#I mean it looks like her or it could be someone else
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faithshouseofchaos · 2 days ago
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So you're looking for franquito requests? I have too many ideas, like it's insane. The things this man does to me I swear 🥰🥰🥰
Well, maybe you could do something like Argentinian non famous reader (not necessarily Argentinian but u know) dating him and nobody knows about her, till one day they both went tired of people assuming he's single n PUM, hard launch. I don't know if I explained this correctly, English isn't my first language so I'm sorry bby 🥺
💛🇦🇷
Hard launch — Franco colapinto x fem!reader
Faceclaim — none I left it pretty inclusive for everyone Warnings— none
Fluff
Word count—
Summary— no one knew Franco was dating anyone until he was photographed at a party kissing his girlfriend.
Franco posted to his instagram
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Caption— Fue un fin de semana difícil que terminó en abandono, pero tengo ganas de correr en Las Vegas (it was a tough a weekend that ended in a dnf but i'm looking forward to racing in Vegas)
Liked by — Lewishamilton, Lando_Norriss yourusername, and 292 others
Comments
User1– not Franco making goggly eyes at Lando during the drivers parade
User2– you’ll get them next weekend Franco
User3– Franco try not to flirt with everyone challenge failed
User4– I’m surprised that Franco is still single man’s flirts with everyone
Your username— I think you did well today Franco
Liked by Franco
User5– we all saw that right?
User6– oh we saw alright
Y/n posted to her story (private instagram)
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Caption— chico somnoliento 💤😴 (sleepy boy)
Comments off
Seen by … Franco_colapinto43 and yourBFF
Yourprivinstagram
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Caption— adivina de quién es la casa (guess who’s home)
Liked by Franco_colapinto43, yourBFF
Comments limited—
yourBFF— who’s that funny looking man on my wife’s instagram account.
Franco_Colapinto43– last time I checked I was her boyfriend 🤨
yourBFF— for now 😁
Franco_Colapinto43– what’s that supposed to mean???
————————————————————————
The party was alive with chatter, music, and the occasional burst of laughter. People milled about, drink in hand, dancing in the dim light as the night carried on. Franco was standing by the bar, joking with a group of friends, when his eyes caught yours across the room. You were leaning against a wall, watching the crowd with a slight smile, your arms casually crossed. You always did prefer standing back and observing, letting the noise of others fade into the background.
Franco’s grin widened, and without a second thought, he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you. He didn’t care that people might be watching. He had long since stopped caring about the whispers, the questions, the rumors. It was just you two now, and that was enough.
“Hey,” he greeted, slipping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “You having fun?”
You raised an eyebrow at him, playful as ever. “You know me, I’m just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”
He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Oh, trust me, it’s too late for that.” He pulled you a little closer, your bodies pressed together in the cozy little corner of the room. You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.
The laughter around you seemed to fade, the chatter becoming a blur, and it was like the two of you were in your own world for a moment. Franco’s thumb traced the outline of your arm before he pulled back slightly, his mischievous smile never leaving his face.
“What if we stopped letting everyone assume I’m single?” he asked casually, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark.
You didn’t have to think about it—this had been brewing for weeks, maybe even months. You’d both gotten tired of the secrecy, of the constant guessing. You didn’t care about the opinions of strangers anymore, not when it came to him.
“I think it’s time,” you said, your voice light but resolute.
And then, with an ease that could only come from the comfort of being with someone who knew you better than anyone else, Franco leaned in, his lips catching yours in a quick, almost careless kiss.
For a moment, time seemed to stop. The room fell silent, people frozen in place. But you didn’t care. You were too busy focusing on the way his lips lingered just long enough to make it clear.
As you pulled away, your hearts still beating in sync, the sound of murmurs around you slowly started up again. Whispers rippled through the crowd, but neither of you looked around. You didn’t need to.
Franco grinned and shrugged, pulling you close again. “Guess we’re not hiding anymore,” he said with a teasing smile, as if nothing had just happened. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess not.”
——————————————
F1.Gossip has posted
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Caption— f1 driver Franco Colapinto caught kissing an unidentified woman while at a party.
Liked by— yourBFF, and 19289 others
Comments
User7– WAIT WHAT?!?!
User8– who is she?
User9– con—😭😭—grad—😭😭—ulations—😭😭
User10– I new there was no way he was single
Franco_Colapinto43–has posted
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Caption— Bueno, gatos fuera de la balsa, feliz Segundo aniversario, mi amor. (well cats out of the bag happy 2 year anniversary my love)
liked by — lando_norris, Yourusername, yourBFF and 1028 others
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intromortal · 21 hours ago
Text
LIQUID SWEETENER
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jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist.
PAIRING jake x f!reader
CONTENT smut. mdni. established relationship, reader has a fever, she's very annoying tbh but it's bc she's ME! it's okay tho bc jake is equally as bad. spitting medicine in someone's mouth... is this sanitary? absolutely not but i also can't bring myself to care
WORD COUNT 3.8k
a.n happiest birthday to my love !!!! nia era where she doesn't let everything she writes rot in her google docs bc she's not happy enough with it??? gasp. maybe. thank you to my lovely @ak4e7a for being so patient with me and reading what i write before anyone else so i don't look stupid i love you mama
WARNINGS fingering, spit, biting, implied oral f!rec, cum eating
Jake’s pout got somehow more pronounced than what it already was when you, once again, refused to just take your medicine. He’d been trying to get you to swallow at least a tiny dose of the sweet fever syrup for the best part of an hour, after every attempt to get you to down any kind of pill resulted in you just hiding them somewhere underneath your cozy pajamas, against your burning skin. He even made sure to pick out a syrup that wouldn’t taste straight up radioactive, knowing you well enough to predict you’d make a big fuss about the nasty taste. Yeah, he could picture it right then in his head, how you’d gag dramatically at the smell and just beg him to go get the tablets again.
For how much you hated being sick, you seemed to dislike the idea of getting better quickly even more.
“You would feel so much better if you just took your medicine,” he sighed, resting the cap filled to the brim with sticky honey flavored syrup on the crowded comforter, careful not to leave it too close to the edge.
“Not even that sick,” you huffed back, trying to wiggle yourself out of the cocoon of blankets Jake wrapped you in as soon as you fell asleep.
“Yeah?” Jake looked at you with an arched brow, before pointing his head to the little mountain of discarded, snot filled tissues overtaking your comforter, the ones he was in the middle of throwing away. “This right here is breeding ground for bioterrorism allegations.”
He stopped you from getting out of bed, securing the warm fuzzy covers around you again. “No need to leave, just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you,” he whispered against your lashes, placing a soft kiss to your closed eyelid.
“Just wan’ you.”
“But you have me baby, I’m right here, yeah?” he snickered, plump lips thinning into that gorgeous wide smile of his.
He knew damn well what you meant, a frustrated grumble spilling out of you at the thought. Cheeky bastard, of course he wanted you to say it out loud. The quiet part.
“Want…more,” you cranked one of your eyes open, struggling when a droplet from the wet towel on your forehead Jake promptly changed every fifteen minutes slipped in it. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light in the room before looking over to Jake, his grin still wide and brightening up his whole face, his head turned to the side as he observed you lovingly, a strand of hair longer than the rest tickling the side of his nose.
If Jake had to be completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly sad at you being a little sick.
Sure, it sounded mean to say out loud. But you were not doing so badly or in any kind of pain that would worry him, and he enjoyed doting on you like this, with you having no choice but to just take his love. Can’t blame a man for wanting to take care of his girl, especially when said girl had a streak of refusing to just lay back and let him do the work.
You were always hiding your pain and vulnerability from everyone around you, so he enjoyed knowing he was helping make it at least a little better for once.
You—however—wouldn’t exactly agree that he was making you feel better, definitely not by walking around with damp hair from the shower and intoxicating the air around you with the lingering salty marine and musky notes of the cologne he always sprayed on his fresh change of clothes. A smell you usually related to comfort and home, making your head spin in the best way possible, a whirlwind of anything but pure thoughts crowding your mind.
Jake took notice of the subtle shift in the air around you right away. You had been–subtly at first—laying down little hints for him to pick up, you craved him. Had been craving him for what felt like forever, ever since you got sick. A nagging hunger that just grew further with every hour he silently ignored it. Usually you would busy yourself with random tasks, keeping your thoughts clear of images of his hands, or his plush lips and how he always absentmindedly licked away at them or how—you get the idea. But being sick didn’t help, being physically weak and needing rest didn’t stop your mind from running wild. Made it worse, actually, since you had nothing to do but lay in your bed all day. If only he’d slide right next to you under your covers and—
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jake interrupted your thoughts, a hint of amusement shining through his smooth tone. You looked up to him hopefully, breath caught in your chest fearing the next few words he was about to say. “And you’re still too sick.”
Really not being dramatic, but you thought you felt a boulder crush you right on your chest. You groaned, turning to the other side so you could sulk properly without having to look at Jake’s stupidly handsome face. A face you would love to ride as soon as possible.
“No like, you actually hate me,” your voice was muffled by the pillow you were squishing your face against.
“What are you even doing.”
“Trying to suffocate myself since my man hates me,” you explained, grabbing the sides of the pillow and pushing them to cover your ears, making Jake erupt in a fit of boyish giggles.
“No I don’t, just want you to feel better first,” he barely whispered, the loving tone making your body feel light.
You suddenly pushed yourself up with your arms to look at him, nest of hair a mess from the speed of your movement, “I would feel sooo much better with your fingers deep inside me right now.”
He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you, assessing what to do in this situation. He too missed your touch, far more than what he was letting on. Even just sleeping next to you—a pillow fortress separating you two by your request—had turned out to be too much for him on multiple occasions, finding himself silently sneaking out of bed to go and take care of his sudden little problems in the bathroom.
As if sensing his resolve wavering, you added, “don’t I deserve a little reward?”
“A reward… for what?” Jake was thoroughly amused by your desperation. You rarely ever got like this, and he was enjoying every second of it, maybe even pushing it a little farther than what he usually would, ending up punishing himself a little along the way too. But he didn’t care, not when he didn’t know when the next time he’d get to this would be.
“Well of course! For having fought this fever tooth and nail and having come out of it alive.”
“You still have a fever though,” he deadpanned. ���Could kick your ass right down at any given moment.”
“That.” you glared at him with all the fake anger you could muster up. “Is such a mean thing to even suggest.”
“Don’t you care about me getting sick? Made a scene all week and now you’re okay with me touching you?”
“First of all—I only made you keep the pillows between us the first two days. And like I told you, I feel better, so if—” the words died in your throat as you felt the bed dip underneath the weight of Jake’s knee. You looked up to him as he slowly got inside the covers, right next to you. His presence felt different, the soft look in his eyes overtaken by something more primal, and you couldn't help but feel like prey under his watchful gaze. It felt intimidating in a way you weren’t used to. It made you squeeze your legs together in search of any friction, your already feverish skin somehow feeling even hotter.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jake whispered against your cheek, his nose rubbing for a moment on your skin as he snuck an arm underneath your body, pulling you flush to his side. Even just that single touch sends an electrifying shiver down your spine. “Since you’re fully capable of talking my ear off…”
You reached for his hand wrapped comfortably around your waist and guided it down to cup your heat through your thin shorts, your own hand resting on top of his as you ground your pussy against it.
You took notice of how his breath hitched in his throat, his carefully crafted mask of calmness slipping as you used his hand, the illusion wearing off even more when he tried to hide it with a gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. You knew he wanted it just as bad as you did, you were just willing to beg for it as long as it got you what you wanted. “I’ll—” you audibly gasped when he flexed his fingers just that tiny little bit you needed to be able to feel them press against your fluttering hole. “I’ll do anything, just please make me cum.”
“Anything?” he teased you, voice light and airy as he moved the fabric of the shorts out of his way. A deep chuckle tickled your neck, Jake’s mouth having dipped down do leave open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin.
“Anything, just… please,” you whined, flexing your neck to allow him more space, his tongue dipping to lick a stripe down to the juncture of your neck.
If you hadn't been so deprived of Jake’s touch up until then, you would have found the way you were grinding up against his hand and moaning in his ear almost embarrassing. But you were desperate, so you couldn't bring yourself to care about how pathetic you probably looked.
Jake though, oh he enjoyed it thoroughly. His cock was stiff in his sweats, almost painfully so, from feeling how wet you were through your shorts. Dripping already and he had barely touched you. You were just so fucking hot.
“You’ll take your medicine then?” He moved his hand from your mound to grip your thigh, ignoring your weak one clawing at his arm in an attempt to get the little taste of pleasure he was giving you back. He kissed his teeth, his eyebrows furrowed in faux disapproval. “Use your words. What will you do?”
“Take my medicine,” you whimpered, looking into your boyfriend's eyes despite the tears aligning your waterline, and finding amusement swimming through his gaze. Little cheeky shit. Not that you were about to complain or anything.
“Theeeere we go,” Jake sang in your ear, placing a soft kiss behind it before dipping down once again and resuming his sweet torture. “You can be good once in a while.”
You nodded, lips thinning to keep quiet as if any wrong sound would make him change his mind and leave you hanging. The hand that was drawing circles on your thigh came up to hold your chin, carefully tilting it away from Jake’s mouth as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your skin. He smoothed over your lips with his thumb, coaxing them to part once again.
“Let me hear how good you feel, baby,” he mumbled, mouth still latched on your neck, before taking a strong whiff off your neck. Had you not been so distracted by the wetness seeping out of your clenching hole onto your panties, you would've noticed how his eyes rolled all the way back in his skull at your smell.
His free hand finally slid under your shorts, a gasp leaving you because of how cold he felt. Jake was always warmer than you, but your fever made it so his touch felt icy against your skin. Your back arched slightly when one of his digits parted your sopping folds, your sensitivity heightened by the unusual difference of temperature.
“Poor little thing, she’s got a fever too,” he giggled into your neck, another digit joining in as he slowly dragged them from your clit to your hole to coat them in your juices. “But it’s okay, I’ll help her feel better.”
Usually you would’ve groaned at his stupid little jokes and pushed his face away. But this time, blame his voice being deeper and hoarser than normal or blame your fever, it got you clenching around nothing, cunt feeling emptier than ever while he took his sweet time playing with you.
Your head dug deeper into the pillow, hips lifting from the bed to follow Jake’s torturous movements, desperate to feel something more.
“So needy…” he breathed into your neck, going back to placing sloppy open mouthed kisses wherever he could reach.
A yelp left your mouth, eyes you didn't even notice you had closed shooting open when Jake bit down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, just enough to rip you out of the trance you were quickly falling into. He smoothed over the little bite mark with this tongue, a tingly sensation overtaking the pain in a matter of seconds, pleasure overriding anything else.
Jake finally prodded two of his digits into your hole, testing the waters, still careful not to push you too hard so soon. But your reaction was instantaneous, pussy hole fluttering against his fingertips right away, he just had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep most of his noises in. “God… I fucking love it when you act like a little slut.”
Jake was so fucking turned on, he could barely think about anything but your pussy. The only thought in his mind was get her off, make her feel good, get a taste of her sweet cunt, sweet pretty and oh so delicious cunt… like a broken record. He felt like he was born for this and this only, as if his mission in life was just that of pleasing you. And to think he had deprived himself of such bliss for even a few days… Something in you seemed different to him, almost animalistic, the way you rutted your hips against his hand as soon as he started scissoring his fingers inside you, the way you weren't even trying to hold in your moans like you usually would, mouth hanging open with a string of drool attached to your lips. And this was just from his fingers.
You yourself weren't doing any better, your brain basically turned to mush as you helped Jake get you off by essentially riding his fingers, despite how weak you felt from the fever. His fingers were so long, hitting all the right spots you knew you could never be able to reach by yourself, and his thick knuckles dragged against your walls so deliciously.
“S-so good,” you gasped when he turned his fingers just the right way, hitting the spot he knew had you coming undone in just a few strokes.
The room was filled with the slapping sounds of his palm against your drenched cunt, more and more slick dripping down your thighs and onto the bed with every flick of his wrist, making it all that much more obscene and filthy. You could feel the familiar pressure building up in your tummy, and suddenly the overwhelming need to just grab onto something crashed on you, heavy and almost painful. You clawed at his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in deep pleasure, unaware of the fact that Jake was not facing you anymore.
He looked over his shoulder to the comforter, the cap filled with syrup still there amidst the mess. He twisted his body to grab it, careful not to slow down the relentless pace he was fingerfucking your cunt at. A few drops of the liquid spilled onto his shirt as he took a sip of it, a grimace overtaking his features as he tried his best to hold it in his mouth. You were still a moaning mess by his side, tiny brain turned to putty so much so you didn't even register anything else happening around you, so hyper focused on the pleasure your boyfriend was providing you.
“J-jake, I’m so close.”
Perfect timing.
Jake grabbed your jaw to turn your head towards his, applying the pressure he always did to signal it was time to part your pretty lips and take his spit, like the good well behaved girl he knew you to be. And you did just that; immediately following his movements like he had trained you to, tongue sticking out too for good measure. He bent down slightly to aim better. But this time, instead of the slightly bitter taste of his saliva you expected, he let small amounts of medicine fall on your tongue.
You uselessly tried to back away from him, but he held you in place, fingers still working inside your cunt. Nor did he allow you to close your mouth despite your surprised gasp. His hand held your jaw open, grasp getting firmer everytime you tried to break free of it. After all, you made a promise, and he was going to make sure you fulfilled it.
“You weren't going to take it, huh?” Jake mouthed against your lips once he had made sure you swallowed every last drop of the thick honeyed syrup, holding eye contact with you through it all, fingers never once slowing down their pace. “Little dumb pet thinks she can outsmart me.”
He smashed his mouth on yours, not so much a kiss as a silencing of any complaint you were about to spit it at him. Those turned to even more whines when he finally brought his thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles on it as he fucked you to your orgasm. It was almost instantaneous, but you just couldn't have helped it even if you tried; you were so close already, his stiff cock rubbing against your thigh and his pants hot in your mouth but his thumb so cold against your neglected clit
“That’s it baby, so good for me yeah.” Jake’s fingers gradually slowed down inside you, making sure you got every last bit of pleasure you could possibly experience from this high. He too was relishing in how your cunt pulsed against his digits, making it harder to move them inside you. Oh he wished it were his cock being constricted like that instead. But that could wait.
You finally felt like you could breathe again, chest heaving to catch in as much air as you could, forehead all sweaty from the exertion.
The sheets were drenched around you, and you couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you could immediately tell you weren't the only one who had made a mess. Your gaze wandered to Jake’s pants, a very evident stain on his crotch catching your attention. And fuck, if you weren't ready to do it all over again.
Jake looked absolutely divine; hair disheveled and soaked from the sweat, boxers and sweatpants full of cum. A waste truly.
You snuck your hand in his pants, ignoring the loud hiss from overstimulation Jake let out when you wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped a few times, your thumb swiping on his exposed head to collect some of the cum covering it.
Jake watched you, mouth ajar and cock stiffening again right away, as you licked your fingers clean. He slid his own fingers out of your cunt, lapping at them like a man starved, hoping to work you up as much as you just did to him. His heart raced in his chest as you kept looking at him, a little smile playing on your lips.
“That was so…” you spoke up, giggling when Jake interrupted you by throwing himself over your figure, capturing your lips in an actual kiss this time. A very messy, very wet kiss. Allowing you to savor your own taste mixed with his and sweetened by the medicine.
“I think the word you’re looking for is hot.”
“Dramatic,” you interjected. “So, so dramatic.”
Jake curled an eyebrow at you. “You were the one acting like it’d kill you to swallow some syrup. And actually, let’s not forget–” He placed a quick kiss on your nose before pushing you against the mattress further, his entire weight on you. “Ohhh no Jake! Please my Jakey! If I don’t get your cock right now I will DIE!”
“Well I still hav–”
“And won’t.” he deadpanned, sensing where you were trying to stir the conversation. “But I’ve got a few ideas.”
You smiled to yourself, feeling featherlight kisses making their way down your body, with his messy hair tickling your skin every so often. He placed a soft kiss on your mound, whining dramatically when you grabbed a few strands of his hair to stop him. He rested his head on your thigh, puppy-like eyes looking up at you, almost pleading for permission to continue what he started.
“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you said, voice coming out in a whisper full of care, your fingertips playing with his hair and enjoying the way he nuzzled his head further against your skin.
“Well if I were to get sick by touching you… I’d say the deal is sealed by now, no?” He placed another kiss on your thigh, teeth slightly grazing the plush skin when you took too long to contemplate whether to give in or not. “Actually, I think some of this syrup would heal me right now.”
“Jake. I’m being serious.”
“What could I possibly even catch from eating you out that I haven't already by exchanging spit with you? Best pussy in the world disease?” He laughed at his own joke, gaining a roll of the eyes from you. “Let me tell you, the chances of that happening are close to zero anyway. I don’t have a pussy but I am the proud owner of a very fat co–”
“You are downright insufferable.”
“Okay so shut me up with a mouthful of this pu–”
The rest of the sentence was muffled against your mound as you pushed his head down, deciding you heard enough for the day. And the week.
“Okay, okay. Go on,” you giggled as you laid back once again, a deep sigh following as soon as his expert tongue made contact with your cunt.
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bonefall · 2 days ago
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How do you feel about the Everluxes?
Well, I'm actually someone who generally dislikes Ancients. I usually find that they're kind of a "waste" of an otherwise interesting breed concept, and the fact they can't wear apparel means I find them difficult to work with even when the colors are all aligned. They're usually just "discount moderns," to me.
So Everluxes are everything I want, actually!
They're something that could never exist as a modern breed because they break the 4-legs 2-wings mold, they're SUPER unique in terms of their grublike proportions and big chunky upper legs, and they released with a ton of amazing line-breaking genes that are fun to play with. This is exactly what I feel like Ancients have been missing since their release!
I actually strongly disagree that these guys are "unfitting" in the Light Flight-- I think everyone who's saying that just doesn't like that Light has a fat dragon. I'm losing patience with the way they'll say, "It's not because they're fat, it's because they're inelegant, ungraceful, gross, tubular, long, round, etc" and just expect people to not realize those are being used as alternate words for "fat." The only person they're fooling is themselves.
They have a lot in common with the other breeds, actually. The wings resemble the Imperial's. The rhino-like horn reminds me of the pearlcatchers. They have the same prehensile "feeler" whiskers. Even the way that they're really long makes me think of a sort of "beta" imperial.
I have a headcanon that the Lightweaver made Everluxes and was suuuuper proud of them, her little "bookwyrms..." and then her bully of a sister, Shadowbinder, got REALLY mean about them. Took jabs at every chance, and ultimately made Veilspuns as "LOOK, IT'S YOURS BUT BETTER LOL. MAYBE YOU COULD LEARN SOMETHING. YOU LOVE DOING THAT, DON'T YOU?"
Long hair, sleek features, strong and tricky... Lightweaver loved her design, but when she looked at what her sister could do, she felt ashamed. She'd just wanted people to help her archive and preserve knowledge, but now that she was being pressured to compare her creations to someone else's, suddenly the joy was gone.
And, of course, FlightRising lore enjoyers know what comes next.
Spurred on by that fierce feeling of inadequacy, her next set of creations would be larger, more beautiful, more powerful than anything that had ever come before. She forced every tear, every sob, every moment of anguish she'd ever felt into her next creation. No dragon that walked the soil of Sornieth would be able to hold a candle to the light of the masterpiece within her claws.
Imperials came after the Everlux-- and Emperors in their wake. The Lightweaver swore to never create a breed out of anguish ever again.
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billybutcherrtrash · 3 days ago
Text
Throne
CW: oral (f) and fingers
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You and Spencer are friends who attended at party for a mutual friend and find you have an interesting shared book fantasy.
It had been several hours since you’d arrived at the party for a mutual friend. Reid had been cautiously watching you as you talked to everyone and gave them a small amount of your time. Every so often your gazes would meet and you’d exchange a smile from a distance. Although you’d greeted him when he walked in, you’d been rushed away my another friend for some kind of emergency. Every guy you talked to made Reid anxious. He hated the idea of you walking out of this place with someone else. Anyone else but him. Finally you made your way over to him, sitting down beside him and smiling.
“Welcome back”. Spencer said as you took a sip of your drink.
“Thanks. It’s been very hectic. You’d think for a going away party it would be more fun. Instead I’m chasing down my drunk friends.” You sighed.
“Yeah, I think I saw one of my drunk friends fall off the bar earlier.” He laughed.
“I saw that. I think we’re the only two here that aren’t drinking.”
“I like to be in control of myself. I drink occasionally but in this atmosphere I don’t think it’s wise.”
“I agree. To much going on and I’m already over stimulated”
“Glad I’m not the only one.” He nodded.
You tucked your hair behind your ears and shifted closer to him. “I’m really happy you came.”
Spencer’s eyes lit up, “I’m glad too. I’ll admit I was on the fence until I heard you’d be coming too.”
“Really?”
He nodded, “Yeah. This isn’t my thing. Bars. Or people.”
“I would much rather be at home reading. I hate all this.” You shrugged.
“Oh, that’s reminds me I started reading this book about ancient erotica and I think -“
At that you held up your hand to stop him,“Did you just say erotica?”
Spencer nodded, “Yeah, but not in the way you’re thinking of pornography. It’s rather tasteful compared to today’s idea of erotica. I’ve read a few of what is considered erotic today and I think it’s just porn on paper.”
You stared at him for a long moment. His brown eyes stared back anticipating your response.
“Porn on paper is called smut now.” You smirked.
“Yes, and it is just sexually charged writing. Ancient erotica is art. Paintings and images that are tastefully done.” Reid explained.
“I guess my bookshelf is filled with porn then.” You laughed softly.
“You read…smut?” He bit his lip.
Suddenly you felt hot. Did the temperature go up? You’d just admitted you had read spicy books.
“I-wel-…I mean…I have other kinds of books too.” You stammered. “I have biographies and nonfiction also. Fantasy.”
Spencer was enjoying watching you squirm. You were flustered now. He could see trying to save whatever semblance of a normal conversation there was left.
“Fantasy? What kind of fantasy?” He asked.
“No sexual fantasy…I have Fourth Wing. Have you read it?”
“Dragons and thunder…I have read it and its sequel.” Reid nodded. “But may I ask…how you felt about the throne scene?”
He was torturing you now. He watched as your eyes went wide and your breathing halted just enough to notice.
“I…uh…Spence…you’re doing this on purpose.” You said softly.
“Am I? I’m just curious.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”
“Very…” He nodded.
He watched you bite your lip. The conversation had taken a sharp turn and now you were staring at each other, both quiet. You wished you knew what he was thinking about.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Spencer finally asked.
“Yes”. You agreed.
He stood and held out his hand for you. You took it and slipped out of your seat, following him out the door. You felt anxious as you walked out into the cold air, cautiously looking up at him.
“Did you drive?” He asked, looking back.
“No…I came with (your mutual friend’s name).”
“You should probably tell her you’re leaving.” Spencer smirked.
“I can text her.” You blushed a little as you arrived at Spencer’s car.
You turned to face him as he opened the door for you. It was only now that you realized he was so much taller than you. All the time working with him at the university and you’d never noticed. He stepped closer and slid a hand around your waist.
“Can I kiss you?” Spencer asked.
Your brained seemed to short circuit, unable to form words, so you nodded almost too enthusiastically. Spencer leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you gently. The feel of his mouth on yours was dizzying. You weren’t drunk but you felt like it. He pulled you a little closer and you welcomed the feel of his body. After a few long moments he pulled back leaving you aching his touch. He gazed at you, stroking your cheek gently.
“Still want to go home with me?” He asked.
“Yes” Was all you could managed, still seeing stars.
Spencer helped you in the car before closing the door and running to the other side. You watched him get in and start the car.
“Don’t forget to text (your friend’s name).”
“Oh, right.” You reached for your phone and sent a quick text letting them know you’d found a ride.
They sent a reply with eggplant emoji’s and water droplets. Thank God it was dark because your cheeks were red at the idea of them knowing who you’d left with. The man you’d confided in her to having a crush on from the minute he’d walked into your life. As he drove you pulled your sleeves over your hands and fidgeted with them anxiously. You couldn’t have possibly expected him to not notice. He reached over and laced his fingers with yours.
“You play with your clothes when you’re nervous.” Spencer said, glancing at your hands.
Of course he’d noticed. The many meetings you’d sat in together, the times you’d been in the elevator together alone, the time he’d come to you asking for your opinion on a case, he’d seen it every time he was near you. You looked up as you felt the car slow to a stop. He put the car in park and you both sat for a moment. Finally your eyes met his. He gave you a soft smile.
“Do you still want to come inside?” Spencer asked.
“I do.” You answered.
He nodded and got out of the car, coming around to open your door and helped you out. Her nerves were started to become more noticeable. You didn’t do this. You never went home with guys. Especially not guys you worked with. Especially not anyone with an IQ of 187 and read books on ancient erotica. Spencer took your hand and led you into his building. Once in the elevator you chewed at your lip, your fingers linked with his as he pressed the button to his floor.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, reaching up to brush your hair behind your ear.
“Spence…you need checking on me. I’m fine. I’m sure. I promise.” You said, standing on your toes to kiss him.
He cupped your neck, returning the kiss. He was gentle and soft. You could only hope he maintained that once you were in his apartment. The elevator dings upon arriving at his floor. He pulled away reluctantly and you stepped off, making your way to his front door.
“I’m slightly surprised we aren’t stumbling down your hallway, too impatient to get inside.” You joked.
Spencer slid his key in the door, “We could have been but you deserve more respect than me just trying to fuck you.”
Your jaw dropped, surprised. “Spencer Reid said fuck!” You smirked.
“I’ve been known to swear on occasion.” He replied, letting you inside.
You stepped inside the apartment, looking around. He closed the door and locked it.
“So…what now?” He asked, stepping closer to you.
“Spence…we both know what’s going to happen…but can we pretend for five seconds that you’re not thinking about undressing me and be making obscene sounds shortly thereafter?” You asked, taking his hand.
“Well now that you’ve put that image in my head…it’s going to be hard not to.” He smirked.
“You mentioned you had books. I want to see the collection.”
“The lady gets what the lady wants.” He replied, leading you to his bookshelf.
It seemed to overflow with classic literature in many languages. You looked at the titles, a few familiar and many you’d never seen or heard of. Then your eyes caught a familiar gold cover. You smirked and pulled out Fourth Wing.
“You really did read it.” You smirked.
“You and Penelope wouldn’t shut up about it, I was curious what had you so worked up. It’s not my thing but it peaked my interest.” He replied. “Especially chapter 48 in Iron Flame.”
You froze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. He leaned in close, his breath hot on your skin.
“My house. My chair. My woman.” He whispered.
You looked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. You had forgotten he’d mentioned the throne room scene.
“You…um…you know the exact chapter.” You stammered.
He smirked down at you. “Of course I do. You never told me how you felt about it.”
“I mean…obviously it’s hot.” You turned to face him. “What woman doesn’t want a man worshipping her on his knees on a throne.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?”
“Do you have a throne?” You asked.
“Not quite a throne, but I definitely have a chair we can pretend is a thrown.”
You licked your lips as you felt your pulse rising. You felt hot again. You knew why you’d come to his apartment and now was the time you stopped pretending it was innocent.
“Show me.”
Spencer gave a soft smile and led you to his room. It was neat, bed made and everything orderly. Your eyes fell upon a gorgeous leather chair near the window. It was the perfect reading chair, but tonight it was going to be a throne for him to worship you on. He walked you over and you admired it. You could see it was tall enough that your feet might dangle if you sat down, and the leather was soft. God forbid you dig your nails into it and mark the leather.
“Are you sure?” Spencer asked from behind you.
You felt his hands sliding up your arms, stroking your biceps gently. His breath was hot on your neck as you leaned back into him.
“Yes.” You said, eyes closing when he kissed your neck.
“Then sit down.”
You swallowed anxiously, turning to face him before sitting down. You could have sworn his eyes darkened just a bit as he moved to the floor. Surprisingly the chair was the perfect height for you to be face to face. You pulled him against you and kissed him. His hands ran through your hair and down your shoulders. You knew exactly want was coming. He pulled away and removed your shoes. As his hands moved to your jeans you feel your pulse racing and your breathing quicken. He pulls you to the edge of the chair and tugs them down your legs. The air conditioning sends goosebumps over your skin as Spencer looks up at you. His eyes met yours and you forgot to breathe. He didn’t look away as you placed kisses on your legs, creeping higher and higher up your thigh.
“You’re so gorgeous.” He said, stroking your opposite thigh. “God, you’re perfect.”
You bit your lip, having trouble forming words. All you wanted was for him to devour and absolutely worship you. His hand slid over your hips and to the top of your underwear. The second they were gone you knew you’d never be able to recover. You ached for him. Slowly he slid them down and you watched him carefully. Spencer’s eyes darkened even more at the sight of you bare before him. He could see the moisture pooling at your core and he was instantly rock hard.
“Last time…you want this?” He asked.
“Last time, yes.” You panted, “Please, God, just touch me.”
Begging wasn’t something you’d thought you’d be doing but you were desperate. He nodded, moving one leg to sit over the arm of the chair and the other over his shoulder. You nearly came as his tongue slid through your wet folds. You let out a loud gasp, your head falling back against the back of the chair. He swirled around your clit, toying with it gently.
“Spencer, fuck!” You moaned, nails digging into the leather.
He smiled as he continued his actions, lapping up your juices. His hands held you firmly in place and you squirmed under his.
“Don’t stop, please.” You whimpered.
Spencer watched you coming undone, enjoying every second of it. Watching your breathing catch when he licked your clit. You moaned even louder when he slid a finger into you. It was nearly enough to finish you. Your hand moved to his hair and you tugged at it, causing him to groan against you. The vibrations only added to the pleasure. He added another finger, pushing you closer to the edge.
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” You panted, so close to cumming.
Spencer felt you clench around his fingers and he moved them faster. His tongue massaged your delicate folds until finally you couldnt hold on.
“Spence, oh, fuck…” You whimpered before coming undone.
He smiled, working you through it. Finally you could breathe again and you looked down at him. He was just watching you, stroking your thigh gently.
“You okay?” He asked.
“More than okay.” You blushed as you sat up.
“How was it?”
“It rivaled all the fantasies I had about being worshipped in a thrown”. You admitted.
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slytherinboysvip · 2 days ago
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Imagine best friend Mattheo being absolutely obsessed with his innocent little Hufflepuff bsf but she just can’t tell. Everyone else knows, and it is quite obvious, but she just can’t think someone like him would want someone like her. But when she jokingly says she’s gonna get Cedric to take her virginity he decides it’s time he came clean.
Possibly with some soft smut if you are comfortable with it of course
bsf mattheo riddle x hufflepuff reader
hopefully this matches your request <3 i’ll most likely make a part 2 for this because.. you’ll see ;) 3.5k words
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you lived a rather simple uncomplicated life, attending hogwarts as a hufflepuff with no interest in anyone’s drama. though you kept to yourself most times you tried to be nice to all your peers maintaining your classic hufflepuff demeanor, despite this there was one thing that was different about you.
you see, you didn’t see or understand why people don’t like other houses just because of “house rivalry” especially the students who weren’t even participating in any sports or point winning. and with this over your years though you had few friends you had one best friend who at first seemed rather impossible to be friends with.. mattheo riddle.
when you two met you were a fourth year and him a fifth, coincidentally you were going on to a few friends about your annoyance with people automatically assuming the worst of slytherin even though you yourself weren’t in their house or nearly like one. mattheo overheard this heated- adorable voice coming from behind him and he walked towards you carefully.
he sat down in front of you beside your friend as she gawked faces towards you at his presence. “you don’t think we’re too mean, huh?” he questioned small laugh leaving his lips. “i just think that some people are misunderstood and just because some wizards turned out bad doesn’t mean all of them in your house are” you looked at him answering his question with ease
he smirked in amusement and leaned a little closer to you “hm, hufflepuff eh? what year are you puff?” he sat back examining you and you didn’t fail to notice that nickname he slipped in “fourth year but i have an early birthday which is annoying because i could technically be out sooner” you sighed ignoring his staring.
“well, seeing as it’s ravenclaw against gryffindor do you wanna watch the quidditch game with me i know the best view” he stood up and held his hand out for you, you look towards your friends and they’re both nodding their heads for you to go so you did.
from that point on you and mattheo had been best friends, sadly he was in his seventh year and now you in your sixth nothing much had changed in your life. living vicariously through mattheo and his stories about slytherin parties and how you should go to one with him before it’s too late, he’d tell you about his sexual adventures and your jaw would drop everytime.
you yourself also confided in him though with much less interesting things, telling him how you feel unlikeable by guys sometimes because they never try to get or talk to you, or how you feel lonely because you’ve never had a a boyfriend before. hed always help soothe the thoughts away, telling you that it’s only your brain making those things up , “listen y/n, anyone who doesn’t love you is fucking insane”.
𓆙
talking to your friend zarah who’d been there since day one you always told her what you told matt, for the most part. “i just don’t get why nobody is interested in me zar, like am i genuinely that ugly” you plopped onto your bed sighing dramatically. “you’re not ugly and if you think no guys want you you’re blind i know one in particular that really, really wants you” she giggled.
you looked at her with a confused expression “i must be missing something because i have no idea who you’re talking about” you awaited her response and she just rolled her eyes and sighed “girl your practically boyfriend of a best friend you do everything with” she gave you a duh look and you just laughed. you genuinely couldn’t believe she’d even think he’d like you especially with all the girls he’d been with, “you’re hilarious, we both know he doesn’t want me he wants all the girls he tells me about” you started to compose yourself but zarah’s expression didn’t change.
“you literally must be blind y/n do you need glasses? or should i say puff? let’s talk about how that man hasn’t stopped calling you that pet name since you’ve met.. he’s in love” she rolled her eyes raising her hands in the air. “i still don’t think he wants me so there’s no convincing me” you shrugged her off and she groaned getting up and leaving your shared dorm.
𓆙
“puff you gotta come to this party, slytherin won agains gryffindor i just know this is gonna be the party you want to go to pleaseee” mattheo put his hands on your shoulders shaking you “fiinee” you attempted to answer between shakes before he let you go “if i would’ve known it was that easy i would’ve done that years ago” he rolled his eyes.
“anyways it’s tonight at like 8 so i’ll just get you from your dorm at like 7 do you think they’ll let me in? actually what’s the password?” he didn’t give you time to finish any of your sentences before you just gave him the password “butterscotch” you whispered, in response mattheo laughed “fucking butterscotch merlin that’s hilarious” you looked up at him and rolled your eyes walking away.
“i’ll see you at 7 puff” he yelled across the hall and you just gave a thumbs up and continued walking. you honestly were quite nervous seeing as you’ve never necessarily been to a party before, you’ve made small appearances at hufflepuff parties but you’ve heard they don’t even compare to slytherin.
making your way into your dorm you spot zarah and you pull her up from the common room couch “i finally said yes to a party need help now” you quickly mumbled and she quickened her pace “when does it start girl i need the info right this second come on you’re talking too long for me” she rushed and you blurted it all out “8pm he’s getting me at 7 he has the password he will be at the dorm” closing the door behind you two you both stopped to catch your breath
“sooo is it a dateee” she shimmied her arm on you winking “i already told you he doesn’t like me!!” you replied to her relentlessness. “ugh whatever we need to get you ready girl it’s already six” she pushed you onto your shared vanity chair and pulled out all of your makeup and a few things of hers, “creative control?” she asked smirking at you “mm fine but not too much” you agreed “we’ll see” she giggled.
after around 30 minutes she finished your makeup and she showed you the finished product, looking at yourself in the mirror you thought how you never would’ve put on red lipstick yet you feel really good in it. she gave you a small smokey eye and a small winged liner and you felt you looked more aggressive then you were, but you kinda loved it.
“it’s so much but so pretty” you admired yourself and the makeup she put on you slowly getting used to the feeling of fake eyelashes on your eyes. “i’m so glad you love it, but we need to find an outfit like three hours ago” she joked and rushed to your closets “i actually have the perfect dress in mind if you’re feeling the want to rep slytherin green” she raised her eyebrows up at you in a suggestive matter “sure why not” you shrugged
she handed you a velvet body con forest green dress that you were sure was going to be extremely short and you mean in every place. she held it up onto you “this will be perfect. get it on come on” she rushed you into the bathroom and you began putting it on “this is sooo tight” you called out as you struggled “oh i forgot it was a corset back wait i need to help you can i come in” she yelled through the door
“yeah come on i need this thing one me already” you struggled more as she walked in and immediately began to help you loosening the strings of the dress and pulling it down onto you “there we go now suck in like your life depends on it” she said half jokingly and began retightening the corset back. with every pull it felt like your chest was spilling out more and more and your ribs were shrinking “okay merlin that’s enough before i can’t breathe” you huffed and she stopped tying it off in a bow
“stop you look so hot y/n i bet matt will be drooling” she teased and you just rolled your eyes “what do we do with my hair” you looked at her with horror as you only had ten minutes before he should arrive. you quickly began curling your hair not really caring if it was messy just giving it some body and just as you were spraying perfume on there was a knock on your door.
zarah looked at you and whispered “answer it go go now” she pointed to the door like she was afraid to touch it herself and you walked over opening it to see mattheo in an all black button down with the top few buttons undone and black dress looking pants yet somehow he didn’t look overdressed. he didn’t say anything for a minute he was just staring at you looking up and down in awe “holy fuck y/n who did your makeup you look woah” he put his finger on your chin moving your head around examining your makeup
“zarah isn’t it pretty” you smiled and he removed his hand and replied “yeah you are, now let’s go” he grabbed your hand and you looked behind you waving bye to zarah “he’s so in love with you” she whispered before the door slammed closed.
𓆙
once you got the the party you noticed there were already many slytherins already pregaming and mattheo brought you two to them, “let’s get some alcohol in you little puff” he winked and poured you a shot of who knows what, you smelled the foul drink and it made your nose burn “come on do ittt” he cheered on and you held your nose throwing the shot back gagging at the taste. “how do people enjoy that” you made a face at him “like this” he replied taking two shots himself, “now catch up” he winked pouring you yet another
“if i didn’t know any better id say you’re trying to get me drunk matt” you laughed and he looked at you amused “obviously that’s what im trying to do it’s a party” he put the shot glass to your lips and you parted them taking the burning substance down your throat, “eugh that didn’t get any better the second time” you shook your head in disgust. “hm, let me make you an actual drink” he grabbed a clear liquor and a red juice mixing them together adding more alcohol than your past two shots and handed it to you
“matt this smells foul” you looked up at him, “just try it trust me the slytherins have the masking drink down” he winked and you reluctantly took a sip, and to your surprise all you tasted was juice. after taking another few sips you quick began drinking it and mattheo pulled the cup from your lips “slow down there this shits dangerous you’ll get so drunk you won’t be able to walk straight” he chuckled. “it’s not my fault they made it taste like juice” you shrugged still sipping.
“hey mattheo have your little hufflepuff take some shots with us” enzo threw his arm around your shoulders and mattheo pushed them off almost immediately “no she doesn’t need any shots” he spoke “you didn’t even ask me” you protested, granted you didn’t necessarily want to take any shots you just didn’t like being talked for. “oo are you sure you’re not slytherin you got an attitude” enzo laughed handing you a shot and you looked at mattheo who rolled his eyes as you took the shot.
throwing the shot back the burning sensation took over your throat and you could feel it rushing down your throat. you coughed a bit and chugged your drink for comfort “puff you’re going to get shitfaced slow down” matt fully took your cup this time and you were already feeling it. giggling looking up at him “okay now who was going to tell me party’s are fun” you continued giggling.
the music started playing and the slytherin common room was now getting more and more packed. you saw fifth year students and up in here, even a few ravenclaw and hufflepuffs your recognized. to your surprise in the corner of the party you spotted cedric diggory talking to a group of girls holding a drink.
pansy noticed your head being stuck in a certain direction and followed your eyes “oh em gee, someone’s got their eyes on a certain hufflepuff” she winked shoving her shoulder at your “shhhhh he’s just nice to look at” you giggled at her and she giggled along “you two would be soo cute” she added dragging you back to the drinks
“let’s take some shots!” she exclaimed handing you two , you took them smiling and shot them back with her, a woo leaving her mouth. “here chaser, chaser!” she shouted handing you another drink this time what looked like a lot of the punch, downing it all she laughed “girl we’re gonna be gone”. looking around you were seeing doubles of everything but didn’t want the night to already end.
“so, are you a virgin?” pansy shouted over the music making your already alcohol flushed face even redder “pansy!! you can’t just ask that!!” you shouted back flustered at the intrusive question, “i’m only curious girl” she giggled and gave you begging eyes “come onnnn” she shook you till you gave in “fine yes i am but don’t tell anyone!” you replied back as lowly as you could over the music
“who would you lose it to?” she giggled “i lost mine to blaise hehe sshhhh” she winked, considering she just told you her secret you felt obligated and just looked around “i mean i guess cedric” you giggled as she pointed at him after your response. before she could say anything else you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and drag you off. trying to kick your way out was useless and they brought you to an empty dorm.
through all of this you couldn’t tell who it was kicking and screaming for them to let you go till you heard mattheos voice “puff calm down it’s just me” he sighed putting you down on what you now assumed was his bed “why did you bring me in here that was so scary” you huffed trying to gain your composure. “diggory?” he scoffed not answering your question.
you looked at him confused as to what he was on about “what do you mean? what about cedric” you cocked your head to the side in confusion “you lost your virginity to him??” he questioned stepping closer to you looking rather.. pissed. you just laughed in response “me? lose my virginity to cedric?.. you’re funny” yeah you fantasized about it but it certainly wouldn’t happen.
“what were you talking to pansy about then??” he looked at you unconvinced, “she asked if i lost it and i said no, but id let him take it.-“ you shrugged “besides you know i tell you everything matt i’ve never even had a boyfriend let alone a guy be interested in my virginity” you sighed laying back onto the bed now feeling upset.
you heard mattheo sigh and you picked your head up to look at him, his eyes stared back at you in silence before breaking it “believe me there’s a lot of guys who want to get in your pants” he rubbed his fists and you gave him a confused expression yet again “what are you on about matt?” you were getting sober just from all of this extra mystery.
he walked over to the bed sitting beside you, “listen when we met you were just.. blooming completely and i would be lying if i didn’t say i first went up to you because of your looks.. well overtime you know we became friends and i noticed other guys staring in ways they shouldn’t have been so i had to teach them a lesson.” he looked at you and yo didn’t know how to respond to something like that.
“what exactly are you saying matt?” you didnt understand what he was poking at, did matt mean to say he basically likes you? were you reading too much into this? “look y/n, no one else in this school fucking deserves you. hell i don’t deserve you but i know i can treat you how you need. don’t ask me what took so long to confess to you y/n, but do you feel even remotely the same?” he let it all out quick and fast, and your mouth dropped.
“you want.. me?” you looked at him in disbelief and he just smiled “that’s what that whole speech was about, yeah” he chuckled nervously awaiting your reply “why?” you sighed still slightly unconvinced “have you fucking seen yourself puff? you’re so undeniably gorgeous, i don’t know how i hold myself back from you everyday” he leaned in closer to you making this all seem more real. without thinking you allowed yourself to lean into him, faces and lips meeting for the most magical first kiss you could’ve ever imagined.
“you’re so fucking beautiful y/n” he grabbed your face pulling you closer to him till you straddled over his lap sitting down continuing the now makeout. “this is so much better than.. imagined” you huffed through the kisses. you could already feel mattheos member growing beneath you and you never thought you’d be the one experiencing this from your best friend.
you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to a fantasy or two about him in the past but this was already one thousand times better than ever imagined. mattheos lips kissed their way down your neck leaving small marks tiny moans leaving your mouth, “i need to hear more of that, y/n, let me eat you out.. please i need a taste” he continued his kisses along your neck bringing them back to your lips “i’ve never- mm yes” you replied as his fingers began making circles over your underwear.
“you sound so good fuck” he groaned pulling you off of him and getting off the bed, “you’re sure of this?” he questioned one last time and you just nodded impatiently awaiting his next move. next thing you knew he was yanking you to the edge of his bed and slowly removing your pants and underwear looking up at you from below. “holy fuck puff.. you’re fucking soaking” he breathed out over your pussy sending tingles down your spine.
without warning his mouth met your untouched area and you felt things never imaginable. his tongue made its way around your bulging clit, flicking it up and down and making his way to your entrance sucking and licking “you taste so good holy fuck” he huffed going right back in not even looking up at you, “can i put two fingers” he spoke from your pussy and you couldn’t even properly answer “mm y-yes” you replied between your moans.
you felt his slender fingers teasing your entrance and he slowly began inching one in and out teasingly, “mattheo-“ you huffed and he chuckled shoving both fingers in, loud moan escaping your mouth and this new feeling. he did a few different moments trying to figure out what makes you moan the most, soon his tongue was sucking expertly on your clit as his fingers twisters and curled inside of you.
“matt i want to.. try” you moaned at this pleasure wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you now. “mm but you’re not ready yet puff” he continued devouring your pussy simply divulging in it as if he’d never eaten anything before. his pace on everything quickened and you were already near your own orgasm, “if you don’t s-stop i’m gonna cum” you moaned loudly trying to control yourself.
“let go for me sweetheart” he sucked harder on your clit, the nickname and action forcing your orgasm to flood over you harder than you’ve ever been able to make yourself experience. your body was shaking and you couldn’t hold your reactions back, mattheo slowly licked your gushing area clean before standing up “mm now i think you’ll be ready soon” he smirked leaning down over you, grabbing your chin and giving you a kiss.
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theonottsbxtch · 20 hours ago
Text
I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43
part one | part two |
an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.
wc: 8.3k
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It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.
That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.
He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.
Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.
It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.
And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.
A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.
"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.
Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."
Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.
As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.
Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.
Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.
The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.
They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.
But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.
“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.
Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.
“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.
She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”
He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”
She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”
For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.
“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”
She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”
He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”
Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”
Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.
After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”
She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."
She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”
Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”
She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”
Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”
For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.
He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”
She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”
His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.
“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”
He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.
He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”
She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”
He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.
Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.
Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.
“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.
“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”
He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”
“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”
At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”
“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”
Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.
“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”
“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”
“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.
“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”
“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”
“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”
He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?
He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.
Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.
He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.
The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.
On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.
"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."
He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.
He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.
After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.
“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”
Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”
“A flight? Where are you going?”
“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”
Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”
“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.
Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”
“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.
True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.
By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.
The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.
The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.
“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.
She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.
“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”
Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.
“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”
She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”
He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”
She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."
As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.
"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”
He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.
He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."
His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.
"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."
He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.
"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."
He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.
His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."
He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."
His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.
“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.
Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”
His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.
“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”
His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."
Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.
Before he’d made a mess of everything.
“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”
His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.
“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”
He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?
He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.
But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”
She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”
Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.
That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.
He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.
Where did it all go to shit?
He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.
For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.
Then, he froze.
From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.
Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.
At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.
He had no idea how to approach her.
Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”
Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.
He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.
She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.
He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.
“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."
She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”
“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”
She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."
Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."
There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.
Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”
Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.
Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.
It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.
She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.
When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.
The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.
Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”
Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”
She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.
Four days ago.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.
The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.
“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”
Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”
Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.
She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”
Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.
Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.
When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”
Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.
Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”
She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”
Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.
“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”
Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.
He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.
“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.
Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.
Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”
She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”
Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."
She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”
Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”
Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”
Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.
Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.
“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”
But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.
And maybe that was enough.
She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”
Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.
Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.
“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.
Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.
She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”
Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.
After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.
Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.
“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”
Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.
“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.
She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”
Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”
She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.
Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.
After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”
Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.
But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.
He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.
As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.
He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.
He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.
Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.
“Don’t.”
Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.
“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.
She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”
For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.
He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.
Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.
They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.
And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.
Home.
Her.
It was all synonymous.
She was his home.
the end.
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evermoresversion · 3 days ago
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If you could do one where reader and JJ used to be together secretly but they broke up and stayed friends and like months later when JJ is with Kiara all the pogues find out about their relationship it would be awesome <33
The crickets were chirping in the background while you leaned your hip against the wall in the backyard of your house and JJ was in front of you, playing with his hat. Your gaze was on the floor as you both stood in a tense silence.
“So that's it?” He broke the silence with a trembling voice and you sighed, looking up into his eyes, seeing the pain in them.
“You know this is the best decision.”
He nodded slowly and turned around, walking towards his motorcycle.
“We'll be fine, right?” You raised your voice and JJ just nodded again.
“Yeah, I just need time.”
He started the engine of the motorcycle and took off from there, leaving a feeling of emptiness in you but you knew everything would be fine.
It had been at least three months since the two of you had broken up and everything was going smoothly between you and JJ. All except that you started to notice Kiara very close to him until the two of them finally started dating.
You didn't feel jealous or anything like that since you always noticed a certain energy between them, but it was definitely strange seeing your ex with someone else.
One day when the Pogues were relaxing at the Chateau, you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a PB&J sandwich. You couldn't reach the peanut butter until an arm reached out and grabbed it easily for you. You turned around and it was the blonde you had been so in love with.
“Are you going to make yourself a sandwich?” You nodded with a knowing smile. You had always had a tradition that he would prepare your sandwiches and you would pay him with a make out session. “Let me do it for you.” He took the jam from your hand and began his work. “When we were dating you liked these.”
“I…”
“Were you two dating!?” A voice filled the kitchen, interrupting your words and you both stopped what you were doing to look at the person. It was Sarah.
“Y-yeah, I mean…” JJ scratched the back of his neck and looked at you for support.
“A long time ago.”
“Oh god.” She muttered and left the kitchen towards the porch where the others were.
You and JJ followed hot on her heels and Sarah was already telling what she had just found out.
“The two of them were dating, did you know that?!” Everyone looked at you both in surprise except for Kiara who was looking at JJ with a frown.
You both tried to think of what to say until finally you were the one who spoke.
"It was a while ago, we both got over it."
You looked at Kiara and she gave you a sympathetic smile. The others started asking questions about your former relationship until they finally stopped the topic because they were hungry.
While they went to buy something to eat, you, JJ and Pope stayed at the Chateau. You and the blonde went back to the kitchen to finish preparing your sandwich and that's when you realized that you could become good friends after all.
Until he touched your hand and all the memories came back to your mind.
disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.
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g1rlken · 2 days ago
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I'm so excited you're taking requests for Rupert Campbell-Black!!
Do you think you could maybe fo #15 from your prompt list about him showing up for the reader bc they don't have anyone else?
Idk if just love that trope and I think it works with him.
If you don't feel inspired by that one no worries!
Someone in the crowd
prompt15 Rupert Campbell Black x fem!reader
word count: 5.3k+
warnings: parental neglect, mild swearing, hurt comfort, FLUFF
AN: Ahhhhhhh ANON I love you this is my fav prompt I was initially planning on the same one anyways thanks for platform ing my Rupert obsession you’re the first one
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The chronicles of the country side for a veterinary sciences PhD student included more than just animals, main reason she selected a university so far from the hustle and bustle of the city. Peculiar animals in their natural state, she came across more than just peculiar animals.
Trespassing loses its meaning for the engrossed researcher, she didn’t realise when she passed the forest to a private estate land whilst following the slow worm. The most advanced high end camera, that Rupert had only seen with those media folks and proper film production. However he assumed the girl in a camouflage jungle vest to be an intern in a tabloid firm, trying to prove herself to be ever so efficient to her superiors by sneaking in to his property for a few pictures. Too naive to realise he could sue her for all her fortune perhaps. Rather an amateur at her job perhaps, she was there to snap him yet her attention didn’t avert to him on his horse before he approached her himself, “Young lady” he cleared his throat sternly “You do realise you’re trespassing here?”
“Oh?” She looked out of her camera lens to the voice that called out her and in an instant she lost sight of the slow worm she was following. “Fuck!”
“And if you don’t delete the pictures and get off of this land right this second I will be suing you for all the jobs you don’t already have.” Rupert threatened, he truly misliked this breach of his privacy to no end. But because the girl seemed unskilled and gullible to her supposedly first job he felt he could let her get off easily.
“I’m not deleting any pictures I barely got two” she said with a heavy sigh, her eyes frantically searching for her subject within the grass again not too bothered by his threat. “And I don’t have any job as it is”
“Oh” he amused, getting off of the saddle of his horse to level with her, “are you one of those fans then? How many times do I have to tell you people-“
“What?” Her attention broke from her subjected reptile to the man this time, “a fan? I don’t even know you…”
“Oh right” he scoffed placing his hands by his hips, “surely you don’t.”
“I truly don’t. I was following my subject for today from the forest lands and I ended up here it was an honest mistake” she explained herself as she opened her camera to show him the pictures, they were all reptiles and not…him.
“You were following a snake?” He asked rather confused and somewhat intrigued as to what would bring her to this.
“It’s not a snake, it’s a is a legless lizard. Anguis Fragilis” she corrected the man, ever so casually as if it were the most common of knowledges to attain.
The man just burst into laughter letting go of the horse chain to contain it, his hand on his chest he could find the joke in the name and the scenario extremely comical. “You have got to be kidding me!”
Y/n felt a bit embarrassed as if she’d said the wrong name so she went through it in her head again and she wasn’t, wrong. It was perhaps like college again, info dumping on the wrong set of people who poke fun at peculiar passions. But the man seemed to be too old to be like those immature college kids who mock others so she was left rather confused “what is so funny?” She asked hesitantly, “it’s rather rare and native to this area we don’t come across them in the city…” she trailed off trying to fill in his boastful laughter with something to feel less uncomfortable.
“Oh is it now?” Rupert asked as his laughter subsided and he realised the girl was an enthusiast in a true fashion. He just found the name of the godforsaken reptile to have a double meaning to it, he thought she made it up but when she got awkward and explained further he realised she wasn’t joking. “My apologies, are you new here?”
“Yes Ive actually moved here for research, I’m studying veterinary sciences for PhD… ” she said still feeling a bit self conscious after he’d laughed like that.
“Anus Fragilis huh?” He repeated trying his best to suppress another set of laughter but he failed at it ever so evidently.
“Anguis…er-slow worm.” She cringed as she picked up on the joke that had him loosing his composure like that. Perhaps she judged him to act his age which he looked so fast. “It’s also called slow worm. I lost him regardless, so I’ll get going. Sorry to bother you.”
“No, no hang on a second darling” he said gripping her elbow as she attempted to leave but as she returned to face him again he left it just instantly. “Since you’re already here, allow me to indulge you in a coffee or so? It would be very disappointing if I don’t get to learn more about…” he wanted to say it, the joke. But the awkwardly offended look on her face of feeling small wasn’t worth it so he kept it to himself “slow worms and legless lizards”
“They’re the same.” She briefed him feeling his ignorance, the PhD aspirant did not seem to have time to entertain his indulgence. “Forgive me but I have to go, I’ve walked too far from my car.”
“Well then allow me to drop you?” Rupert offered with his usual charm which didn’t leave to phase a lot.
Not her perhaps, “It’s not that far” she said curtly. Packing her camera equipment in a hurry. “Thanks. And sorry for trespassing.”
Rupert watched as she hastily packed her lenses and the rolls. Just when he thought he could work on himself to not offend people on first impressions, he generally didn’t do so with ladies so perhaps this was a first. “I’m Rupert Campbell Black” He put his hand forward for a handshake, “Sports Minister.” He introduced himself.
She had both her hands full with her books and camera, which she could rearrange back in the bag to accept his handshake but she’d rather not so she just nodded shortly. “Yes, Mr. Rupert, so nice to meet you.” She said with half a smile, then paced away not even waiting for his reply.
“I suppose I’ll see you around?” He said with his usual grin but she was already pacing away back to the path she’d come from.
That is how the two first met. Not her most memorable nor pleasant interaction but surely intriguing for the minister. The next time he met her, late early evening at a cafe. It took a second to recognise her with her head down in a book but there was enough lighting cast on her against the window where she sat. “Slow worm!” He exclaimed as he approached her causing her to avert her attention from the book to him.
“You…” she trailed off however her tone didn’t match the same enthusiasm as his. “Hi.” She said as he gestured to the chair across her on her table, asking if someone was there but she shrugged and nodded “Please, go ahead” she said being polite, internally bracing herself for another awful interaction.
“I was hoping I’d run into you” he told her leaning forward on the table crossing his arms, “turns out, your little bugger is a frequent visitor of the stable sheds back at the estate.”
“That explains yeah” she nodded closing her book, the size of it gigantic and hardcover it made a small thud, “it eats slugs and snails, spiders too…”
“Wonderful aspect” Rupert complimented, under informed on the subject he didn’t know what to say. “Did you get proper observations for your research?”
“Superficially yes” she nodded, “I’ll run into more of those one of these days.”
“You can always just visit my place again…I would be honoured to help out a bright mind.” Rupert offered leaning back in the chair, unbuttoning his blazer.
“That is so kind of you, I’m very sorry for trespassing that day” she said it again, obviously not friendly enough with him to take him up on that offer.
“Well you could make up for it by telling me your name.” He shrugged as his lips formulated a smile.
“Y/n.” She told him. As the conversation progressed, learning more of him, telling him more about her research and the subjects she’d come across so far. For someone in a vastly different field he was such an attentive listener. She’d told him a lot, about the animals, her thesis, her lectures and sessions, being a TA, moving here.
“And what of your friends?” He asked her over his second cup of coffee in the same conversation because he wanted to keep it going.
“I don’t live on campus so I don’t have roommates to be friends with, then I’m a TA but everyone else is a bachelors and third year student. Had I done college here I’d have those friends…I do have friends from college back home but as of now it’s only my professors.” She informed him, very casual with it but as she formulated the picture in his head it seemed to be a rather isolating experience.
“And what do you do for fun around here?” He asked her to see if it was as isolating as he realised.
“Trespass estates.” She joked with a small giggle, but in truth she did absolutely nothing for fun because there wasn’t anything.
“Greatest hobby ever” he joked back. But as she didn’t follow up with another activity he realised that if he pried about it he’d just force her to admit she led a boring and somewhat lonely life. He wasn’t judging her, she was fresh out of college and had to move a whole place and seemed to have no friends here. Well except for him if she’ll have him. “Are you struggling?”
“Of course not. I love my work, I can easily afford rent too it’s not a problem.” She replied honestly, if only financial was all of her struggles.
“Don’t you think you’d save more if you lived on campus?” He questioned unsure of her choice to stay in a boutique flat in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods.
“My father wouldn’t allow it. He’s a bit of a tone deaf classist that way.” She admitted, rather casually.
“Allow?” He repeated, surprised. He didn’t know her precise age but by her educational status and the looks of it someone in their early twenties didn’t need their father’s permission on how to live.
“It’s just a bit complicated, he wants all of his children to take the right step that is work in our family business, his company. I tried, it’s soul draining and very unlike me” she sighed “So I just extended education.”
“To get far from him?” He perceived, perhaps not the way she saw it.
“—To explore my options. I don’t want to disappoint him when I can avoid it.”
“And is this the way to be?” He asked, his tone guarded and expression curious.
“Perhaps.” She replied, but on the inside she was so hyper aware that anywhere farther from the family business as all the way to be. She didn’t want to distanced from her father nor her family, she may not be the golden child but she wanted him to be ever so proud of her even though she didn’t walk on the road he chose for her.
“Your spirit likes the fight doesn’t it?” It was more of an observation than a question.
“I don’t indulge in self awareness that well” She replied with a bemused shrug and he just let out a low laugh that. And that was her first friendship in Rutshire. To Rupert’s likeness the cafe was another one of basil’s side quests but he visited there less frequently given the bar was his primary. Regardless, Rupert got him too. The prime customer and his newest friend, studied there most of the time because she lived close by and Rupert felt drawn to her company.
She had no other and he found her growing to be his favourite one. He fancied the conversations with her so much, in her absence basil teased him about it. This one afternoon, Rupert visited as his usual time, or perhaps y/n’s usual time which he picked up on but she wasn’t there. “The coffee can’t be that good.” Basil said with a small scoff, as he found Rupert with a disappointed expression in the girl’s absence.
“I’m just trying to reduce the alcohol intake” Rupert said nonchalantly, well aware he didn’t the caffeine he’d been consuming just for the conversations with her.
“I wasn’t talking about the coffee” Basil added with a devious grin hinting at the double meaning joke he was referring for.
“Piss off” Rupert rolled his eyes at the man with a heavy sigh of irritation sitting down at the table, rolling up his sleeves and facepalming. “This is her usual time to come and study here” he mentioned.
“Which you don’t let her do.” Basil said, the entire time indulging the poor girl in conversations and spontaneous outing plans. “She’d have to be extraordinarily brilliant to keep up with her courseworks with all the detours you put her up to.”
“She is extraordinarily brilliant.” Rupert briefed him.
“I suppose you’d know.” Basil shrugged leaning against the table where he was sat, “Does she have a boyfriend?”
Seemingly offended at the mere thought of that Rupert’s expression disgusted, “Of course not!”
“Of course not?” Basil repeated surprised with his affirm expression. “So you are sleeping with her.”
“I’m not sleeping with her.” Rupert emphasised on the word ‘not’ and it was probably the tenth time that Bas had asked him that this moment.
“Of course not” Basil humoured him mimicking his tone when he said that.
“I’m not, it isn’t like that with her.” Rupert tried to explain that to his friend who found that to be such a foreign concept. It was a very strangely unknown and unspecific feeling for Rupert himself too.
“You don’t want to sleep with her?” Bas questioned not believing nor understanding the prospect “she’s rather pretty.” besides he’d sleep with anything.
“She isn’t just pretty Bas, she’s beautiful, a bit too much even on the inside.” He paused “She is precious.” Rupert spoke with such genuine passion that basil had to lay off of the joke he was brewing.
“And what of you?” Basil asked, it was something Rupert hadn’t even questioned himself for well not yet anyways.
“What of me?” He answered the question with a question feigning innocence. Before basil could further explain himself, even though well aware that Rupert understood him. The bells of the door jingled announcing upcoming presence in the nearly empty cafe causing the men to turn at the voice.
“Hello-Hello, Gentlemen!” Y/n exclaimed in the most enthusiastic Sunday morning tone possible but it was a cloudy afternoon on a Tuesday. To Rupert she always sounded like a Sunday morning with her little giggles and all the mannerisms but today she seemed way more lifted with spirits.
“Want to bet a tenner she ran into a coyote.” Basil said as she made her way to their table sitting across Rupert whilst basil was still leaning against the table.
“I bet you a twenty its a pine marten.” Rupert said, he picked up on everything from their conversation. This week she was in search of that specific animal from her list or so, he kept track somewhat subconsciously.
“It’s neither” She said with a smile still plastered on her face as she sat her bag down to the side placing her hands on the table. “I’ve got great news, well not great but perhaps good, great to me.” She went in an adjective discourse and shook her head coming back on track “My professor submitted my thesis to this government honorary publications department and I’m getting an in-kind research grant!”
“The government is giving you money?!” Basil matched her enthusiastic tone leaning forward on the table.
“No, no it’s an in kind grant…as in-they present me with an award but the big thing is that I get policy access, lab space, government authorised datasets…” she explained further with her eyes so lit up Rupert wanted to bottle this warmth of emotions he felt in just seeing her happy like this and drink it like water.
“You are getting an award?!” Rupert said with loud earnest passion for her excelling. “Y/n! That is marvellous news!”
“You fucking genius!” Basil added further, giving her a side hug and kissing the top of her head, giving her hair a ruffle as he walked across the cafe, “this calls for a celebration!”
“Thank you” She replied with a toothy smile. Feeling very heart warmed. Then Rupert took both her hands in his, he looked just as lit up as if it was his award.
“My darling, you absolute mastermind. Your mind is a wonder, y/n I am so so proud of you!” He said, he didn’t have to reaffirm or reassure more so because out of everyone she’d come across, Rupert had been so supportive, a subject and felt so unfamiliar yet he’d reassured and let her know it so constantly that she’d always have him to be cheering so hard for her. “You deserved this!”
“Rupert, that is so kind! Thank you, seriously” she replied with a glint in her eyes he could feel coloured by. Just about on time, basil blasted the confetti cracker he happened to have lying around. He turned the open sign to closed at the door of the cafe and returned to the table, slowly she let her hands out of Rupert’s.
“Didn’t have champagne in the cafe but this should do” Basil said as he presented their table with a small cake.
“You didn’t have to close the place” y/n said with a small giggle as she saw the cake, a sign in red jam crossing out the name ‘Einstein’ and Y/n in its place. Classic Bas.
“Oh please love, I deserve this celebration.” Bas said with a dramatic roll of his eyes, any reason to not work was reason enough.
“Right of course since he worked so hard.” Rupert joked clearly forgetting he owed the man in staying the cafe for him to keep it open just in case y/n might come in. They kept congratulating her over and over again as the trio dug into the cake.
“So when exactly is the award function?” Rupert asked, it was going to be event of the week for him more than it was for y/n.
“It’s on this Friday, I get one visitor pass and my father is flying out to attend it!” She said, ebullient. It did irk him somewhat because he’d wanted to see her receive the award but he knew how much her father’s approval meant to her so he was happy in her happiness regardless.
“That is great news, what did he say?” Rupert asked keeping his disappointment for not being able to see her at bay.
“His assistant put me through in the very second call so he must really be impressed, he asked me about the function and he sounded very positive of it.” She told them about the seemingly brief phone call.
“You have to talk to an assistant to get to your fath-“ basil was quickly interjected with a small shove on the leg from Rupert to take a turn in that observation. Rupert didn’t want it to rain her parade, “It’s so nice he’s coming all this way.”
“He’d probably stay a day or two after that you should meet him!” She added, it seemed as if she was somewhat more joyous with the fact that her father was pleased than the actual award to her name. It was a grey line.
“I would be delighted to.” Rupert said, he would be. At least for her sake despite having his internal doubts towards the man.
-
The award function was an extremely formal event, you could barely tell apart the professors from the bureaucrats. Rupert could tell the difference easily though, he simply knew the later group, almost all of them. But he wasn’t there for any of those people. Taking his seat at the round table, next to the faces he knew very well but he was way too focused on the happenings of the stage to indulge in small talk. And then there it was.
The lady of the evening. At least for him, her research dissertation was called out and he recognised it was her turn before they presented her name as well. White shirt with several pins of animal welfare and her educational institution. Simplicity and grace, ever so precious. As she received the medal and the award plate Rupert clapped perhaps the loudest, standing up even. The stage wasn’t so far but she didn’t spot him because her eyes were searching another direction and the procession was short lived before she could avert her gaze.
Finally after all the names were done, she was free from the stage back to the softly mingling crowd. “There she is!” The enthusiastic exclamation caught her attention from her lost trance.
Adhering the man in suit with flowers in his hand, surprised and radiated expression, “Rupert?!” She was baffled and so relieved she didn’t understand the later feeling. She rushed to him, their distance getting closer as he opened his arms for her.
“Congratulations, darling” he said bringing her into a tight embrace both of them so joyous, hers was rather infectious. He easily lifted her from the ground out of glee, kissing the side of her face. “You were wonderful out there!”
“When did you get here?” She asked once he put him down and she pulled away yet kept her arms entangled with him. Enough to just see his face, “also how?”
“I’m an MP you thought I wouldn’t be able to get into a government function?” He amused, surprised she did not see it coming, perhaps she wasn’t expecting him but her reaction seemed as if she would rather prefer him. “I got here an hour before yours was announced.”
“I am so glad you made it!” She told him, the effort was so heartwarming to her. He’d came to an event which wasn’t initially his, making more arrangements to even get in for her. She didn’t want to voice it because he’d always reply with such a strange concern as if being loved more than to be sustained wasn’t optional, she wasn’t used to this concern nor sentimental support.
Rupert could tell her kind, wide eyes in a sort of turmoil of something she couldn’t figure out by even herself but he didn’t pry on it, “where is your father?” He asked looking around shortly.
“Oh he…he isn’t here. He could not make it.” She said with a small shrug, that is how casual his absence was to him.
“—How come?”
“Probably his flight, I forgot to notify him about our time zones or so. If he were skipping he would’ve called prior” there was a small hope tugging at her heartstrings trying to believe this wasn’t like the other times. “He would be here anyways, would just be missing the event.”
“I suppose” he replied curtly, being presented with two choices of either being truthful with her of her father’s harsh and uncaring constitution or hold the hope she held out for the man with her. None of the two seemed befitting to him. As the event progressed she introduced him to some of her professors and people that she worked with, he did the same with the other officials that he knew of. She grew tired of the socialising and asked him if they could leave the event, she wasn’t as tired as she was growing disappointed of a man who wasn’t even in the room.
Even though Rupert and her came to the event from a different place and were going back in difference directions it was a given that they leave together. At least to him it was, she’d just informed him she felt like leaving and he stood up in an instant. He was dropping her back to her place because she didn’t driver herself to the function. The two were walking, to his car in the chilly night with his suit blazer draped over her shoulders, flowers and his hand in her hand, he carried her award with her bag for her and a light hearted conversation. Serenity which ran away once they came across a pay phone call booth. “Do you mind if I go make a call?” She asked him, he nodded but he was well aware who that call was intended for.
Rupert leant against the phone stand with the small door of it open, close to her as she pressed the numbers inserting coins. Anxiously awaiting the other line to answer she replied when a voice answered “Hello, this is me, y/n. Did dad leave yet?” She asked, he hated to see her in such distress and was afraid the conversation ought to make it worse. “What? What do you mean—the event, my award he was going to be here for…like he promised.” Rupert could only hear y/n’s side of the conversation but he could pan out the other side, which wasn’t even her father just some office assistant. “Just let me talk to him…please…two minutes perhaps?” It was difficult to watch, begging for the scraps of her father to an assistant. After a few moments the call ended and she couldn’t even stomach the courtesy of a goodbye.
As she walked out of the booth he searched for her to meet his eyes, narrate to him the happenings of the call. “His plans changed” she said but nothing further. He could tell she didn’t feel like talking so he stopped walking and also held her back from the track, pulled her into his arms. Resting his chin on top of her head as he held her, enlacing his arms around her tightly. He could definitely stay like this for rest of the night. Even life? A small voice suggested and he quickly dismissed it as he was pulled back to her, she didn’t feel relaxed in his arms even though she hugged him back and her face so steady, he felt his shirt getting sprinkled with dampness, as if in smallest portions.
“Y/n…” he trailed off pulling away to confirm if she was crying, “are you crying?” He asked as she lowered her face so he couldn’t see it but he leant in her direction to see. “Hey..hey, it’s alright” he pulled her back to him letting her weep onto his chest as he ran a hand through her hair.
“I don’t understand why I feel so bad” she said through her tears, holding onto him like she would fall apart even more if he let go. Perhaps she would.
“It is alright darling just let it out” Rupert said as he continued to sooth her in his arms, trying to provide a present, grounding support.
“He promised me…” she trailed off crying harder, all those events where her father should’ve been present but wasn’t came back to her. Fancy dress competitions at school where the chauffeur that dropped her off would have to attend the show out of pity for the child, birthdays where he would have to be bothered a multiple times to come attend cake-cutting, evidently sad over a test but he simply couldn’t be bothered to ask his daughter if she was alright. So much life spent in I-promise-you-I’ll-be-there. So much disappointment and you’d think one would learn. “I just feel stupid-I thought this time would be different.”
Rupert held her face in his hands “look at me” he said forcing her to meet his gaze. “You are not stupid for what you feel, you are not at fault for someone so detached and irresponsible towards their own child.” He spoke whilst wiping her tears, “he will forever be an incomplete, deficient man for the kind of father that he is. But you my love are beyond him and how he treats you, you’re brilliant and kind and funny and you have a heart big enough to hold a planet. You are going to go so far, your suffrage of his conditional love and inflicted anguish will heal for the better. I promise you that.”
This was a better hope than the one she was always latched onto, hoping that he would change, come around for once. But letting go and a promise for a softer tomorrow seemed so much more beautiful. “But I am so tired”
“You have been so gentle through so much…you must have been tired too. But persevering is constant and you, you always do. There is so much life within you, those around you are infected with it, I know I am.” He confessed, he hadn’t voiced it out especially not like this even to himself but she was more than a lively feeling, more than a chase or a rush for attraction. No. She was life.
Such admission made her heart flutter, she felt the drumming in her ears and it wasn’t the anxious kind. This felt like a sunrise after a good dream, but she had no words for it because her eyes spoke enough and so did his that wandered down to her lips and back to his. Reciprocating the course of gaze when he leant forward, face so close she didn’t move even by the slightest tired of awaiting him to inch to the closest extent she caught a soft grip of his shirt, lowering her gaze right when he crashed his lips onto hers. She kissed him back and it felt heavenly, as the kiss deepened he felt like he had reached there.
Smiles glued to their faces once they pulled away to catch a breath, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear he said “you are not the only one who’s won something tonight.”
“That means I’ve won twice” she said with a small giggle adding to his exaggeration that kissing her felt like a win.
“That isn’t the same.” Rupert corrected her, going in to kiss her again with a slower passion, taking his time letting the sweetness of it linger “for me this is centuries worth of wins.”
IVE SO MUCH MORE OF HIS STUFF COMING SOMEBODY SEDATE ME…next his enemies to lovers let me know if you want to be tagged
PLEASE comments are my fuel I am HUNGRY for validation please if you like this please please let me know
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soapssuds · 3 days ago
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"psych ward patient"!simon riley x psych ward patient!reader, or in which you try to hold onto someone despite how the floor beneath you crumbles.
cw | an abusive nurse (what the nurse does though is not described)
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You glanced across the dining hall, your focus on someone who you have noticed before but never had the courage to talk to. You heard the rumors about him. About him being someone from the military, though others say he made the whole thing up.
You don't know how long you've been staring until he is staring right back, seemingly being able to feel your gaze. And instead of doing the "normal" thing and looking away, you continue your unabashed staring.
He wore a sort of mask, your nurse telling you that it was called a balaclava. You asked if you could get one too, but she merely glared at you which shut you up quickly. Your nurse was mean, so you tried to get on her good side as soon as possible and as often too.
It wasn't until you saw him get up from his table (plate of food in hand) and walk towards you did you break out of your thoughts. And, in silence, he had plopped down in front of you in the empty seat.
You continued to stare before deciding to finally open your mouth.
"I like your balaclava!"
Your voice echoed a bit. More than you intended it to.
He grunted out a thank you before turning his attention back to his food, a free hand rising up to pull at the fabric so his mouth was free.
You were quick to notice a scared.
"Wot got you starin' so hard?"
His accent was the first thing to hit you. You wondered where he was from.
"I thought you were pretty."
"Pretty," he parrots, almost like a scoff.
"Mm, when you first got here and weren't allowed the mask. Thought you were pretty. Wanted to tell you, but didn't know how."
He studied you for a moment. His analytical eyes making you feel just a tad bit too self conscious. It felt like he could see everything for what you are... and for what you weren't.
"Your voice is pretty too," you suddenly said.
That was another thing about you. In tense situations and in one's where it was getting suffocating or awkward, you would blurt out whatever you were thinking. A terrible habbit. But you hate being stared at despite staring at others so often yourself.
Just as he was about to say something, your nurse came to retrieve you. Her glare telling you everything you needed to know.
"You. Up."
She barked out those words as if commanding a dog. You could never handle it when someone was yelling at you. Your body always seemed to shut down the moment someone raises their voice at you.
And when you didn't budge, a guard came up to you and grabbed a strong hold onto your wrist to drag you along. Your food long forgotten as the nurse let out an angered huff and quickly followed after.
Simon was left to his questions before someone else sat next to him, "shame, guess she got caught again."
"Caught for wot?"
The new patient who sat next to Simon gave him a sad smile, "that lady nurse is super strict. It's not fun at all in her unit. Doesn't even let patients keep personal items. y/n, though, likes to read, and y/n always gets into trouble when the nurse finds a book in their room. Takes out her anger on y/n, too."
Simon looked to the doors that you, the guard, and the nurse disappeared behind.
"Best not to follow. It'll be over soon."
And true to the patients words, you came back. A little shaken and scared then before. Arms hugging close to your body and legs quivering like a newborn deer. And the quiver didn't do much to hide the slight limp.
Simon wasn't an idiot. He already knew what happened behind closed doors.
"Oh? Still here? Though you would go back to your original table," you said with such a timid voice than from before. It made something within him ache.
"D' you want me t' go back t' my own table?"
You shook your, "no, no! Please...please stay for a while longer?"
Simon nodded, his food already gone and his mask already situated back into place, and stayed.
Originally, he was here for an undercover mission. His target still far from reach.
"No one will even know you don't belong!"
Johnny that bastard.
What Simon didn't expect was to meet you. Well, see you from a distance and be hyper aware of your stare of him the moment he got here. Truth be told, he thought you were with the target. The two of you working together in the safety confines of the psych ward.
Though, the more he silently observed, the more obvious it became that you were just a patient. An innocent little thing being tortured by the ones who claim to be helping.
So maybe after this shitshow of a mission is over, he can take you with him. Maybe even take care of that nurse for you, too.
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dreamerdrop · 2 days ago
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Oh God, yeah. During the war, Julian is basically going full into survival mode. He's pulling away from people, he's keeping his mouth shut, he's basically letting himself turn into a hollow shell that just looks like him because everything is so exhausting and he doesn't really... have it in him to be himself anymore.
I feel like I personally give kind of a pass to most of the characters on DS9 being jerks about Julian being obviously autistic for the sole reason that... one of the things I like about DS9 is that they're all pretty messed up in one way or another. Miles is allergic to voicing emotions and sentiments out loud (despite Keiko's best efforts, but she's also not great at it herself), Jadzia is shown constantly to have a REALLY inappropriate and poorly timed sense of humour, Kira is... Kira, and her issues mean that Julian's issues basically rub against each other like sandpaper.
Garak is interesting in how his dynamic intersects with Julian being autistic though. Garak seems to delight in Julian doing things like being blunt, infodumping, etc. Garak is someone who would drive ME a little nuts IRL because his specific brand of enigmatic behaviour would wreak hell on my lack of self esteem and inability to trust my judgement...
But for Julian, it seems to be a huge part of the draw. I think, in part, it's because Garak does seem to recognise when he's pushed too far and then, in his own weird way, often... relents a little.
Like in Cardassians, on the shuttlecraft. Julian basically says, very bluntly, "Garak stop talking in riddles this is serious and I don't want to play games anymore" and Garak immediately goes "alright fine here I'll talk as plainly as I am comfortable with".
Or, in an odd way, the scene on the Defiant during... season 6? Where Garak is basically insulting Julian over his augmented status. That scene is a little rough, even with the knowledge that this is effectively flirting for Garak, but. There's something in it that actually stands out to me as Garak trying to relent a little.
Specifically, his comment about Julian being a Vulcan. Julian is sensitive about his augmented status. Garak knows this. Garak insults him over it, and then towards the end of that little spat, saying "you're not genetically engineered, you're a vulcan", it kind of... reads as like, Garak trying to steer the conversation back to something playful, something that isn't actually attacking Julian.
(And there's obviously a lot to be said for how Julian is somewhat smiling to himself at the end of that scene.)
I think there's something similar to that in his dynamic with the others. I don't think any of them really have particularly good social skills, honestly. Jadzia comes closest but her levels of extroversion and enthusiasm mean she's often putting her foot in her mouth too. (... oh that's why she and Julian make good friends, they both have the party autism.)
Thing is, I think if Julian ever actually said to any of them "hey that actually kind of upsets me could we not" and they realized he meant it, they would apologize and mean it, but because everyone on that station is messed up and lacking in social skills, they all kind of constantly end up battering against each other with poorly timed jokes and insensitive remarks and dismissal of trauma and none of them ever figure out how to address any of it.
Narratively, though, Julian's trauma gets brushed over more than almost anyone else's, and that DOES piss me off about the writing. Even before we get to the augmentation aspect (which is taken seriously as traumatic for exactly ONE episode), a lot of the time Julian's issues just... get kind of tossed to one side.
Character wise, I think Julian is the type to focus on other people's issues so he doesn't have to acknowledge his own, but the way the show itself often ignores those issues does REALLY grate on me.
Julian Bashir walks a very fine, maddening line between “self-loathing imposter syndrome who knows almost everyone who speaks to him for more than a minute finds him insufferable” and “incredibly self assured and annoyingly arrogant to the point of a minor god complex”.
He knows he’s attractive, he thinks he’s charming as all hell, he knows he’s the smartest person in the room (while also being acutely aware he’s going to put his foot in his mouth any second now), and he just swings wildly between “I don’t deserve anything I have, none of this is mine, my life is not my own, I am a monster” and “HELL YEAH LOOK HOW COOL AND SMART I AM GUYS ARE YOU LOOKING ARE YOU LOOKING”.
And then there’s episodes that reveal that underneath that annoying arrogance, at the very core of who he is, he really, really just wants to help people, and if he fucks that up he WILL take it personally and hold himself responsible even if there’s no way he could have known and like. Can you imagine what his first patient death was like for him. Can you imagine what a fucking nightmare his brain must be 24/7.
He is somehow as inherently self assured as he is in need of constant validation for his ego because you can SEE him break a little when that ego fails him, even a little, and it’s just.
He’s very fun to write. I hate him. (I love him so much, but oh my god.)
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fratttymatty · 2 days ago
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Conerdative
(All characters are 18+)
Theo Montgomery had always been a bit of an outsider. At 18, he was an unapologetic liberal, proudly gay, and content with his status as a loner. He wasn’t the most athletic, and he didn’t hang out with the popular crowd—mostly because they made him feel like he was speaking a foreign language whenever he tried to join in. He had his few close friends, all of whom shared his views on the world. They had long conversations about politics, pop culture, and everything in between, tucked away in the quiet corners of the school library or at the local coffee shop.
But despite the friends he had, he often felt like he didn’t fit in—like he was on the outside looking in.
That all changed one afternoon after school when he wandered into the old, unused janitor's closet in the back of the school. He was supposed to meet his friend Jace there to discuss some protest plans, but Jace had bailed last minute, leaving Theo to amuse himself with whatever he could find.
As he was about to leave, something caught his eye—a dusty, ornate mirror standing at the back of the closet, framed in black and gold. It looked like it didn’t belong. Curiosity got the better of him. He reached out and touched the cold glass. The moment his fingers made contact, the room around him flickered, and for a brief moment, everything went white. Then it was gone.
When the blinding light faded, Theo blinked, disoriented, and stared at his reflection.
He wasn’t looking at the familiar face he knew.
His skin was a few shades darker, smooth and perfectly tanned. His hair, once a messy brown mop, was now thick, perfectly styled, and just the right amount of tousled. His jawline was sharply defined, and his eyes—green, like emeralds—shone with an almost unnatural intensity. He was taller, broader, with muscles that looked like they'd been carved by a sculptor.
He couldn’t help it—he ran a hand through his hair and flexed his biceps. His reflection was, well… hot. He looked like a walking, talking dreamboat.
And then, he noticed something else. The clothes he was wearing—his old, faded band t-shirt and ripped jeans—had been replaced with a sleek, tailored suit, complete with a crisp, white shirt and dark, fashionable glasses perched on his nose.
He wasn’t just different physically—he was different in every way. He felt... more confident. More sure of himself. More straight in a way he never had been before. The liberal, gay Theo Montgomery he once was felt like a distant memory. It was like he’d stepped into someone else's shoes, someone who was on top of the world—someone popular, someone who got all the attention.
For a moment, panic flared. What had happened to him? How had this change come about? But as the minutes passed, he realized something: he didn’t want to change back. This new him felt right.
He took one last look in the mirror, adjusting his glasses with a smirk.
"Who are you?" he whispered. But before he could answer himself, a voice broke through the fog of his thoughts.
“Whoa. Theo? Is that really you?”
Theo spun around to see none other than Madison Hayes, the ditzy cheerleader who had always brushed past him like he was invisible.
She stopped in her tracks, her eyes going wide as she took in his new appearance. She blinked, then took a slow, deliberate step closer, her lips curving into a smile.
“Okay, wow. I don’t know what happened, but you look... hot.” Madison giggled, her voice a mix of surprise and flirtation.
Theo felt his heart race for a moment, but not from the usual nervousness he might have felt. No, it was a rush of something else—a thrill, a sense of power. He flashed a confident smile, adjusting his glasses like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“I guess you could say I had a... makeover.” He raised an eyebrow, noticing her gaze linger on him for just a moment too long.
“More like a total upgrade,” she said, her tone breathy and playful, a hint of admiration in her voice. “I mean, I always thought you were kinda cute before, but now... you’re like, perfect. What happened?”
Theo smirked, running his hand through his hair again. “Just a little... magic, I guess.”
Madison giggled again, clearly swept up in his charm. “Well, if you’re not doing anything later, maybe you could, like, hang out? I’m sure everyone would love to get to know you now.”
Theo didn’t miss the way her eyes sparkled with interest, or the fact that she was giving him her full attention, something she’d never done before. He knew he could have turned her down—he could’ve stayed in his old self, the quiet, sarcastic Theo who was content being the odd one out. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to. This new version of himself felt... right.
And why not enjoy the perks?
“Sure,” Theo said with a grin, suddenly feeling more like the confident, popular guy he’d always secretly wished he could be. “I’d love to.”
Over the next few weeks, Theo, now going by the name Zane Knight, fully embraced his new identity. "Zane Knight" sounded perfect—strong, sharp, mysterious. He even got a new wardrobe to match, ditching his old, ragged clothes for sleek, fashionable pieces that showed off his muscular build. He was no longer the shy, self-conscious kid who sat at the back of the class with his nose in books. He was the guy everyone noticed.
Madison, the ditzy cheerleader, became his unofficial “girl next door.” She was always around now, giggling at his jokes, leaning on him during lunch, and even inviting him to sit with her popular crowd. She was sweet in her own way, but her priorities were simple—cheerleading, partying, and looking cute. Zane didn’t mind. She was a nice distraction, and truth be told, he kind of liked how easy it was to charm her. She wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but she loved his new, confident vibe.
The girls? They loved him. Vanessa, the head cheerleader, was often seen hanging around Zane after school, offering him a flirtatious smile whenever they crossed paths. Even Emily, the quiet bookworm from history class, started leaving little notes for him in his locker. They all wanted a piece of him, and Zane—who had once been the outsider—was now the one everyone wanted to be around. The other guys in school—jocks, nerds, and even the band geeks—looked to him for advice, for laughs, for anything.
Zane didn’t have to try. He was just... Zane Knight.
And somewhere deep down, he knew he would never go back. The old Theo Montgomery—the liberal, gay, sarcastic loner—was a shadow. The new Zane Knight was the center of everything. And he was loving it.
Life was better this way.
It had been a few weeks since Zane Knight had stepped into his new life, and it was quickly becoming clear that not only had his appearance changed, but his entire worldview had shifted as well. He had embraced his new persona—confident, popular, and far more conservative than he'd ever imagined he'd become. And nowhere was that more apparent than in his American Government class.
It was a Tuesday, and Zane sat at the front of the class, looking sharp in a tailored blazer and dark jeans, his glasses perched perfectly on his nose. The room was buzzing with energy as Mr. Johnson, the teacher, opened the floor to a debate on current political ideologies.
“You all know the drill,” Mr. Johnson said, his arms crossed over his chest. “Liberal versus conservative views. Who wants to start?”
Zane leaned back in his chair, watching the usual suspects raise their hands. But he wasn’t just going to sit back and listen. He could feel the growing tension in the air—the need to speak his mind, to show everyone just how much he'd changed, how much he'd grown in this new life. And now that he was the center of attention, he wasn’t going to let the chance slip by.
Madison, sitting next to him, leaned in and whispered, "You’ve got this, Zane. Show ‘em how it’s done."
Zane grinned at her and straightened up in his seat, clearing his throat. The room went quiet as he stood, his movements smooth, his confidence radiating.
“Alright, let’s be real here,” Zane began, his voice calm but firm. “The left has this idea that everything should be handed to people, that government should step in and take care of everyone. But that’s not how the world works. You want to help people? You don’t do it by coddling them. You teach them to stand on their own two feet, to work hard for what they want. The government shouldn’t be the safety net—it should be the trampoline that helps you jump higher, not a cushion to catch you every time you fall.”
A murmur spread through the classroom. Some students nodded; others scoffed. Zane wasn’t bothered. He was in his element.
“Look at welfare,” Zane continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. “It’s meant to help people who are down on their luck, sure. But it’s turned into a system that rewards laziness. Why work if you can get a free handout? Conservatives believe in personal responsibility, in self-reliance. You don’t get ahead by relying on others to bail you out. You get ahead by working your ass off, by taking risks and putting in the hours. That’s what made this country great. Hard work and ambition, not sitting around waiting for the government to fix your problems.”
There was a pause, and Zane could see the reactions across the room. Some students were staring at him wide-eyed, as if they couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. But there were others—like Madison—who were practically glowing with admiration.
Madison raised her hand, eagerly waiting to add her two cents. Zane flashed her a quick smile before turning back to the class.
“And don’t even get me started on this whole ‘identity politics’ nonsense,” Zane continued, his tone now turning more pointed. “People need to stop blaming their problems on their race, gender, or sexual orientation. Life isn’t fair, sure, but that doesn’t mean you get to play the victim card every time things don’t go your way. In a truly free society, we should be judged on our abilities and character, not our identity. And honestly, if you want equality, stop demanding special treatment for everyone who’s different. We’re all equal under the law, and that’s where it should end. If you’re good at what you do, you’ll make it. Simple as that.”
The room grew tense, and a few gasps were heard. The left-leaning students—who once might have been his allies in his previous life—looked taken aback, some of them even angry. But Zane felt no fear. No doubt. This was who he was now. This was his truth.
“I’m not saying there isn’t room for compassion or helping those who truly need it,” he added, raising his hands in a gesture of balance. “But there’s a difference between helping someone up and keeping them dependent. You want change? You go out and make it happen yourself.”
Mr. Johnson, the teacher, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Alright, Zane, that’s quite a perspective. Anyone want to challenge his views?”
A few hands went up, but Zane wasn’t done yet. He wasn’t finished making his point. He felt invigorated by the debate, like he was finally in a place where his opinions mattered.
Before anyone could speak, Zane raised his hand and, with a small but confident smile, continued. “One more thing—this obsession with ‘safe spaces’ and ‘trigger warnings’ is another example of the left trying to create a bubble where no one has to deal with the real world. Life is hard. People are rude. They’re going to disagree with you, and sometimes, they’re going to say things that make you uncomfortable. But guess what? That’s life. You can’t go through it avoiding every harsh word. We need to toughen up and face challenges head-on, not hide in our little safe spaces and pretend the world is always kind.”
He let that sink in, feeling the weight of his words in the quiet that followed. But then, just as the class seemed to settle, Zane casually added, almost as an afterthought, “And, honestly, I get that people want to be true to who they are and all, but—" He glanced around, noticing Derek, the openly gay sophomore from the drama club sitting at the back of the class, looking at him expectantly. "—does anyone else think it’s a little... weird when people make their sexuality their whole personality? Like, why do you need to wear it on your sleeve, all the time? I mean, it’s not like I walk around with a ‘straight pride’ badge on my chest.”
The classroom fell silent for a moment.
Zane’s words lingered in the air, heavy and brash. Some students shifted in their seats, looking around, unsure if they should react. But Madison, always quick to defend him, laughed lightly and nudged him with her elbow.
“Ugh, Zane, you’re so right. It’s like, just live your life, you know? Who cares about the labels?”
Zane just shrugged, unbothered. “Exactly. If you’re truly equal, then stop acting like your identity is everything. It’s just a part of who you are, not the whole damn story.”
Derek, who had been the target of Zane's comment, looked uncomfortable but didn't say anything. He shuffled in his seat and avoided making eye contact. Zane, however, didn't even acknowledge him, his confidence surging as the class began to murmur their agreement.
“Anyway, like I said, life isn’t perfect,” Zane continued, picking up right where he left off. “But it’s up to each of us to make something of it. No one’s gonna give you a free pass just because you’ve got a cause or a label.”
Mr. Johnson stepped forward to regain control of the discussion, but Zane had already taken the room. The conservative students seemed to be nodding along, and even some of the more liberal ones were silent, unsure how to respond. The truth was, Zane’s popularity, his sharp confidence, and his undeniable charm made it impossible for anyone to criticize him, even when he made statements that—back in his old life—would’ve been seen as offensive.
Madison, still smiling, leaned over to him. “Zane, you really just told them like it is. No one else would’ve said that, for sure.”
Zane smirked. “That’s because no one else has the guts.”
The class continued, but Zane didn’t care about the debate anymore. He had made his point, and more importantly, he had solidified his place at the top. No one cared about his past anymore—least of all, Derek.
In this new world, Zane Knight was untouchable.
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Wrapping-up the loose ends of “Elrond = Sauron” in 2x07 tent scene theory
My followers know I’m the captain of the “it was Sauron, and not Elrond” in the tent scene with Adar, in 2x07, and he’s the one who kissed Galadriel theory. And while I’ve made several posts about it, already, there are still a few loose ends to this theory.
Other posts on the subject: Megathread “Elrond = Sauron” in 2x07 (Part 1 and Part 2); Melian mentioned (here), recognition between Adar and Sauron (here), and the connection between Sauron and Elrond in Season 2 (here).
Why did Elrond lose the cape when he’s returning to Lindon? 
Was it to “look cool”? Acknowledging this in a show with so many plots going on and limited screen-time can’t be random. Why show the audience this when they could spent those minutes fleshing out other plots? 
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When he arrives at Eregion, in 2x07 (+ meeting with Prince Durin) he’s wearing a different cape and pin, obviously. Because those were lost. 
And the show told us, in 2x07 and via Elrond himself, that Sauron is keeping an eye on the roads from Lindon to Eregion: There is evil in those hills. Ancient, and filled with malice. Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another. The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads.
This can indicate that Sauron retrieved Elrond’s cape and pin (instead of my initial thought of him taking them from the place Galadriel was taken by Adar, in 2x04).
In the tent scene, "Elrond" is also wearing his cape in a different way to his usual self (including from his previous scenes in the episode, in his scene with Durin and when he arrives at Eregion):
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The shoulder pleated detail on “Elrond” cape in the tent scene with Adar is something we never saw on Elrond’s character. He usually wears his capes in a different style.
We saw, however, this type of pleated in another character, back in Season 1. Can this be a nod to that?
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What’s the deal with Adar and Galadriel?
Elrond arrives at Lindon in the same episode “the body” carrying the message from Adar shows up at Eregion gates. And it clearly didn’t say “where is he?”. Because Adar knows Sauron is there, and that’s not the reason why Sauron gets so distressed, because he’s the one who told Adar that “Sauron” is at Eregion, in the first place.
He’s also the one who told Adar that Galadriel is Sauron’s ally, back in 2x01: Since Galadriel’s defeat, she sought out a new ally. An ancient sorcerer, to instruct the Elves in forging a new weapon. One you first told her about. A power over flesh.
But judging by Sauron’s reaction to "the body", this was a seed he didn’t intent to plant on Adar's mind:
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And this could explain why he was in such a hurry for the body to be buried and shown to no one else. Because someone might know how to read Black speech (we saw Galadriel understanding it back in Season 1, when she was with Elendil at the Hall of Lore of Númenor, and unravel the founding of Mordor plan) or whatever language it was. The body most likely said Adar has taken Galadriel as captive. And this makes sense, if he thinks she’s Sauron’s ally.
Which can explain why Adar was so distrusting of Galadriel, in the same episode. Adar wanted Galadriel to confirm "Halbrand is Sauron", but also to understand the depth of their connection. Because he saw them fighting together in 1x06, and Sauron "confirmed" they are allies. The “wine and dine scene” was probably a trap from Adar’s part, and it was never his intention to actually make an alliance with her, in the first place (or he was “testing the waters” on that one).
She mentioned Nenya (which he can use for his goal) and who carries it, but Adar, most likely, realized that Galadriel is in love with Sauron, too (I won’t waste time here on the Halbrand vs. Sauron discourse, because I already wrote a post about it). And he wants to use her as bait in the next episode, to lure Sauron out of Eregion. Because there’s no way, this corrupted elf, thousands of years old, fall for that “he promised me an army” lie.
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Only it's Elrond that shows up. Or... is it not?
The showrunners have confirmed they are doing a Galadriel/Frodo parallel in “Rings of Power”. And in Season 2, Adar is paralleling Gollum. And, so, the tent scene is meant to parallel Gollum’s trap with Shelob; when he betrays Frodo to an agent of Sauron by setting up a trap. And both of these scenes have some “kissing” involved: in the film adaptation, Shelob licks Frodo’s face (to paralyze him), and “Elrond” kisses Galadriel.
Only in “Rings of Power” this agent of Sauron is “Elrond”. But Elrond is already paralleling Sam in the show. What's most likely happening here is that they are “killing two birds with one stone”, by having Sauron shapeshifting into Elrond (the agent of Sauron is himself), but also emulating Sam by providing Galadriel/Frodo with a means to escape (pin/Phial of Galadriel and Sting).
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What's the deal with this shot?
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Is this only to symbolize Light vs. Dark, as I’ve seen getting thrown around? But that explanation doesn’t exactly make sense because the “Dark” is Sauron, and Adar isn’t on Sauron’s side, at all. Adar’s entire character arc is Season 2 it’s precisely his rebellion and vow to destroy Sauron once and for all.
I would argue the “light vs. shadow” aesthetic is not the explanation for this choice, and there’s something else at work here. Mostly because we have Adar saying this in the tent scene:
Eregion has fallen into shadow. It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls.
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You are all familiar with “shadow of Morgoth” (it’s been mentioned by Celebrimbor in 2x08), and now I’m introducing you to the concept of the “shadow of Sauron” in “The Return of the King” book, when Sauron's spirit rose above Mordor like a black cloud, and stretched out his hand towards the army of the West:
And as the Captain gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent.
Why Vorohil of all characters?
We know Elrond is the commander of the Elven army, and Gil-galad, the High King of the Noldor, is also there for the battle. We also see Rian (the she-elf that sacrifices herself later on). But Vorohil is nowhere to be seen when the Elven army arrives at Eregion: he’s not by Elrond’s side nor is he in the “charging scene” at the Orc army:
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Where did he come from? And why would Elrond choose him, out of all characters, to accompany him to a negotiation with Adar?
Vorohil is a mere soldier; he’s described as “an Elven swordsman who joins Elrond's band of warrior-elves”. Why not bring another commander or high-rank soldier, or even Gil-galad himself, to a key meeting that could mean the end of the battle before it began?
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Something, something about Saurons connection with fire, because Adar’s tent was lit during this scene.
Then we have the fact that “Elrond” conveniently sends him away at the end of the meeting. But what’s ever stranger is: how come Vorohil didn’t know Elrond went to Khazad-dûm and met with Prince Durin before this scene!? How didn’t he know his commander went to another location before the battle begun?
And when Vorohil returns at the end of the episode, to warn Elrond the Dwarves aren’t coming to help, he’s also conveniently mortally wounded with arrows, and dies. (I guess Sauron has been practicing for his torture of Celebrimbor in the next episode?).
Why didn’t the battle stop for Elrond meeting with Adar?
Once “Elrond” returns from Orc camp, there’s a full-on battle happening at the walls of Eregion, far from the camp. Which seems to contradict the point of the meeting itself. Wasn’t this suppose to be a meeting to discuss terms or even a hypothetical truce between the two armies?
Because this is Adar’s offer to Elrond: give me Nenya, take your army back to Lindon, and let me deal with Sauron myself, because you can’t beat me nor save Eregion.
And yet, the battle is already on? Why are the armies fighting each other when their commanders are meeting to discuss terms at Orc camp? This doesn’t make any sense. Unless the “commander” in the tent with Adar isn’t Elrond, at all. And the real Elrond is engaging in battle elsewhere.
Why is Elrond mourning the white horse?
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It’s because Elves value all living beings and nature and stuff? Could be, except we haven’t see Elrond associated with horses in “Rings of Power”, have we? Sure, he rides a horse as a means of transportation (like most characters), but he’s not symbolically associated with them. So this scene comes out of nowhere.
There is, however, another character that’s very associated with horses (particularly white), ever since Season 1: Galadriel
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And this symbolism (Galadriel = white horse) is already associated with another character, ever since Season 1, too:
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Sauron's illusion in 2x06: [children laughing] “It’s a horse!”
The white horse was killed by an Orc, and he licked the blade with the blood. This enraged “Elrond” so much he goes on a murder spree and kills this Orc in a very over the top way: by catapulting him into Eregion’s walls.
We already saw the “white horse Galadriel” being bled in this episode:
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Adar just threatened to parade Galadriel’s head on a pike in the tent scene. And “Elrond” snaps, and does this:
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Why is Elrond catapulting stones into Eregion walls? Isn’t that against his entire goal of protecting these very walls? Why he’s causing further damage to it? Because he’s not Elrond, at all.
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Yes, “this Elrond” was still Sauron, and this was hinted by the show itself:
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Why do Elrond, Galadriel and Sauron have the same face wound?
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I already talked about this in another post (concerning Morgoth’s crown wound, and its consequences), but I think this is, yet, another clue to it was Sauron, and not Elrond in the tent scene with Adar, in 2x07. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
How did Elrond get his own scar? Either in the midst of the battle, or the same way as Galadriel: we know, for a fact, Sauron didn’t cut her face in their fight scene in 2x08, the wound “magically” appears on her face after she cuts his face (and it can’t be a error of editing when three characters have the same wound).
Why does Galadriel face scar looks off?
At the end of 2x08, Galadriel “magical” face wound is still a visible on her face, even after her healing. Only, it looks kind of strange now, because it looks like a burn mark, and not a cut.
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You are all, probably, familiar with the "Eye of Sauron", but that's not the only thing he's (in)famous for in Tolkien legendarium, and I'm talking about the Black Hand of Sauron, of course. I already did a post about this theme, and how "Rings of Power" is giving us a whole of focus on Sauron's hands and touch.
Even stone cannot hide the mark of one whose very hand is flame unquenched. He was here. Sauron was here. (Galadriel; 1x01)
In “Fellowship of Ring” book we have a description of this, by the account of Isildur, when he cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand:
The heat of Sauron’s hand, which was black and yet burned like fire.
Spoiler alert, one major character will die due to Sauron’s touch in the Siege of Barad-dûr, during the War of the Last Alliance (Season 5).
And “Rings of Power” has already gave us a description of Sauron’s true form, via Mirdania, in 2x04:
It was tall and its skin was made of flames, it came towards me, breathing, reeking of death. And I saw-- I I saw its eyes pitiless and eternal. I think it's been here I think it's been here among us all along..
Now, you are probably confused as to “why” and “how” would Sauron be able to burn Galadriel, when he has touched her face in the past (1x08).
He did it in her presence and in his own physical form. Sauron is using his powers here, and tapping into the Unseen word, too, where his true form exists. Elrond is not his physical form, obviously. So that’s probably the reason for this burn mark. Why not the lips, too? Well, it’s the “black hand of Sauron”, not the “black lips of Sauron”.
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sasheemo · 2 days ago
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C'è sempre una prima volta (there is a first time for everything)
Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x Butch!Reader
Tags: One-Shot, Established Relationship, Strap-Ons (Rr), Frist Strap-On Experience (Rr), Smut with Fluff, Sexual Stereotypes, Mommy Kink and Praise Kink if you squint until your eyes hurt
Summary: You and Melissa have been together for almost a year and she wants to try something new in bed, you’re just taken aback by her request.
Word Count: 2.4k
Read on AO3
A/N: this was originally posted on 13.05.24 (AO3 only), but since I'm putting together a Masterlist, I decided to post it here too so that I could include it. This was the first fic (or anything really) I ever wrote , also english is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes you might encounter. I added some Italian here and there in the fic and you will find the translations in brackets.
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You had just finished giving your beautiful girlfriend her second orgasm of the night when she looked at your straight in the eyes asking if this time she could use the strap on you. You were both lying on your bed and she was still panting and high from her orgasm, but she seemed pretty serious about her question. 
Noticing your surprised - and kinda worried - expression, Melissa asked you what was wrong.
“No no, nothing! Just to be clear, I’m not saying no … it’s just that nobody ever asked me something like that. I honestly never thought somebody would even want to have sex with me with a strap”
“Ma cosa stai dicendo?! (What are you even saying?!) Why would you think that?” 
“Well, I mean, usually butches are seen as tops and I guess in my case that is what was always expected from me in a relationship. When I say that nobody ever asked something like that to me I mean it. I always felt like it was implied that if someone was supposed to use the strap in bed…that would be me. And nobody actually ever behaved differently, proved it wrong or cared enough to talk about it I guess…” you replied plainly but with a hint of hurt in your voice
Melissa looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. Was it anger? Was it disappointment? Was it sadness? “Hon, I never expected anything from you since the day we met. It’s not about other people’s expectations, what you think you owe them, it’s about what you want. As for me, I just want you. All of you without any stereotype, expectation or limitation. Fuck everyone else and their opinions!”. You look at her lovingly, knowing she is telling the truth as you never felt any kind of pressure from her, from day one you could always be your truest self with her. 
You prop your head forward looking for her lips, but you notice that she doesn’t move and lets you come to her. Once you’re an inch away you feel her sultry voice brushing your lips “Now, do you want me to fuck you senseless with that strap or not?”
You instantly switch your gaze from her mouth to her eyes just to find two piercing emerald pools looking straight into your soul. That look alone could have you coming in seconds. Every. Single. Time. 
“Yes please.” a whisper comes out of your mouth as you lower your gaze
“Good girl. Now, we are going to start slowly and if I hurt you, if you’re uncomfortable or if at any point you change your mind, just let me know, ok? Guardami (look at me) and tell me you understand.” 
You finally look back at her and your stomach just drops. There she is, fully naked lying next to you. This gorgeous, fierce, stern, dominating and yet so reassuring woman. “I do, I understand.”
On that note she gets up without saying a word, takes the strap that had been sitting next to you on the bed for the past minutes, and proceeds to put it on. Still lying in bed you look at her. You have to admit the sight was just mouth-watering. It wasn’t the strap, it was Melissa wearing it and knowing she was about to fuck your brains out with it.
Once she’s done she hops on the bed placing herself between your legs, before starting to caress your sides, chest and abdomen with her hands. You ease into her touch as you start to feel her nails scarping down your hips and upper thighs. You whimper as moans start escaping your lips.
“That’s it baby, rilassati (just relax) and let me make you feel good.” with that she pushes your legs a bit more apart, while tracing your inner thighs with her nails. 
You start to feel that familiar buildup in your lower abdomen and wetness pooling between your legs. 
“Mel, touch me please.” comes out of your lips almost as whisper
“I am touching you” her eyes snap up at you and a familiar electricity shots through your body when you recognize that look on your girlfriend’s face.
You’re enjoying this, but so is she. Probably even more than you right now. Teasing you and filling you up with anticipation. 
“Mmm, I-I need you inside of me Mel…”
“How badly?” She asks in the sultriest voice while her fingers run up your thighs and down your hips stopping before reaching where you need her the most. 
You cry out at her stopping and move your hips involuntarily. “So bad Mel, please, just ple-ahh!” Air gets sucked in your throat when you feel her fingers sliding through your folds. 
“I’m afraid we’ll have to change the sheets once I’m done with you. You’re dripping now e non ho nemmeno iniziato (and I barely even started).” 
You knew she was probably right but there was nothing you could do about it. She was just incredibly hot and you melted under her touch every single time. 
You didn’t even have time to form your thought about what she just said as you felt two fingers sliding into you.
“Oh my God Mel fuckkk” you screamed feeling how easily her fingers entered you. Melissa started moving them at an excruciatingly slow pace. As if you needed any time to adjust given how wet you were, she was just teasing. 
Seeing how desperate you were, starting to move your hips to get more friction, your girlfriend got the hint and picked up her pace. Wet sounds and moans filling the room as her pace fastened more and more. 
You were already getting close when you suddenly felt Melissa slipping her fingers out of you. Crying at the loss you shot her a pouty frustrated look, just to see her getting up on her knees and centering herself  between your legs.
You started to internally panic a little bit. You were aroused as fuck but this was still something new for you. As if reading your mind, your girlfriend looked at you. Her glance holding a warmth that would otherwise be out of character in a not so new situation. You gave her a silent nod and bit your bottom lip in anticipation, worry and arousal. 
Just a few seconds later you felt the tip of her cock sliding through your folds, stopping just above your clit. You moan, still biting your lip,  and your hips start moving again. 
She slides her cock up and down your pussy a few times to spread your wetness around and on her cock, before finally aligning herself to your entrance. You prop yourself up on your elbows just in time to see the tip disappear between your folds. 
“Am I hurting you baby?” Melissa checks in running her left hand across your thigh.
“No, please keep going Mel, I need more.” you cry out almost ashamed at your neediness. Melissa’s worried expression turning into a satisfied and mischievous one. 
In one swift motion she fills you up completely. You are surprised at how this is not hurting at all, you truly are that wet for her. Not that you doubted it. 
With her eyes fixated on yours, Melissa starts moving. Her hands are on your hips as she pulls out almost completely before sliding back in. She does that a few times before picking up her pace and setting a nice rythm, which is unfortunately not enough for you at the moment. 
“Fuck Mel, more! Fuck me harder baby please!” you cry out trying to reach for her thighs, your nails scraping the sheets. 
You whimper and moan at the sudden loss when a few seconds later you don’t feel her cock inside of you anymore. You look at her just in time to see drops of saliva dripping down her lips and feel them landing on your clit.
You feel every organ you have dropping, not just your stomach. “M-Melissa did you just-“
“Spit on your pretty cunt? Yes I did, why?”
“It-it’s just s-” that’s how little you manage to say between moans before she starts spreading it across your pussy with her cock. 
“It’s just so what baby?” She’s looking at you with a lustful grin and deep dark eyes. She bites her bottom lip waiting for your answer while she keeps sliding her cock over your wet pussy. 
“It’s just so hot.” you moan starting to move your hips again . “Please Mel, fuck me.” you’re basically crying out now and her eyes turn even darker. 
Without you even realizing, she suddenly slams her cock back into you, full lenght sliding in even more easily than before. She starts pounding you at a deliciously atrocious rythm. The sound of her hips colliding with your inner thighs fills the room and makes you both wetter. 
“You like feeling me deep inside you, filling you up? Mh?” her voice cuts through your bliss and you just close your eyes to try and not come on the spot. 
“Mmm fuck … fuck … yes! Yes I do, please don’t stop!” 
“I want you to look at me, open your eyes. Now.” The emphasis she puts on that last word made you quiver and you instantly opened your eyes. 
You couldn’t avoid looking down at where her cock was disappearing inside of you and coming out glistening, just to be slammed back in. Again and again. 
The rythm she was keeping, the sounds echoing through the room, her beautiful boobs bouncing at her every movement and her eyes never leaving yours. Everything was building up inside of you and you felt so close. 
Your moans and your breathing were frantic now. One hand gripping the sheets and the other gripping the strap’s leather belt across one of Melissa’s hips. 
She knew you were close as she bent forward to kiss you hard. It was a very sloppy kiss, tongues swirling in between moans and pantings. She placed her hands on both sides of your head with her perfectly sharp white nails gripping the sheets. You scratched down her back with both hands making her arch and hit a spot inside of you you didn’t even know existed. 
She was looking down at you, red curls falling all around you as you placed both your hands on her hips gripping the leather harness so tight “I-I think … I’m going to.. c-come” you cried out looking at her, pleading with your eyes.
Her hips were on autopilot, pounding into you with an animalistic rythm. “Ask nicely bimba (baby girl).” she whispered with a smirk plastered on her lips.
At this point you just couldn’t talk anymore. You felt so full and intoxicated by everything she was doing to you. You knew you couldn’t come without her permission though. So you took one last glance at her cock going in and out of you so quickly “Mel please PLEASE let come on you cock, please I can’t take it anymore!” was the pathetic cry that managed to escape your lips. 
She smiles down at you before swinging her hair to one side with a swift motion of her head, just a second before you feel her right arm slipping between your bodies. Her hand reaches  your clit while she starts thrusting into you even harder. You weren’t excepting that, you didn’t think for one split second her rythm could actually increase even more than it had. 
Her fingers start drawing fast circles on your clit and your legs start to shake. “Come for mama pretty girl.” with that permission you just moan loudly and let go. You see black and feel your pussy clenching around Melissa’s cock as one of the most powerful orgasms you ever experienced rushes through you. 
Yet she doesn’t stop. She gradually reduced her thrusting rythm to accompany you down your high. Not stopping even when you reopen your eyes, flustered and panting. Now going deadly slow, she starts feather kissing your face before connecting your lips in a long passionate kiss. Her movements now come to a stop but you both moan loudly into the kiss as her cock is still inside of you. 
“I’m going to pull out now, please relax for me baby, you did so good.” She says before giving you a kiss on the cheek, lifting herself up and pulling her cock out of you. She removes the harness and places everything at the end of the bed before coming to lie down next to you. 
She perks up on her left elbow and starts tracing figures on your abdomen with her right hand. Sharp nails causing you to have goosebumps all over. You turn to place your left hand behind her neck, pulling her into a loving kiss. You scarpe the back of her head, slightly pulling on messy red curls, while you kiss her passionately hoping all the love you feel for her will be felt through that kiss. 
She kisses you back with the same intensity, making you feel all the love in this world. You part after a while because you smiled into the kiss and Melissa is now looking at you with an amused and puzzled expression. So you also perk up on your elbow, to be directly in front of her and look her straight in the eyes. 
“I never thought I’d let anyone have me like that, let alone enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you for wanting to try this with me. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted enough or wanted to try this with.” 
Taken aback by your words, her mouth hangs slightly open for a few seconds. Her eyes light up with tenderness and emotions most people wouldn’t imagine Melissa capable of showing. 
“Thank you for trusting me with this and for allowing me to see you like that. You’re incredibly beautiful amore mio (my love).” Melissa says before closing the few inches separating your mouths. And in that kiss you both feel how special your love is. 
You stay a bit like that, lying naked with your lips on her forehead and her face resting on your chest. Bodies intertwined as you slowly drift into sleep grateful for the amazing girlfriend life put on your path. 
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magesforthedas · 22 hours ago
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Just have to share this, because I keep seeing critiques of Veilguard that like, try to guilt people who say they love, or even like the game. And HEAVY critiques of the protagonist, Rook, and how they aren't really a hero.
ALSO it contains some SPOILERS so just be warned ☺️ and an edit of additional thoughts now!
Like, yeah I have a couple gripes about the game, but overall it's emotional and amazing and I care about the characters so deeply. I keep seeing how people are saying how Rook and the party were not well written because they caused a lot of death?? This is Dragon Age, everything always goes from bad to worse, but the characters always bring out the light.
Rook was put in a very shitty situation, and I've seen people say they caused the destruction of thousands by trying to prevent the hundreds. But how many people, before the game came out, said Solas's plan to tear down the veil was a bad idea? Not all, I'm sure, but most. I always viewed it, and I know I wasn't alone, as that by trying to "fix" things Solas was just justifying his selfish wants, when he knew somewhere in his heart that the people of today, including the elves that he was "doing this for", would rather live alongside their friends & family in a world without their old magic, than live in a world with it alone.
That being said, even with differing views in and out of the game, it's very reasonable that a group of people would try to stop him, not know the consequences. And the beautiful thing about Rook, why Varric chose THEM, is that they saw what they had created, and didn't give up, didn't leave it to someone else to fix. Whether or not it was really their fault they stepped up and tried to save the world the best they could, from the mistake they unwittingly made (which I would argue against the fact that they made a "mistake", looking at that they were hired to do a job & by successfully completing that job there were unintended consequences).
Parallels anyone? Dragon Age loves those. But the difference, again illustrated in the game, is that while Solas couldn't move past the regret of his mistakes, Rook could. And on the topic of the deaths of those around them, not everyone that died in the past was Solas's fault, but some he did directly lead to their deaths. And he accepted that, did it over & over. Rook never led anyone to their death. Rook walked willingly into it themselves, and the love and trust their companions felt led them to choose to die for Rook, and the world instead.
And people who say the destruction of the south means the earlier games were for nothing? How so? 20 years ago, 10 years ago, things were happening, people were dying that needed saving. The heroes of that age saved the world so it would still be around to save now. And who knows what the south really looks like, or what it might look like as and after rebuilding? We will, in another 10 years once BioWare comes out with more content I suppose, and I wouldn't be surprised if everyone we knew is dead, but I also wouldn't be surprised if many, many of them lived.
Because that is Dragon Age. Death, betrayal, sacrifice, cruelty, pain. It's a dark, dark world. But there is always a ray of light, of hope. And characters who will do their utmost to protect that .
EDIT: Adding!! To this!! And more spoilers!!!
We know because of the Wetlands that it's possible to cause the Blight to pull back. In the end scene, as people are being broken out of the Blight Roots, it seems to me like it's died, at least to some degree. In my playthrough, Neve was cured of her blight sickness. There's obviously some immediate changes, and that all means that the South could have had an immediate reprieve. Plus, once more surviving wardens from Weisshaupt are free to travel south, and all the factions up north get things relatively in order, the South could get a lot of assistance.
The South was overrun... By hordes, by growths? That's the land, what about the people? Could the combined might of the Inquisitor, the Chantry, The Free Marches, Fereldan's ruler, have evacuated enough people that the death toll might be high, but not totally catastrophic? Enough people have survived to rebuild, maybe with a better, more unified attitude towards one another?
(The last bit may be wishful thinking 🥲)
But still!! We have no idea what exactly happened down there. And no matter what, Rook did the best they could, they WERE a hero, and made a difference not only for the North, but everywhere affected.
And yes, I might complain about this or that, mainly that we don't get to put more past game decisions in.... But I love this game and that won't change.
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warblogs17282 · 2 days ago
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Looks like it's time for me to discuss this piece of merch.
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I instantly notice two things, the first being that Stolas genuinely looks terrified in the first picture, with the pupils that appear when Stolas is extremely stressed as well. They're not looking at Stella, however, they're looking away from her, at something else, or someone else.
The second thing being that Stella now appears to be laughing while looking directly as Stolas, who is now no longer wearing his crown. Stella and Octavia are still wearing their crowns, which I feel potentially implies that the second picture was taken after Stolas has lost his title of Prince. This is probably overthinking but I'd also like for you to pay attention to the fact that the arrows point to Stolas in both pictures, his face in the first picture, and his crownless head in the second picture.
Plus, the grimoire is now in shot for some reason, which considering Andrealphus' comment of 'Because, my dear sister, you've already produced an heir; when he dies, his duties, his possessions, his legions, it'll all pass to.... Via.', sure Andrealphus is talking about specifically if Stolas dies, but I feel like this would also be true if Stolas loses his title of Prince. His duties will be one of the things that will be passed to Octavia if that happens, which could explain specifically why the grimoire is present in the second picture.
All of this would also tie in perfectly with Stella's line of 'I'm going to take everything! Everything you own!', with one of those things being Stolas' title of Prince.
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But getting back to the first thing I noticed, I think I can explain the specifics of why Stolas is so terrified in it.
A few lines from Paimon stick out to me, those being these ones:
"It is finally your day of becoming a true part of the Goetia family."
"Also, son, you are destined to sire a precautionary addition to the Goetia family."
"Would that distract you enough from your non-negotiable future marriage?"
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The first thing Paimon does is basically hold Stolas at metaphorical gunpoint to sire (give birth to) a precautionary addition to the Goetia family. You may be asking, but Stolas did sire Octavia, why does he look so terrified in the first picture if it's not Stella he's looking at?
The answer is simple, it's because that metaphorical gunpoint I mentioned earlier extended beyond just siring Octavia, it likely went on until Octavia reached maturity/was close to reaching maturity. (aka, the age of 18.) Considering Octavia was just a very young child in the first picture, it tells us that the metaphorical gunpoint was still a factor for Stolas, hence explaining why Stolas looks so scared in it.
My proof for this is a few comments made in s2 e1. Those being:
"What do you think the rest of the Goetia family will think?"
"And the only thing the Goetia family wanted from our marriage is already 17, so, it's over, I'm DONE!"
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The common link between all the lines I have showed you is the Goetia family, Stella uses the family to threaten Stolas, meaning that she is naturally aware of this metaphorical gunpoint as well, hence why she uses it in an attempt to stop Stolas from getting the divorce.
But then Stolas fires back, telling us that the only thing the Goetia family wanted is already 17, which most likely tells us two things.
The first being that the metaphorical gunpoint Stolas was under did extend past just siring Octavia, it also reached to raising Octavia until she was mature enough/close to mature enough, which was likely the age of 18, but at this point Octavia to close enough to age.
The second being that the same metaphorical gunpoint Paimon, and by extension, the Goetia family put Stolas under is no longer a worry because Octavia is now 17, close enough to reaching maturity for the Goetia family, which again, I believe is 18.
Considering all of this, I believe that this adequately explains specifically why Stolas looks so terrified in the first picture, and the fact he appears to be terrified of someone other than Stella in that picture as well.
Which begs the question, just what or who is Stolas looking at in that picture?
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It's most likely Paimon, although, considering all the comments about the Goetia family that have been made throughout the show, in theory, it could be anyone in the Goetia family who reports to Paimon, or anyone with equal or higher class compared to Stolas.
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loverslodge · 2 days ago
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after the date
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Bucky was stunned by the way Steve had talked to you. He too felt like a prized pony but there had to be a better way of putting things, weren't there? One of them made you cry. Bucky couldn't remove the sight of your face when Steve said those things. He swore he heard your heart break. Your tears were an added bonus that wrenched his own heart.
Steve was seething. He felt used. He had the same feeling he had felt when he had broken up with Sharon. This was it, wasn't it? This was his life. A famous person, up on a pedestal, just to look good. But something else cracked. When he saw your broken face, he knew he overstepped, he knew he said things he shouldn't have. He didn't mean it like that. But you had left. Left before he could even realize he fucked up.
………………….
The journey back to the compound was eerily quiet. Bucky wasn't talking to Steve and neither did Steve initiate any discussion.
Bucky knew he should say something but he was too pissed off. If he started talking, punches would have flown with them so he kept quiet. Held himself off. He looked down at his hand to see the bag of books with that single rose you had given him in the morning.
Steve was fidgeting in the seat. He was holding the rose you had given him that morning. You had said you show how you feel because you were never good with words. Was this you showing something? Had he missed something?
As soon as the car stopped in the garage, Bucky jumped out and stomped in the compound. Steve ran after him to talk but Bucky had already slipped in the elevator and had gone up to their shared apartment.
As soon as Steve entered the apartment, a punch flew to his mouth, staggering him. He was ready to counter attack but seeing it was an enraged Bucky, he let it go. Steve did deserve a punch after what he did.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you end a perfect date like that?” Bucky needed answers.
“It was the right thing to do. We were slipping way too much into her life. It was a fake date.” Steve went to his room and gently put his rose on the side table.
“Come out here. Talk. I'm not letting this behaviour of yours slide.” Bucky demanded.
Steve stomped out. “You are not my boyfriend to demand this kind of shit from me.”
“Is this what it's about? A pent up 100 year old hold up?”
“No. This is about us not addressing the issues. I was in love with Peggy and not you. You were just there and that kiss was a drunken mistake.”
“I don't care about any of that. Let's call it a mistake, fine. But what was that tonight? You made her cry.”
“I told her the truth.”
“There are ways of telling the truth, Steve. You are the gentle one. What the fuck happened back there? Why did you just jump guns?” Bucky walked very close to Steve. He wanted to slap his face and put some sense into it.
Bucky poked and pushed him with the question again and again because Steve kept on ignoring him.
“I got jealous, okay? I got jealous, thinking that there could have been more candidates and she would have picked someone else over us. Us, Bucky. I don't even care if she chose you. I was happy that it was me and you and not me or you. She accepted us together. But got jealous thinking if someone else had responded before us then she would've gone.” Steve ran his hands over his hair and face.
“So you weren't jealous of me being with her?”
“God no! I really liked seeing you with her. It made me happy to see you happy with her.”
Steve held Bucky by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Steve was on the verge of tears for what he did to you.
“Then why the fuck did you say that to her?” Bucky asked him in a quiet tone.
“I got angry. I acted rash and dumb. I- shit. I feel so guilty. She was nothing but incredible. Every time there was sadness in her eyes, she would push it aside and smile for us. She did so well the entire day and I ruined it. I ruined her perfect day.” Steve sat with his head in his hands.
“Didn't we jump to this because it was all no strings attached and no expectations? Then why were there strings and expectations?” Bucky wasn't just asking it to Steve but to himself as well.
“Maybe because of her.” They both looked at each other, understanding what Steve was trying to say. “It was all her. She just- she's an angel, Buck. Sweet, kind and adorable little angel. If just looking at her made us think that then imagine how much we felt when we talked to her.”
“She drew strings without knowing. We were so confident in proving that we won't have expectations but her being unconditional about everything just broke our confidence, didn't it?” Bucky stared down at his hands. “She expected nothing. She even went as far as to open herself bare to us without expecting us to do something about it.”
“She was ready to leave us alone once the day was over, did you know that?” Steve looked at Bucky who looked at him with wide eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“I read her memos. She was getting gelato for us in the park and her memo fell out. She was detailed about today. She had written it down. Underline and everything! She really dove head first without asking for anything in return.”
Bucky and Steve sat in silence. Today had brought a lot of clarity to them. One of them being that they belonged together but not alone. They belonged together with you.
Sure, Bucky and Steve have had their moments with each other but they never talked about it. But it seemed like after today, there needed to be a lot of clarifications. Both of them spent hours talking and clarifying.
They were both in bed, next to each other. Still wanting to talk about the most important thing, you.
“So, I know we just started something new but what about Angel?” Steve really did want you in their lives.
“I was thinking the same thing. I know we have us but it feels, I don't know, empty. Today, with her, I felt like we were complete.” Bucky shifted and looked at Steve.
“You know, I felt so much at ease with her. Like she wasn't expecting me to just burst my heart open for her every two seconds. I felt very calm with her. I just wish I hadn't said those things. We would've gotten more time with her. Maybe talk to her. Ask her if she wanted this to be something real.”
“We didn't even get to say goodbye. You know, after the dinner, I was going to ask her if she would be willing to spend another day with us. I've never felt like this before, you know. Except with you. I felt very comfortable with her.”
There was a moment of silence between them.
“So we're okay with a third being with us. And we want that third to be her and only her. Correct?” Steve summarized their thoughts.
“Correct. Our Angel. We need to talk to her.”
“Do you think she'll want to talk to me after what I said?” Steve’s voice turned sad.
“Of course she will. We will not let a misunderstanding get in our way. We will win her back.” Bucky was determined.
“You know, I think I know why she came up with this no expectation thing.” Steve looked at Bucky
“Why?” Bucky was curious to know Steve’s interpretation.
“Because no one fought for her. After listening to her story, it's very clear. While she tried her best, when she left, no one was there to tell her to not go. It was as if nobody cared.” Steve had tears in his eyes.
“Then we show her. We show her that we will fight for her. We want her and she is it for us. We will show her. Maybe we can mend her heart the way she's mending ours.” Bucky patted Steve and rubbed his arm to give him confidence.
……………….
It had been two weeks since the date went horribly wrong. You had been in a sad rut since then. Many times tears welled up in your eyes thinking about the time you spent with them.
First three days you spent thinking about how you had been feeling the same way about the two of them. Whatever affection you were feeling for them was, surprisingly, in an equal amount. There was no leaning towards one over the other, it was leaning towards them.
You spent time trying to sort your affections. Two men? How? Is this even right? Are they together? It felt like they were. Was what you did right? Did you get between two people?
But then you slipped back into the dark thoughts not being loveable. Your mind went into overthinking how your past relationships made no attempt in exactly loving you. You aren’t just an arc of rainbow but you are also the rain. They only loved the rainbow.
You had spent two weeks mulling over your idea of love as well. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe you are looking for a broken love. But how could you not? You have become a broken person. You had become this shell of a love that kept on giving but received nothing in return.
It was Saturday and you were sitting in your favourite cafe, working on your laptop. Your table was littered with your heavily sweetened drinks. You might've been on your tenth cup, or that's what you assumed when you thought you were hallucinating two super soldiers swaggering towards you.
“Hey Angel.” Bucky’s dazzling smile was blinding you and your eyes were dry as is.
Bucky’s smooth voice was pulling you more into your dreamland. More like, you had been so stressed and sleep deprived that everything looked like a hallucination.
“Angel, are you okay? Your eyes are very glassy.” Steve crouched down to look at your eyes better. His heart wrenched at the sight of the redness of them and heavy bags under your eyes.
“Buck, I don't think she’s well. Maybe we should take her back to her place and talk to her next time.” Steve was getting very worried about you.
“I'm fine. Nothings wrong. I just…” and you were about to topple off the chair when Steve caught you by your shoulder and leaned you against him.
“Ok, that's it. Buck, grab her things and find her keys, we're taking her home.”
Your eyes were glassy but you distinctly remember Steve picking you up and Bucky smoothing out your hair from your face before they got walking.
Once they reached your apartment, Bucky carried you and your things while Steve had rushed to open your door. Bucky walked in and went straight for your bedroom and laid you down. You tried to get up to change but he just pushed you back on the bed.
“Please. I wanna change. Very uncomfortable.” You were feeling delirious.
“Angel, I don't want you falling.” Bucky held your waist as you made your way to grab your comfiest pjs.
“What are you doing, Angel? Get back to bed.” Steve walked in the bedroom to check up on you but seeing you walking around with Bucky supporting you concerned him.
“Let go. Gotta change.” You wriggled your way out of Bucky’s arms and stumbled into the bathroom, locking it.
“Angel, did you just lock the bathroom? You'll fall down. How are we supposed to help you?” Steve knocked on the door to make sure you’re fine.
“You're supers, you can break in.” You called out from the bathroom. You washed your face and finished your business. You stumbled a little but managed to grab onto the doorknob. You twisted it and stumbled out in the waiting arms of two super soldiers.
“Alright, Angel. Let's go to bed.” Bucky tucked you in the middle of the bed, making sure you have no way of getting up.
The two men were about to leave your room when your soft whisper traveled through the room. “Please don't go.”
Your small plea made them weak in the knees and they almost fell to their feet. You were definitely looking like an angel, laying on your bed with glassy eyes. They took off their shoes and got in the bed, one side each.
Their jeans brushed against your thighs and so you got a bit more aware. You pouted at Bucky and asked them to remove their jeans and shirts because they were making you uncomfortable.
They were shocked by it but did what you asked anyway. They were now laying beside you in just their briefs. You shuffled and turned to Steve who was looking at you just like you had always wished for and so was Bucky.
You put your hands on their cheeks and brushed your thumbs against their cheeks. “Please look at me just like that.” Your hands slipped down and you snuggled into the pillow, falling asleep in the warmth of two men who have been haunting your dreams.
……………………..
Bucky and Steve stayed right where you had asked them to. Tears slipped out of Bucky’s eyes.
“This is because of us, isn't it? We are the reason why she's exhausted. We hurt our Angel. We waited way too long.” Bucky wiped his face but the lump in his throat was there to stay.
“But we're here now. We will make it right. We will take care of her. We will never hurt our Angel again.” Steve brushed some stray hair out of your face.
You shuffled in your sleep and snuggled into Steve who immediately wrapped his arms around you and shoved you deeper in his chest.
“She feels so good, Buck. I don't want to let her go.”
“We don't have to. We will go down on our knees to win her if we have to.”
Although they wanted to stay in bed with you till you wake up, they wanted to clean your apartment for you. So they both slowly got up from bed and were about to slip out when a few laminated papers caught their eyes.
They both walked to look at what it was and their mouths stayed agape. Those were the pressed roses. The same roses that they had gotten her. The roses still looked fresh and pink but pressed. Two roses had Bucky’s name on them and the other two had Steve’s.
“Every time we think she’s human, she does something that makes us think she's an angel.” Bucky walked back to bed and kissed your temple. Steve also kissed your temple before they slipped out of the room and took over the cleaning.
While Steve was cleaning the house, Bucky went to the kitchen to cook a fantastic meal for all. He had noticed your sweet tooth for chocolate so he also decided to make chocolate muffins. You surprisingly had all the ingredients for baking but not much for cooking. Bucky sent Steve to buy ingredients to make lasagna and till then he whipped up cupcake batter.
Bucky occasionally went to your room to check how you were doing. You shifted from one side to another but overall you were sleeping peacefully. Bucky was still only in his briefs and your cute pink apron.
Your eyes fluttered open and you looked around. You knew that it was too good to be true. You must've walked home and went to sleep. Why would they come here? You gave them nothing but grief and made them feel like you were a prize to be won which was untrue. You weren't a prize, never have been.
A smell of vanilla and chocolate hit your senses and you panicked. Who the hell is in your apartment? You tumbled out of the bed and ran in the kitchen to find a very beefy back staring back at you.
“Angel! You're up!” Bucky turned around and gave you a heart-stopping smile.
“Bu- James! What are you doing here?” You were flabbergasted.
“Angel, call me Bucky. I've told you before.” He put the tray in the oven and set the timer.
“But-”
Bucky walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. “Call me Bucky, Angel.”
“Bucky,” you gulped and your voice softened. “What are you doing here? And, um, is it… is it just you?” Your eyes were wide with curiosity and somewhere, at the back of them, hurt.
“Nope, not alone. Steve has gone grocery shopping for lasagna and I think I also told him to bring pizza with him.” Bucky cupped your face. “You asked us to stay, Angel and we weren't going to leave. We came to talk.”
You pried yourself out of Bucky’s arms and stood at a distance. “I- ok, well, once Steve is back, you both can leave. Sorry for all the inconvenience i caused. You don't have to do anything.”
“Angel, what-”
“I'm back! I got the pizza! Lets wake up Angel and get her to eat and-” Steve sensed a tense situation.
“She wants us to leave.” Bucky’s voice had turned into a whisper.
“What?! No! Angel, no! I- we don't want to go. We want to stay, talk.” Steve just started to beg.
“Why? You don't like me, I'm just a burden. Whatever happened to me today is my problem, not yours. Sorry for troubling you but you don't have to be polite. I'll manage.”
You had withdrawn yourself completely. You didn't deserve whatever they were giving you. You shouldn't be getting between them. You shouldn't even think about them. They deserve better than anybody but you.
“Angel? Baby? What are you talking about?” Steve walked closer to you, trapping you between him, Bucky and the wall.
“I'm just telling the truth. You don't have to take care of me. I dont des- you don't need to do this. Don't be gentlemanly. I appreciate you bringing me home but I've been a burden enough. I don't want you to feel obligated about anything.” You were fidgeting with your oversized t-shirt, unable to look them in the eyes.
“There is no obligation, Angel.” Bucky came closer and moved hair strands out of my face.
“You're not a burden. Why would you think that?” Steve put his hand on my shoulder and rubbed his thumb against my clavicle.
“It is true. Otherwise I wouldn't have put the two of you in any of those awkward positions on that day. You accepted because you expected a normal day out and I ended up making you do things against your will.” Tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at Steve. “You were right, Steve, I am looking for a broken love because that's what I deserve.”
Steve’s heart broke hearing you say that and Bucky’s eyes welled up. They had sent you off to the deep end without even realizing. They should've come to you sooner.
Steve and Bucky dragged you back to your room because you were hysterically crying, unable to breathe. They wrapped you up in your blanket. Both of them moved to each side of you and pulled you closer with your back resting on Bucky’s chest and your head resting on Steve’s.
“Angel, if you would please give us a chance to talk. We have a lot to say and it's not what you think. Will you listen?” Bucky asked the question in such a whispered voice, you couldn't help but nod your head against Steve’s chest. Your breathing had calmed down and their touch was very soothing.
“First of all, you are not a burden and you don't deserve broken love. We just- we got jealous.” Steve started putting sentences together. “Bucky held off his jealousy but I couldn't. It made me think that you had a better shot with someone else and my imagination started running wild.”
“Steve thought, and I did too even if I didn't say it out loud, that if someone else had accepted your email request then you would have picked them over us. That idea didn't sit well with us. We wanted you all to ourselves.” Bucky continued.
You sat up straight and looked at them. “But why would you get jealous?”
“Because, Angel, we fell in love with you.” Steve’s confession stopped your heart. You looked at Bucky with wide eyes expecting it to be a joke but the soft smile on his face and a nod told you it wasn't.
“We had accepted your request because it gave us a chance to experience a romantic relationship for one day without strings and expectations. That's what we thought till we actually met you.” Bucky looked at you adoringly.
“We saw you the first time and we thought what we felt was infatuation. But as the day went on, we drowned in your smile, in your laughter and all the little things you did.” Steve moved hair out of my face. “The first time we realized we were falling in love, it was at the park when we sat together. That entire time felt so… domestic, homey.”
“All that time falling in love with you, we forgot you still thought what was going on was fake.” Bucky intertwined your fingers with his. “So when you talked very casually about things, Steve got pissed and said things he shouldn't have.”
“I'm so sorry, Angel. I was being an idiot. I had never felt this way before. So at home with someone and it pissed me off that someone else could've had my home. I got jealous and I got possessive.”
Steve pressed his forehead against yours and Bucky did the same. “We're very sorry, Angel. Please forgive us.”
“But should I say sorry?” You slowly pull away to look at them. “I played with your feelings, didn't i? I should be apologizing for making you think that it was real.”
“So, it wasn't real?” Just one look in their eyes and you knew you had broken their hearts in a million pieces.
“It was! For me it was but I thought you thought I played you and I kinda did if we look at the semantics.” You started to ramble. You wanted to fix whatever this was.
“Angel, if it was real for you and if it was real for us then that means you haven't played us.” Bucky pushed their actual agenda forward. “And even if you were playing with us, which you werent, it would have been a privilege to be played by our angel.”
“Our?” You had been hearing them mentioned as theirs, not Bucky’s or Steve’s but theirs.
“That's what we actually wanted to talk about.” Steve sat up straight. It was time to ask you what they have been meaning to ask. “We have been talking about this, adjusting to this new… idea. We thought it was wrong at first but one of our dear friends helped us figure things out.”
“He means Natasha. Black Widow. Blond hair, murderous eyes, kinda okay face.” Bucky started giving you the context.
“I know who she is and she's hot. Don't put her down like that.” You used to have a crush on her before it had drifted off but you didn't need to tell them that.
“What? I-”
“Buck, not the time.” Steve put his hand on Bucky’s chest to stop him. “Back to the point. We thought hard and we only thought of you-”
“Gross.” You made a playful face that earned a chuckle from Bucky and an eye roll from Steve.
Steve pulled you closer to his body, causing you to yelp in surprise. Then you felt a pressure on your back and saw Bucky leaning his entire self on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“We want you to be with us, Angel. Just us three and no one else.” Steve’s chest rumbled with confession and you found yourself blushing. “Would you like that? Being with us? You, me and Bucky?”
“None of that is going to happen if I die under the weight of an old metal person.” You groaned playfully and tried to shove Bucky over, only for him roll on you entirely, crushing you against Steve.
“Bubye Steve. This is the end of the line for me. I'll see you on the other side.” Your muffled speech could be heard through your groans. “Write on my tombstone. Death by Bucky, a heavy cuddler who wouldn't leave his girlfriend room to breathe.”
Hearing you say the last line. They both sprang up and looked at you.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Did you just say you're our girlfriend?” Bucky asked excitedly. If they had tails, it would've wagged itself off their asses.
You rolled your eyes at them and smiled widely with blush creeping up your cheeks. “Yes.”
They both attacked you in a hug and made sure to leave you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle and laugh at their excitement.
“We promise not to mess things up this bad.” Steve kissed your temple.
“But I do want to see the list of men whom you sent the emails to. Gotta know whom to brag against.” Bucky pulled you closer to his chest and kissed the crook of your neck, making you shiver.
All three of you got up from the bed and made your way to the kitchen because your stomach wouldn't stop making rumbling noises.
Once they had fed you well, their words, not yours, all three of you chose to cuddle back in your bed to watch one of the many rom-coms that were your favourites. You looked at both of your sides to see them intensely watching what made you happy.
“Hey guys,” you said, making them look at you. “Thank you so much for looking at me like that.”
“Always, Angel. Forever and always.”
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