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mechazushi · 6 months ago

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Story Idea 6#

French Take The Lead but GAY, staring Michael Buble's Higher and Sabrina Carpenter's Looking at Me.

Honestly. What it says on the tin. Had this in the old file cabinet in the back for a year I think, and with the late news of Ice Adolescence being dropped and its Pride Month, here's a story for some one to take and make popular to spite Mappa execs

So I have no names for these people so its going to be Brother, his Sister, and the newcomer Hip because it stars a brother, his sister and a guy that did hip hop. Also, in case this wasn't obvious from the Take the Lead reference, they're all black. Brother is bald, btw (still handsome, just bald). And they live in France, kinda important?

Story goes as this. Brother and sister are an unbeatable ballroom dancing pair and have won several awards. There's no bitter rivalry undertones, they get along very well (with typical sibling shenanigans) but after a while, they decide enough is enough and part ways for a bit, wanting a break from the dancing scene. Few years later, they get back together and they are bored. Yeah, it was nice to get out of the spotlight for a while, but since then they have both been looking for different dance partners and have been failing miserably.

As they are discussing this on a lunch date, they walk through a local park and stumble across a live dance demonstration. It's a group of locals doing a free Hip Hop show and looking like they're just having fun. Both of them stop to watch and Sister gets really into the music. As a joke, the two of them try to make an improvised tango routine on the spot. This gathers both the crowd and the hip hop group's attention. Taking the competition in stride, the break dancers invite the ballroom dancers to a friendly dance off. The siblings agree and sh*t gets real. Halfway through the dance off, the other main character stumbles into Brother's arms and he instinctively plays it off. Hip and Brother look each other in the eyes and decide to floor it and go with the flow of the music. It's a lovely display and left the crowd feeling like the song ended too soon.

After the show, the siblings approach Hip and ask if he'd ever be interested in trying ballroom. He initially says no, but thanks anyway. They give him their number and separate. Something happens and now Hip need money (or some other excuse as to why he needs to try ballroom dancing/ add stakes) He goes back and, for whatever the reason is, explains upfront why he's doing this. (There would be no late stage misunderstanding of motives arc if I was going to make this myself, but I'm leaving this to public domain, I.e. you can if you want...I guess..) either way, he's ballroom dancing now.

How this gets gay, though, is explained by the second episode. Brother and Sister are trying to teach Hip how to dance fancily and its not going well. Hip is paired with Sister initially and he's stepping on toes and missing beats somehow. Once it becomes clear that Hip might need a different way of explaining, Brother steps in and miraculously, Hip is a better dancer now. Couple more rounds of this and It becomes clear that Hip can dance, but only if he's paired with Brother. So now the rest of the show is shipping fuel for Hip and Brother getting together and , you know, the actual plot of the story. Probably winning a competition or some typical bullsh*t. (But we're not here for that-we're here for french flavored yaoi 😁)

There is also a reason why I mentioned Michael's song Higher and its not that its a perfect tango song. I had an idea for a scene where Hip is thinking about quitting and Brother is trying to convince him not too. They're at the Arc de Triomphe and for those of you that may not know this, It's the square arch building in France and there's a massive roundabout surrounding it. And there's no lines separating traffic, its chaos.

Hip unknowingly walks out into traffic and almost gets hit by a car. Brother saves him, but is now stuck in traffic with him. Higher starts to play as the two of them find their rhythm again dancing through traffic, literally. At one point in the song, Brother manages to toss Hip into the air, slinging him one-handed over a car, and its played up as it's in slow-mo, with the two of them looking each other in the eyes in amazement, realizing that this is possible... they are possible. They make it to the other side safely and Hip reconsiders leaving behind his dream/goal.

There's another scene where the three of them walk into a more local, less stakes competition to practice in front of a crowd. The bouncer won't let them onto the floor as they're male-male partners and the rules haven't been changed to reflect the new times (This is a one off time for a joke i'm trying to set up, hold on). Hip gets pissed and has to walk away. Sister comes up with a brilliant idea and drags Hip into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, Hip and Sister changed outfits, with Hip looking deceptively feminine. Brother gives Hip a long hard look, evaluating the outfit while Sister douses herself in praise for the idea. Brother becomes lost in thought, wondering if this is possible (maybe a little questioning of his sexual identity as well). Unfortunately, he's staring right at Hip's chest in the dress.

"Excuse you, my eyes are up here." says Hip. An embarrassed Brother drags Hip to the dance floor and passes the bouncer, while the bouncer doesn't question anything. On another note, they won fourth place in the local competition.

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27moremoons · 23 days ago

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Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine:

The Popular Front Calls for a Boycott of the Democratic and Republican Parties and Emphasizes the Need for Not Voting for Advocates of Genocide and Supporters of Colonialism

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine calls on all the free people of America, especially supporters of the Palestinian people, Palestinian and Arab communities, as well as Black organizations and minority organizations, to boycott the Democratic and Republican parties in the U.S. elections scheduled for tomorrow, as both share clear colonial objectives aimed at the genocide of our people and the reinforcement of the zionist settler project.

Both parties have been directly involved in the ongoing war of genocide against our Palestinian and Lebanese peoples, never hiding their blatant bias in favor of the occupation and their continuous support for its racist policies that target the existence of the Palestinian people and uproot them from their land.

The stances of the two American parties reflect an explicit endorsement of ethnic cleansing, legitimizing zionist crimes and massacres against our people through financial, political, and military support for the zionist entity. Statements by leaders of these parties seek to beautify and justify their imperialist policies, using colonial rhetoric that views the Palestinian people as an obstacle to their so-called "civilizational project," while their election campaigns overlook the heinous crimes committed daily against Palestinian civilians, especially women and children, in an attempt to mask the true face of the occupation and legitimize its crimes.

The Democratic and Republican parties continue their efforts to gain the support of zionist lobbies and influential powers, in pursuits aimed at reinforcing policies of mass displacement and systematic oppression against Palestinians.

In this context, the Popular Front renews its explicit call for all honorable individuals within American society not to vote for these two parties, which use American taxpayer money, drawn from the blood of the American people, to support the zionist genocide regime.

The Popular Front sees the boycott of these two zionist-aligned parties in tomorrow's U.S. elections as a moral stance no less significant than any other form of solidarity with the Palestinian people and the rights of oppressed peoples. It is also an effective means of exposing the falsity of American slogans that speak of freedom and human rights. The United States, through its political tools, seeks to exploit these concepts to justify its crimes and perpetuate its hegemony over nations, without regard for the rights of Palestinians who face the worst types of crimes.

Finally, the Front considers the boycott of the two parties a clear internal message to the U.S. administration and the international system surrounding it: those who collude in the shedding of our people's blood and their displacement should not receive the votes of the world’s free people and our communities, who refuse to be complicit in their election or serve as silent witnesses to their criminal policies in power.

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine

Central Media Department

November 4, 2024

#pflp

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mentalintimacymagazine · 2 years ago

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The "2023 Black Music Honors" are BACK!!!!!!!!

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#anxiety #black music honors #Bobby Caldwell #breaking news #coping #depression #digital media #magazine #mark your calendar #mark your calendars #mental health #mental intimacy magazine #music is therapy #press release #soulful #stellar awards #stellar tv #therapy

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anitalenia · 4 months ago

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

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natsaffection · 4 months ago

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heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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pickingupmymercedes · 5 months ago

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Of thorns and blooms - Lewis Hamilton

request: "Can I request a Journalist reader, who lewis has his eye on and she interviews him and smexy antics ensue after the gathering. She wears a light up floral crown which lewis finds so cute and when they they celebrate an anniversary, he gives her an actual crown." - @omgsuperstarg

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Fashion Journalist! Reader!

wordcount: +3K

a/n: It took me sooo long to get the tone to this one right, but I hope it was worth the wait.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Y/n adjusted her dress for the hundredth time as she waited for the next person she would interview, the humidity in the air boiling them all in the enclosed paradise the famous steps of the MET. The buzz of the Gala was like a living entity. And tonight, she wasn't just a fashion journalist, she was a guest, courtesy of a hand-delivered invitation from Anna Wintour herself.

A small proud smile played on her lips. It had been a long road, from the early days working in college fashion blogs to the owner of her own digital media platform. She had conquered every step on the ladder the had envisaged for her career, and the MET Gala was the cherry on top.

Her gaze swept the red carpet, catching a flash of black that snagged on her breath. Lewis.

They'd met a few times before, most notably for his iconic Vanity Fair cover in 2022. Shot in pink, in none other than Valentino, it had been a bold choice, and she had made it justice in the interview. I was a peek into the soul of a man who rarely had let himself be seen that way. It was raw, honest, and had garnered her more praise than any piece she'd ever written.

On the human level there had also been something else, a connection beyond the professional aura, but it had remained just that – a spark.

Over the years, they'd stayed in loose contact. She would congratulate him on a good race, he would message whenever he read one of her articles, a selfie once, holding her printed fashion annual he'd found at an airport in Dubai.

It felt like a secret language, a shared appreciation in their vastly different worlds.

And that night, he looked…untouchable.

A vision in a custom Burberry creation. Although not far from the usual black, his overcoat was anything but ordinary, adorned with hand-embroidered floral motifs that shimmered under the camera flashes, the thorns in his necklace a powerful statement. Heritage and resilience.

As Lewis neared her corner of the press pen, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on her, a flicker shone within them. He diverted his path slightly, heading straight for her.

"Y/n!" he boomed, his voice surprisingly warm for someone who always tried to maintain his stoicism.

"Sir Lewis Hamilton" she replied, offering a professional smile. "Looking sharp."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "You clean up nice yourself, Voltaire."

"Voltaire?" she raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Your floral crown. You quoted Voltaire on gardens being the only art that imitated nature in your preview of the met" He gestured towards her head, where a crown of intricately woven white flowers sat, each petal tipped with tiny LED lights that cast a soft glow. "It looks incredible by the way."

Her smile widened. "Maria Grazia Chiuri and I had a blast designing this piece. We wanted to honor the history of the floral crown, worn for centuries, but with a modern twist."

Lewis leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You always manage to find the hidden meaning, don't you?"

She met his gaze, the intensity surely not lost to her. "Fashion is all about meaning, Lewis. It's a language, a way to express ourselves." His gaze holding on to hers as she continued “Your statement in this Burberry. It's a powerful one”

He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, but just as he was about to answer back a microphone was thrust in front of them. A reporter, eager to get a quote looking impatient.

"Mr. Hamilton," the reporter began, "your outfit is quite…unexpected. Can you tell us the inspiration behind it?"

Lewis straightened his shoulders, slipping back into his professional persona. He launched into a detailed explanation of the Burberry design, his voice smooth and practiced. Y/n listened, captivated by his words and by the way his gaze flickered back to her every few seconds, a silent promise of something.

When the interview ended, the reporter scurried away. Lewis turned back to her; his smile warm. "They only gave me a few minutes," he said with mock disappointment.

"Well," she teased, "perhaps you could tell me the "real" story later," she finished, mirroring his playful tone.

A slow grin spread across Lewis's face. "Perhaps" he replied winking, a gesture that would have sent a lesser woman reeling. "I’ll find you later." He gestured towards the throng of celebrities and socialites milling about.

As Y/n wandered into the museum, she navigated the wave of guests with small talks and greetings alike. Her platform had gained traction over the past months, and her presence was becoming increasingly sought-after. But tonight, the glamor felt secondary as the show stoppers stood behind glasses of exhibitions.

As she stood and admired one of Balmain’s first collections, a familiar figure caught her eye. Lewis, leaning casually against a pillar, a glass of champagne in his hand. He was alone, just observing her, a smile breaking across his face as he saw she had noticed him, he made his way towards her, his movements graceful.

"There you are," a low rumble in his chest. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Hardly," she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.

"So," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "tell me about this secret language of fashion."

"Where do I even begin?" she laughed, a genuine, carefree sound. "Every stitch, every embellishment, every cut – it all tells a story. A story of who you are, where you come from and how you want to be perceived."

The conversation flowed easily, a back-and-forth about the art of fashion, their contrasting worlds, and the subtle messages woven into every outfit. Lewis, she discovered, was surprisingly well-versed in fashion history, his knowledge going beyond the surface. He spoke of iconic designers, groundbreaking trends, and the evolution of style through the ages, his voice filled with genuine passion as he recounted how he had learned so much from her own words.

"You know," Lewis said, his voice softer now, "you're not like anyone else I've ever met."

" This one is not gonna cut it" she asked, her heart skipping a beat.

"Right…" he said, his gaze locking on hers. "But I meant it though. You look at the story behind people. That’s rare."

His words hit her like a sucker punch, laying bare a truth she hadn't dared to public admit. She had always craved for connection with people, and fashion, she had discovered, was her way to reach for those who held their stories and dreams in their eyes and heart.

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she looked away, breaking the intense eye contact. "Perhaps you see the same," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He leaned closer; his breath warm on her ear. "Tell me about your dreams, Y/n. What stories are you trying to tell?"

And then, when she couldn’t avoid his gaze on her anymore, when the silence of his question had almost drowned her, a booming voice cut through the air. "Lewis! There you are. We have to get going."

Lewis sighed, pushing himself away from the wall. "Right" he said, a touch of regret in his voice before he turned abruptly to Y/n, as if he had just decided to take a jump "I have a proposition for you."

Intrigued, Y/n raised an eyebrow. "A proposition? Do elaborate, Hamilton."

He leaned in again, close enough for his lips to brush against her ear. “Are you, by any chance, willing to pass on those other after parties and come to mine?”

Y/n seemed to be taken aback, but just like before, when she was about to answer him, he shot her a look “I’ll text you the details. I’d love to know your stories.” And with a final lingering look at her, Lewis offered a charming smile. "Until later."

The afterparty held a low-key energy, a contrast to the frenzy of the Met. Y/n found herself at Lewis's expansive New York City apartment, surprised by the choice of venue. It wasn't the club she'd thought of, but a tastefully decorated space that felt more like a home than a celebrity crash pad.

Lewis had introduced her to a motley crew of people. Some of his friends, but mostly, a mix of young, up-and-coming designers, photographers Y/n knew by reputation, and even a couple of journalists she had came across an article or two. The air buzzed with conversations, a refreshing change from the interactions of the Met.

As the night wore on, the crowd thinned. Y/n found herself gravitating towards a corner where Lewis stood, deep in conversation with someone she remembered to have seen at some shooting before.

"That's Kelly," Lewis said, noticing Y/n's approach. "A design prodigy. Just landed a gig with Channel"

Kelly's smile widened as Lewis introduced them. "It's an honor to meet you, Y/n," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "I've been a huge fan for a while now."

They chatted for a while, the struggles and triumphs of breaking into the fashion world. Looking at the young woman's vibrant energy, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in the platform she'd created.

But as Kelly was whisked away by another group, a comfortable silence settled between Y/n and Lewis.

He gestured towards an empty stool beside him. "Mind if I steal you for a bit?"

Y/n accepted the invitation, a playful glint in her eyes. "Only if you answer a question for me first."

"Shoot," he said, taking a swig from his drink.

"This isn't exactly the afterparty I expected," she said, gesturing to the relaxed setting. "Why here?"

Lewis chuckled, a low rumble that made her feel inadequately naïve "Maybe this is the real me," he said. "The part that doesn't crave the constant spotlight."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conversational whisper. "I thought you'd like this kind of party. I like to distance myself from the buzz when I can"

Y/n nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "A safe space."

"Something like that," he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.

"So," Lewis began, breaking the building tension "I’m still waiting to hear about your dreams"

And so, for some ungodly pull, at a rather uncomfortable stool, she opened up to a man she had never really expected to create any kind of connection. Maybe, exactly because she never so that coming, it felt so easy to tell him her most guarded hopes.

She spoke of her platform as a way to democratize fashion, to give a voice to those who felt unseen, unheard. She spoke of empowering individuals to express themselves through who they really were, regardless of social status or bank balance.

As Y/n talked, she noticed Lewis's eyes gleaming with genuine interest. He wasn't just listening politely, he interest genuine, his questions insightful and thought-provoking. And she wondered if it was really that unexpected to find this depth hidden beneath him.

"That's incredible" Lewis said, his voice filled with admiration. “You’re giving people the tools for them to tell their stories."

"Exactly" Y/n said, a sense of understanding as he smiled with her. "It's about self-expression, about telling the world who you are."

A thoughtful frown etched itself onto Lewis's face as she leaned into the counter. "You know," he said, pausing mid-sentence, "you're quite a puzzle, Y/n."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Me? A puzzle?”

"There's this incredible fire in you" he continued, his voice low and husky, "a passion for giving others a voice. But then there's this… " he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

"What?" she scoffed playfully. "I always thought I such was an open book."

Lewis chuckled; a dark, sexy sound that surely didn’t go unnoticed. "You talk about empowering others, yet I get the feeling there's a whole story you haven't shared of where that desire comes from"

Their connection had been simmering throughout the night, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Now, with Lewis's gaze holding hers captive, it threatened to tip over.

The conversation around them seemed to fade away, swallowed by the growing awareness between them. Y/n felt his unspoken questions echoing in her mind, a challenge she couldn't ignore.

As the night wore on, the guests gradually dwindled. One by one, they bid farewell to Lewis, leaving him and Y/n alone amidst the empty bottles and scattered laughter.

Y/n found her gaze drawn to him again. He stood by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, his profile sharp and captivating. The urge to break the silence, to bridge the growing gap between them, became overwhelming.

She rose from the stool, her movements deliberate, and walked towards him. He turned, his surprise evident in his eyes.

"Everyone's gone, I should go" she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

"Don’t. Please" he replied, his gaze still locked on hers. "I’d love if you could stay and"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Y/n cut him off, stopping just inches away from him. The air crackled with electricity, the unspoken desire a tangible force between them.

She glanced at the faint outline of his abdomen in the fabric of his Dior shirt, her fingers tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric. Then, in a bold move, she let her nails lightly scratch across his chest, sending a jolt of heat through him.

Lewis's breath hitched. He pulled her closer by her waist, his eyes burning into hers.

Their lips met in a heated kiss, a clash of urgency and teeth. Lewis's hands roamed freely over her back, his touch numbing her to the surroundings. He was hungry for all of her.

Y/n found herself caught in the current, her own desire rising to meet his. His lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses.

A dark part of her, a voice fueled by the intoxicating aura of him, entertained the idea of becoming just another name on his long list of conquests.

But then, as his hand reached for her thigh, a wave of clarity put an end to the haze. This wasn't a one-night stand she craved. This connection, potent and undeniable, deserved more.

Y/n broke the kiss, her breath coming out in ragged gasps. "Lewis," she whispered, her voice husky.

He stared at her, confusion, concern and desire evident in his eyes.

"Dinner first," she said, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Then maybe we can explore this mystery you see in me."

A slow smile spread across Lewis's face, the heat in his eyes softening to amusement. "Dinner it is," he agreed, his voice raspy. "But consider this a warning. I don't give up easily."

Sunlight danced across the Aegean Sea, glowing through the large round window of the yacht's cabin. Y/n stood before the vanity, applying a final touch of lipstick, her reflection a picture of contentment.

Five years. Five years since that MET and Lewis's afterparty, a whirlwind that had swept them off their feet and turned their world upside down.

A soft knock at the door startled her. "Come in," she called out, her voice filled with a hint of anticipation.

The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside. He was a vision in his crisp white linens, his hair free from the braids.

But it was the velvety box in his hand that held her attention.

"There you are," he said, a playful glint in his eyes as he walked towards her.

Y/n watched him through the mirror, her heart still skipping a beat whenever he was around. He stopped behind her, his warmth radiating through her back.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"A little something for my favorite fashion journalist" he replied, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned close.

He opened the box, inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, lay a breathtaking piece of jewelry – a floral crown crafted from delicate diamonds. Each petal was meticulously designed, some adorned with tiny thorns, others bursting into bloom.

It was both graceful and powerful. And it wasn’t quite a necklace, nor quite a tiara. It was a piece of art.

"Lewis," she breathed, her voice filled with awe. "It's…incredible."

He took the crown from the box, his touch gentle as he held it up to the light. "Anne Wintour helped me design it," he admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "She said it reminded her of your outfit at the Met Gala, all those years ago."

Y/n held her breath as she looked at the jewelry. The floral crown, a memory of their initial spark, now reimagined with diamonds. The strength and beauty of their love that had blossomed despite adversity.

"The thorns," he said, her voice barely a whisper, "they represent the challenges we've faced, the distance, the different worlds..."

"And the flowers," he finished after clasping it to her neck, his voice husky with emotion, "represent our love, always blooming, even in the face of those challenges."

He adjust it to her skin, his touch gentle. "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread" he said, his gaze holding hers.

He cupped her hand in his, his eyes brimming with love. "Someone who wears her heart on her sleeve," he continued, his voice low and husky.

She turned and their lips met slowly, a lingering kiss that spoke volumes of their love and shared journey.

"Happy anniversary, Y/n," he whispered, pulling away but not letting go, his eyes shining brighter than any star.

"Happy anniversary, Lewis" she replied, the diamond floral piece catching the sunlight and reflecting a thousand tiny rainbows in their eyes.

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xclowniex · 2 months ago

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I want to talk about this article here.

I think it has completely missed the mark.

To sum it up, it talks about Israeli government led and individual jewish/Israeli led memorial projects for Oct 7th.

It's main criticism is that everything happened to quickly for it to be a genuine thing so it must be pro Israel propaganda.

And whilst I do agree that some of what Netanyahu has done isn't really memorial, I disagree with it being pro Israel propaganda, I would say it's more so pro Netanyahu stuff, to prime him as a good candidate for next election. I also disagree with all of the things from the israeli government not being genuine memorial, as some stuff is.

I also disagree with non Israeli government aka jewish and/or israeli led memorials such as the Nova exhibit being pro Israel propaganda. It just feeds into the whole antisemitic tropes of jews doing something nefarious behind the scenes and dual loyality tropes and jews control the media tropes. Sure a few may have ulterior motives, but acting like they all or even the majority do is just gross.

I also vehemently dislike the "the memorials happened too quickly to be genuine" because the reason for the quickness is right there.

People widely believed it didn't happen

Or that it didn't happen to the extent Israel said it did. And well, we know it was as bad as Israeli media reported it to be. But people didn't believe the reports.

And we see this all the time with holocaust denial. How could a country where the majority ethnicity experienced a genocide which still gets denied by people to this day, see the biggest massacre of jews since the holocaust and see it being denied and not go "fuck we need to do something".

Is the way it was went about tasteful? In some cases yes, and some cases no. But that is not what the article is saying.

The trauma of the holocaust is still ingrained in us. Holocaust survivor's are still alive. It ended 79 years ago. How can one not get worried when the history of denial repeats itself?

Then you also have to factor in that people don't dwell as long on history as they once did. Look at how fast the Russian invasion of Ukraine left the front page of the news. Look at how many people online no longer post about it. Look at Congo, Venezuela, Bangladesh. Those countries have all recently had important historical events. Yet how many people online post about them? How much attention did the media give to them before moving on?

How much time do we have to make an Oct 7th memorial before people who aren't jewish or Israeli don't care about it anymore? And it tied back in to the Oct 7th denial. Not to mention the fact that we have not been allowed to mourn Oct 7th. We have not been allowed to grieve.

It is not weaponizing trauma.

Would you dare say the same to black people about slavery? Queer folk about the aids crisis? Because it is very obvious that in those situations and in the current, it is not okay to claim that.

Jews and Israelis are not weaponizing our trauma. We do not have some secret agenda. We are just trying to grieve, to mourn, to honor those lost, using past experiences as a guide.

#antisemitism #jumblr #israel #i/p #palestine #i/p war #gaza #jewblr #oct 7

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daytaker · 9 months ago

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arkhammaid · 9 months ago

Text

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ OF BROKEN RECORDS AND A GOLDEN FUTURE.

fandom. formula one

pairing. max verstappen x stunt woman fem!reader (fc: giulia steingruber)

about. y/n l/n is one of hollywood's best stunt women and her boyfriend is the biggest fan of her work

content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread

notes. we're back with yet another max smau, y'all really love him (i do as well). unlike my first smau, i'm not completely satisfied with this one but better this than nothing 😭

VOGUE has posted a new video!

Y/N Y/L/N answers 10 Questions | Vogue

user woah, i didn't know y/n was training for the freaking olympics??

⤷ user it makes sense, gymnastics gave her a solid foundation, if not an advantage over other stunt women/people

⤷ user no wonder she's so highly sought after

user in another universe i just know she won the olympics

user until today, i've never heard of y/n but her achievements are crazyyyy. and to think of, she has at least another ten years if not more in the industry

⤷ user right?? she's absolutely insane, always going up to her limit and still surpassing herself everytime. her work is really admirable

user MOTHER Y/N IS IN VOGUE, WE WON

YOURUSERNAME

liked by maxverstappen1, dc, angelinajolie and 108'337 others

yourusername I'm proud to announce another project for 2025! I'll be working alongside @/dc to portray Black Canary's stunts in the newest Green Arrow movie. We still have a long way to go, but we've already achieved so much. If you're interested in some BTS scenes, watch out for the newest video, where I take you all on a small tour on set!

user MOTHER IS MOTHERING AAAAAHHH

user SHE'S BLACK CANARY FUCK YES

user oh i just know the fighting scenes will slay

dc We couldn't imagine a better stunt woman for our Black Canary!

user we have to wait a whole year 🫠

angelinajolie It's always a pleasure to work with you, Y/n! To an Oscar-worthy movie 👏

⤷ yourusername To an Oscar-worthy movie and other awards 🙌

user y/n is so fucking broad 😳

⤷ user she could choke me with her arms- *gets shot*

⤷ user no no, please continue

maxverstappen1 So, so proud of you, schatje ❤️

⤷ yourusername Right back at you, my champion 💙

user THE RED/BLUE HEARTS MADE A RETURN

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YOURUSERNAME

liked by maxverstappen1, chrishemsworth and 199'563 others

yourusername I can't believe it... Furiosa has been nominated for 7 Taurus World Stunt Awards and won 5 of them. It has been an absolute honor to work alongside my collegues for this movie

user SHE WON BEST OVERALL STUNT BY A STUNT WOMAN AND BEST WORK WITH A VEHICLE THAT'S 2 OUT OF 5 AWARDS FOR A WHOLE MOVIE OH MY GOOOOOODDDD

maxverstappen1 I never doubted you. So incredibly proud of you ❤️

⤷ yourusername I couldn't have done it without you by my side, Maxy 💙

⤷ maxverstappen1 Doubtful.

⤷ maxverstappen1 Just accept the compliment, schatje

⤷ maxverstappen1 You're the most incredible woman I know, your drive and passion are admirable- why do you think I love you so much?

⤷ maxverstappen1 I love you and I'm very proud of you❤️

⤷ yourusername And now I'm sobbing... I love you too, so so much

user i came here to have a great time with y/n winning awards but now i'm in fetal position, rocking myself I FEEL SO FUCKING SINGLE

user STOP THIS, WHY DOES HE HAVE TO BE SO JSADFHJBJH

user there is no bigger y/n fan than max verstappen...

⤷ user if y/n has no fans left, max verstappen is dead...

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MAXVERSTAPPEN1

liked by redbullracing, yourusername and 1'487'729 others

maxverstappen1 Nothing better than ending a glorious season with you by my side. Schatje, to more broken records and a golden future ❤️

yourusername To more broken records and a golden future with you 💙

yourusername Love you, love you, love you so so much 💙💙💙

comments on this post have been limited

taglist. @lilypadlover, @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 x reader #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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recreationaldivorce · 22 days ago

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🚨🔴 Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine: — The Popular Front Calls for a Boycott of the Democratic and Republican Parties and Emphasizes the Need for Not Voting for Advocates of Genocide and Supporters of Colonialism

The stances of the two American parties reflect an explicit endorsement of ethnic cleansing, legitimizing zionist crimes and massacres against our people through financial (https://t.me/PalestineResist/65448), political (https://t.me/PalestineResist/66338), and military (https://t.me/PalestineResist/66172) support for the zionist entity. Statements by leaders of these parties seek to beautify and justify their imperialist policies, using colonial rhetoric that views the Palestinian people as an obstacle to their so-called "civilizational project," while their election campaigns overlook the heinous crimes committed daily against Palestinian civilians, especially women and children, in an attempt to mask the true face of the occupation and legitimize its crimes.

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine Central Media Department November 4, 2024

#pflp #palestine #cw us electoral politics

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holylulusworld · 11 months ago

Text

New year, new life

Summary: On New Year’s Eve your life changes forever.

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Alpine x fem!Reader 😉

Warnings: general cuteness, fluff, I got this idea from a post on social media (the chat)

A/N: Let’s start the new year with Bucky…shall we?

Divider by @firefly-graphics

“Bucky,” you giggle as another message pops up on your phone. He left your home to get something important for your little party. “Look what your Daddy sent to me.”

You show the phone to Alpine, who resides next to you on the couch at the moment. The cat ignores the heart emoticon Bucky sent to you. He moves closer to you to curl in your side.

“Don’t be jealous, Alpine. Your Daddy just saw me first, is all.”

You reply, telling him you love him, along with a heart emotion. You smirk as he immediately replies, telling you he loves you more.

“Alpine, let me try something,” you snicker and take a picture of Alpine sleeping soundly on the couch. You sent the picture to Bucky, asking him if he loves you as much or more than his cat.

Bucky takes his time replying. When he finally does, you laugh at his response. 'Know your limit.

“Aw, Daddy loves you more than me. What shall we do about it, Alpine?”

“Doll, I’m home!” Bucky chuckles as you walk toward him, a grim expression on your face and your arms crossed over your chest. “I give up!” He raises his hands in surrender, still, that stupid smirk on his face that he wore this morning.

“I don’t know if I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you,” you sniff. “A man who loves his cat more than me.”

“Baby, we both know if the building was on fire, you’d save Alpine before me,” your boyfriend points out.

“Yeah, because the poor sweet cat cannot save himself,” you coo as Alpine walks toward you to rub his head against your left calf. “Aw, just look at him. He’s so pretty, and soft.”

“Sometimes I believe you agreed to go out with me because of my cat.” Bucky searches your face, waiting for you to disagree. “Baby doll?”

You giggle.

“Aw, poor Bucky believed for a second that I only love you Alpine,” you say while glancing at the cat rubbing his head against your leg.

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” Bucky grunts. “I hope you know; you won’t get your surprise if you keep on being a bad girl.”

You peck his scruffy cheek, smirking as you nuzzle his cheek. “You love that I’m a bad girl, Sergeant. Now, let me check if we got everything for our party.”

“Five, four, three, two, one,” you and Bucky count the last seconds of the year. You smile at each other and when the last second ticks by, you share a passionate kiss to welcome the new year.

“Happy New Year baby,” Bucky whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

“Happy New Year, Bucky,” you kiss him again. “I love you.”

“Wait here, I got something for you.” He steps away and calls for Alpine. “Come here, punk. It’s your time to shine.”

You laugh as Alpine trots inside the living room. He meows loudly and sits next to Bucky.

“Punk, do your job,” Bucky points at you. “Go and get our girl.”

“What?” You crouch down to watch Alpine. He’s wearing a black neckerchief. ‘Will you marry my dad? Stands on the neckerchief. You reread the words, gasping loudly.

You look at Alpine, his neckerchief, and then at Bucky who crouches down next to Alpine to offer you a beautiful diamond ring. “Doll, as Alpine already asked, would you give me the honor to become Alpine’s mommy and my wife?”

“What? I…I,” you are speechless and a little shell-shocked. “Of course, I want to be Alpine’s mommy,” you grab Alpine to pepper kisses on his head.

“Doll…Y/N!” Bucky grunts as you cuddle his cat.

“Oh,” you smile softly and place Alpine on the ground. You scoot closer to Bucky to cup his face and kiss his nose, “and I’d be honored to become your wife.”

“Punk,” Bucky dips his head to glance at his cat, “you’re lucky she said yes. You almost screwed things up for us.”

“Aw, he could never screw things up,” you fist Bucky’s shirt to bring him closer. “But if you put that ring on my finger you can screw my brains out later…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction

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harrywavycurly · 1 month ago

Note

I know Lonely reader goes on Twitter and answers random questions! Could we maybe see some? Do you think sometimes she even asks Harry for his answer if a fan is wanting his opinion on something?🩷

Hiii lovey!!! Oh 100000% she does because I mean until recently she was just Harry’s bestie so I imagine she’s always been pretty decently active social media just making sure to respect Harry and Niall’s privacy of course! But she wouldn’t have any issue going on there and answering random questions, I’ll happily give you some examples!! 💖

-find all things for the Lonely series here✨

A/N: You’re doing an evening scroll on Twitter/X and decide to answer some questions and even get your fiancé to help on a few of them✨

Fan: is Niall REALLY the man of honor? What color is he wearing for the ceremony?- Niall really is the man of honor and sorry can’t tell you what color he’s wearing but I can say it’s not black or white✨

Fan: Fave era of Harry? Be honest👀- I met him in arguably one of his best eras his frat era but my fave was the long hair. He was absurdly good looking with it.

Fan: Did you steal his clothes when you were just friends? I’d have his whole t shirt collection- I did! I used to take t shirts but then I also used to “borrow” his fancy bomber jackets and even now they’re in my closet and not his😂

Fan: Would Harry ever write a song about you?- He said yes and then asked how do we know he hasn’t already? He’s always trying to be so mysterious🙄

Fan: Are you excited for the wedding? Is it in Italy???- I am very excited and also super fucking nervous? I think that’s normal though? But no it’s not in Italy, Harry lost that battle.

Fan: Have you and Harry kissed before?- I honestly love how nosey this is, but yes we have kissed a few times.

Fan: One thing of Harry’s that you love?- His hands. I know you all know why.

Fan: What made Harry want to be bffs with you after meeting?- He says my sense of humor and we just clicked oh and our banter was top tier. So basically I’m funny and he likes to try to argue with me😂

Fan: Do you really even love Harry??- Honestly? He’s whatever.

Fan: How did you meet Niall? Your friendship with him is goals- I met him after a show a few weeks after meeting Harry when he invited me to see One Direction perform and we just instantly go along so well! I love that dude so damn much. I’ll tell him you said that!!✨

Fan: How did he propose?- Very dramatically.

Fan: Oh god does Harry read these too now that you’re engaged? I’m scared he’s gonna see my embarrassing tweets 😅- Don’t be scared babes he’s a narcissist so even though you may find them embarrassing he loves them, especially your tweets about his rings👀

Fan: I can’t believe you’re going to marry Harry Styles😭- He can’t believe it either. Keeps checking to see if I’ve changed my mind every few days.

Fan: Tell me please does Harry do his own laundry?- He does when he has the time. He’s a big boy and even knows how to sort his colors from his darks and all that kinda stuff.

Fan: What side of the bed does Harry sleep on?- The one closest to the bedroom door and he says that’s a safety thing kinda like why he walks on the side closest to the street when we walk on the sidewalk. I don’t argue I just go with it.

Fan: How many people are invited to your wedding?- Not a lot😬

Fan: Are you gonna stop working now that you’re gonna be married to Harry?- Niall is that you?👀😂

Fan: Who has more clothes?- Harry. But I do beat him when it comes to books so there’s that.

Fan: HS4 coming at midnight??- Seeing as this was asked several days ago I think it’s safe to say no, sorry babes🥺

Fan: Fave Harry song?- Golden has always been one of my faves but lately I’ve been listening to Cinema a lot I think it’s the background vocals 🫠

Fan: Did you see Niall on tour this year?- I did, I was at both MSG shows and cried and then went with Harry to the show in Manchester.

Fan: When is the wedding?- Not soon enough according to my fiancé.

Fan: Memory with Harry that makes you smile?- Oh god there’s so many to pick from but probably the first time he FaceTimed me while on the road just because he missed me.

Fan: Are you writing your own vows?- Not sure yet, Harry wants to but then you know how he gets and I’ll be standing there for half an hour crying and I just think I’d like to keep it short and sweet but who knows.

Fan: Who’s the clingy one? You or Harry??- We both already know the answer to this question babes. It’s Harry.

Fan: I just wanted to say I love you and Harry💕- Awe and I just want you to know Harry and I love you too!!!

Fan: You two should have a show- I told Harry he should be on the Real Housewives but he told me no.

#lonely extras #Harry styles series #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #boyfriend!harry #Harry styles x fiancé!reader #famous!harry #my little lanky baby #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles friends to lovers

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sturn-saturn · 4 months ago

Text

The Vegas Affair

pairing: matt x fem!reader

warnings: drinking, dry humping, that’s it i think???

a/n: in honor of the triplets turning 21 me and @flouvela collabed on this little fic. be nice pls and happy reading!!

WORD COUNT: 1,803

people always say, "what happens in vegas, stays in vegas."

and boy, were they right.

the whole crew was here. me, sam, colby, tara, jake, johnnie, larray, nick, matt, and chris. we're all here in vegas to celebrate the triplets' 21st birthday. they originally weren't going to do anything, but you only turn 21 once, right?

we all got settled into our hotel, and i'm rooming with matt on this trip; while getting ready for the night, he got a call from the front desk saying the party bus was here to pick us up.

matt and i go out into the hall, knock on our friends' doors, and run to the elevator, telling them the bus is here. i'm super excited because i've never been to parties like this.

we finally pile onto the party bus as the music fills our ears. matt pulls out his digital camera, a relic in the age of smartphones. he's determined to capture every wild moment that happens tonight.

though their career is based on social media, and they put out videos every week, matt wanted to vlog something for him and his brothers to remember: a night with the people he loves.

larray pops the champagne, which catches us all by surprise. "alright bitches! it's time we take over vegas!" we all cheer and hold our glasses out for him to fill.

jake, being jake, gets up and messes with the stripper pole, with johnnie smacking his ass to hype him up while we let out a laugh.

tara and i were in charge of documenting the night for the three boys, taking turns to capture the moments they may want to look back on.

the bus suddenly stopped, signaling our arrival at the nightclub.

this nightclub felt like walking into another world. the strobes of light switching from side to side, the music blasting in our ears, the colorful, sparkly outfits the party girls are wearing, and so much more.

the crew and i stood still to take it all in, and we looked at each other. "i don't know about y'all, but i'm gonna get fucked up!" larray yells, pushing past us as he gets a hold of nick's hand.

after four rounds of shots, we are all completely drunk. i take a hold of matt's camera and turn it around to capture this moment.

"how you feeling party boy?!" i yell over the music.

"i f-feel fine." he yells back, stuttering. "holy fuck. y/n... AM I DRUNK?!"

"you absolutely are," i laugh at him.

he reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out his shades that he had on earlier in the day. he puts them on and smiles at the camera, crossing his arms.

"WOAHH LOOK AT MR. COOL GUY OVER HERE!" chris yells as i point the camera at him.

i'm not sure what it is; it may be the alcohol rushing through my body, or maybe the crush i've had on matt for years, but the tattoos that cover his arms, the all-black outfit he has on, and the shades resting on the bridge of his nose are making me feel the things i've been trying to ignore for so long.

"you look so hot," i mumble.

"what was that?" matt asks, as he stands up, hovering over my small frame.

"o-oh, i just said it's so hot in here," i let out an awkward giggle.

"wanna get some air?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"no, no, it's okay. i'll be fine," i say, smiling up at him.

matt and i catch up with the rest of our friends, and we have the time of our lives. at that moment, all i can think about is how grateful i am to have found such amazing people.

we returned to the hotel and hugged each other goodnight, heading to our rooms. i place matt's digital camera on the desk as matt and i flopped on our shared bed. i grabbed my head as i winced from the pain from hitting my head on the pillow.

"holy fuck, i feel like my head is about to explode," he slurs.

"i know exactly how you feel right now," i replied, eyes shut.

"hey, y/n," matt calls out. i looked at him, "hey, matt," i replied, copying the tone of his voice.

"you looked really pretty tonight," he says, looking at me.

my cheeks flush into a rosy pink as our eyes meet, my heart beating faster than ever.

"you just looked so carefree and so beautiful. i love seeing you have fun and just be you," he whispers, his hand reaching out to tuck my stray hairs away from my face.

"matty, are you confessing to me right now?" i joke, to cover up how nervous i am at that moment.

"maybe i am," his eyes, holding an intense gaze.

"you're drunk, you fool," i say, averting my gaze away from him.

"so are you, y/n." matt looks deep into my eyes and smashes his lips against mine. my mind took a second to realize what was happening before i kissed back.

he hovers over me as i hook my ankles around his waist, flipping him over. i straddle him, rocking my hips swiftly against his clothed cock, the friction of his jeans sending me to the edge.

he grabs my hips, rutting his cock against my pussy. i let out a choked moan, "feels so good." matt licks a stripe on my neck and i feel him smirk, "does it?" he repeats the same action, filling the room with sounds of heavy breathing and me chanting matt's name like it's a mantra.

unbeknownst to us, the digital camera is still filming and caught every sound we made.

"mine," matt whispers in my ear. the word echoing then the world turns black.

i wake up to the sun shining through the blinds of the hotel room. my head was pounding from all the alcohol i consumed last night. i turn over to see matt's side of the bed empty. i get up from my spot and walk to the bathroom.

"oh good, you're awake," matt says, as he spits the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink. "breakfast ends in an hour, so we should head downstairs soon."

i nod, feeling a little off. matt picked up on it and asked, "y/n, what's wrong? did you sleep alright?"

"i don't know but something feels... off? i don't know how to explain it," i replied, scratching my head as i sit on the bathroom counter, waiting for matt to finish his morning routine.

"maybe, you just need some food in you, sweetheart," he says, smiling softly.

"yeah, maybe," i reply, returning his smile.

after breakfast, matt and i decided to go to nick and chris' room with the digital camera to transfer the footage into nick's laptop. though they aren't uploading it we want to see the affairs from last night on a bigger screen.

"alright, this should transfer onto my laptop in like five minutes," nick claps his hands together.

once the footage is transferred, nick presses play, and we all sit on the couch of the hotel room with our eyes glued to the screen.

there she was, tara with a mic in her hands drunkenly singing the 90's song, "always be my baby" by mariah carey. we all laugh when nick picks up a mic and joins her.

the second clip is larray on the sidewalk, teaching sam and colby "his cool dance moves," as he liked to call them.

following clip was matt and i, attempting a makeshift dance routine and engaging in a heartfelt conversation about our friendship and the future.

"oh my god," matt groaned, burying his face in his hands as we all laughed.

"awh, matty, i'm glad you're my best friend too," i tease him, rubbing his back.

the next clip was matt with his shades on again and attempting to do some michael jackson moves with his leather jacket on.

"ok, guys, enough. this is so embarrassing," he says, laughing.

"wait, there's one more clip," chris says, pointing to the laptop.

we all shift our direction to the screen.

"wait, turn it up," nick says.

all our faces drop in unison as our ears are filled with moans and groans that obviously belong to matt and me.

"no, no, no, no," i say, getting up and running out of the hotel room.

i run to our room and locked myself in the bathroom, crying because of the embarrassment i felt.

i suddenly hear a knock on the door. "y/n... it's me, matt. can i come in?"

i unlock the door to let him in and he closes it behind him.

"y/n. what do you feel right now? hm?" he asks, crouching in front of me on the floor.

"i don't know. I feel embarrassed that your brothers saw that, and I didn't know the camera was still on. i'm so sorry, matt," i rambled as i sob into my hands.

"hey, look at me," he says, lifting my chin with his finger and wiping my tears away.

"you have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart. your feelings are valid. is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"i don't know. it's just.. i-i've liked you for so long, and maybe last night was a mistake, maybe it wasn't. if you want to forget about it, i can do that. i can act like it never happened."

"hey, hey, hey y/n. i enjoyed last night. i just want to make sure you're alright. the camera being on was just a mistake, i'm not upset about that, alright? and i've liked you for a while too, you know," he smiles at me, trying his best to comfort me.

we sit on the bathroom floor for a bit before we hear nick and chris on the other side of the door asking if they can come in as well.

matt unlocks the door to the bathroom and the other two walk in.

"are you okay, y/n?" nick asks.

"yeah, just a little embarrassed, i guess," i say looking down.

"well, you know what they say 'what happens in vegas, stays in vegas'" chris says, a smug smile on his face.

"oh, fuck off!" me, nick, and matt yell, looking at chris and we all burst out into laughter.

one thing i'll forever be grateful for is having these three boys in my life. we made a silent vow to cherish the everlasting memories we made last night with our favorite people.

well, i guess vegas have brought us all closer in more ways than one, if you know what i mean.

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