#someone. like i just really think he did it. because i like seeing him commit crimes

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐒𝐅𝐖/𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐓. 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐒

✶ bunny came out less than 2 weeks ago and the fandom has completely GONE CRAZY, and im one of those who did. obviously, same usual disclaimer, nothing is known about his personality yet so don’t come to me in a few years all upset because he's described differently </3

✶ the first part is completely sfw, the second one has only some, like 3, of the nsfw alphabet. sorry if a little awkward !!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

his kind of affection could be described as constant but meaningful, as if every hug or kiss carried all the weight in the world. bunny is someone who constantly seeks physical contact — even if it's just a simple caress or holding your hand at the most random moment of the day. he loves the privacy of his home because it allows him to kiss you freely, without being hounded by paparazzi, so he can take his time with you

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

i'd describe a friendship with him as pure chaos, where annoying you is the sweetest way he shows he cares. forget those friendships where kind words are the main focus, with him the most meaningful thing you can get is a sock thrown at your face, followed by a comment like "it suits you" or "smells like you" said with the most devilish grin you've ever seen

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he’s the kind of guy who’ll say, right in front of you, that hugging a girl is weird — only to whine when you refuse to hug him. he’ll always do everything he can to avoid admitting it, but ending the day in your arms is what relaxes him the most. he loves physical affection, but it’s a little hard for him to admit it

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he only starts thinking about things like that once the relationship has been going on for quite a while, so i'd say after at least a year, or something like that. in my mind, he's someone who can clean exceptionally well but doesn’t even know how to crack an egg, which is exactly why he prefers eating out or take a takeaway

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he knows very well that even things that seem perfect often come to an end. he’d probably prefer to talk about it in person, but because of his work, he often struggles to stay in barcelona for long periods of time. so i get the feeling it might happen over a message or during a call

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

bunny is someone who, for a long time, felt like marriage was a bit too much — maybe because of his teammates, who always seemed to have multiple flings going on at the same time. still, even with that bit of hesitation, i get the sense that he wouldn’t be afraid to get married in the not-so-distant future if he knew he’d found the right person. marriage is absolutely off the table for the first two or three years, but after that? trust me, he’s already googling the best way to propose. he just needs his certainties, that's all

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he wouldn’t really describe himself as the rude type, but truth is, he has no problem suddenly wrapping his arms around your waist — so smoothly that you barely even notice at first. let’s just say he’s much more gentle on an emotional level: i see him as someone who has absolutely no issue listening for hours — and, strangely enough, he actually gives pretty good advice, even if he’s a bit unconventional

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

his hugs are slow, he wants to take his time and feel how your warmth blends with his. he especially loves hugs from behind, trust me

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

i get the feeling he only says it when he knows he has to, otherwise you might explode. not because he doesn’t care, but simply because he prefers to show it in other ways: hugs, dinners at his or your favorite restaurant, little bows in your direction when he scores a goal. but he’s obsessed with how YOU say it with that slow and sassy voice. there, he completely loses himself

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he’s actually pretty jealous, the kind of jealousy he doesn’t hesitate to show even in front of the person involved. he’s the type who might kiss you, walk away, and leave the other guy standing there totally confused, while he just yells from afar "don’t even try. she has way higher standards"

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

like i said about hugs, he likes to take his time. i think his favorite places to be kissed are probably where he has the scar and, quite typically, his lips. he also loves kisses on the neck — but he prefers to be the one giving them

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

he adores kids, but kids don’t always adore bunny. — at least, not at first. he enjoys chatting with his little fans, but some get a bit scared when they see his scar. he’s not offended, he knows it can be a little frightening to children, so every time he tells them he got it while saving a princess (you) from an evil dragon. that’s when the kids start to trust him more, and your cheeks get even redder

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

when he has the chance to fall asleep and wake up with you by his side, expect the slowest, sweetest wake-up ever. his mornings are always busy when he has training or is away from barcelona because of matches and workouts, so when he gets the chance to pamper you, even if it’s just with breakfast, you can be sure he’ll do it

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

setting aside those kinds of nights, he actually loves taking a bath after dinner with you by his side, not necessarily in a sexual way: it’s his way to relax his nerves, talk, and spend time with you after a horribly busy day

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

unfortunately, we still know almost nothing about his past, but im sure there’s some angst in his backstory. as Isagi said, bunny has an extremely sad smile — this makes me think that he’d probably take some time to talk about his past, masking reality behind the usual smile his fans know. would he open up? yes, but in due time

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

does he have patience? yes. does he use it? not necessarily. overall, he’s a pretty patient man — he knows that both in life and on the field, goals and achievements take time to come to fruition. but if he fixates on something specific? he needs to have it immediately, like right now

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

bunny isn’t someone who forgets, but someone who only shows he remembers when the time is right. he loves surprising you with sudden things — like giving you a bracelet you might have mentioned a month ago. he could never be with someone he doesn’t remember anything about, it would be senseless to love someone without knowing even the smallest, silliest details

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it was probably the moment he realized that his scar didn’t scare or disgust you. the realization hit him so suddenly that for a few seconds it unsettled him — because he isn’t very proud of that mark, which he thinks mars his face. he doesn’t get offended when others are scared by it, but the fact that you actually said you, in a way, appreciated it? that’s when he understood you were the right one

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

he knows very well how the paparazzi are always on his neck, like hungry vultures. every time you go out and someone starts taking pictures, he prefers to give you his cap to cover your face, or even his jacket if you're feeling extremely uncomfortable. h'd rather hide you by pulling you close to his chest and maybe kissing your head —but hey, only if you're okay with it. he doesn't want to make the situation heavier than it already is for you

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he doesn’t know how to cook, he only puts effort into making breakfast. he’s strangely good at organizing dates because he knows which places you like and, at the same time, where you won’t be disturbed. he cleans the house, but please, don’t hand him a frying pan

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

he hugs you even when he’s still sweaty from training, and he does it on purposeand he does it on purpose. he drools a little on you when he sleeps on your chest buy yeah

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

if we ignore his worries about the scar, he’s actually someone who spends a lot of time in front of the mirror. maybe he’s getting ready and you’re on the bed — expect to see him flex for minutes, then turn to you and say "find someone like me. impossible. lucky you, you get to kiss me"

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

let’s say he’s used to the idea of not being close to you because of his job, but he doesn’t like it. he feels a little lost when he knows he’s really far away, but admitting it is out of the question

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

he’d want a bunny just so he could name it after you and not feel like the only one with an animal name. imagine being in a pet store: he’d turn his head if someone mentioned a bunny! so he loves calling the bunny and watching both of you turn around, confused

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he thinks insulting someone’s appearance is the most senseless thing in the world. he can’t even conceive it, and it’s something he would never do to you because he knows what it’s like to have an obvious flaw (which isn’t really a flaw)

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

he sleeps on your chest and drools without shame, only to tease himself and you about it the next morning. he loves to have at least one hand on you when he sleeps

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favorite part of his body are his hands, which can grab his favorite part of your body, your ass

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s wickedly playful, with absolutely no shame in pushing you to your limit and saying "already like this? are you really that weak?" all with the worst smirk ever seen on the face of the earth. he loves to push you to the edge just to leave you without any real payoff, only to hear a mess of frustrated moans from you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

you're pathetically weak when you're the jealous one, so beautiful with your arms crossed and an overly annoyed pout. he knows that girls, especially his fans, often cheer him on and objectify him, but seeing you jealous? that’s priceless. no one can take away a long slow sex session where all he does is tell you he loves only you and that you don’t have to worry about the others, that they ever be in your condition like you are now, all fucked up thanks to him

[maxdibert]

One last thing;

Ive grown up poor. I had no one in my corner at all, ever. I was failed by the healthcare, mental health, and family care system over and over. I was bullied severely. And yet, I never called anyone slurs. And yet, I never went right wing out of 'self defense'. It's a fucking weak argument to say that his environment shaped him and he had no further common sense to be a better person?

I work with people who have been in and out of prison multiple times. Many of them have not only committed crimes, but have also struggled with serious drug addictions, particularly heroin. The vast majority come from deeply devastated environments, shaped by poverty, institutional neglect, structural violence, and complete emotional abandonment, situations so extreme that most of your moral judgments would crumble if you spent five minutes face to face with them. I’m talking about people who started using heroin at 13 or 14. People who had no support networks, no resources, no guidance, no actual options outside of what their environment imposed on them. People who formed emotional bonds and loyalties in violent, abusive contexts simply because that was the only form of connection or care they had access to.

And you’re telling me —someone who sees, every single day, how material conditions weigh on people’s bodies and lives— that I should focus on the exceptional cases? The ones who did make it out? The ones who didn’t “turn bad”? You really expect me to ignore systemic realities and center moralistic exceptions, as if virtue were some innate, individual quality instead of something profoundly shaped by class position, access to education, mental health care, and safe environments?

Sorry, but that’s pure neoliberal thinking. That’s exactly the kind of discourse that blames the poor for their own poverty. It’s the same meritocratic narrative that says, “If I could do it, anyone can,” as if everyone starts from the same place, as if growing up in hell doesn’t shape the way people make choices. It’s a fallacy, and it’s deeply classist. And yes, you can be poor and classist, just like you can be oppressed and still reproduce oppressive narratives. That’s because the system teaches you to hate yourself, to compete, to cling to figures of power even when they destroy you. This is not about justifying everything, it’s about understanding things through a material lens.

The issue isn’t whether there are poor people who don’t use slurs or who don’t turn to the right, of course there are, just like there are rich people who don’t either. The issue is demanding moral superiority from the oppressed in order to make them worthy of empathy or analysis, while refusing to apply any structural understanding to their behavior. That’s a double standard. If you only use individual morality as your framework, then you’re reproducing the same logic of punishment that puts poor people in prison while letting rich criminals walk free.

I’m marxist and marxism isn’t a moral code, it’s an analytical tool. And if you apply it seriously, you can’t just say “I suffered but I didn’t do X” as if that were an argument. That says nothing about the system, it only says something about you. It doesn’t negate the structure, the pattern, or the statistics. It just proves you’re an exception. And building political arguments around exceptions means you’ve fundamentally missed the point.

[kindaorangey]

also in the same way you have to see armand choosing the coven over louis as him deciding between two options he sees as bad, believing one is not viable, and committing to the other wholeheartedly (hence him directing the trial and just generally playing an active role in madeleine claudia and louis's executions) so too must you view his decision to stay with louis after the trial as him realising the coven is not a viable option for him anymore (because louis kills them all) and committing to louis wholeheartedly instead because he's his only other option.

[rinchdressing]

klapollo week day 7: aa4 sequel

[maryasmorevna]

why are you, as an adult in 2024, still hung up on reylo. why are you still mocking the shippers. why do you believe yourself to be superior only because you dislike a stupid ship from a fucking space fairytale. girl (gnc) get a grip

[mars-ipan]

tbh i think the number one most important thing about jealousy in a relationship is trust. i think you can be as jealous as you want so long as you have trust in the fact that your partner would not lie to you and is devoted enough to you to remain faithful to you. jealous people only attack the people they see as “threats” to their relationship because at the end of the day they don’t trust their partner to stick with them. that could stem from a personal insecurity or having been burned before but at the end of the day the issue is not the third party but instead their own lack of faith in their partner

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[luvuomi]

✎ . . . ❝ [ amethos but, epic au! ]❞ .ೃ࿐

dedicated tracks: “the horse and the infant” & “just a man”

though strategic in his battle tactics and a master in the art of war, sethos is not one who particularly enjoys the bloodshed and adrenaline that comes along with it. unfortunately in this day in age, not many would agree. for them, to harbor such skilled yet deathly attributes, should thus be carried with pride. only then, can a man ever wish to become that which is greater than himself. this is how many view the reigning king of tulaytullah.

an adversary that is neither man nor mythical, but one’s darkest moment.

but would his fellow comrades still think the same of him now if they saw him hesitating on striking down his greatest foe? granted.. said foe was nothing more than a mere infant.

a fragile, defenseless being he now cradled in his arms, a familiar gesture that brought forth memories of his own child as he looked into their eyes. how could such innocence be deemed a threat by the gods? to be the bearer of such great calamity?

he couldn’t do it. how can when all he sees as he carries this child are fleeting images of his own son and wife.

where as he stands out on the balcony overseeing a once prosperous nation now set ablaze and ringing with battle cries from his invasion, he imagines for a moment that he’s back home in tulaytullah. even after all the years, away from everything he’s known, he can still see the image of the streets below bustling with vendors as they open up shops and prepare for the day ahead. instead of the smoky air, he imagines the mellow summer breeze that travels through the air of his kingdom, greeting him a pleasant morning.

in this daydream, sethos continues to hold the infant in his arms, having decidedly taken him in to raise as his own. at his right, his own son tugs at him, eagerly wanting to meet his new little brother and on his left, is his wife — amélie . her head resting upon his shoulder while tender eyes gaze upon the infant that she of course welcomed with open arms. it’s a distant future but one that is so picturesque, he almost believes it to be true.

but as the infant’s cries suddenly echo out, everything vanishes as quickly as it came, reduced to nothing more than the ashes that fill the darkened skies.

the world he desires is not awaiting him should he go against the will of the gods.

to have sympathy now would come at too much of a cost. one he can’t afford to lose as a man who’s just trying.. begging to go home.

[dustandthought]

Did Charles commit suicide?

What if he didn’t go north... What if he left for good? (A soul-crushing headcanon about Charles Smith)

What if Charles took his own life? Yes, yes, just like that — what if he left, not north, but FOR GOOD. I keep thinking about this more and more. Because so much about him screams — “I can’t do this anymore.”

Everyone says: he went to Canada. Oh sure, sure. But maybe it’s time to stop repeating that comforting bedtime story. Canada was mentioned once, barely, like a breath. But in another dialogue — he says he wants to go to INDOCHINA. Can you imagine? Indochina! Where is that, and where’s Canada, and where is he? He’s lost. He’s torn. He doesn’t know where to go. Because he feels at home NOWHERE. And all of this — it’s not a plan. It’s emptiness. It’s pain wrapped in scraps of fantasy.

And when he tells John: “What does your family need an old gunslinger for?” — that’s NOT A JOKE. That’s a scream. A plea. A wound masked as a smile. Because he’s the outsider among friends. He’s the extra. He’s just... there. But he’s not part of it. And he knows that. Feels it in his bones. In his heart.

He doesn’t even sleep in the house. Doesn’t sleep on the property. Wanders into the woods. Into the dark. Into solitude. Some would say — it’s just habit, right? He’s used to the wild. Used to isolation. Bullshit. It’s not habit. It’s escape. Because being close — hurts. Watching Abigail, watching John, watching their child — it’s like a blade across the soul. Their dream came true. And him? Who is he? He’s — no one. Once, he was an outcast among outcasts. Now he’s just... the only one left. Alone among the joyful.

And the doubts he voices to John — “Will this life be enough for you?” — that’s not about John. That’s about himself. He’s asking himself. He doesn’t believe happiness is possible for him. That he deserves it. That he’s even capable of feeling something other than this tight, choking loneliness.

And that talk about going north, starting a family, finding a woman... I DON’T BELIEVE IT. NOT A SINGLE WORD. It sounds like a script. A rehearsed line. A mask. A way to say something so they’ll stop asking. He has no plan. No place. No direction. He says it himself. “I don’t know where.”

Not Canada. Not Wapiti. He could’ve gone back there a hundred times. In eight years. But he didn’t. Because he never saw it as home. It was something lost, something nostalgic — not a place he was needed.

And just finding a woman? Really? This is Charles. A man who lets NO ONE in. He’s built like a fortress. In his mind. In his soul. In his silence. And if he lets someone in — it’s forever. And if he doesn’t — no one gets close. This isn’t about “settling down.” This is about finding a soul that moves him. And those are rare. Maybe one. Maybe none.

He says: “These last eight years, I’ve come to accept the things I can’t change.” Is that supposed to be hope? It’s not acceptance. It’s surrender. That’s not light at the end of the tunnel — it’s the tunnel closing in. It’s numbness. It’s emptiness.

And John, dear John… tells him: “You’re the strongest man I know.” I HATE THAT PHRASE. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY IT ABOUT HIM. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE SAY IT ABOUT ME. It’s NOT strength. It’s survival. It’s when life beats you so hard, all you learn is not to fall. It’s not a choice. It’s endurance. He’s not strong. He’s exhausted. He’s shattered. He’s lonely, he’s silent, and he’s so, so tired.

Even if he met “the one” — would she love him? The real him? The broken one? The quiet one? The distant one? Or would she fall for the mask — for the “I’ve made peace with the past” lie? And if she never sees the real Charles — how could he ever be happy with her? He doesn’t do halfway. Not him.

Abigail and John are different. She knew his pain. All of it. His monsters. His sorrow. She accepted it. Who would accept Charles? Who even knows who he became?

And in that last ride... he says: “I’m heading north.” Turns down Sadie’s offer to work together. Says it’s time to move on. But what if he wasn’t moving forward. What if he was moving toward the end.

(Another powerful and unwavering argument for me: we all remember how Charles and John ride out to save Uncle in the epilogue — and how Charles, with a chilling steadiness, says that if the uncle’s wounds are too severe, the only mercy left would be to help him cross over. He speaks of killing — not driven by hatred, not poisoned by cruelty — but as a final act of love, a broken, desperate kindness to release a soul from agony. And I ask: was it only uncle’s suffering Charles wished to end? Or was he, too, reaching for a way to quiet his own howling grief? I believe he was. I believe he desperately was.)

What if that was his way of saying goodbye. Softly. Quietly. Not “farewell.” Just — gone. So they could keep living, believing he’s somewhere out there. Alive. Just... far. But in truth — he had already made peace. He had written his ending.

Not to the north. Not to Wapiti. Not to a woman. But to the place where nothing hurts anymore.

And if that’s what happened... if he really left...

...maybe, finally, he found peace.

[maskedbyghost]

Part 2 of fuck buddies with Simon (now with extra emotional damage)

You didn’t text him, you didn’t call, you didn’t chase.

But you did send one final message.

“This is the last time, Simon. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t want to be someone you only need when you’re lonely or angry or tired. I wanted you, not just your time or your hands or your body. You don’t have to say anything—I’m just letting you know I’m done. Please don’t come back. I won’t open the door.”

Then you blocked him.

Phone, socials, everything. And not in some dramatic, screaming, flinging-plates kind of way.

And for the first few days, nothing happened. No messages, no banging on the door, and no surprise visits in the middle of the night. Just silence.

But on Simon’s end?

Hell broke loose.

He didn’t even notice the message right away. He was halfway through watching a game when he opened his phone and saw it sitting there, timestamped four hours ago. He read it once, then again, and then stared at it like maybe if he glared hard enough, the words would disappear.

But they didn’t.

He tried to reply, of course. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard for longer than he’d admit. But when he hit send, the message didn’t go through.

His jaw clicked tight. Something cold and ugly twisted low in his chest. He tossed his phone onto the couch and paced. He thought about showing up at your place but didn’t. Not yet. Not when he didn’t even know what he was going to say.

It hit him, slowly. That you weren’t bluffing. That you meant it this time.

That he fucked it. Bad...

A month later

You’re sitting across from a guy who actually listens when you talk. He laughs at your jokes, asks you questions. He looks at you like he’s interested—not just in your body, but in your thoughts, opinions, and favorite takeout order.

It’s... weird. Not bad weird. Just different. Good, even.

You're at a quiet restaurant, corner booth, tucked into a little space with candlelight and soft jazz playing overhead. You’re just reaching for your drink when you hear it.

The click of a safety being flipped off, before your date goes still.

“Don’t move,” a voice says, low and dark behind him.

You know that voice.

Your blood runs cold before you even look at him.

Simon stands there, one hand is braced on the back of your date’s chair. The other? Holding a gun pointed directly at the side of the poor guy’s head.

“Simon—what the fuck are you doing?” you hiss, scrambling out of the booth.

“I just wanna talk,” he says, voice way too calm for someone with a loaded weapon in hand.

Your date is sweating, hands raised. “Hey, man, I don’t want any trouble—”

“Did I ask you what you wanted?” Simon snaps. Then he smiles. Smiles. “You’re gonna get up and leave. Right now. No questions. Go.”

The guy doesn’t argue. He bolts so fast he almost trips over a chair.

You stand there, staring at Simon like you’re seeing him for the first time. And in a way, you are.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask, shoving him back. “Are you insane?”

“I said I just wanted to talk,” he mutters, sliding into the booth like he didn’t just commit a felony in front of three tables.

“Jesus, Simon. You scared the hell out of him. You scared me. You don’t just pull a gun on someone because you’re feeling jealous!”

“I’m not jealous,” he says, lying through his teeth.

“Get out.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t get to show up here like this. You don’t get to throw a tantrum just because I moved on. You made it clear how you felt—or didn’t feel. Remember that?”

Simon’s hands are curled into fists on the table. He looks like he’s about to explode. But instead of yelling, he just leans forward, jaw clenched so hard.

“I fucked up,” he says. “I know I did.”

“Yeah,” you say coldly. “You really did.”

-

Aftar that, he doesn’t text you. After all, he is still blocked, so he can't.

So he writes notes. Slips them under your door, even though you never respond.

"I miss you." "I keep thinking about what you said. You're right. I treated you like shit. I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to try." "Still can’t sleep. I keep rolling over expecting you to be there. You're not."

You don’t write back.

Then the gifts start showing up. A bouquet of roses, your favorite. A playlist on a USB drive. A book you mentioned once, two years ago, that he somehow remembered.

He shows up to your building sometimes. Just sits on the steps, waiting, but not in a creepy way—he knows to keep his distance. But he’s there. Rain, cold, whatever. He waits.

One night, you come home late, and he stands when he sees you. “I’ll go if you want,” he says quietly. “Just... let me know you’re okay.”

You don’t say anything. Just unlock the door and go inside.

He doesn’t leave for another hour.

Two months in.

He catches you on your way to work.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he says, walking beside you like he belongs there. “Just... give me a chance to make it right. Let me earn it.”

You stop walking. Look at him.

He looks rough. The beard’s thicker, the eyes are darker, and the weight of regret sits heavy on his shoulders.

“You can’t fix this with flowers and sad eyes,” you say. “I needed you. And you made me feel like a mistake.”

“I know,” he says, voice cracking. “I know I don’t deserve another shot. But I’m still gonna try. Every day. Until you tell me to stop.”

“And what if I never change my mind?”

“Then I’ll still keep showing up.”

He means it.

You can see it in the way he looks at you now—not hungry, not possessive. Just wrecked. Like he lost something irreplaceable and knows it.

You don’t let him follow you to work.

But for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel as angry. Not because he’s forgiven. Not even close. But because he finally looks like he’s suffering the way you did.

Three months.

You’re out with friends when he shows up again. This time, unarmed thankfully.

You’re tipsy, laughing, leaning into someone else’s shoulder—some other guy’s—and Simon sees it before you do. You turn and there he is, standing just far enough to not make a scene, but close enough to make your heart drop.

You think he’s going to come over. Ruin the night. Scare the guy off again.

He doesn’t.

He just nods at you. One short, respectful tilt of his head. Then he walks away.

No words, nor begging, trying to guilt you into anything.

And that gets to you more than the thousand apologies he could’ve offered.

Four months.

It’s your birthday.

You don’t tell anyone. You keep it lowkey on purpose, like if no one says anything, you can just pretend it’s any other day. You don’t want the reminders. You don’t want the well-meaning texts from people who don’t know what you’ve been dealing with. You definitely don’t want to wonder whether or not Simon remembers.

But he does.

You find out when you get home and there’s a small package sitting at your door. No note. No name. Just your initials written on the wrapping in the handwriting you know better than your own.

You think about throwing it away. You almost do, but curiosity wins, and inside the plain brown paper is a little black box.

You open it and your breath catches.

It’s that necklace you once pointed at in a store window downtown—months ago, maybe even a year. A tiny silver ghost on a chain. You made some stupid joke about how it looked like him: “emotionally unavailable, disappears without warning, weirdly endearing.”

He didn’t laugh at the time. Just rolled his eyes and muttered something like “you’re annoying” under his breath.

You never mentioned it again, but he remembered.

You stare at it for a long time. You don’t cry, don’t smile either. You just sit there on your hallway floor, turning the necklace over in your hands until your legs go numb.

Then you put it back in the box and tuck it in the drawer by your bed.

You don’t wear it, but you decided to keep it.

And the next day, for the first time in months, you catch yourself wondering how he’s doing. Like maybe he’s not just doing this to win, maybe he means it.

Still, you don’t reach out.

Not yet...

Five months.

He finally knocks.

It’s late. Not obscenely so, but enough that you’re in sweats and no bra, and part of you is tempted to pretend you’re not home.

But something in you says open the door.

So you do.

Simon looks like hell. Wet from rain, hair flat to his skull, hands shoved into his jacket like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching for you.

“I wrote it down,” he says, holding out a thick envelope. “Everything I wanted to say. Everything I should’ve said before.”

You stare at it like it might burn you. “Why now?”

His throat bobs. “Because I thought giving you space would be enough. But space doesn’t mean silence. It doesn’t mean I stop showing you I care. I just... I didn’t know how to love you the way you deserved.”

“And now you do?” you ask, arching a brow.

“No,” he says. “But I’m learning. And I’ll keep learning, with or without a second chance.”

You take the envelope. You don’t invite him in. But you do say, “Good night, Simon,” soft and tired.

And he smiles, just barely.

You read the letter that night. You weren’t going to, but you do.

It’s messy. Honest. Full of crossed-out lines and little notes scribbled in the margins. He writes like he talks—short sentences, straight to the point—but you can feel how badly he wants you to understand.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel disposable. That’s not what you are. That’s not what you ever were.”

“I never knew how to show you I gave a fuck. That’s on me.”

“I kept thinking if I didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t expect anything. But you did. And I should’ve met you there.”

“I think about your laugh. I hear it sometimes when I’m dead tired. It makes me hate myself.”

“I’m not asking you to come back. But if you ever do, I swear I’ll never leave you wondering again.”

You fall asleep with the letter in your hands, crumpled a little at the edges.

You don’t message him the next day.

But the next week?

You text one word.

“Coffee?”

PART 3

-----------------------------------------------

do we still hate him guys??

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

[navybrat817]

Late Night Recap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).

A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didn’t encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didn’t seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldn’t get your smile or voice out of his head.

Wait, he didn’t tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing. 

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him?  “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.”

Was that creepy? It wasn’t like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasn’t lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t believe him.

“You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said. 

Steve held a hand up when Bucky’s fists curled. “What he means is we’re surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesn’t usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously different,” the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Alpine really liked her.”

Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasn’t it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.

Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?”

If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.” 

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

“You’re not going to meet her or ask her anything,” Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. “Because I probably won’t see her again.”

It didn’t make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didn’t exist in his world, not for people like him.

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadn’t dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadn’t lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter. 

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. “I didn’t get her number.”

“Wait, you didn’t ask for her number or give her yours?” Steve asked.

Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasn’t the suave guy he used to be. “She was drunk, Steve. I didn’t ask since there’s a good chance that she might not even remember me,” he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.

“Well, you know where her apartment building is,” the blonde smiled. “That’s a start.”

“But not her apartment number,” he sighed. 

You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how “true crimes” began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldn’t run straight inside.

Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done over the years, it didn’t change that he didn’t get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?”

Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.”

Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. “But wouldn’t that be weird to add her as a friend?” he asked.

Because, again, there was a chance you wouldn’t remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said “single” like he hoped.

…Was he venturing into creepy territory again?

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

“And that’s the end of this conversation,” Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.

“You’ll see her again,” Steve smiled, quickly adding, “Now that’s the end of the conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didn’t want to keep you a secret. 

He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see “Queen Alpine” while you were sober.

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version toji version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ PHONE THEFT TO F1 WAG PIPELINE | #FC43

pairing. franco colapinto x tifosi!reader

synopsis. charles and carlos accidentally steal your phone. chaos is bound to ensue as you meet franco during the race charles invited you to as an apology for the phone theft he committed

warnings. like one (1) swear word

note. there's a lack of franco fics out there, so i'm fixing it

MASTERLIST ; requests open

to: yn yln (yn.yln@gmail.com) from: Ferrari PR (ferrari.pr@ferrari.com) subject: Invite to the Monaco Grand Prix 23.05.25–25.05.25

Dear Ms yln,

We heard about the incident with our driver, Charles Leclerc. On behalf of Mr Leclerc we would like to offer our sincerest apologies. Mr Leclerc has expressed a wish to invite you to the Monaco Grand Prix, or any other Grand Prix if you are unavailable for the Monaco Grand Prix.

Please let us know your availability and we will provide a paddock pass for the entire weekend.

Best regards,

Ferrari PR

yn

liked by user1, alexandrasaintmleux and 97 others

yn and to think this all happened because charlos stole my phone (thank you alexandrasaintmleux for taking the first picture)

view all comments

alexandrasaintmleux it was lovely meeting you 🫶

yn it was so nice to meet you too!! i cannot wait to meet you for lunch later

charles_leclerc ?? what

alexandrasaintmleux don't worry about it, amor

user1 remember me when you're a niche internet celebrity

yn niche internet celebrity for going to one race once 😀

carlossainz55 again, i'm so sorry for stealing your phone

yn i got it back, so no hard feelings (and charles got me a paddock pass, so i won't slander you on the internet)

charles_leclerc thank god

user2 did you forget we had an exam the DAY after the race?

yn whoops? but at least i got to go to an f1 race?

francolapinto

liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team and 501,123 others

francolapinto Monaco Grand Prix. It was a tricky weekend, but back to work and we'll be stronger in Barcelona 👊

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user3 i really hope alpine keeps franco for more than five races

alpinef1team ¡vamos!

yn it was so nice talking to you, thank you for carving the time out of your (undoubtedly) busy schedule to do so!!

francolapinto the pleasure was all mine, even though you wore the wrong team colours

yn well, if alpine had invited me and not ferrari then maybe i wouldn't have worn red

francolapinto maybe i'll just have alpine invite you to barcelona

yn a, i have university, b, i would still show up in red because that is the only right colour

francolapinto what a shame, you'd look stunning in blue

yn 😳

user4 is that franco… flirting?

user5 sorry, he's just like this

user6 so proud of you for p13!!

user7 can't wait to see what you do in barcelona next weekend 🫶

pierregasly let's go, barcelona ‼️

yn

liked by francolapinto, user1 and 85 others

yn a week ago, i was at the monaco grand prix, now i'm back at uni 💔

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carlossainz55 stay in school kids, it's important

yn did you even finish school?

carlossainz55 i did, actually

user1 so, coffee date when

yn you're literally sitting next to me, we could go right now

francolapinto you could always come to a race (and ditch uni)

carlossainz55 DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM

yn CARLOS?? i thought you liked having me around 😔

carlossainz55 I DO, but don't ditch university for a race

francolapinto we have strayed so far from the original plot of the movie

pierregasly no, we're sorry, please continue with your pathetic attempt at flirting

yn i think it's cute

francolapinto at least someone here appreciates me

francolapinto hermosa 🤩

yn my face isn't even in this??

francolapinto i can still tell, it's the vibes

user8 you know what, sure

charles_leclerc

liked by yn, alexandrasaintmleux and 869,495 others

charles_leclerc i accidentally stole a phone one time and now i've got an annoying little sister who won't leave me alone

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yn oh, i look good in that picture

francolapinto you always look good

yn 🤭

pierregasly you need to heighten your standards if that makes you blush

yn you should've included some pictures from the yacht outing in this 🙃

alexandrasaintmleux agreed!!

user9 yacht outing?? girl is living the dream

user10 phone thief to unwilling older brother is real and thriving

user11 FORZA FERRARI

user12 i want to BE her

yn probably not, uni is killing me 👍

yn reply to my text, charles, please it's an EMERGENCY

charles_leclerc is the emergency in the room with us?

yn YES??

charles_leclerc you asked for a paddock pass so you could, and i quote, "talk to franco again"

francolapinto i'm flattered, hermosa

francolapinto give her the paddock pass charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc oh god fine i'll get you a paddock pass

yn thank youuu 💕

yn

liked by charles_leclerc, francolapinto and 102 others

yn highlights from the race: conversations with franco and FERRARI P3!!! FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE 🏎️

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user13 what is that picture of franco?

yn i just found him like that

user1 forza ferrari or whatever

yn put some more enthusiasm in it???

francolapinto maybe we can go on that date soon ☺️

yn what date? i don't recall a date

francolapinto 🥹

charles_leclerc DATE? DATE? mon dieu

yn please calm down, i don't want you to get a heart attack especially at your old age

charles_leclerc …

yn i also haven't agreed to a date, but that is mostly because franco has been a COWARD and hasn't ASKED

francolapinto would you say yes if i asked

yn yes ☺️

francolapinto

liked by charles_leclerc, yn and 450,653 others

francolapinto argentina, baby 😉

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user14 FRANCO COLAPINTO IS THAT A GIRL??

user15 THE FLOWERS ‼️

user16 this is not a drill, i repeat, this is NOT a drill

user17 francoooo, you can't just do this

francolapinto actually i think i can hehehe

user18 he said fuck subtlety

user19 as he should

carlossainz55 happy for you, hermano

pierregasly how did this happen

alex_albon i'm just as confused as you are

charles_leclerc more importantly when did this happen

yn more importantly who is she

charles_leclerc 🤨

pierregasly what do you know

francolapinto 🥹 heart: broken

yn

liked by francolapinto, alex_albon and 163 others

yn hehehehe

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francolapinto what is that last picture i look like i don't care which is WRONG

yn you look cute in it

francolapinto the cute one is you, me thinks

yn psa: franco does care he was just busy finding a restaurant in the last picture

pierregasly we were getting a little worried he didn't

francolapinto YOU'RE MY TEAMMATE??

pierregasly i still like yn better

user1 so this is why you suddenly left for argentina

yn yes 🤭

charles_leclerc as your older brother i'm obligated to be protective (i'm very happy for you)

yn thank you, charlie 🫶🏻

charles_leclerc does this mean i don't have to sit and listen to you talk about franco anymore

yn no

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️

carlossainz55 so this is why i caught you sneaking around in that hotel hallway that one time

yn you promised not to speak a word of it

carlossainz55 oops?

yn you're legally required to pay reparations now, sorry i don't make the rules

francolapinto to both of us ‼️

oscarpiastri i support extorting carlos sainz

carlossainz55 can you come get your kids charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc only oscar is my child, yn is my sister 👍

francolapinto

liked by yn, pierregasly and 457,896 others

francolapinto she wore red to our first date because "you have to know that my allegiance will always be to ferrari"

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charles_leclerc i don't see the problem??

yn that's because there is no problem

user20 is franco dating the girl who got her phone stolen by charlos lmao

user21 that's charles' little sister

charles_leclerc i stole her phone and then she leeched onto me until i (reluctantly) accepted her as my sister

yn you love me

charles_leclerc i do

user22 my husband has a girlfriend 🥲

yn ferrari is forever, boyfriends come and go

user23 how does this season make you feel

yn terrible

francolapinto amor ☹️

yn i love you, i just don't like alpine

yn give my boyfriend a seat for the next season alpinef1team

scuderiaferrari don't forget your roots 💔

yn never ‼️ FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE

scuderiaferrari FORZA FERRARI

alpinef1team don't forget who provides your paddock passes yn

scuderiaferrari if you no longer want to, we'll gladly provide them

user24 not ferrari and alpine fighting over yn LMAO

yn i love you, amor ❤️

francolapinto i love you the most, estrella 🩷

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Plums & Pancakes

Pairing: Dad!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Mom!Wife!Reader

Summary: A quiet life wasn’t something Bucky Barnes ever imagined for himself , not after everything he’d endured. But then a blur of flying fruit and a love he never saw coming changed everything.

Word Count: 2.2k ish

Warning/Tags: TOOTH ROOTING FLUFF! literally nothing but sweet cuteness comfort and loveee oh and did i mention fluff! maybe borderline suggestive but not really?

A/N: okay guys dad bucky is my favorite thing to write everrrr so if you love it too lmk and ill write up some more for ya! hes a cutie pie in thissss anyways see ya on the next one bbys

Bucky Barnes never believed the universe would be kind to him.

Not after the fall or Hydra. Not after the years he couldn’t even remember his own name. And not after the blip.

But sometimes , every once in a while—he was reminded that maybe… just maybe… he’d been wrong.

The biggest reminder , funny enough , came in the form of flying fruit.

It had been a warm September day , the kind that hinted at fall without the full commitment. 

The annual farmer’s market in upstate New York was crowded but now overbearing. 

Bucky had been reaching for a small basket of plums—his favorite , a habit from a lifetime ago when living alone in Romania when a blur of motion smacked right into him.

And suddenly , the plums were on the ground. So were three apples, a carton of strawberries ,  an entire paper bag that had clearly been packed to the brim with freshly baked bread, soaps , and jars of something that smelled like lavender.

“ooghf–oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you’d said, immediately dropping to your knees beside the wreckage tyring to scramble and pick everything up. “I wasn’t looking , I didn’t mean to—are you okay?”

Bucky had just blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever seen someone move that fast while apologizing so much.

“I’m fine,” he’d managed, kneeling beside you. “Are you okay?”

You looked up at him then—cheeks flushed, strands of hair stuck to your forehead from the heat, hands full of squashed plums—and laughed. A soft, kind laugh that didn’t match the chaotic scene at all.

“Guess that’s what I get for trying to carry half the stand in one go,” you said, brushing your hands on your jeans. “I try to help my dad with his stall every week. Still haven’t learned to make two trips I guess.”

He didn’t know why, but Bucky had smiled.

Maybe it was your warmth.

Maybe it was how pretty you were , big eyes filled with wonder.

Maybe it was the fact that it had been a very long time since someone looked at him like he wasn’t dangerous.

“I could, uh… buy you a coffee to make up for the plum mess?” you’d offered after he helped pick everything up.

And Bucky—James Buchanan Barnes, former assassin, hundred-year-old man with too many ghosts was too nervous to trust his voice , so he nodded.

And man did that feel like a lifetime ago.

Because now… now Bucky Barnes was married.

To you.

And the two of you had built quite a life. Settling down into a simple cottage tucked into an open field. Where you two were raising your now four-year-old daughter named Winnie , after his ma , and just recently welcomed your five-month-old son , Grant.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when the cries started.

Bucky stirred first. It was a reflex now—like breathing , like how he would hold his breath when he reached for a gun back in the day. 

Only now, he reached for his son instead.

Grant was fussing in the bassinet next to their bed, squirming with his tiny fists clenched tight face angry and red.

“I got him, doll,” Bucky whispered to you, voice thick with sleep as he rubbed his eyes. “You rest a little longer.”

But just as he was lifting Grant into his arms cooing to the baby, another voice rang out from the hallway.

“Mommy!”

You groaned ,  face squished into the pillow. 

“Mommyyyy, I want pancakes!” Winnie’s voice was full of energy and chipper. “With chocolate chips!”

“I’ll make ’em,” Bucky offered, already patting Grant’s back as the baby calmed in his arms. “After I change him , the little guy seems to have a present for me.” Bucky's face crinkled when he stood with the stinky babe.

You chuckled into your pillow now , stretching before rolling out of bed. “I’ll get her dressed. She’s probably already got on her princess boots and nothing else.”

It was true.

Winnie had exactly three obsessions at the moment: chocolate chip pancakes, braids, and her sparkly light-up boots that clomped across the hardwood with the grace of a baby elephant.

You managed to wrangle her into an outfit—jean overalls  and a cream flowy , long-sleeved shirt—and sat her down on the stool in the bathroom.

She chattered the entire time as you sectioned her long brown hair into three even parts. Fingers twisting with precision as you yawned, still shaking off the sleeplessness from Grant's eventful evening.

“Daddy said we’re going to the park. Can we bring snacks? I wanna feed the ducks and geese again. I bet they missed me. Do you think they did? Do ducks like pancakes? Because if they do, I’ll share.”

“You’re a generous soul and yes i think they missed you.,” you told her laughing at her innocent toddler mind. You tied off the braid with a glittery purple band and she jumped into your lap happy with the result.

Meanwhile, in the nursery Bucky had Grant tucked against his chest in a soft wrap. His giant hands moved gently, adjusting the wrap with practiced ease.

“Hey,” he called out as he stepped out of the nursery, “how do we look?”

You turned and—oh.

God help you.

Your husband stood there barefoot, in downy gray sweatpants and a blue soft t-shirt. 

Your baby was swaddled against his chest, all chubby cheeks and content, little fingers curled into Bucky’s chest.

The silver chain of his dog tags glinted just beneath the collar of his shirt.

He smiled, soft and sleepy. “Too much?”

You just blinked. “You know what you’re doing to me.”

He chuckled.

And screw it if he didn’t do the lopsided smirk that made you weak back when you first met.

“I’m just trying to get our kids to the park in one piece,” he said innocently. “If I look good doing it, that’s on you for marrying me.”

He said smiling, leaning down to your face and kissing you full of his love.

“Ugh,” Winnie groaned dramatically. “You guys are always kissing and flirting.”

Bucky ruffled her hair. “Get used to it, peanut cause every day i fall more in love with your mama.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The grocery run had been a blur of snack requests , impulse juice box purchases, and Bucky being stopped by a sweet older woman who insisted Grant looked “just like his daddy.”

 You had smiled politely while Bucky awkwardly thanked her, his face a little pink from the compliment, and then used the excuse of Grant needing to get home to escape.

But now it was time for your favorite part of the day.

The park.

A soft breeze drifted through the trees, the sun warm but not oppressive. 

Winnie ran ahead to the playground, her boots lighting up with every delighted stomp. Grant was now sound asleep against Bucky’s chest, full from his bottle he had between the store and here , his little mouth slack as he dozed in the wrap.

You settled onto the bench with a relieved sigh, one hand shading your eyes as you tracked Winnie’s every movement—up the ladder, across the bridge, back down the slide. 

Bucky dropped a kiss to your temple before walking off to toss a crumpled snack wrapper in the park bin. “Ill be right back just gonna throw this away” 

You looked down to see what he was holding and noticed the lack of his wedding band , tan lines still prominent but the metal was missing , probably forgotten after his shower you thought.

You were keeping your gaze still on Winnie as he walked away , when you heard a loud cackle.

You turned your head to the sound and saw a woman next to your husband.

Tall. Blonde. Designer sunglasses and a perfectly timed laugh.

She walked up closer to him, head tilted like she already knew how pretty she was.

You squinted. 

She was talking. And then laughing. Then her hand touched his chest.

His chest.

It wasn’t threatening, not really. But it wasn’t nothing.

You watched Bucky awkwardly smile , then nod , and finally excuse himself, walking back to you fast , his brows slightly furrowed.

“Well, that was strange,” he said as he sat beside you. “Why do people flirt like that in the middle of a public park? Like, thanks ma’am, but I’m holding my son right here.”

You smirked, turning your head toward him. “Well, women do love hot single dads.”

The look on his face was instant. 

His head snapped so fast you heard it crack.

“SINGLE??” he practically barked. It made Grant stir and whine at the disruptive sound ,  he immediately bounced gently, voice going soft again. “Sorry, buddy. You’re okay , I'm sorry.”

You shrugged, holding up his hand in front of his face. 

“Just saying. You’re out here ringless , looking like that , holding an adorable baby , how do you accept any girl not to jump on you?”

Bucky looked down at his hand like it had betrayed him. “Shit,” he muttered. “I took it off when I was washing the bottles  and didn’t put it back on. I knew I forgot something. I've felt off since we left. She probably thinks I’m trying to—God.”

You laughed, rubbing your hand along his thigh. “Relax. You didn’t do anything. And honestly? It was kind of fun watching someone else drool over you for a change .”

He gave you a pointed look.

 “Don’t say things like that when you know I’m going to spend the next hour trying to convince you you’re the only person I want to look at .”

You winked. “Convince away, Barnes…But the moment a woman's manicured claws touch either of my kids then we have a major problem and the winter soldier will be her last worry.” You said laying your head on his shoulder turning back to Winnie now picking flowers as you rubbed Grants back.

“Okay , okay easy there mama bear” He laughed through his nose.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Winnie went down first.

After a bubble bath with approximately twelve too many toys, two books, and a lullaby from both of you (because she claimed you both sang differently and she needed the duet), she finally dozed off.

Bucky had given her one last kiss on the forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, peanut,” before closing her door softly with a click.

Grant had been next—fed, changed, and now out cold in his crib with one arm over his head like a tiny drama king. He is his fathers son–

And now?

Now it was your turn.

You stood in front of your mirror, legs a little tired, back a little sore, but your heart full. 

You rubbed lotion on to your arms and shoulders slowly, the cool cream easing your muscles as the soft light of the bedroom cast everything in a dreamy golden hue.

Behind you, the bathroom door opened.

Bucky padded in barefoot, wearing those navy blue pajama pants you loved—low on his hips, soft from too many washes (thanks to lots of spit up) . His shirt was off, hair still damp from his shower. You caught him watching you in the mirror.

“You’re staring,” you said softly, smiling now brushing through your hair.

He didn’t answer right away. 

Instead, he walked to the bed and flopped down dramatically on his back with a groan. Like I said , father– like son.

“I’m exhausted,” he murmured, eyes closed. 

You laughed, turning around fully and crawling onto the bed beside him. 

You caressed his cheek , the pad of your thumb swiping his cheekbone and slowly moved to straddle his waist , your faces inches apart , when he suddenly held up his hand stopping your movement.

His wedding band back on and shining brightly.

“Sorry, doll face,” he drawled. “But I’m happily married.”

“Oh no. I was just about to ask for your number, too.”

He grinned, one of those rare, slow ones that started with the left side of his mouth and crept across. 

“You can have my number. But only if you kiss me first.”

You leaned in, planting a slow, warm kiss against his lips.

“Done deal,” you whispered.

He exhaled, threading his fingers through your hair as he kissed you again. Longer this time. Slower. A kiss that said thank you–

 I love you 

I love our kids

I love our life.

When you finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I still don’t believe this is real, sometimes,” he admitted quietly. “You. The kids. The quiet. All of it. It doesn’t feel like something I should’ve gotten to have.”

You brushed your thumb along his jaw. “You deserve every second of this, Bucky Barnes. Every messy , swee t, sleepy , pancake-filled second.”

He tilted his head and kissed your wrist. “Even when I forget my ring and get flirted with by random women in the park?”

You rolled your eyes. “Especially then. Because I get to be the one you come home to and reminded how lucky me and the kids are to call you ours.”

And you did. Every night.

He wrapped his arms around you as you settled into bed under the plush duvet.

 His hand splayed protectively over your stomach as you both listened to the quiet of the house—the hum and crackle of the baby monitor, the faint whistle of the wind outside, the creak of the old floors as they settled.

It was all love.

Not the kind that was loud or dramatic. Not the kind shouted over chaos or with empty meaning. But the kind that was built quietly, with chocolate chips , baby wraps, and whispered lullabies.

And this?

This was the kind of love Bucky Barnes had only ever dreamed of.

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[munsonsmixtapes]

Flattery Works With Me

Eddie Munson x shy!fem!reader

summary: with a predicament, the boys beg you to ask Eddie to postpone a DnD session because they know he will do anything you ask

part two

The conversations that were happening throughout the cafeteria rang in your ears as you headed to the table that you always sat at. The usual suspects were all there and you were going to take your seat right next to Eddie just like always. 

You were nervous to speak to him, not only because you were shy, but also because you had been meaning to ask him if the DnD session for that night could be postponed because you had a lot of homework. But you knew how he felt about that sort of thing so you were dreading it, hoping that he would agree just this once. 

Before you could sit, though, you could see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all arguing a little ways away from the table. From the looks of it, it seemed to be pretty heated and there was no way you were getting in the middle of that. You hated hearing people argue, the loud voices always making you feel anxious because you didn’t have control of the situation. And you liked having control, craved it, even. 

But as soon as you set your tray down on the table, Lucas waved you over. You didn’t know what he was wanting, but you reluctantly made your way over to the boys, your curiosity piqued. You now had to know what their little spat had to do with you. 

“What’s going on?” You asked and Dustin was about to speak before Mike cut him off. That was something that happened often considering that Mike didn’t like how slowly Dustin would take to explain the situation. 

“Look,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. “We have a prior commitment and can’t make it to the session tonight.” You just knew that they were only telling you that because they wanted you to ask Eddie. 

“Correction: Mike was out late with El last night and got grounded so he can’t go to the session,” Lucas corrected with a roll of his eyes. 

“We were wondering if you’d talk to Eddie for us?” Dustin looked at you with hopeful eyes and the smile on his face made you want to pinch his little cheeks. 

“Why me?” You knew exactly why, but you wanted confirmation that Eddie did feel how you thought he did. That you weren’t just being delusional. Because that had happened so many times; you having a crush on someone and your feelings not being reciprocated in any way shape or form. 

“Are you kidding? The man is in love with you.” You scoffed at the comment, but couldn’t help but feel heat rise to your cheeks. Could it have been possible? You supposed you were going to have to ask, but you just couldn’t get yourself to. Asking him to postpone the session was one thing, but asking if he had feelings for you? Absolutely not. 

“Yeah, he’ll do anything you say.” There was some truth to that and if you had more confidence, you would have tested just how far you could get by batting your lashes and putting on a flirty tone. “So will you please ask him?” You were going to ask him anyway, but now there was pressure on you to actually make the move.

“Why don’t you ask him?” You didn’t understand why it had to be you. Surely he would have postponed it for them, right? 

Mike rolled his eyes and made a beeline for Eddie and you watched the conversation, barely picking up what they were saying, but Eddie definitely didn’t look happy. He then waved Mike off and the boy gave you a look as if to say “See?” 

“I told you, he won’t listen to us. But with you? I think we have a shot.” 

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. You really didn’t believe them, because why would Eddie have been interested in you? You had barely uttered a full sentence to the man in the few months that you’d known him so there was no possible way that he could have liked you like that. 

“Please?” Dustin begged one more time and the three of them jutted out their bottom lips, their eyes pleading. God, you really were a pushover. 

“Well, I do have a lot of homework to do tonight.” 

“I knew she’d do it,” Mike nodded with a smile and you ignored him, taking a deep breath and heading over to the metal head who was sitting at the end of the table. 

Eddie took no time to turn to you, a bright smile appearing on his face. You were so pretty that it was unfair and he kept wondering to himself what he had done to have been so lucky to have you in his life. He thought your shyness was adorable, the way he’d have to lean forward to hear what you were saying because of how soft spoken you were. 

And the dresses you always wore nearly killed him. The way they swung when you walked and how everyone would stare at you in the school hallway, he wondered how you didn’t realize just how beautiful you were. Surely you had to have known, but with the way you were always so surprised when he complimented you, it was clear that you had no idea. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you greeted him, trying your best to maintain eye contact with him, every time you caught sight of that beautiful brown color, you knew you’d be a goner. They were hypnotizing, so fucking pretty that it should have been a crime. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled, turning fully in his chair to face you. “Take a seat.” If he knew it wouldn’t have made you uncomfortable, he would have offered his lap. 

You hesitantly sat in the seat next to him and he could tell you were uneasy, your anxiety palpable. He let his hand inch towards yours underneath the table, letting his pinky stroke yours gently as if asking for permission to take it. Without a word, you wrapped your pinky around his, ignoring his gaze, unpacking your lunch with your free hand.

You felt your anxiety melt away as you felt his pinky squeeze yours gently, as if to tell you that he was right there for you. And he was. He wanted to make sure that you were okay, because at that point, you were his number one priority and he would stop at nothing to help you. He wished it was possible to go into your mind and quiet the voices that were always whispering to you.

“Can I ask you something,” you asked, feeling your hands shake as you realized what you were about to do. Your voice was barely above a whisper, but Eddie just leaned forward so he could hear you. His hearing wasn’t that great anyway, but he actually kind of liked that you were so soft spoken so he had an excuse to get closer to you. 

“Anything,” he replied, giving your pinky another squeeze and you beckoned him forward. Eddie leaned closer to you with no question and you nervously reached up and tucked some hair behind his ear, cupping your hand around it before leaning in and whispering into it. 

“I-I have a lot of homework to do tonight and I was wondering if it’d be okay if we postponed the session tonight?” You asked and felt your heart hammering in your chest as you waited for his answer. You pulled away from him and bit down on your bottom lip and Eddie had to stop himself from staring, wanting to pull your lip from your teeth and kiss you, not giving a single fuck about who was looking. 

You were so goddamn adorable that he felt his chest ache. Didn’t you know that he would do anything for you? Just one bat of those eyelashes and he would have even been willing to commit murder if it meant that you would give him even a sliver of a chance. 

“Yeah,” he nodded his head furiously. “No problem. You know flattery works with me," he winked, giving you a nudge. He hadn’t even given his decision a second thought as he stood up from the table, his mushy feelings subsiding as he took on his authoritative role. 

“Alright, everyone listen up,” he said, his voice a little too loud for your liking. “The session tonight is being postponed until next week because y/n has homework to do.” You turned to the others at the table and they all groaned, digging into their pockets and pulling out money that Dustin was gratefully taking, thanking them all for the cash. 

You could hear grumbles from the others, upset that not only was there not going to be a session that night, but also because they now were out five dollars. It was seemingly a lose-lose. You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you, a warm smile playing on his pretty pink lips. 

He then leaned down and put his lips right by your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shudder. His hand fell to your shoulder and the way his hair was fanning around you made your cheeks heat even more. 

“I can help you with your homework if you need it.” He pulled away so that your faces were only inches apart, that stupid smirk still evident on his lips. 

“I-I’d like that,” you nodded. 

“It’s a date,” he said, shooting you a wink before sitting back down in his chair. You lowered your head and began eating your lunch, letting yourself come up with things to do with Eddie because there was no way you were actually going to do your homework.