me killed along with them!" The acting president hollered.

Mikey turned to his best friend, smile still plastered on his face. If Takemitchy didn't have the trauma to back up his biggest endeavour, he would be worried that the dark impulse would've possessed him from that interaction alone.

"Mitchy, normally I would let the head captain step in for any decision made about their division. But since they directly challenged me, we have to deal with it like all gangs do, right?"

"We didn't....we didn't know, promise!" Dude no 2 peeped out.

"Hmm, but wasn't it you who said that you could take her boyfriend on? It'd be an easy win? There's enough people who witnessed that."

"Oh, Lord Almighty." Takemitchy murmured, "nothing can save them now."

"Not even an hour in and they're going to die." Another murmur from the crowd. (It was Ran)

"I never said that, I am not a part of this." Dude no 1 threw his friend under the bus immediately. It was understandable.

"'She could've been mine,'" Mikey practically sang, taking off his jacket, "is what you said, right?"

"No I couldn't," you spoke absentmindedly, only looking at your boyfriend cuz you'd lost interest in the morons, "you're too ugly for me."

It was a blow that hit almost as hard as the kick they were about to receive. Mikey let out an affectionate snort as he covered your head with his jacket. The heavy material blocking your peripheral as he left your side within a second. A sick crack brandished the air, followed by two thuds.

"Welp, that fight didn't last. How boring, wanted to show off." Mikey sounded bored, the asphalt crunching under his slippers as he walked back.

"Are they--" Takemitchy's panicked pitch followed, a very common tone whenever Mikey was involved.

"Breathing." Draken called out, giving them a light kick on the side to check.

"Takemitchy, your crew is banned from recruiting." Their leader yelled back with his head only half turned, a flurry of 'yes sir!'s came.

"Thank you for holding onto my jacket, baby." Mikey whispered as he took the jacket off your head and draped it on his shoulders. His eyes were back to being kind and gentle, warm hand cupping your face in gratitude. You melted into him, eyes closing. He left a kiss on your forehead, keeping you close.

"Ah, I'm hungry," he whined, "let's go get mcdonald's. I didn't eat breakfast."

"You didn't?" You asked as he interwined your fingers together and tugged.

"I had cereal but that barely counts." Mikey started chattering on, waving a hand to dismiss the meeting that never began.

[unsolvedjarin]

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

“Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

[ghosts-and-glory]

if requests are still open, what about some Shamura doodles / headcanons?

You know I always have a Shamura up my sleeve, Shamura, save me Shamura.

Btw the dialogue is a quote from “I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream” by Harlan Ellison (1967) because it’s like my favourite piece of literature to ever exist lmao

Idk why but I like mentally zoomed in on how Shamura joins your cult dissenting. I think they should also get to try and kill The Lamb, as a treat.

Headass ramblings under the cut.

It may be a hot take but I feel as though Shamura probably has the most hostile relationship with The Lamb. (Only rivalling Heket probably.) Again joining the cult dissenting, they’re the ex bishop of war who caused the sheep genocide and they don’t even seem to grasp the gravity of their actions due to their injury.

I am most enamoured by what Shamura was like before the betrayal. Other npcs speak on them as if they where something so much more. What we see of them they seem unaware and consumed by guilt and after loosing their godhood they’re reduced even further. Like both Narinder and Kallamar’s fights are harder than Shamura’s and that drives me crazy, the implications of it.

Speed round, they’re a jumping spider to me and as a mortal around the age of 60.

As a oldest sibling myself I can and I will project so hard onto them watch this-

Shamura definitely is not the kinda eldest to have played kindly with their siblings. I know in my heart that they could win sparing matches against them and would ruthlessly kick their asses.

I am also blasting them with my aromantic beam.

Shamura, my problematic fave.

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest IV

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: mentions of hand injury, idiots in love, feels, jealousy, racism against orcs, angry behaviour, shouting, fight gets slightly physical, bruised arm, crying, angst (i'm sorry). I think that's all.

A/N: good news result in long chapters. thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has wished me good luck with my interview, you guys are angels. please enjoyxx💜💜

~

“You’re in love.”

“I’m what now!?” Bucky chuckled dismissively as he dropped his axe.

Bucky had spent half a day at home, refraining from going to work because of his hand’s condition, but as much as he loved staying home with her, he knew he wasn’t made to take a break.

So he thought he would visit, talk to Sam for a bit and maybe get some pent up ‘feelings’ out on some tree logs. His metal arm was still working just fine after all.

“I said, you’re in love with your human wife,” Sam repeated, smiling so warmly that Bucky wanted to smack him.

“I got her a few weeks ago.” Bucky shook his head in denial of the mere idea of him falling for anyone, let alone a human.

He did love Sam and Sarah, but that was it. They were the only humans he could tolerate. He hated the rest of them. Hell, he hated the human half of himself.

Bucky was just trying to make life easier for himself, that was all. He has been through enough conflicts and he didn’t need this in his marriage too. He deserved to live a normal life like everybody else.

Yes, he was courting her, and maybe he did constantly crave the feel of her body against his ever since she let him hug her the night of the injury, and he was definitely getting hopeful now that she hadn’t tried to run for a whole half day, but that didn’t mean he was in love! Did it?

“And now you’re in love with her.” Sam smirked, knowing how much it drove Bucky crazy that a female human had him on his knees for her love.

“Quit saying that!” Bucky stood up, ready to walk away from his annoying friend.

“Why does it make you so angry that you’re in lo—”

“Don’t,” Bucky warned him, eyes angry and glaring.

“—ve?”

“I am not in love with her, okay! She’s human! Plus, that girl drives me crazy! Do you know how many times I had to bring her back after she’d tried to run in the first two weeks? Five fucking times! That’s almost once every two days, Sam. And she only had one foot working!” Bucky ranted heatedly, desperate to negate his best friend’s theory.

Was he in love with her? And if Sam could see it, did that mean she could too?

“Well, why do you care to bring her back? Why not just let her run?” Sam shrugged, internally dying for Bucky to acknowledge his feelings.

“She could die out there! Humans are weak.”

“So?” Sam probed, intentionally ignoring Bucky’s remark about humans’ strength.

“So— so I signed all those things when she was offered to me. She can’t— I can’t—”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t let her get hurt,” Bucky admitted lowly, sitting down on a log with a loud sigh.

“Why does that make you so upset?” Sam dug deeper.

“Because I think you’re right. I think I might be in love with her.” Bucky rubbed his eye with his good hand, pushing his hair back angrily.

“And?”

“And she thinks I’m the devil.” Bucky’s face fell to his palms.

“Did she ever say that to you out loud?” Sam asked, touching the end of his sharpened blade.

“She doesn’t need to, Sam. I see it in her eyes every time I find her after she’d tried to run away.” Bucky’s voice was broken like his friend has never heard before.

“I thought you said everything was better after your injury?”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna last forever.” Bucky gave a sad grin, “she’s soon gonna go back to seeing me the same as before.”

“Well, it’s up to you to change her mind, Buck.” Sam patted his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Bucky sighed once more before getting up.

Sam was a human. A very handsome one with much less scars and non-icy skin. He would never understand. It would never work. She hated him.

He could continue trying, but it wouldn’t change anything of the way she felt about him and their marriage. She had told him time and time again how she felt about both.

“Going home already?”

“Yeah, I can’t miss the running away bit. It’s my favourite,” he sighed, Sam's laugh trailing behind him.

“Smile at her for a change.”

“Shut up.” I do smile at her. I only ever smile at her.

“Sarah loved the jam by the way!” Sam yelled.

“I’ll let her know!” Bucky yelled back before exhaling sadly.

Sam would never understand. Her taking pity on him those past couple of hours was nothing more than sympathy and likely even guilt.

Sam would never understand that of all the eyes in the world, it seems like Bucky has managed to fall for the only ones that knew how to hurt him, the eyes that would only look at him as a disgusting, frightening monster.

~

When Bucky got home, everything was creepily in place. His door was closed like he had left it and he actually had to use his key to open it for the first time in a while.

Stepping inside, the warm smell of roast chicken welcomed him back.

The house was warm because all the windows were actually shut, too. It was all so calm and homely; the orc was seriously worried.

And then he heard it: his human wife’s sweet voice, humming the melody of a song unfamiliar to him. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

Bucky carefully shut the door behind him, not wanting her peaceful mood to end so soon as he tried to take lighter steps to where she was.

Much to his dismay though, she needed something from the other side of the kitchen and when she turned around she saw Bucky and gasped, jumping embarrassingly high.

“You scared me!” She whined, holding a hand to her heart.

“Sorry.” Bucky smirked, entertained by how cute she looked when startled.

“Welcome home,” she mumbled with a bit-back grin, holding onto his forearms before getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

She never told him, but she was unbelievably thankful when he didn’t specify which type of kiss he expected weeks ago, and even more thankful when he didn’t object to her pecking his cheek before burying herself under the covers.

Life with Bucky has gotten undeniably familiar lately and leaving him was all of a sudden an idea that didn’t interest her as much as before.

Everything he was saying and doing has brought her closer to him without her even comprehending it.

As the days passed, she had realized running away was too exhausting, too risky, and for what? It wasn’t like she had a home to run to or a treasure buried somewhere or a lover worth escaping her orc for.

Her orc.

Hers.

A word she never felt the meaning of until the day Bucky made her his wife.

Bucky was the first and only one to present to her a taste of something she has never had: the feeling of exclusively owning things.

The smile that graced her face when she brushed her hair the first time with the brush Bucky got her was new and unprecedented.

Her brush, he called it.

Her shoes. Her chair. Her towel. Her clothes. Her books. Her side of the bed. Her cottage. Her kitchen.

And her husband.

Everything was brand new and completely hers.

Nothing was handed down to her, nothing was used before the minute her fingers had touched it. None of the things Bucky gifted her had previous owners, including him and his heart.

Most importantly, she didn’t have to share any of it with anybody.

“You’re home,” Bucky said, a surprised yet very happy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“I thought the wife was supposed to say that,” she replied playfully, going back to the bubbling pot.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the good mood she seemed to be in. He was liking this.

He watched her sprinkle some black pepper into the soup as he came behind her.

She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her even when they weren’t touching and it had her heartbeat going crazy.

“Thank you, little human,” Bucky whispered, before he leaned down and pecked her cheek as well, his stubble and blunt tusks tickling her jaw.

She felt her whole body jolt with electricity at the simple graze of his lips and tusks on her skin as she closed her eyes.

Bucky left the kitchen and went to the bathroom but she was still hot as if his warmth never left her.

And when she opened her eyes and absentmindedly reached her fingertips to touch her cheek, she found herself smiling too.

What was happening to her? What was this foreign feeling lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the kitchen?

“Sam’s sister loved your strawberry jam by the way!” Bucky shouted to her from the bathroom, making her jump again before smiling to herself.

He didn’t use Sarah’s name on purpose, not wanting to ruin her happy mood as he had noticed how angry she got every time he would say it.

“I’ll make her more tomorrow!” She replied with a grin, proud of her hand’s work, her jealousy long forgotten after Bucky’s words of the night before.

After all, how could she be jealous when she was the one that Bucky was looking at like that?

~

When she finished setting up the table and Bucky didn’t come out of the bathroom, she got a little worried.

He never took too long during his showers, and now that he only had one arm to use, she thought he would cut his showers even shorter.

What if his wound was bleeding again and he didn’t want to tell her and was trying to fix it by himself inside the bathroom? She knew she should have stopped him from going to the yard!

“Bucky.” She knocked on the door softly, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, little human?” Bucky instantly opened the door for her.

And he looked like a dream.

Steam has surrounded him inside the bathroom, water drops from his still-wet hair dripping down his muscular, bare chest and for the first time since Bucky has been naked around her, she found herself looking at him. Actually looking.

Bucky’s chest was so broad, beefy and ribbed down to his abdomen. Scars of all sizes and shapes littered the beautiful, icy greyish skin, a reminder of the battles he had fought and all the sacrifices he had made.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a pang of sympathy coursing through her as she could only imagine the pain he must have had to endure.

Still, she found her hands tingling in curiosity, desperate to know what tracing the healed skin would feel like under her fingertips.

Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, a sight that both captivated and unnerved her, stirring a flurry of unfamiliar emotions in her chest that she struggled to contain.

She averted her gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Are—” she chocked, her voice barely above a whisper as she coughed it out, “are you okay? You took a while.”

“Yeah, I’m just having a hard time drying up my hair with one arm,” Bucky reassured her, chuckling lightly at his dilemma as he let the towel around his neck drop.

He was completely oblivious to the way he just made her face burn up as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“Come.” She took Bucky’s hand in hers, careful not to squeeze his palm, and led him outside to their bed.

It took Bucky a second to move his feet, but when he did, he felt like he was being carried on top of a cloud.

She felt herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness, curiosity and… desire. A new sensation was tingling all over her body, specifically in places she didn’t need to be tingling right now.

Positioning herself between his parted legs, she reached to take the towel from around Bucky’s neck.

His eyes watched her, surprise flickering in them as he realized what she was going to do, unable to believe what was happening.

Sensing her nervousness, Bucky offered her a reassuring, grateful smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

And as she began to carefully pat his damp hair dry, her touch tentative and her eyes focused, he felt warmth welling up inside him.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at his bare shoulder and chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the engrossing sight. It was a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced before, her heart racing with unparalleled excitement.

The awkwardness of the situation began to fade bit by bit as she focused more on the task at hand, in its place growing an overwhelming sense of closeness and familiarity.

Bucky’s hair was so soft under her fingertips as she took the towel up and down the brown locks. She wished she had given herself a chance to touch it more before.

As she finished drying her orc’s hair, she met his gaze with a shy bite of her lip, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

Bucky reached out to take her hands, his smile appreciative as his lips pressed a deep kiss on each palm, silently thanking her for her kindness and care.

~

“I didn’t know your cooking was so good. You surprise me every day,” Bucky praised, as she filled his mouth with more lentil soup, trying not to think of his conversation with Sam or the way his body was still on fire from the mere act of her drying his hair for him.

He couldn’t even believe she was feeding him after seeing him struggle to keep the food on his spoon using his left hand.

“All the girls at the orphanage know how to cook. They teach us all sorts of things and make us to be good housewives,” she replied, suddenly nostalgic of her days at the orphanage, curious to know how, where and when Bucky got the chance to see her back then.

Bucky didn’t say anything, busying his mouth with chewing some bread as his smile shrank.

She didn’t look happy. Why did she stay then? Was she planning on running away at night that day? Maybe she put something in the food?

“I’m glad you like your dinner though,” she said, breaking the thick silence with a soft smile as she fed the orc a piece of chicken.

“Why didn’t you try to leave today?” Bucky couldn’t hold back.

She was taken aback by his question. She thought he wanted her here.

Was he finally done? Did he want her out? Was he not going to look for her this time? Has Bucky given up on her? Was he going to leave her be had she gotten out today?

Most importantly, she didn’t know how to answer because it seemed like she was done running away from her new life with him, and she didn’t know if she could admit that.

“I– did you want me to?” She asked, her voice strained as she tried to hold in the tears.

“No! No, of course not!” He assured her quickly.

“Then?” She chewed on her lip.

“I don’t want you to stop running if it makes you feel alive,” Bucky told her, his blue eyes gushing with love he didn’t intend to show, “I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting this at all, all the tingles she had hardly managed to shake off after drying Bucky’s wet hair coming back to attack her.

How were these words coming out of an orc! And why did they make her heart stutter in its beats?

“I love your fiery spirit and I’m afraid I’m killing it by keeping you here against your wishes. I never want to be the one to snuff your fire out.” Bucky admitted, eyes sincere as he watched her.

She just stared at him for a moment, stunned as her heart skipped yet another beat.

If he only knew that he was the one who had managed to bring this fiery personality to life.

Bucky respected her silence and went back to enjoying his dinner, not wanting to push her for a reply. She could take her time.

She kept staring at him in confusion for another minute before taking her almost untouched plate and getting up.

She almost ran to the kitchen with her hand on her heart.

What was going on with her? Her heart wasn’t seriously beating this loud for the orc. Could it be?

He sounded so selfless and spoke so gently like he has never before and she was overwhelmed.

His words were doing things to her that she has never felt before. What was wrong with her?

She knew she had caught herself staring at him without a shirt just minutes ago, maybe admiring his eyelashes as he slept in some early mornings, but she rendered it curiosity and nothing more.

She shook her head, her thoughts startling to her as she emptied her plate in the garbage and started washing it vigorously.

Bucky no longer had an appetite, sighing at her reaction.

He told himself he could understand, but it was still hurtful the way she jumped out of her chair.

He left his plate on the table, not wanting to invade her privacy by going to the kitchen before leaving the cottage altogether.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

~

She revisited the subject the same afternoon though, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between her and Bucky. Not any longer.

“I don’t wanna leave anymore,” she admitted timidly, making Bucky’s smile betray him and his usual frowning.

“But I don’t like being locked away in here all day either,” she said carefully, scared to upset him.

“Where do you wanna go? The forest is dangerous, little human.” Bucky was back to frowning at the thought of anything bad happening to her again.

It was torture for him when her foot was still healing and he was the most relieved when it finally did. He couldn’t just let her roam around when she didn’t know the area.

“Take me out when you come back from work maybe? Or even on your day off,” she suggested, desperate to see the world.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We can walk around the woods before it gets dark, you could show me your shop, I could meet Sam? Or we could even go to the market!” She suggested eagerly.

She has been locked up for so long and she didn’t want to continue her life like this.

Bucky actually thought about it and he didn’t hate the idea. Taking her out with him would ensure her safety. He would be by her side and he would protect her. He also liked the thought of taking her out and properly courting her even if she didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

He said he didn’t want to kill her spirit by keeping her in here and she gave him the solution.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded at her with a smile.

“Okay?” She exclaimed happily, not believing Bucky would actually take her out to see around.

“Okay.” He nodded again reassuringly, her happiness making him laugh.

“Well, don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked suggestively, gesturing to his hand.

Bucky laughed, nodding, “put your shoes on.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She involuntarily gave his healing hand a squeeze, kissing his cheek before running to get her shoes.

Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he would be able to hold himself together and not completely melt under her sweet company.

“You’ve got to promise me though,” he said.

She looked at him questioningly as she slipped one foot into a shoe.

“No running away, little human.”

“No running away. Promise.” She promised, shaking her head with a shy smile.

Bucky smiled big, taking her smaller hand in his as she grabbed her basket in the other, ready to browse the market with her husband.

Her husband. That was starting to sound unquestionably comforting.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?” She tilted her head with a grin.

“You owe me a kiss,” Bucky said, his tone serious.

“No, I don’t! If anything, I just gave you an extra kiss!”

“Yes, you do. From that morning. You’re still one kiss behind!”

“I just made up for it!”

“Doesn’t count. That one covers the night before.” Bucky shrugged, a smile etched on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” She kissed Bucky’s cheek, “stop going around saying other girls’ names though.”

Bucky laughed, “I only know one!”

“Still too many,” she whispered under her breath, but Bucky heard it, smiling from ear to ear as he took his hand in hers, taking the right path out of the woods. ~ It was a beautiful afternoon, full of warm sunshine and fruitful deals. She has got some pretty good stuff for really good prices.

She couldn’t believe Bucky actually gave her pocket money.

He didn’t want her to have to ask him for money every time something caught her eye. He wanted her independent, fulfilled and brave as she bought herself whatever her heart desired.

Her heart was so full and her smile was inerasable.

Bucky didn’t let go of her hand all day and she actually liked it so much that she never complained. The feel of his calloused skin against her soft palm wasn’t like anything she has felt before.

She didn’t want to let go of his hand even while looking at the different stands and booths at the market.

But she eventually liked the flower stand too much and told Bucky she would take a look at them while he continued buying them the fruits he was picking.

“Good afteroon,” a smooth voice interrupted her admiration of the potted plants before her, making her look up for a second.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled coyly.

“Any favorites?” The handsome man inside the booth asked her.

“All of them,” she giggled softly, the sound catching Bucky’s ears at once.

The man laughed back, “okay, I think I have something special for you. How about this one?” He brought her a purple flower from the batch hidden behind him inside the booth.

“Oh, how beautiful! What is this one?” She wondered, amazement sparkling in her eyes at the sight of the pretty petals.

“That is a Globemaster Allium. Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked, staring at her desirously as she looked at the flower.

“Yes, she’s stunning!”

“I’m Cole by the way—”

She heard Bucky clear his throat next to her and looked up at once, the innocent awe in her eyes softening the orc a little.

“Look, Bucky! Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” She pointed to the flower pot excitedly.

Bucky leaned in, his frown scaring her a little, her breath hitching when his lips tickled the shell of her ear, “no, little human, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She chocked on her own saliva, hiding her hot face with her hand as she coughed, “Bucky!” She whined with a shy smile.

Where did that come from!

“Let’s go,” Bucky said with a nod of his head, eyes stern as he glared at Cole.

“Can—” She held his wrist, “can I have it?” She asked softly, gesturing to the flower pot.

Bucky wanted to say no. He didn’t want her to have this farmer’s flower. But he couldn’t say no to those hopeful, beautiful eyes of hers.

“Fine.” He watched her get the money out of her pocket and she smiled gratefully as she almost set them down on Cole’s counter.

“It’s on the house,” Cole said, still smiling dreamily at her.

She could all but swallow as she gave a polite smile back before looking up at Bucky for help.

“Take your goddamn money.” Bucky made a quick job of paying for the flower, taking the money from her and slamming it on the counter, making the whole booth shake.

He quickly took his wife home, deciding that was enough socialization for the both of them for the day.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was loving jealousy on her orc. It felt so intoxicating to have someone love her so much that he was jealous of other men talking to her.

She wouldn’t tell Bucky, but she would probably spend the nights of the next week smiling at the wall every time she remembered how he held her hand back home just a little bit tighter that day.

Her own heart was running wild at the sight of the orc now and she didn’t want it any other way.

~

“Now you know how it feels,” she teased with a smile as they were getting ready for bed.

Bucky couldn’t let it go, talking about how they were never going to stop by that farmer’s flower booth ever again.

“That’s not the same! I was never into Sarah! But that man was openly ogling you!” Bucky grumbled, his frown digging deep into the skin of his forehead.

“He was just being nice, trying to sell his flowers,” she laughed, upsetting Bucky even more.

How couldn’t she see it? The guy was all over her!

“He was flirting and you were all giggles and blushes.” Bucky copied her, going to the bed and burying himself under the covers, facing the wall.

He understood now why she had done that.

“Hey, that’s my spot!” She joked, not knowing if Bucky was being serious.

“Not tonight,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

“Bucky,” she whined, uncovering her orc’s face.

Bucky didn’t reply, pushing himself closer to the wall.

She tried to bring him on his back by the shoulder like he so easily did her a couple of night ago, but he was too strong for her and his body wouldn’t budge.

She huffed, “okay, you left me no choice.”

Bucky remained still, wanting to see what she meant by that as he felt her shift behind him.

Before he knew it, she was on top of his bicep, trying to slot herself between his body and the wall.

“What on earth—”

“You started it, Bucky!” She said, voice determined as she kept pushing, trying to squeeze herself in the small space accessible.

Bucky looked at her in amusement for a second before moving back, making her body drop as larger space became available.

She landed with the tiniest “ouff” on the mattress, facing Bucky on her side with her back to the wall, its coolness helping soothe the heat rising to the surface of her skin.

That was the closest she had been to Bucky since their hug the night of his injury, face to face as his passionate sapphire eyes watched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Hi,” Bucky replied with a charming smile, smoothing some of her ruffled strands back in place.

She stared at the orc’s eyes, not the slightest bit scared of the fact that she was trapped against the wall by his huge body.

“You’re not the only one who wants to be loyal to this marriage, Bucky,” she said, surprising Bucky and herself, “I don’t want the farmer. I don’t want anyone else.” but you.

Bucky smiled in disbelief, taken aback by her words, and she took it as permission to move closer to his chest. He instinctively wrapped her up in a protective hug, wondering how he was able to hold himself back from kissing her.

She pushed her face into her orc’s chest, his scent and warmth engulfing her into a protective bubble.

She couldn’t believe she said the words she has just said and it made her bury her burning face deeper in Bucky’s arms.

He could only hug her tighter, his nose in her sweet-smelling hair as his smile grew bigger.

This moment right there was everything Bucky has ever wished for. He could die a happy orc right then and there.

~

It became a habit for them to go out to the village on Bucky’s day off. They were both having a great time, getting closer and falling harder.

Cole hasn’t spoken to her again after learning that the snow orc was actually her husband, and she respected Bucky’s feelings and never approached Cole’s booth no matter how pretty the plants on his stand were.

Market outings were their thing now and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.

She didn’t want anyone else’s attention but Bucky’s anyway. His hand has almost fully healed and she could now squeeze it all she wanted whenever she got excited about anything they encountered.

One thing did occur that annoyed her though and that was the way the jewelry lady would look at her every time she and Bucky would pass by. The woman had so much pity in her eyes when she saw her hand in an orc’s and she hated it.

She despised the way people misjudged her orc when he was far better than any human man she could’ve ever ended up with.

Yet, the lady kept giving her those pitiful looks, probably thinking Bucky had enslaved her or something.

But enough was enough.

When Bucky was busy looking at the knives, she made her way to the jewelry lady, determined to put an end to the ridiculousness.

“He is my husband,” she sternly told the lady in the jewelry stand, taking the chance that Bucky wasn’t listening.

“Oh.” The lady quickly gave a kind smile, turning from concerned about her to happy for her, “I apologize for misjudging you, dear. I was only worried about you. We’ve all heard stories about him.”

“Well, that’s all they are. Stories.” She ferociously defended, her eyes still stern.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sincerely expressed her regret, squeezing her hand.

She nodded with a small smile, accepting the older woman’s apology.

“I don’t see a ring on your hand.” The jewelry lady gestured to the collection of rings in her glass box with a wink.

“Oh.”

The sentence caught Bucky’s ears as he turned away to look at her embarrassed face.

“We didn’t get time to buy one. It all happened so quickly,” she explained awkwardly and Bucky’s expression fell.

“I have a pretty collection if you wanna take a look, and don’t worry about the price,” the older lady suggested kindly.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Choose what you like, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered to her, immediately by her side when he saw her eyes skimming over the jewelry, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the human marriage traditions. I should’ve gotten you one sooner.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to,” she reassured with a tender smile.

She didn’t need a ring to know that she was Bucky’s.

“I want to. I want you to wear my ring, little human.” Bucky raised her hands to his lips, placing the softest kisses on her each finger.

Her heart surged as a shy smile spread on her lips, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Okay.” She nodded happily, feeling like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Though very expensive, Bucky ended up buying her the ring she chose. It was the prettiest gold ring with a moss agate blue diamond.

She tried to talk him out of it, wanting to pick something cheaper, but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

She has never felt as special as she felt with Bucky’s ring on her finger. It was the prettiest thing from the most handsome orc.

And in that very moment, she was the happiest that she trusted her gut; that she gave Bucky, and herself a chance for this marriage to be something more than a contractual deal.

Bucky couldn’t believe she has finally let him make her his. When he slipped that ring on her tiny finger, he felt like he was king of the world.

While walking back to their cottage, a new dream got unlocked inside of her, one that included her and Bucky and their very own little stand in the market.

“Can we stop by the shop before we go home?” She asked tentatively.

“Sure, why? Did you forget something there yesterday?”

She has been to the shop a couple of times, curious to meet the important people in Bucky’s life and possibly have friends of her own, too.

“No, just wanna show Sarah the ring,” she said, a shy smile lighting up her happy face.

Bucky brought her hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger this time, “to the shop it is.”

~

Everything was going amazingly and she wished with all her heart that it would stay that way, but unfortunately, the very next day was a day for another fight that none of them saw coming.

Bucky still hasn’t recovered from her little stunt a few weeks ago and today he came back to find the cottage empty again.

He should have locked the door. He shouldn’t have trusted that a ring on her finger might stop her old habits or give her a magical change of heart.

What about all the small moments she had shared? Did those mean nothing to her?

Bucky’s anger and feeling of betrayal wiped away everything nice that had happened between the two of them, only remembering that she never wanted to be here in the very first place.

“Why are you so adamant about making me lose my mind?” Bucky asked, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“I’m not! Would you just listen?!” She yelled back, startled by the harsh treatment.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bucky shouted as if he didn’t hear her.

“I was just—”

“Wandering through the forest alone is dangerous, I’ve told you time and again, and yet you keep doing it!”

“Would you listen to me?!” 

“No! You acted like you would stop running, so what changed?!” Bucky threw his big arms in the air, making her take a step back.

Bucky looked bigger than he usually did when he was livid like that.

“I wasn’t running!” She repeated, her voice tinged with anger of her own at the distrust.

“Stop lying!” Bucky growled, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as she tried not to wince at the way Bucky held her forearm, her jaw clenched defiantly.

“Then what were you doing up the hill, huh?” Bucky unconsciously squeezed her arm harder.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but Bucky wouldn’t release her.

“You think you’re the only one who has fucking feelings?” Bucky shook her in his hold, unintentionally bruising her further.

She cried out but it fell on deaf ears, “Bucky, let me go!”

“Do you think what you do doesn’t affect me just because I’m not a goddamn human?!” He forced her closer, making her tears fall as he barked in her face.

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing through the spacious room.

“Bucky, please,” she tried again, not wanting to fight anymore.

Bucky finally listened, suddenly shocked at his actions as he let her arm go.

It’s been so long since he had made her cry and he just ruined everything good he had worked on building with her.

She just stood there, whimpering in pain as she held her arm to her chest.

Bucky watched her roll the sleeve of her winter dress up to look at her arm and there they were: thick fingerprints on her flesh.

“I— I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get closer to look at her arm, swallowing hard.

To his surprise, she let him.

“I’m sorry, little human.” Bucky wiped a few of her tears away, regret evident in his voice.

“I wasn’t running,” she repeated, pushing her hands in the pockets of her dress, “I was collecting berries to decorate the cake I made earlier.” She pulled handfuls of now ruined wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries out of her pockets and dropped them on the wooden table for him to see.

She left Bucky alone to stare at the berries and went to the kitchen.

And boy did he stare.

He felt so stupid and ashamed at the way he had reacted. He just hurt her and she wasn’t even trying to leave. He wouldn’t let her explain either and had unjustly judged her.

She got out a cold water bottle from the fridge, pushing it to her bruised arm.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, shame branded on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not knowing what to do to correct his mistake.

“What do you think?!” She irritably snapped at him, waving her bruised arm in the air.

“I just wanted to help!” Bucky barked back.

“Well, I don’t want your help!” She shouted.

“Fine! Don’t want it!” Bucky walked out, his feet stomping on the wooden floors.

He stormed out of the cottage, violently slamming the door behind him.

Bucky then realized what he has just done and how he had made the situation even worse. He kicked a rock so hard he was sure it flew to the other side of the forest as he saw birds flying disruptively.

“Damn it!” He yelled out loud, slamming his fist to the door, making her flinch inside the cottage.

The fight between the orc’s rough exterior and his rather tender feelings for her was torturing Bucky. What he meant to show was that he cared about her and was worried for her, but instead he’d done what he’d done.

She, on the other side of the wall, irately got out of the kitchen with the trash bin and swept the berries from the table, throwing them in the garbage.

When Bucky got inside again, she was cleaning the stain of the berries from the table, her features still twisted in a frown.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to fix this, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he left the cottage once more, leaving her all alone.

She sat down with a huff, throwing the cloth in her hand across the room.

She let her tears run in frustration.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night where they enjoyed a delightful desert that she has worked hard on making and was going to work hard on decorating.

She was trying to start a life with him. Why did he have to ruin it like that? She wasn’t running. How could she make him believe her?

She desperately wanted, needed Bucky to trust her.

She cried harder, feeling helpless in the face of her orc’s rage as her heart clenched at the thought of a happiness gone so soon.

Part V

~

Tag List:

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[s1m0nth3swag]

i apologise if i already sent this ask, my memory is terrible! if your requests are open, may i get an easily flustered male Reader/doorman who is mercilessly teased and flirted with by a doppelganger Francis and the real Francis watches? Whenever it's smut or not is up to you

I just absolutely need to imagine Scarlet Milk Francis and regular Francis.... thats a physical need actually.

Like flirty Scarlet Milk and Francis who's just like "bro i would never say that, cringe" UNTIL HE NOTICES READER GETTING FLUSTERED AND HE JUST GOES "damn. whore." (judgy Francis for the win <3)

I'm not at all down bad for Scarlet Milk Francis wdym this is normal, isn't it?

Also, uhm, uhm, a little badly written because I wrote this in Latin Class, and my brain is positively fried!

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Slight suggestive themes (not full blown smut though), Francis being judgy, Reader being down bad (relatable), part two worthy bullshit (because i love the thought of taking Scarlet Milk and Francis (totally in a fight.))

Blood. That's the first thing you noticed as your favourite Milkman walked in. He was covered in blood. When asked about it, he simply said it was 'Scarlet Milk', a new type of milk. You had simply nodded along, like yeah. This was totally normal. Not like you had let the actual milkman in just a few minutes later, and you knew that if you called the apartment his voice would sound from the telephone. You reached there, eyes fixed on the doppelganger - you had always thought Francis was attractive but this.. well, it was definetly a new high. "Don't call him." The doppelganger spoke, voice too sweet and buttery. He knew he'd gotten caught, but seemingly he.. didn't mind. He smiled at you through the small window that seperated the hall and your office. "Bet the real one doesn't even bat an eye at you, hm? You're so good looking, he really should." You flushed slightly, even though you know you shouldn't. This was a doppelganger, for gods sake! A ruthless monster that could easily kill you! Yet here you were, blushing at the fake Francis. And he knew he got you on the hook, you could tell by the grin that adorned his face.

If you had known that the actual Francis still stood just outside the door that led into the building, and had seen the fact that a Doppelganger with his face had walked in, you probably wouldn't be talking to it anymore. Much less if you had known that Francis hurriedly made his way to your office - he trusted you didn't have a memory of five seconds, but something told him you were in trouble. He didn't even bother knocking, just opened the door to what was probably the weirdest scene ever. You with a bright blush covering your face, his doppelganger having a shit eating grin on his face... Yeah this had to be a fever dream.

Meanwhile, you were absolutely done for. Sweet nothings, things you didn't think anyone would dare speak out loud - the doppelganger had probably given you the most compliments you'd ever received in your lifetime. You turned around in shock as you heard the door open, staring at the real Francis like a deer caught in headlights. "Look who decided to join us! Real me!" The doppelganger chuckled. "Was just telling this sweet thing what I'd do to them if they let me in." He purrs, tapping against the window teasingly. "They got real shy about it." You glared at the doppelganger, looking between him and the actual Francis. "What'd he say." Francis practically demands to know, and your cheeks flush a deeper shade of red at the thought of having to repeat the things the doppelganger said. This was probably a moment to sink into the ground forever. "Just said I'd give them something to do with those pretty lips. And then some other things.." The doppelganger answers in your stead. Yup, you definitely want to get swallowed by the floor at this point. Francis looks at you, raising a brow in silent judgement. "Seriously? I'd never say stuff like that. That's stupid." He sighs, his face scrunching in a frown. "And honestly, you see me covered in blood and think "Yeah I'd fuck that"? Really?" He adds, serious annoyance in his voice, and you don't even know what's happening anymore because this whole situation is so unreal. "I'm sure I'm really handsome." The doppelganger quips in. "Though.. I would look better without this awful uniform, don't you think, sweets?" You let out a silent groan, covering your ears in embarrassment.

You don't know why this continued, but now Francis and the doppelganger are yapping about how the doppelganger doesn't get Francis' speech right - you seriously stopped listening after they both told you to shush when you said you'd just terminate the Doppelganger... you only listened to hints of the conversation. Something about sharing is caring or so.

God, how did you get yourself into this...

[guav]

Hiii!!! Can I request a girlfriend Rindou reader, where Tenjiku doesn't even know he has a girlfriend like Ran doesn't even know, and so she meets Tenjiku, and she can fight really really good and she's like PRETTY PRETTY and like how...? Did RINDOU EVEN GET HER? And she stars to catch other members eyes ;)

ᥫ᭡ for haitani rindou and tenjiku, WAREHOUSE ROMCOM.

in which you insist on meeting your boyfriend's current gang and fuck, you definitely just knocked out one of their captains.

𔘓 it's my first time writing for some of these guys so i'm sorry if they're ooc D: you used she/her and mentioned girlfriend so i'll be using those for this fic :] around 3.1k words of chaos.

“rin, how come i’ve never met any of your friends?” 

the timing doesn’t allow for a deep conversation. rindou’s too busy messing with his laptop, one earbud immersing him in whatever program was running. meanwhile, a catalog resting on your lap took half your attention.

as expected, the question is around the fifth priority in rindou’s head. “buncha smelly thugs, you wouldn’t like ‘em.”

“and you’re not in that demographic?” you idly munch on some snacks you scavenged from his pantry. 

“no, i’m not.” rindou scoffs like you just spat on his entire bloodline. “i’m your handsome boyfriend who you love very, very much.”

oh, this sweater has a really nice discount. “what about your brother? i've never seen him either, i’m starting to think you’re actually an only child.”

he’s gonna pretend like his comment going ignored didn’t sting a little. 

“you should be grateful, once you meet ran you’ll be cursed with a killer headache for the rest of your life.”

somehow it doesn’t seem as bad, nor does it deter you in the slightest. whine all he wants, rindou loves his brother. he knows it, and so do you.

“rinnie.” a vein could very well pop out his head at the dumb nickname. “are you embarrassed of me?”

(you know rindou would kiss the floor you walk on. still? good leverage).

his typing halts, left earbud joining the right to hang around his neck. a thousand times of the same coercion tactics should have prepared him better. should have. be as it may, rindou’s heartbeat stops for a minute.

you’re the one good thing he’s got going on, why would he ne embarrassed of you? no, never, he loves you too much.

not like he’d willingly admit to it, though. “a little” his typing resumes, this time a little more attentive to the situation. safety measures and all that.

seems he’s not budging. the playful banter turns into a bitter taste in your mouth. “rude.”

rindou doesn’t like your sudden silence. it cuts at his facade like the dullest of knives—painfully slow.

he can’t win against you. if there's one more thing he hates more than sweaty gym equipment is getting on your bad side.

“i’m not embarrassed, you’re just too pretty for them.” it’s not a lie.

“flattery won’t save you from sleeping on the couch.”

he’s in his own home, it's his couch and bed. “if i take you to meet them once,” rindou emphasizes the word, “will you be pleased?”

you would, “a little.”

works for him.

rindou groans like the sore loser he is, yet hands you an earbud. “whatever, don’t come cryin’  when you realize they're actually lame."

secretly, he prays you don't like them better than him.

"they're your friends—or gang, i'm guessing—i would never think bad of them."

aren't you just a godsend? rindou breathes a chuckle, pressing play. whatever wrinkles remained on his face washed away when you bobbed your head to his mix. he forgives you for being a pain in his ass.

everything’s fair in love and war; you came and conquered with ease. as implicit as he fights to keep it, rindou's a big softie for you.

you lean over to kiss his temple, maybe you’ll buy that sweater you saw for this special occasion.

just this once, punctuality would be the death of you.

the only street light a couple meters away flickers every two minutes, you’ve got no service, and the run-down warehouse you’re leaning on is the shadiest spot rindou’s asked you to meet at. seriously, what’s his issue?

“little late for someone like you to be out alone, isn’t it?” couldn’t have said it better, voice you've never heard before.

..wait.

with a gulp, you turn to meet whoever was talking to you. it’s not the least comforting when you have to look up to see his face. tall, weird eyebrows, and overall menacing.

for once in your goddamn life, think!

“yeah—i mean, it must suck to be alone in the dead of night.” you laugh nervously, as if to quell the goosebumps rising in your arms. “not me though, nope.”

mochi squints his eyes. you can’t be serious, right? there’s no one else in the entire block. “‘s that so?”

one gulp to hush your anxiety. “yup, my boyfriend’s waiting for me, if i don’t show he’ll come looking,” great, now you’re shaking. 

he’s not gonna buy it. this is the end, death by two hands the size of your head. truly tragic.

“only a shitty boyfriend would leave you all alone like this,” he huffs. it’s true, part of him wants to wait and chew out whoever this man is. 

safe to say, you have to agree. rindou is a dead man as soon as he shows his face, and it won’t be at the hands of this monster of a guy.

blame it on your current hyperfocus on every little thing (something’s gotta make up for your obvious lack of fight or flight) you can’t help but notice he’s wearing all red—is that a gang uniform?

funny how hope goes out as quick as that.

rindou’s uniform is most definitely not red. the fight bound to unleash is already brewing inside your mind, you’re not even sure if rindou can take a hit from this guy. if he ever gets here, only one of these two would walk away. 

you have to act, fast.

“it’s not safe, what’s a thing like you gonna do if—”

he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes. they’re wide, like a deer caught in headlights; innocent.

mochizuki’s second mistake is not noticing the right hook you swing.

the light flickers again, and one of tenjiku’s heavenly kings falls unconscious.

it goes without saying you fucking panic.

“i didn't mean to—shit!” you’re kneeling beside his body, checking for pulse. of course there's still a pulse, there’s no way you could actually kill a guy like that. “i’m so, so sorry.”

he didn’t even try to hurt you. are you the monster here? 

initially, you were worried rindou would be the one to start a fight if he saw you cornered by the guy. never would you have thought the culprit would be none other than yourself.

quickly, your sweater becomes a makeshift pillow—the least you could do for knocking the living daylights out of him. though you do cringe when the brand-new fabric soaks up all the dirt on the ground.

it’s okay, surely once he wakes again you can explain you didn’t mean to hit him. you were aiming for… a fly? a mosquito? those can carry deadly diseases. sure, let’s go with that.

kakucho doesn’t know what he just walked into.

there’s a stranger kneeling beside mochi whispering in a fret to herself, something about the last recorded case of dengue fever in japan. right, he was also unconscious.

soon, you notice him too. particularly his red uniform.

there’s a brief pause in which you just stare at each other.

come to think of it, you’d probably kick the bucket in these clothes, and you wouldn’t mind. dying with these on would be something you can live with—or die, rather? idioms are dumb. point is, you picked a really nice outfit for your supposed date with rindou. 

rindou haitani, who somehow managed to be late enough to miss you picking a fight with another gang member.

the silence is deadly. 

“you’re… his friend, right?” cautiously, you’re the one to break it. “i figured he'd appreciate a pillow to enjoy his nap.”

so why was his cheek painted a raging red? god, that’s a nasty bruise.

kakucho blinks twice. then, he looks around, trying to discern any other lifeform in close vicinity. any possible culprit. anything to explain what the fuck is going on.

“are you alone?” the question is courtesy, he already knows the answer. 

“no.” maybe he didn’t know after all.

he narrows his eyes, and you rush to fix whatever mistake you made. “my boyfriend—and friends, so many friends, are waiting on me. they’ll know if i don’t show up.”

you’re nervous. kakucho steps closer, and you’re quick to jump on your feet. “you’re right, i should probably go—”

“did you do this?”

“do what?”

as if it wasn’t obvious, he waves his arm at his fallen friend. “this.”

it’s been a long night. you’re frustrated, terrified out of your goddamn mind, and you can’t help the panic tears that start to form.

“i’m so sorry!” you bow, trying to hold back from outright sobbing in front of the delinquent. “he—i was alone, and he came around and-and started talking to me and i just, i got scared!”

kakucho blinks, again. 

“i didn’t mean to hurt him, i’m sure he’s a great guy, i was just jumpy, and fuck i didn't mean to cause any trouble.”

tears run down your cheeks, mourning both your sweater as a breeze rolls by and your wasted last moments of youth. great, you’re making it awkward. 

sometimes instincts take over, and kakucho is unsure why he’s shrugging off his tenjiku coat. neither does he have an answer as to why he reached to drape it over your shoulders.

“c’mon, just breathe.”

you do. you take a deep, deep breath, and your problems start to lessen. not actually though, the other gang member is still very much on the ground. however, it's nice not feeling in immediate danger anymore.

kakucho settles down next to mochi, and pats the ground next to him. “sit.”

last thing he tasked you ended up helping, so you decide to listen once more. a respectable distance away from him, you sit.

he’s not sure where to start. there’s so many questions he needs the answer to.

(how did you take out mochi? how did you know the exact warehouse where the higher-ups were meeting tonight?)

but he keeps quiet. 

either way, any explanations coming from you would be interrupted by hiccuping, and he didn’t want to risk any more crying from you.

“am i in trouble?”

the answer should be obvious. kakucho knows you’re aware of the mess you’re in now. still, there must be something missing. “i can count with one hand the people who’ve been able to take mochi out.”

so that’s his name. your gaze lands on him, peacefully resting. it’s a nice name. 

“so i need you to be honest,” kakucho tries his best to speak gently. “did you do this?”

he takes in a sharp breath when you nod.

“...how?”

the strained chuckle that leaves your lips makes his heart skip a beat or two. “i just, y’know, hit him.”

“but, how?” the mere thought is baffling to him.

“i can show you if you want.” you bite back. it’s playful. now you can cross-out befriending a random delinquent from your bucket list.

“never thought i’d see kakucho flirting.” a new voice enters the array. “didn’t know he had it in him.”

white hair flows freely, unfazed by the unresponsive commander beside the two. his presence exudes commands without diction. explain, now.

kakucho’s posture stiffens, and he’s quick to get back on his feet. “i arrived and mochi was knocked out, seemingly by,” he pauses to look at you. “uh, what’s your name?”

you match his movements, standing up and completely ignoring his question. “i’m really sorry about that, i didn’t know he was—”

izana interrupts the meaningless spiel, “your name, what is it?"

shivers crawl up your spine. a phantom would be more merciful with the frighten. so you answer his question.

and just like that, poor mochi is forgotten. "i like your name, it's nice on the ears."

you know better than to grimace at the compliment (was it really?) "i should get going, i don't want to be in your hair any longer."

izana follows your every movement with violet eyes. not a word is uttered, just a plastered, quite unsettling smile on his face as acknowledgment. 

right, your idiot boyfriend. one quick glance at the no signal on your phone serves as a reminder you're stranded.

a jingle brings you back to reality. it's izana, tilting his head. "what's wrong?"

well, you're certain all trains back home stopped doing rounds about half an hour ago, and there’s no way you can catch a ride from either of these two.

(the guy with the scar would probably do it, he seems kind. the urge to squish his cheeks like a grandma would is intense.)

"actually," an awkward laugh makes up for the nerves rattling within. "i.. can't leave, not yet."

his patience is wearing thin, you presume. "is that so?"

from behind you, kakucho shifts. would they even go for a one on two? when you're the one wearing heels?

"i told kakucho—" you glance back to confirm you remembered his name correctly, biting back a smile when he looks surprised. "—i was waiting for my friends and boyfriend, specifically at this exact, dirty warehouse." 

izana doesn't look satisfied. 

"half of that was a lie, it's just my boyfriend i'm supposed to meet." this doesn't seem to be getting any better. 

he's thinking about something.

"i know i shouldn't have lied, but it's basic street smarts! can't blame me for that." 

he steps closer, seemingly having resolved whatever idea was brewing in his head.

you're close to going on another rant on street safety, or maybe going for another swing, but izana makes you stop dead in your tracks. "do you wanna be kakucho's girlfriend?"

smelly thugs was cutting it short, this guy was bizarre as fuck.

kakucho is grateful you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. tenjiku’s number two, overwhelmed with a barrage of embarrassment and murderous tendencies for his one and only king.

(was he that obvious? were his fleeting glances that easy to notice?)

izana on the other hand had only just begun his career as a salesman. “kakucho here is a great guy—the definition of a gentleman and a picture-perfect servant.” 

odd way of selling someone for a boyfriend. you’d have a few pointers and even additions to his pitch, except you literally have a boyfriend, and you’ve told him so.

you check for the hour. maybe you’ll consider his proposal if kakucho isn’t horrid with meeting on time. “go on.”

two heavenly kings have yet to show their faces, another is knocked out, and the last is close to digging himself an early grave.

“so you’ll date kakucho then?”

has he heard a single word you’ve spoken? “i have a boyfriend.”

“it’s a yes or no question, preferably yes or yes.”

it’s better if you ignore the vague implication of a threat behind his statement. “rain check?”

that seems to please him. “i’m izana,” he offers his hand for a handshake. “pleasure doing business with you.”

“cool.” you’re absolutely sure he’s missing a screw in his head, but it’s funny. 

“too late to join the roster?” to absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s a new voice joining this sick joke of a night. you’re amazed at the fact four men have managed to show up unannounced to your date, and none are the one you're actually going out with.

izana turns to meet the new addition, eyebrow raising at the fact it’s only half the duo. 

“he’s finding a spot to park, sent me to check on that one over there.” one hand points to you, the other toys with a dual-colored braid. 

he’s clad in a black uniform—just like rindou’s. everything's even more confusing now, hurray you!

kakucho, who’s more than grateful to leave the past conversation behind, begins to process the situation. “you know ran?”

“ran?” puzzle pieces are slowly coming together. “as in haitani? ran haitani?”

the man himself lets out a low whistle. “sorry man, only been here for at least half a minute and i’m already takin' the spotlight—nothing personal.”

that’s not how you meant it at all. “no-”

“kakucho gave her his jacket.” izana you are not helping. 

“that has nothing to do with this.” kakucho pleads to everything under the sun for his boss to just, shut up. just this once.

“ran, where’s ri-”

“see? already reeling back to me, i think i've got more game than you.” rindou was right, he’s a living headache. 

izana tugs at your blouse. “you already said yes on kakucho, no take backs.”

“that never happened.” kakucho, angel on earth, everyone.

something boils from within. "i have a boyfriend."

“you’re too pretty for him.” he blurts without an ounce of hesitation in his body. it’s amusing how ran said the same thing as rindou—they really are family. still, no. does he even know you're dating his brother? 

the situation is getting out of hand, your patience is being tested, and you just want to go home at this point. 

at this rate you’re sending ran home with half his braids in your fist, izana is getting his arm put in a cast if he utters another word, and kakucho is getting his jacket back and a pat on the head.

there are a few reasons you’re dating rindou haitani. among the perks lies the telepathic bond you two have—whatever you think, rindou is already doing. which is exactly why ran is suddenly getting his braid damn near ripped out by gloved hands.

“wanna say that again?” rindou holds the hair tightly in a fist, he’s fuming. “c'mon, don’t pussy out now.”

the three of you gawk at the scene. kakucho and you in shock, izana in awe. the man of the hour arrived, and everything took a turn for the worse.

the youngest haitani has always followed his older brother like a best friend and inspiration. it’s a relationship based on respect for the other and no one else. sure, they have disagreements, but rindou admires no one more than ran. 

the haitani brothers, joined at the hip by crime and blood, now tearing each other apart in the pettiest of ways.

ran, tallest, oldest, arguably strongest, hisses in pain by the harsh tugging. “why dontcha rip it out while y’re fucking at it? whatever got into you?”

izana pokes a finger into your side for the second time. “you know rindou?”

your eyes are glued on the brothers. ran keeps whining, rindou is professing his undying and very much ongoing love for you. “yeah, we’re dating.”

a pause. a long one at that. 

“...why?” he sounds puzzled.

rindou screams insults at ran and soon drags his hair-stylist through the mud too, for some reason. “what do you mean by that?”

izana blinks at you like the answer is obvious. “is he like, forcing you or something?”

“what?”

kakucho, who’s been silently witnessing the convo fights to stifle his laughter. it’s of no use, not when you’re throwing his jacket back at his face to shush him. it’s a strong throw, sending him backwards a step or two.

izana thinks you’re funny, too. “you are too pretty for him.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

[the-modern-typewriter]

Its always really great to read your work in my free time. Would you maybe consider a short story involving the hero's sidekick being killed by one villain, so the hero's primary villain goes to their hideout to console them

"Hey." The villain announced their presence as softly as they could, wary of startling the hero.

The hero didn't startle. They didn't even look up, or twitch. They continued to stare at a blank piece of the floor, jaw set, like the flagstones contained all the answers in the universe.

"I - uh - I heard what happened." The villain moved closer, slowly, making sure not to dip out of the hero's periphery vision. "I'm sorry."

The hero was clutching something in one white-knuckled fist - what was it?

"I know my saying that doesn't change what happened," the villain pressed, as the hero continued to say or acknowledge nothing. "But I'm so sorry for your loss. They were a good kid. Brave. How are you..how are you doing?"

It was a scrap of clothing. A bloodied scrap of clothing. The sidekick's uniform.

The villain closed their eyes briefly, releasing a breath. When they opened them, the hero's gaze was locked on them. The villain nearly jumped. The hero's stare was dark, boring into them with a drill-like precision, fierce and hard enough that the hairs on the back of the villain's neck stood on end.

They'd seen that stare before. Just the once.

And what had followed...

They through caution to the wind and crossed the room to the hero's side, kneeling in front of them and taking the hero's jaw firmly in their hands.

They had come expecting tears. Heartbreak. Something they could soothe and console and hold the hero through, perhaps, though the two of them would never speak of it again.

They should have known better.

"I know you want to kill them-"

"-Don't." The hero's voice was raspy, but unforgiving. They let the scrap of clothing fall to the floor, like it was nothing, and not the red flag of a bull fight screaming. "Don't try and stop me."

"You try and stop me. Every time."

"I'm not you."

"No," the villain agreed. Calm against the tempest. They dug their nails a little harder into the hero's skin, grounding. "They actually looked up to you."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not suggesting you don't seek vengeance," the villain said. "I'm merely suggesting you be smart about it. But that's another matter."

The hero bared their teeth, though they hadn't lashed out yet despite the dark look in their eyes, so the villain was definitely taking that as a win.

The villain caressed their cheek; wishing they could find some joy in the corruption of it, in the proof of what so many good people were willing to do in the name of grief and justice.

They couldn't.

Not when the hero looked like that. So hollow. Like if the villain simply scraped out the fury, softened the sizzling hatred a bit, let time heal the hurting, there would be nothing left all.

"Do I need to tell you that it wasn't your fault?" the villain asked.

"I know whose fault it was!"

"Good."

"Are you going to try and stop me?"

"Tonight, yes. Tomorrow...that's on you."

"You didn't even like them."

The villain shrugged. They both knew liking someone wasn't the same as respecting them, and certainly they weren't convinced the sidekick wouldn't come back as a poltergeist if the villain let the hero loose to lay carnage on the very night they died.

No. The villain didn't even like them, but they did like the hero, and they knew what the hero's sidekick would want them to do.

"Is that why you came here?" the hero demanded.

"No. Unhappy coincidence. I came to check on you."

The hero finally wrenched their head free, chair scraping as they surged to their feet. "I don't need checking up on. I'm fine. I'll be fine when I feed that bastard their own windpipe."

There were many things the villain could have said to that, and would have said to that, on any other night. As it was, they watched the hero. Watched the shaking volcano of them, the tremors and ever more devastating fragility of something that might just shatter completely.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the hero snarled. "And don't you dare say that it's okay for me to be angry."

The villain shut their mouth. About to say just that, and more.

The hero shook their head. They slumped back into their seat, in perfect stillness, as quickly as they'd moved.

"Tomorrow," they said. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. If that's what you truly want. Then I'll help you kill the bastard myself."

The hero reached for the scrap of material again, tucking it close against their chest, head bowed. Their fingers continued to tremble. The villain was not stupid enough to consider it weakness.

Tomorrow.

The villain would pick up the pieces after that.

[flynnriderishot]

i needddd cute pt 2

cute pt.2 - m.s

a/n: i’ve been feeling really bad that i missed the original persons request by a mile 😭 so i’m gonna add that into this part lol

warnings: i couldn’t really figure out how to word it but i PROMISE matt wasn’t being creepy about following her to the bathroom‼️ he just really wanted to meet her. we don’t do that weird shit over here 🙄

also, vinnie hacker mention 🗣️ unfortunately, he has nothing to do with the story, i just needed someone to add💀

you were invited to a party that a friend of a friend was throwing.

did you know who this person was? vaguely.

in your eyes, it didn’t really matter.

what mattered was that matt sturniolo and his brothers would also be attending this party.

while you didn’t really have to go, you were a good friend and rightfully needed some time away from your social media life.

what better way to do that than to surround yourself with social media influencers? cue the sarcasm.

what made this all the more annoying to you was that it was a ‘valentines day’ party.

as if you weren’t all over the age of eighteen. you wanted to roll your eyes at the thought.

sure, the thought was cute and the idea was definitely there. but as you walked into the house, y/f/n’s hand in your own, you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face at the excessive amount of pink and red that flooded your vision.

“i guess we missed the memo?”

“no, i saved us the embarrassment of looking like we were back in third grade.” y/fn laughed out a scoff.

“i should definitely pay you more.”

while she was your friend, she also helped quite a lot with managing your channel. with reminding you of what your supporters wanted to see, to recording you anytime you needed content.

and though before she would say it was out of the kindness of her heart, you felt bad that she did so much for free. and once you started getting popular, you made quick work to pay her for all the stuff she did in the past and now she practically worked for you.

it was a win win situation. you got a best friend and a coworker all in one. it was much better than your previous partner that expected so much more for doing not nearly as much as y/f/n did.

“i definitely wouldn’t complain.”

you shared a laugh, moving your way through the crowed and to the drink table.

“i haven’t been to a party in a while, what are the odds we see a fight break out?”

a voice behind you interrupted before she could respond, “that would make this place so much more entertaining.”

your eyes widen as you froze up, trying to pinpoint where you may have heard the voice before turning around to actually see who it was.

“hi.” nick smiled at you.

“oh my god. hi.” you pulled him into a hug, pulling away to see him do the same to y/f/n, introducing himself to her as they hadn’t known one another very well.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“you’re telling me.” you stepped aside so he could lean against the wall with you two, “i’ve been wanting to say thank you in person since you’ve sent me that lip balm.”

“i can vouch.” y/f/n spoke up, “after your live together, she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

nick smiled, “i appreciate it, and i’m glad you like it. ive been wanting to meet you too, you’re like one of my favorite youtubers ever.”

“my god, shut up.” you roll your eyes, nick coping the motion.

“speaking of the live…”

“goodness.”

nick didn’t stop, “what’s this crush you have on my brother?”

“no crush, just…admiring his beauty.” you brushed off the teasing look they gave you.

“it’s definitely a crush. you can’t admire matt’s beauty without thinking nick and chris are attractive as well. they’re triplets.” y/f/n stated matter of factly.

“right.” nick agreed, “we literally have the same face.”

“nick and chris are gorgeous.”

“oh, thank you.”

you look back to see chris walking towards you guys, smile on his face. with just a simply glance to the side, you could see matt following closely behind his brother, eyes darting around him.

“oh.” your eyes widen, chris’ snort echoing in your ears as you pass your soda off to him, “i need to go to the bathroom.”

“no, you don’t.” nick laughed.

“i’ll be back!” you shouted, secretly having no intentions of returning until it was clear that matt wouldn’t be around.

“she’s nervous to meet you.” you could hear y/f/n telling matt after the middle triplet asked what was wrong.

if he was absolutely beautiful through your screen, you couldn’t imagine what he’d look like in person.

you barely managed to stop your face from warming up when you saw him in one of their podcasts episodes, how would you react if you got the chance to see him in person? last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself.

“hi, yn.” a voice called out, leading you to look over and smile,

“hi, vinnie.”

“you okay?” the hacker frowned at your unusually tense nature.

“i’m fine, i need the bathroom!” you called out, unaware of the blue eyes that were following your figure, also hearing your statement and making it his goal to get there before you.

“you’re going the wrong way.” vinnie laughed, pointing in the opposite direction of which you were walking.

“right, i knew that!” yoh waved off his drunken cackle, managing to make it down the hall and to the bathroom within a minute. you hoped you were lucky enough to walk in a not see some random couple doing it on the counter top.

as you opened the door, letting a sigh of relief and a short, “jesus”, you were startled when a voice spoke to you,

“take it as a compliment, you’re a lot cuter in person.”

opening your eyes in a panic, you spotted matt, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of the mirror.

“oh, my god.”

taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb

tags for this fic: @3kslav @bb-1s-blog @annamcdonalds67 @sturns333 @dracoflaco @electrobutterfly @wolfstarfate @landrysflannel @3mm4yung @strnsblog @lexxxiii-iix @patscorner @lemon-criminal

[ellabsbb]

♡ྀི ༝ ₊˚ ⌒ now kith ꒱

꒰ ellie x reader x abby. 1.6k words. you make abby and ellie kith. everyone makes out. sexually charged but not actually that sexual? i think! enjoy <3

imagine dating both ellie and abby…

they live for you…. cannot stand eachother. but for you they.. well, tolerate isn’t quite the right word, because they hardly do that, but they.. let you do what you want when it comes to being with both of them. they definitely don’t hold back on arguing and fighting though. you’re getting tired of not being able to actually be with them at once, and you have just the plan.

𝜗𝜚

“oh fuck no.” that’s ellie, who’s just walked in, coming over per your request. and she’s spotted abby, who has the nerve to be chilling on her girls couch. abby really doesn’t care all that much, but she’s giving as much as she’s getting. “can we help you?” that’s abby, giving ellie that look. the one you always giggle at, the same dirty look she would give gum at the bottom of her shoe. “babe!” and that’s you! you hurry to grab ellie’s hand before she turns around to make her way back to the door. you tug her closer and wrap your arms around her, chin against her chest, peering up at her with puppy eyes and pouting lips, really pulling out all of the stops. “stay! please?” ellie sighs, wrapping her long arms around you to return the hug. “babe.. you know we don’t get along. it would be better if-” “just sit down, williams” you could hear they eyeroll from abby. ellie quickly switches her gaze from your pouty lips to glare at abby. “don’t try to tell me what to do-” “els! please. she’s just saying she doesn’t mind. right abs?” you hurry to tug ellie over to the couch before either of them can respond, pushing her down and clambering on top of her. you shoot abby a greatful smile behind ellie’s head, holding back a giggle when she playfully roles her eyes. “come on els, please. i just wanna chill with both of you. is that so bad?” it’s said to make her feel bad, make her compliant. ellie doesn’t bother with a response, just letting out a heavy sigh and begrudgingly turning her head towards the tv. it’s a win in your book. you kiss her cheek with a smile and snuggle into her side.

you’re in the middle between the two, of course. you throw your fuzzy socked feet into abby’s lap, digging your toes into her side. she raises her eyebrows at you before clamping down on your ankles with a heavy grip. “no!” you squeal with a giggle, trying to squirm your feet away, already anticipating her tickling them. “no? that’s not what you wanted?” abby asks, mockingly confused. the fun is interrupted by ellie pouting. “can you guys like, not.” she’s deadpan, her gaze not even moving away from the tv that’s playing whatever netlfix show is trending. before abby can respond you nudge her with her foot, urging her to stay quite. she gives you her famous side eye but says nothing. you shift to bring your arms around ellies neck, settling into her lap with your legs around her waist. “els cmon, don’t be like that” you lean down to mumble into her neck, placing gentle kisses along the line of her throat. trailing over her collarbone. you knew she’d be the one you’d have to butter up. “what, im supposed to sit here and watch you guys play footsie?” she’s grumbling, but breathless, turning her head so you have more access to her neck. “you can play to, you know.” you gently nip her with those words, quickly soothing the bite with your tongue and lips. “nah, i’d rather just play with you.” she cups the back of your neck with long fingers, her multiple rings cool against the flush of your skin. tilting your head up she wastes no time into practically mauling you. her tongue slides into your mouth, dominating and hot and heavy. her other arm curls around your waist and tugs you even closer, rising her thigh to push firmly between your legs. at your soft moans she smugly looks up at abby behind lidded eyes. god,she’s so cocky and annoying. abby scoffs but doesn’t break eye contact, her cheeks warming at your soft sounds. when you break away, panting, ellie looks away. she’d much rather gaze at you, all flushed, lips swollen and wet. “fuck” you say, more of a breath than a word. “let’s.” ellie’s hands drift to the bottom of your shirt. “wait! lets go to my room.”

you have them sitting on the bed across from eachother with you making the point of the triangle. “you want us to.. what?” ellie, of course. she’s looking at you like you’re insane, she probably thinks you are. abby doesn’t look surprised, she’s probably not. her face doesn’t really give away anything, if not a little amused. “els bear, please. i hate when you guys fight. i want us to be able to be together, all three of us. this will help? just gotta get past that line?” oh your really pleading now, all soft and sweet and low. “don’t els bear me!” ellie’s whining. incredulous. “wha- did you guys like, plan this?” her brows are furrowed, voice high, looking back and forth between you and abby. “no. im just not a little crybaby like you are.” abby’s had enough, you guess. ellie scoffs and you know she’s about to start a argument for the ages, so you quickly reach out and put a hand on both of their thighs. “okay okay, im sorry els. of course if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. i won’t be upset at all. and that goes for abs to. i just think you guys have some… unresolved tension… and this would help with that.” “we do not!” ellie is still whining. you look up at abby, only to find her already looking right at you. you tilt your head, inquiring. her gaze flicks to the side, considering. you gently squeeze her thigh to get her attention back on you. you slowly move your hand a little higher. please. for me? you both knew she’d have to be the one to make the first move. and you’d definitely reward her for it. god, you’d do that anyways. she’s been so good, so sweet, in her own way. so compliant in your plans. fine. she moves her attention onto ellie.

“god, shut up williams. our girl is over there all flushed and excited just from the thought of us kissing. and you wouldn’t give her that? she’d do it for you.” abby’s tone is accusing, low and predatory. she knew just how to work ellie up. ellie splutters, eyes wide. “what?” she takes a second to really look at you. your breathing is fast, excited. you’re slightly sucking at your bottom lip, releasing it from your mouth with a pop at her stare. your thighs are clenched together, nipples prominent under your thin tank top. you smile encouragingly at ellie when she meets your eyes. “i.. that’s-” again, abby interrupts ellie. “she just wants to make you happy. make us happy. you don’t want to make her happy?” ellie scoffs, but she can feel her cheeks warming. ellie finds her eyes being drawn to abby’s full smirking lips, her stare just making abby even more cocky. ellie can feel her own nipples hardening and chooses to ignore abby’s gaze flicking down to the chest of her wife pleaser, for her own sanity. “fine.” els whispers, as if it would kill her to say it any louder. “nuh uh. need you to say it williams. tell us what you want. tell her.” abby gestures to you with her head, still leveling ellie with her heavy stare. “yeah, baby?” you prompt ellie, smiling. “i… fuck. i want abby to kiss me. n want you to watch.” abby wastes no time. they were already so close. she winds her hand into the hair at the base of ellie’s neck, hard, directing her. ellie hardly gets to digest what just happened before abby’s mouth is on her own. fuck, she kisses like she’s hungry for it. starving. abby licks into ellie’s mouth, demanding her way in. ellie moans, real quite, clenching abby’s shirt in her fist. they battle for dominance, er.. well, ellie tries? you think? but she’s not winning. fuck. it’s so hot. abby is devouring her, putting on a show, all for you. so sloppy and wet.. you’re left panting at the mere sight of them. finally, ellie jolts when abby sucks on her tongue, eyelashes fluttering, before she pushes her away roughly and backs up even more, just to be safe. both of them are flushed, breathing heavily, lips swollen and wet. abby sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and gives ellie a final slow once over before patting her lap, turning her attention towards you.

you shuffle over to her and settle on of her thighs between yours, squirming around already, kissing at her neck. “god abby that was so so, so.. fuck. i love you guys. ellie?” you sounded so wrecked, as if you were the one being ravaged instead of simply watching. you’re so whiney and needy, reaching back for ellie without looking. abby gives a ellie a “what the fuck are you waiting for?” look from over your shoulder. ellie hurries, coming to kneel behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other sliding under your tank top and up to gently palm at your breast. “you did so good ellie, so so good. i need you now, please?” you turn your neck to be able to reach her mouth, still warm and swollen from abby. you whimper at the thought. “i know baby. that’s our sweet girl. just wants everyone to feel good, yeah? don’t worry, we’ll make it better.” you pant against ellie’s mouth, abby’s voice low in your ear. her strong hands cupping your waist to control your movements on her thigh. yeah. you’re a genius.

[livefastdriveyoung]

Every team has a first and second driver. It is just that not every driver fulfills the role in the same way.

At Aston Martin we know Fernando is driver one. He is the more experienced driver, and right from the mouth of Lawrence Stroll himself, was brought in to make Lance a better driver so he could one day be the first driver. He does media, he's funny, and he also clearly has a mentor/mentee relationship with Lance.

I call this the mentor/mentee set up

At Mercedes, we know that Lewis is Driver one. Based on titles certainly, age almost definitely, and also because he is Lewis Hamilton. Until February, and even after, when you think Mercedes, you think Lewis. He is their better driver. He won six championships with them. He's stayed longer than most drivers stay on the whole grid. It is his through blood, sweat, and tears. George is the prince, he's set to inherit, potentially (BTW TORGER, I would like a word), and has a lot to live up to. Comparisons are hard, especially when the first driver is Lewis. I think that it's a forced proximity set-up, but they are friendly. Mostly off the track because on track they do not have their greatest moments.

I call this the King/Heir Apparent set up

At Red Bull, we know that Max is Driver one. Aside from the championships, he is just too fast. Every time one of the other drivers who drove alongside him was brought up to Horner or Helmut (YIKES to both), they would compare where they raced to Max. It is unattainable, and isolating. Until Checo. Checo didn't think he was going to be able to drive after BWT. He didn't have a contract, he was a middle of the pack driver, Mexico's son, and his story was supposed to end there. The Red Bull contract was a dream, but for all of the weird behavior some of y'all have with him (again, he's had his problems but the racism and idiot syndrome some apply to him is also NOT OK) he's not an idiot. He knows he's on a limited contract, he knows he's no spring chicken. Hearing him talk about next year, he knows he's very likely out of a contract. But he doesn't let any of this impact his relationship with Max. They are teammates, Checo will do what is best for the team. Max's whole world is predominantly driving. Checo has more of a balance, and in some ways, allows Max to be young.

I call this the Sibling set up.

At Ferrari, Charles LeClerc is Driver one. He is il Predestinato, the second coming, Monaco's prince. He can do no wrong. Carlos Sainz is the second driver. In spite of the fact that he got dropped from the team, in spite of the fact that he has won them two races, he is the one that is being pushed out. But he and Charles are friends, and teammates. They've driven together for several years now. Ultimately, while Carlos has done most of the heavy lifting on his side of the garage in terms of strategy and driving, he is also the one who knows when to walk away from the fight, when to stop letting yourself get hurt by the team that should be defending you. For Charles, Ferrari is a promise to Jules, to his father, to himself. He cannot walk away. In some way, Carlos can. That's why he makes the good second driver. The second in command is the one that sees the whole picture, including the first in command, because they never look at themselves.

I call this the friends/us against the world set up.

At Mclaren, driver one is Lando Norris. An indefinite contract, the sponsors, the adoration, Lando is the golden child. But Oscar is too, sort of. They're both young, both incredibly talented. But they're young. They're doing this together. McLaren went from disaster to top of the pack last season, and they're both on this ride together. I think McLaren is going to do whatever it takes to get Lando his win, but then I think they'll split 50/50. What will happen then, I don't know.

I call this the to soon to tell set up

At Williams, Alex Albon is so clearly driver one. Last year, he scored the majority of the points, they signed him for an extended contract, and they're desperate to keep him for 2026, when the car is supposedly going to be insane. Logan is the second driver. Alex wants to be the mentor, and to some degree he is. But Logan's narrative from last season to this season has shifted dramatically. Less and less people want to see him gone, they like the American. Williams renewed him. Whether because of sponsorship or genuine interest in his improvement, I don't know. But, in the last two races, they have managed to tank Alex's reputation, and boost Logan's. You don't publicly destroy your second driver's confidence, and career potential so publicly and walk away clean. We've seen it with Red Bull and Pierre, and Alex. Both times, those two drivers walked away with insane support. Logan is now receiving the same, but I wonder if it is going to make a difference. I think that Logan talking about what is best for the team is what is keeping him going, but if you watched the newest Team Torque, you can see fatigue and some tension between him and Alex. I don't know if it is jet lag, or work, or stress, or damage to the relationship. But this is a driver relationship on a razor wire.

I call this the Icarus set up

At Alpine, it is Pierre. He gets away with murder, at least by the team. Esteban has certainly mellowed a little, but he calls Pierre out still. However, they are both miserable with the car this year, so I think they are probably commiserating. The fact they can work together after years of rivalry and blatant hurt between the two is interesting. I think that both of these men have racing above all on their heart, and they will do whatever it takes to stay there. So for now, they suffer in the car, and they are colleagues.

I call this the "there's no other choice" set up (aka forced proximity)l

At Visa CashApp, there's currently a power struggle. Daniel is Daniel. He's been second driver for a few years, he's been third driver. He's got the popularity, though it is waning, and more importantly, he's got Christian Horner's support. That, plus the fact that the team talks about Daniel's presence being about helping them improve, makes him sound like first driver. Except, Yuki has been First driver for years. He's the one who stayed through the revolving door of drivers. This is his team. Honda pays the majority of his salary. So when you bring someone in, someone who doesn't even want the seat as much as he wants the Red Bull seat, the seat that should be yours, you're not going to go down without a fight. It creates this weird tension, but then Daniel is like "I know how lucky I am to be here, I'm focused on driving here," and is already being threatened with losing the seat like Nyck was, and Yuki realizes he might never get the Red Bull seat. So you have these two guys who are fighting for the same thing, that doesn't want them.

I call this the Alone Together set up

At Sauber, it is Valtteri. He has won gps, he's former Mercedes, who used to come second usually only to Lewis. He's funny, older, a weirdo that people love and feel they know. Zhou is younger, he's dealing with the pressure of being China's only son, and the higher expectations of him. Valtteri helps keep him young and focused. He's been through the wringer, and he's teaching Zhou that it is not going to be what breaks you.

Also Mentor/Mentee except the mentors are nuts in a different way

I don't know what the hell is going on at Haas.

[countlessimagines]

New Guy Around [ Adam Warlock x Reader ]

!!!!!! GOTG VOLUME 3 SPOILERS!!!!!

-

Summary: While helping rebuild Nowhere, you get to know the man who tried to kill your friends.

A/N: I’ve loved Will Poulter since I was 13 so of course I would fall in love with Adam Warlock <3 also my apologies for this kind of being small, my future imagines of him will definitely be longer! Enjoy for now though loves!!

MASTERLIST LINK

-

It was a normal day for you when you began to talk to Adam; wake up to little raccoons climbing all over you, eating breakfast with Rocket and Groot, and helping Drax with the kids.

It usually consisted of Drax translating what they’re saying while you tried to get them settled into new homes with people willing to take them in.

And as usual, Adam would stroll around like a lost puppy trying to figure out what to do for the day. While he made himself useful by going person to person, today he looked more confused than ever.

You still weren’t on the best terms with him, despite the rest of the guardians giving him a second chance. It didn’t help that they told you what he was trying to do before they rescued him.

With a deep sigh, you let Drax deal with the children for the day and walked over to Adam.

“Do you need something to do?” You asked him and he seemed a bit startled that you were actually talking to him.

“Uh, yes?” Adam said and immediately began to follow behind you as you made your way to your small apartment. It had been destroyed pretty badly in the fight, and you could use all the help you could get into repairing it back to normal.

While your place was livable, it still needed something to make it more of a home.

You let Adam in and instructed him on fixing one of the walls with many holes in it. He got right to work and was pretty silent the whole time. Meanwhile, you straightened up your work desk littered with plants, pots, soil, and little figurines you built for the children.

“Can I ask you a question?” Adam said, taking you out from your little flow of organizing.

You hummed a yes and waited for whatever question he was going to say. You honestly weren’t in the mood for a conversation, though.

“For all those plants on your desk, you sure don’t decorate this place enough.”

You turned sharply to him, wondering why it was relevant to ask such a thing. “Maybe if the people you had been working for hadn’t ruined my place, I would be able to put things up by now. But no, I have to fix it first.”

“All I’m saying is a flower on your table would suffice.” Adam shrugged and began to work again.

You rolled your eyes and continued to replant some of the white flowers you knew Groot loved. “If you must know I gift these flowers to people I care about.”

Adam stood up from the ground and walked over to your desk. “Will I get one of them?” He was teasing you with a smile and a question you knew was a joke.

“Maybe one day if you don’t mess it up for yourself,” you said and glanced up at him. He was significantly taller than you, and it wasn’t until now that you noticed how close he was. “And maybe, just maybe if I forgive you for trying to kill my friends.”

Adam nodded and promptly began to work again. “I will win you over.”

-

Then it became normal for Adam to arrive every morning at your door to help repair the rest of your apartment.

While he worked, you would either tend to your plants or build figurines for the children. It kept both of you busy and eventually a comfortable silence would fall between the two of you. Well, besides Rocket blasting music over the speakers.

Adam would often go to your desk, do a little nod of approval at what you were creating, then go back to working. You would tend to sneak looks at him, thinking he didn’t notice but he always did.

You hated to admit that you found the golden man attractive, and fought against the thoughts that plagued your mind about him. You didn’t want to get close to him… yet.

Adam was very helpful and extremely nice to you, and you could tell he was trying to make up for his past transgressions. You felt bad for being an ass to him, and one day you tried to make up for it. You made him a figurine of his pet that always seemed to find its way to him.

You had left it at his apartment one night and thought nothing of it, expecting nothing in return.

It was the weekend now, and Adam tended to only help on weekdays, so you didn’t expect to wake up to him at your door. He was holding something behind his back, but you didn’t ask any questions.

“Oh, um, good morning?” You said sleepily, still in pajamas.

“I wanted to stop by to say thank you for my gift.” Adam smiled and you noticed he had placed it in the pocket of his shirt.

“Of course, it was my way of saying thank you for all the help.” You did a small smile in return.

Adam shifted on his feet and pulled out a small daisy from behind his back. “I, uh, picked this for you. I know it’s not much but you always gift flowers to people so I thought you deserved one yourself.”

You grinned happily and accepted the flower with a thank you. The tiny flower meant the world to you and Adam seemed ecstatic to give it to you.

“That’s the first ever gift I’ve given someone.” Adam looked so innocent and sad when he said that, almost as if his history did haunt him.

“It’s lovely.” You gave him a hug which took him by surprise but he gladly wrapped his arms around you.

“I was wondering if you’d like to…” Adam’s words trailed off in confusion, not finding the word he needed.

“Go on a date?” You helped him out, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Yes, that,” he said with his dorky smile and awaited your answer.

“I would love that.” You smiled brightly at him, delighted that Adam ended up being a sweet person beneath all the gold.

[nochukoo97]

when you get into an argument

main work | masterlist

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

wc: 1.5k+

“You’re in a match against who?” An exasperated gasp leaves your mouth upon hearing the name of a particular person.

“Eunwoo,” Jungkook leans forward to put down his cup, before facing you on the couch, “Got set up with him again,”

“He’s going to be harder on you considering you beat him in the last match though,” You mutter, voice quieting down as you notice Jungkook frowning at you.

“Are you doubting me?” He hums, not breaking eye contact as you shake your head, stretching out your legs to lay them on his lap.

His hands automatically stroke over the soft skin of your legs, noticing you were a little colder than usual, so he reaches for the blanket laid on the couch and covers your legs.

“No,” You tell him honestly, you’ve never doubted Jungkook’s strength once, “I’m just saying he could poke you in the wrong way-”

“I’ll be fine, ___,” He sighs, cutting you off abruptly as you now frown at him, feeling the tensions rising already.

“Okay,” You hum, shrugging as you curl your legs against your body, removing the weight that once was on your boyfriend’s lap.

“I won’t do anything bad, I promise,” He tells you softly now, sensing you were still unsure about this whole thing. To be fair, Jungkook only wanted another match with Eunwoo to prove once again that he could beat the guy, since Eunwoo had been constantly asking for a rematch, claiming he would take Jungkook down. Who was he to not accept the offer?

“But you know what almost happened last time,” You sigh, leaning your head back onto the arm rest of the couch as you stretch.

“I’m not a kid, I can handle him fine,” His voice grows with frustration, maybe even a hint of annoyance, “Anyways I’ll win him this time again, it doesn’t matter what he says, I know my strengths,”

“I didn’t say you were being a kid, I meant that you know too how Eunwoo can be,” You wince slightly thinking about the guy, “He knows how to annoy his opponents through words and won’t back down,”

“I know him, he’s my opponent, I’ve played against him for years now, so I don’t know why you’re the one telling me about him,” Jungkook’s voice raises ever so slightly, as you simply nod, deciding it was better to not say anything further, the tension in the room had been already so suffocating, you didn’t want to fight with your boyfriend.

“___, you know what I mean,” He sighs, his voice slightly softer this time, but you don’t give him much of a reply.

Jungkook only gets another hum from you as he watches you open up your book, diverting your attention away from him.

-

“You got everything?” You call out from the kitchen, quickly packing up a small lunch for Jungkook to take with him.

“Yeah, thanks baby,” He shuffles into the kitchen, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as you hand him the lunchbox, patting his shoulder.

You couldn’t attend his match since you had an online lecture to attend, juggling school and boxing was definitely not an easy task, but you somehow managed to get through everyday fine.

Your unresolved conflict was still in the back of your mind, his too. You weren’t going to lie, you could still feel the tension from him, the way he only pecked your forehead instead of giving you a proper kiss, the way he didn’t hug you this morning, instead mumbling a quick “morning,”.

Your heart aches a little as you watch him walk out the door, maybe you shouldn’t have expected him to walk back to you to give you a proper goodbye, his goodluck kiss before a match.

-

You should be laughing right now at how predictable the outcome was. Here you are, on the phone with Jungkook’s manager as you quickly gather up your stuff, grabbing your car keys as you head out the door.

“___, I swear you have to pick him up right now,”

“Exactly what did he do?” Your panting, from running all over the house trying to fetch your belongings before running to your car.

“I’m not sure, they broke out in a fight in the preparation room, no one was there until I walked in, but he definitely has a scratch on his face,” You hear his manager sigh over the phone, probably expecting this to happen as well.

“I’m on my way, I gotta hang up now,” You press the end call button and start your car, trying your best to keep within the speed limit as you rush over.

-

When you open the door that has Jungkook’s name labeled on it, you’re met with him sitting on the couch and staring at his shoes, as if he knew you were coming.

“Pack up your things,” Your voice is monotonous as you tell him, not walking further into the room as you stand at the doorway, watching as he scrambles to pick up his bag and gloves.

You seriously don’t want to be mad at him, not after his fight got called off, meaning that he would have lost a ton of money betting on him. But the fact that the both of you had gotten into an argument about this happening, it just fueled your frustrations further, not to mention the fact that you may get a very upset email from your lecturer later for suddenly leaving the online class.

The walk to the car is silent, too silent for Jungkook’s liking. To be fair, it was his fault for walking on thin ice with Eunwoo, maybe he did throw in an insult or two, but he definitely did not expect Eunwoo to throw in a punch after calling the guy weak.

You get in the driver’s seat of the car, not bothering to glance at your boyfriend once as he sits in the passenger seat, head tilted towards you, waiting for your next move.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook breaks the silence first. It’s almost insane how wobbly and quiet his voice has gotten, considering it’s the same man who does boxing for a living.

A scoff leaves your mouth as you turn to him, clearly upset that you had to leave mid-lecture to pick your boyfriend up, for what? For punching his opponent because of their long rivalry with each other.

“You think? I told you already, it wasn’t a good idea, and you told me you wouldn’t do anything!” Your voice raises slightly as you cross your arms, waiting for his reply.

“I didn’t start it, he hit me first,” Jungkook tells you, his tone suggesting he had not fully understood why you were so upset right now.

“Jungkook,” You deadpan, he winces at the lack of a pet name. “You don’t get it? Even if he hits you, you don’t hit back! You’re not in the ring for goodness sake, if word goes out that you retaliated back at him, do you even know how much risk your career would be at?”

He lowers his head, keeping silent. You were right, he knew you were upset for a valid reason.

“I know it’s hard not to retaliate back, but it’s the one thing you need to do, to not punch the guy back! It just goes to show that the both of you aren’t thinking straight, I thought at least you would be sensible enough not to retaliate,” You sigh, starting the car without waiting for his reply.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only stares out the window as the both of you drive home in silence. His heart ached a little at your harsh yet true words, all he could do was sit in regret and hope that you would not stay mad at him for long.

-

When you pull into the car park and park the car, Jungkook waits for you to say something. The silence is killing him. But you simply grab your bag and shut the car door, not waiting for him to get out.

He flinches slightly at the car door shutting a little louder than usual, watching as you walk towards the lift lobby of your shared apartment, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and rushes to catch up.

“I’m really sorry,” He whispers, slightly glossy eyes staring straight at you, but you don’t look back at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry to me Jungkook, I just warned you about this happening and you insisted it won’t, yet here we are,” You huff, walking out the lift as it opens.

Fuck, he messed up big time. Jungkook wants to turn back time, to maybe have listened to you carefully and not say such harsh words when this was where he ended up. He had never seen you so mad before, so mad at him, to be specific.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. He watches as you walk into the kitchen to reheat tonight’s dinner, but his heart pounds in his chest, his heart aches as he watches you grow in frustration when the microwave’s buttons falter. Jungkook is dying to help you, but he’s afraid, afraid that you’re too mad at him to even be around him.

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