#I not like that why don’t I do all the shit she does for me why am I such a bitch what is wrong with me

[gloomwitchwrites]

may I request a what-if with the 141 where reader pranks the members by buying a fake military knife that isn’t dangerous and hands it to their baby? Like this: https://youtube.com/shorts/aQGZTdYRX6c?si=pX7ja8U4VGL2dATi

(I’m bad at explaining things so I hope you don’t mind the video link for an example)

The video link is totally fine! I appreciate you sending that in for a reference! And you didn't do a terrible job explaining, anon. I immediately knew what you were talking about! Now, this is all in good fun, but I don't recommend you doing it in real life. Can you guess who has the calmest reaction of the four?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, married life, dad!141, girl dad! 141, pranks & shenanigans

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is in his office. It’s the perfect opportunity.

With as much stealth as you can muster, you creep into the living room. In the center of the room is an enclosed space were your daughter crawls around on their stomach. When you approach, she babbles, and you grin down at her.

“Here,” you whisper, placing a prop knife next to her.

The thing is made of rubber and plastic. It won’t cause any actual harm. She immediately reaches for it, tiny fingers unable to completely wrap around the handle.

Backing up slowly, you call out to your husband. “John! Can you check on the baby?”

A pause. “Course, love,” he replies.

You hurry back into the kitchen just as you hear the squeak of his chair. John emerges, rubbing at the back of his neck. His head is down, gaze lowered, and when he notices his daughter, John grins.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he coos. “What do you have—” John’s gentle tone because one of sharp concern. “The fuck.”

John lunges, disappearing beyond your line of sight. He reappears seconds later with his daughter tucked in one arm and the pretend knife clutched in his opposite hand. With the pointy end pointed away from the precious cargo he carries, John slowly walks over to the wall and presses the blade to it.

The rubber surrenders, bending in on itself.

John sighs heavily, and then slowly turns his head in your direction.

You give him your best shit-eating grin as your daughter giggles manically.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“What are you doing? What’s in your hand?”

Simon sounds…calm. Why does he sound so calm? He should be stressed right now. Panicking.

“Is that a knife? That’s dangerous. Want to give it to me?”

Sure, the knife is fake. Made of flexible rubber and plastic, it won’t harm anyone. But at a glance it appears real enough. Did Simon see you hand it to your daughter? Is he aware of the joke and just playing along?

You creep closer, not wanting to give away your hiding spot.

“Very good. Hand that to daddy.”

Your daughter coos, and then Simon appears from thin air.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he deadpans, holding up the prop knife.

Your daughter comes waddling out after him wrapping her chubby arms around his leg while she happily mumbles “daddy.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” you mutter as he tosses it at you.

Simon bends at the knees and scoops up his daughter. As he passes, he leans down, lips almost pressing against your ear. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on it. Didn’t fool me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He grins, and winks. “Comes with the territory of the job, love. I’d spot a fake anywhere.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your daughter sits in her high chair, chewing on the end of the fake knife you’ve handed her. It’s just a prop, made to not cause any actual arm. She chews on the pointy end, drool dripping on to her tiny fingers.

Slowly, you back away, poised to dart down the hall to hide.

“Can you watch her?” you call out.

Kyle answers a few seconds later. “What?”

“Can you watch her?” You move out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen,” you shout back. “She’s eating.”

You hear Kyle’s voice soften. “What are you eating, love? What—oh. What the fuck!”

With the rise of surprise in his tone, you return to the kitchen. “Something wrong?”

Your daughter giggles and coos, arms outstretched as she reaches for her father. Kyle holds the knife in two hands, an unamused expression on his face.

“Did I get you?” you ask with a grin.

The annoyed expression melts, becoming a soft smile. “You did.”

He bends forward and places a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. As he draws away from her, he reaches for you, grabbing your waist to pull you in. “And you’re a bloody menace.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You bend at the knees, holding out the prop knife to your little one. It’s made of rubber and plastic, but it looks real, and that’s the point. With a gleeful giggle, she takes the fake knife, completely unaware of the part she’s about to play in pranking her father.

“Go find daddy,” you coax, pointing in the direction of the living room.

She coos softly, pivots, and begins to walk forward. Each step is stilted as she wobbles toward the sofa. Johnny is on the game with the boys. His entire attention is on the television.

As your daughter approaches him, she lifts her little arm above her head, holding the fake knife high in the air like she’s a tiny Jason Voorhees. From her mouth comes nonsense, just a long breath of babbling, sounds, and the occasional word.

Johnny might be on the game, but he senses her nearness, leaning in her direction. As she rounds the sofa, her tiny body disappears. The only thing you can see is the occasional glimpse of the knife point. She screeches with glee and Johnny’s attention shifts. It’s a brief look, one intended to simply make sure she’s okay, but then he’s doing a double-take.

“What the fuck!”

Johnny launches himself off the couch, the game controller flying. Your daughter points the knife at him and Johnny immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Where’d you get that? Find it on the ground somewhere?”

You nearly snort. He’s trying to sound calm but you hear the bite of panic.

Your daughter’s reply is to charge him. Johnny sidesteps her pathetic swing before plucking the knife right of her hand.

“How—” He stops. Frowns. And then places his entire hand around the blade. He releases it. Repeats the gesture.

Johnny glances up and chuckles, locking eyes with you. “You’re bloody well having a laugh at me, aren’t you?”

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[darksturnz]

──── ⋮ ⌗ TASTE. . . ⟢ ARTIST.ᐟCHRIS ᵎᵎ

CONTENTS: smut-heavy plot ・star!reader x artist!chris・oral (f! receiving)・slight overstimulation + more WC: 2.2k+

this pairing is from this series, but it can be read alone :3! + everyone scream n shout & thank @bernardsbendystraws for proofreading mwah <333

It starts slow, like everything between them does.

Chris isn’t one to rush. Not when it comes to this with kind of stuff with her. He’s too good at reading her—at knowing when she’s hesitant, when she’s unsure, even when she tries to play it off like she isn’t.

And tonight, she’s past nervous.

It’s in the way she hesitates when he tugs at the waistband of her shorts, the way her fingers twist in the sheets as she swallows hard. It’s in the little breaths she takes, the way her lips part like she’s about to say something, only to stay silent with a small exhale.

Chris is patient, though. Always has been with her. Always will be.

“You okay?” His voice is low, lazy, like they have all the time in the world. Because he made sure they would, it was like an unspoken rule to him that he made sure to savior any moments like these with her. 

Star nods, but she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Chris tilts his head, catching that. His hands, large and warm, press against the tops of her thighs. A slow rub of his thumbs, attempting to soothe her nerves. “We don’t have to, y’know,” he murmurs, lips dragging against the inside of her knee. “Ain’t gonna make you do shit you don’t wanna do.”

“No— I know, I want to” she says quietly. She does. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t trust him.

His mouth curves against her skin. “Then why you so nervous, huh?”

She exhales sharply, cheeks heating. Chris watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her pulse fluttering beneath her skin. He dips his head lower, dragging his lips up the soft inside of her thigh, feeling her breath hitch.

“It’s—” Star stops, shakes her head. Her voice is small when she admits, “No one’s ever, um…”

Chris stills. Then, he looks up at her, brow arching. “What? Ain’t nobody ever ate you out before?”

She huffs, trying to roll her eyes, but the effect is ruined by how flustered she is. “Nevermind.”

His grin is slow, lazy. “M’just askin’, baby.”

Star lets out a shaky breath. “…Well no.”

That shouldn’t make him as smug as it does, but fuck—he can’t help it. Something warm and possessive unfurls in his chest, making his stomach tighten.

His hands spread her thighs wider, and this time, she lets him. “Yeah?” His voice drops, mouth pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses up her inner thigh. “Guess I gotta make it real good for you, then.”

She shivers, stomach tensing. “You—” Her breath stutters when he hooks his fingers in her shorts, sliding them down her legs along with her panties, leaving her bare beneath him.

Chris watches the way she squirms, like she’s resisting the urge to snap her legs shut. Like she’s feeling a little too exposed, a little too vulnerable.

“Jus’ relax for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below her navel. “Gonna take such good care of you, promise.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does force herself to unclench her hands from the sheets.

Chris takes his time. He trails his mouth over her skin, his breath warm as he presses slow, teasing kisses along the crease of her thigh, just close enough to make her squirm. His hands, rough and steady, slide up her thighs, thumbs dipping into the soft flesh.

Star lets out a quiet, shaky breath. Then another.

Chris doesn’t move too fast, doesn’t push too soon. He wants her to settle into it, to ease into his touch, into the way his mouth feels against her skin.

And when he finally drags his tongue through her folds, slow and deliberate, she gasps.

He groans against her at the taste—warm and slick and so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” he mutters, more to himself than her. He licks into her again, dragging his tongue through her, savoring every fucking drop. His fingers press into her thighs, holding her still as she squirms.

She’s so sensitive, so reactive, every little flick of his tongue is making her body twitch.

Chris could quite literally stay here all night.

He licks into her, slow and steady, mapping out every inch of her with his mouth. The little gasps and breathy moans she tries to hold back just spur him on, make him hungrier.

He flattens his tongue against her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her whimper. Then he pulls back, dragging the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud, teasingly.

Star’s thighs twitch, hands gripping the sheets, and he knows she’s trying so fucking hard to keep herself together.

Chris hums, sending vibrations through her. “Feels good, don’t it?” His voice is thick, laced with something almost reverent.

She doesn’t answer.

Chris smirks, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he dips lower, lapping at her entrance, groaning as her taste floods his tongue.

He’s already thinking about next time she’ll let him do this.

“Chris,” she breathes, and that’s when he knows he has her.

She’s unraveling beneath him, piece by piece and he slides his arms under her thighs, locking her in place as he buries himself deeper. His tongue moves in slow thorough strokes, his nose brushing against her clit as he works her open with his mouth.

He’s relentless, and she can’t do anything but take it. 

Her hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling tight. He groans into her, the sound vibrating through her, making her hips jerk.

“Chris—” Her voice breaks, her body trembling. “Too much, I—”

But he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t slow down..

He knows she’s close—he can feel it in the way her thighs tense, the way her breaths come quicker, sharper. He licks into her, sucking her clit into his mouth just to hear the way she gasps, the way she chokes out a moan that sounds almost pained.

He keeps going, even as she trembles beneath him, even as she tries to push at his shoulders, her body too overwhelmed.

She’s sensitive, he knows, but he doesn’t necessarily care.

“Jus’ one more, baby,” he murmurs against her, voice low and coaxing. “You can do that for me, yeah?”

She whimpers, back arching off the bed, her lips parting to suck in a sharp breath. 

Chris doesn’t wait for an answer, He slides two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she lets out a choked gasp, a broken whimper—her entire body seizes as Chris works her open, his fingers pressing deep, curling just right.

“Oh—” Her voice cuts off into a sharp moan, thighs trembling around his head.

Chris groans against her, his cock throbbing painfully at the way she sounds, at the way she clenches so tight around his fingers. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, his mouth slick against her, words nearly lost between deep strokes of his tongue.

Star’s hands are everywhere—fisting the sheets, tugging at his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. She’s falling apart so fucking hard, it makes his stomach twist with something molten.

“Chris—” Her voice is nothing more than a desperate plea, breathless and wrecked. She pulls at his hair, her hips jerking up into his mouth. “Chris, I—fuck, I can’t—”

He hums against her, the vibrations sending a jolt up her spine. He presses his fingers deeper, rubbing against that spot inside her that makes her whole body jolt, makes her head toss back into the pillows.

“Shh, baby,” he coaxes, his lips dragging against her clit, his fingers never stopping. “You can. You are.”

She sobs, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “It’s too much—”

Chris hums, voice rough, low. “That so?”

She nods frantically, breath hitching, but she’s still pushing into his touch, her hips rolling into the steady drag of his fingers, chasing more even as she whimpers about how much it is.

Chris watches her from below, his lips swollen, his chin slick. His dark eyes, heavy-lidded and hungry, flicker up to meet hers. “Then why are you still fuckin’ on my fingers like that, huh?”

Star’s eyes flutter shut, a noise catching in her throat, mortified by the way her body betrays her.

Chris chuckles, the sound rich and warm, sending another wave of heat straight through her. “You want more?”

She doesn’t answer. Can’t. Her mind is melting, everything spiraling too fast, too much.

Chris doesn’t like that. He pulls back slightly, his fingers still deep inside her, but his mouth hovering just out of reach. “C’mon, Star. Say it.”

She shakes her head, blinking fast, tears pricking at her eyes. “Chris—”

He gives her a slow, indulgent pump of his fingers, his thumb circling over her clit, and her back arches off the mattress with a strangled cry.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice dropping to something darker, something more demanding. “Tell me you want more.”

Star’s head rolls to the side, her lip trembling, her body shaking. “Chris, please—”

His fingers curl again, dragging against her walls in that way that makes her legs quake. “That ain’t what I asked, baby.”

A sob rips from her throat. “I—I want—” She shakes her head, chest heaving, her entire body tightening around him. “I want more—fuck, I want more.”

Chris growls against her, his mouth latching back onto her, his tongue flicking over her clit just as his fingers press deeper.

Star chokes on a scream, her whole body locking up as another orgasm crashes over her, violent and unrelenting.

He just keeps going, keeps licking, keeps fucking her with his fingers, working her through every pulsing wave of it.

Star sobs, her hands shaking, her thighs trembling around his head. “Chris—Chris, I—”

Even as her voice breaks, even as her hands tremble where they clutch at his hair, even as her body jolts with every flick of his tongue—he still doesn’t stop.

“Wait—” Her voice is a wrecked sob, her entire body quivering, fingers twitching as she tries—fails—to push him away.

He doesn’t listen.

Instead, he slides his hands up, locking her thighs in place, keeping her spread open for him. His mouth moves softer now, slower, guiding her through it, helping her ride the waves crashing over her.

She whimpers, body twitching as another aftershock shudders through her.

Chris watches her from below, completely transfixed. She’s a fucking mess—her skin is sticky, her chest heaving, her lips parted around shaky little breaths.

And she’s beautiful.

So fucking beautiful.

His tongue sweeps over her one last time, savoring the way she quivers beneath him, and then—finally—he pulls away.

The gasp that rips from her is sharp and startled.

Chris kisses the inside of her thigh as he watches the way her legs twitch, still trembling, her body completely fucked.

“Shiiiit,” he rasps, voice thick with something he can’t quite name. “You okay?”

Star nods, but it’s weak, her breath still coming in uneven stutters.

Chris smirks, pressing another soft kiss to her thigh. “Did so fuckin’ good for me,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice like warm honey. His hands trace slow, gentle circles over her hips, up her waist, grounding her back to earth.

She sniffles, blinking up at the ceiling, still trying to catch her breath.

Chris watches her for a moment, then slowly moves up her body, pressing lazy kisses along the way—up her stomach, over her ribs, along the curve of her shoulder. His lips graze her collarbone before he finally reaches her face, tilting his head to catch her gaze.

Her eyes are glassy, and a tired smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“You still with me?”

She swallows hard, nodding, but still doesn’t speak.

Chris huffs a quiet laugh. He tucks a damp strand of hair behind her ear, his touch impossibly soft. “Didn’t mean to break you,” he teases, but there’s something fond in his voice, something careful.

Star scowls, or tries to. “You didn’t.” But her voice is wrecked, and Chris grins.

“Yeah?” He presses a kiss to her cheek, then another to the tip of her nose. “Y’sure ‘bout that?”

She huffs, but it’s weak, her legs still trembling where they lay spread across the sheets.

Chris notices, eyes flickering down. He trails his hands over her thighs, rubbing slow, steady circles into her skin. “Still shakin’,” he murmurs, more to himself than her.

Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but then she just shakes her head softly.

Chris smiles, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the inside of her thigh. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs against her skin, voice thick and slow, like he’s drunk on her.

She giggles softly but turns her head to the side, like she’s embarrassed.

Chris just hums, nuzzling against her. “Too much?” he asks, but there’s no teasing in his voice now. Just genuine curiosity, genuine care.

Star hesitates, then nods, “only a little.”

Chris watches her for a second, then presses soft kiss to her temple. “Next time, I’ll be gentle, yeah?”

Star’s breath catches. Next time.

She blinks up at him, lips parted.

Chris raises a brow, amused. “What?”

She shakes her head, looking away, cheeks flushed. “Nothing.”

Chris huffs a laugh, but again doesn’t push. He just keeps rubbing her thighs, helping her come down, whispering incoherent things against her skin.

authors note: me when i say “blurb” and it’s very much not that LMAO, anyways

👥: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife

@pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken

@mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips

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@delilahsturns @cherrypickedchris @chrepsi @strnilolover @swagfacepeanut

[gothicflowers]

damn why did Kyle’s ass block us tho

Continuing this Gaz blurb

*4 months later*

Gaz still felt guilty, and even worse… he couldn’t get off without recalling the way your body moved and voice sounded that night. Gaz was ruined. The innocent pictures he had of you when you two went to the beach once were like a playboy magazine to him. He tried a few hookups from shitty pubs but none compared to how you made him feel. Loved, warm, safe… happy.

He tried going on a few dates… one he accidentally called her your name as they were making out in his car. The other looked like you but lacked personality. Needless to say karma was biting Kyle in the ass.

“So you blocked her, after you took her to the fanciest steakhouse, wine back at her place while sharing secrets… and had the best shag of your life” soap says from the other side of the aircraft. “And let’s not forget all the cute couple shit you two had been doing”

“Who we talking about” ghost questions.

“Lass that Gaz was seeing months ago, and bloody blew it after a quick shag from the sound of it” soap snickers.

“I thought you were still seeing her” ghost questions.

“I didn’t think I’d actually sleep with her, that wasn’t my goal. And no, it’s been a while” gaz defensively replied.

Soap pinches the bridge of his nose “so your original plan was essentially a break off date”.

Gaz shrugs “I didn’t want her last memory of me to be me saying see you later after our usual Sunday walk. Plus we were never technically together”.

Prices eyebrows raised “So you just strung her along for a month and you were going to ghost her regardless of how the night ended”.

“Well… yeah and it was actually more like five months” gaz sheepishly replied.

The men went silent as they gathered their thoughts. Price being the first to speak up after a painful awkward silence “five months, you bastard she probably was falling in love with you, then you decided to pull the shittiest move a man can make”

“I panicked” Gaz shrugs and diverts his eyes from his captains burning gaze.

Ghost chuckles “wrong, you premeditated disappearing from her life. Sounds like you got a fear of commitment”.

Gaz defensive responds “I do not, it’s just with what we do it’s not worth the risk. I mean what if something happens”

“Sounds exactly like something a person with commitment issues would say” ghost quickly replied.

Soap decides to add fuel to the fire “Aye didn’t you do the same thing with the last gal you liked. Maybe it’s the chase you like. Love ‘em and leave ‘em“.

“Fuck off soap” Gaz responds trying to control his irritation.

Price sighs “I didn’t realize how much of my life I wasted having that mentality when I was your age. Had some fun one night stands but the loneliness catches up real quick. Granted things are turning up for me but boy do I feel like I missed out on that young love”.

Gaz starts to think about what price said. After a plane ride home in deep thought he asks price one last question before departing base “So what should I do to get her back”

Prices brows furrowed “You want something optimistic or something realistic”

“Fuck, realistic I guess” gaz leans against the doorframe of prices base office.

Price stands next to a filing cabinet and shakes his head “Honestly I’ll be amazed if she gives you as much as a moment to explain. But if she’s does let you, be honest about why you left and apologize. No point in lying when you have everything to gain and you can’t lose what you’ve already lost Sargent” price gives him a sincere look “regardless of how it turns out you need to let this be a teaching moment. Because maybe she doesn’t take you back, maybe life sends someone else your way. But if you get that lucky you know better than to fuck it up like this ever again”.

Gaz nods “Would flowers be a nice addition to the apology”.

Price smirks “I don’t think flowers will help your cause much, but maybe it’s sweeten her up”.

Gaz nods “thanks, see you later captain”

Gaz needs a plan to get you back, forever hopefully.

*the next day*

She wasn’t even home. So Gaz decides on waiting to see if you’ll come home anytime soon by sitting on your front door steps for two hours. He has no plans to leave until he sees your pretty face.

Gaz scrolls endlessly on his phone when the sound of heels awaken his senses, only to actually look up when he hears your voice “What are you doing here” you very clearly are not happy to see him.

Gaz stands up with flowers in his hand, clearing his voice he carefully starts his plan “I came to explain, but more importantly apologize”. Gaz sheepishly said.

Your eyes look down at the flowers in his hand, appalled. “No need honestly, I’ve moved on and I think you should to”.

Shit this isn’t going well Gaz thinks. Time to take the soft puppy dog approach. He takes a step forward to you and his eyes fill with hurt “Would you at least let me explain, if you don’t want to hear it I’ll leave now but at least let me be honest as to why I ran off”

You huff defeated, hard to say no when he’s looking at you like that but you can’t give in. “Nothing you can say will change my mind”.

“My job. It’s dangerous and I was worried that it wouldn’t work out because of the demands. And I didn’t plan on sleeping with you. Honestly I just wanted you to have a nice night before I disappeared” gaz trying to reach for your hand, you move back.

“That’s great Kyle. Well my boyfriend just left his office and I’m making dinner, so I really don’t have time for this” you fumble with your keys, as they slip to the ground Gaz picks them up and unlocks to door for you.

“At least let me help carry all this in for you and I’ll be on my way” he politely asked. Praying you’ll let him in.

You sigh a defeated “Fine”. You walk in the door first as Gaz grabs the rest of the bags on the porch. He watches as your hips sway, he can feel the blood in body start to boil. Stay calm, stay fucking calm.

Your home still smells like fresh cotton and lavender. Still perfectly tidy and comfortable. He looks over at that corner sofa where you two made out. He closes the front door and walks to the kitchen and sets the groceries on the counter, he notices a silver watch with a rather large band. Must be a big fella. That’s when he hears the front door open and close. A heavy set of footsteps approaches silently.

“I think you should get going now” you say plainly avoiding Kyle’s burning gaze. He hurt you too much for you to have a moment of doubt.

A deep voice speaks as the footsteps stop at the kitchen “Sargent”.

Gaz turns around to the voice in the room and swallows hard.

“Captain”

Pt.3

[oneforthemunny]

how do the different more dom eddies take it when their girl rolls her eyes?

it depends on the context of it honestly. like if one of them said something cheesy or silly and they rolled their eyes, they’re not going to like flip a switch and immediately punish.

but if they’re being intentionally bratty and mean and huffy??

i’ll start with mafia!eddie bc i don’t really see him reacting even then that much. he’s very much so the gentlest dom out of all of them, i’d even say he’s more of a pleasure dom because he really does it all for her and wants her to feel good (her pleasure above his own). i think he’d honestly be like “??? why are you getting attitude rn? what’s going on? what do you want from me?”

rockstar!eddie at the beginning with nb he’d automatically correct. mainly because they’re always alone when they’re together. might blindfold her and torment with his various toys because “if you’re gonna just roll those fuckin’ eyes, then i don’t wanna even see them.”

relationship rockstar!eddie and nb, when they’re actually in love and such, honestly i think he’d fight fire with fire and get the worst, bitchiest tone back lmao. he’s a diva. he’s a big fan of mocking too, will over exaggerate and shrill just to piss her off even more (bc he thinks it’s hot).

dom!eddie also kinda depends. if they’re alone and it happens, he’d just grab her face, make her look at him and give her the look. “let me see you roll your eyes at me again and i’m gonna get the cane.” something along those lines and it never works ofc, bc she’s a brat to her core and that’s what she wants lol. wouldn’t have an attitude if she didn’t.

cowboy!eddie is such a shit (so fucking hot) and if sweet girl did it to get a rise out of him, he’d do the opposite. literally just wouldn’t react, go about his business, whether in public or not to leave her to huff and be pissy and pent up- mad she didn’t get her way. then later, when she’s out of her “little mood” (as he’d call it) and ready to be sweet, try and seduce him or just back to normal, he’d bring it up. so casually, so sweetly, holding her and about to give in and just stops. “you think ‘m gonna let you get away with bein’ mean to me earlier? we gotta settle up baby. gotta do somethin’ ‘bout that little attitude. told ya it was gonna get you in trouble.”

great now i’m horny and want a dom variation of eddie in my life.

[bbitches]

Young love don’t always last forever pt. 1 (SMAU/ writter)

Charles Leclerc x reader

sypnosis: you and charles have known each other since childhood, and lovers since you were both 16. as charles finds success in his formula 1 career, you too, rise to stardom as an actor and singer. for a few years, your life looks perfect. what happens when you and the love of your life break up after 10 years together?

warnings: none

2019

Transcripts of an interview with Charles Leclerc, new driver for Ferrari.

Interviewer: Ah, Charles. Congratulations. Ferrari has always been your dream. How does it feel?

Charles: Thank you. It feels great, to finally achieve my life long dream. Ferrari has always been the goal for as long I can remember.

Interviewer: Tell me, were there any.. special people that motivated you throughout your career? I know it hasn't always been easy, what encouraged you to push through?

Charles: My father, and Jules. Ferrari.. It makes me feel closer to both of them, in a way. They were both one of my biggest anchors throughout my career. Losing them was.. It was a lot, but in a way, it made me stronger. *Silence*. Oh, yes, and my girlfriend! My girlfriend, Y/n, she.. we've known each other for all our lives, but I'm sure everyone knows, I've seen the combinations of videos of me talking about her in my interviews. *Awkward chuckle*. She.. she's seen me at my worst and she decided to stay. She.. One thing about our relationship is that I always know it'll be okay, even when things go to shit- Sorry. When I'm with her, things feel okay.

Interviewer: That's a rare thing to find. Congratulations. Now that you've done the Ferrari part, what's next in your life? Both career wise and non-career wise.

Charles: Well, I hope to win the championship, for starters. Apart from Ferrari, that's the only thing I want. Both the constructor's and the driver's championship, of course. But, non-career wise.. *Light laugh*, I want to marry Y/n and start a family with her. I want an older brother for my little girl, so if my little girl gets bullied at school, her brother will be there to help her. Growing up with siblings myself.. it was, quite the experience, I'll give you that. Maybe we'd get a dog first, so our kids will have a little companion growing up. Maybe a little dachshund will be nice.

-

2022

F1wags shared a new post!

liked by chary/n, f1gossipm, user1, 1367 people

F1wags: Spotted: Chary/n, Carbecca at Y/n's movie premiere!

user1: why are carlos and rebecca there as well

user2: we love supportive baesss

user3: Drooling... for Y/n

user4: Y/n's so hot idk how Charles pulled her man

→ user5: how did that gold-digging talentless bitch pull charles leclerc, thats my question.

→ user4: you do realise she’s one of the biggest celebrities in the world right..

user6: aww chary/n looks more in love than ever

-

yourusername shared a new post!

liked by chary/n, charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, F1wags, 1.3m people

yourusername: monacoooooo (ft. my love)

user1: body is PIPING HOT TEA

charlesleclerc: Monaco est le meilleur! (monaco is the best)

→ yourusername: well, there is one thing that i love most about monaco <3

user2: living every girl's dream.

user3: THE LOOK OF LOVE

chary/n: parents!!!!!!!!!!!

charlesleclerc shared a new post!

liked by yourusername, arthurleclerc, chary/n, 780k people

charlesleclerc: stole his phoneeee :))) mon amourrr (my love)

user1: that last pic.. sir..

charlesleclerc (original author): @/yourusername You forgot to add the filter!!

→ yourusername: forgot? you mean i forgot to add that ugly filter that you insist to put on every post? i didn’t forgot nothing ;)

user2: awwwwwww

user3: mom and her pet

user4: so hot.. not you charles

user5: the look of love, once again.

pascaleleclerc: ma chérie, fais attention, tu pourrais te blesser ❤️ (my darling, be careful, you might get hurt)

→ yourusername: i will mamma :))

arthurleclerc: why does he look like that?

→ charlesleclerc: like what?

→ arthurleclerc: like a rat.

→ charlesleclerc: @/pascaleleclerc

user6: they went to paris?!

-

2023

-

yourusername and charlesleclerc shared a new post!

liked by pascaleleclerc, arthurleclerc, chary/n, y/npriv, F1gossipm, F1wags, 832k people

yourusername and charlesleclerc: Dear all, we have decided to end our romantic relationship after 10 wonderful years together due to personal problems. We will always be special to each other. We have both done our best to salvage our relationship, but somethings were bound to end. With that being said, our split was both of our decisions and we parted in a friendly matter. We urge all of you to please respect both of us during these difficult times, and we will naturally share more when we are ready.

Love, Charles & Y/n.

arthurleclerc: you will always be family Y/n!

pascaleleclerc: ❤️❤️

yourbestfriend: idiots

carlossainz55: Sending love to both of you!

iamrebeccad: Love you both lots!

comments have been limited

-

-

2024

yourusername shared a new post!

liked by charlesleclerc, charles’girlfriend, yourbestfriend, 3.2M people

yourusername: The Tortured Poets Department. An anthology of new works that reflect events, opinions and sentiments from a fleeting and fatalistic moment in time - one that was both sensational and sorrowful in equal measure. This period of the author’s life is now over, the chapter closed and boarded up. There is nothing to avenge, no scores to settle once wounds have healed. And upon further reflection, a good number of them turned out to be self-inflicted. This writer is of the firm belief that our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page. Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it. And then all that’s left behind is the tortured poetry. THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT is out now.

user1: ‘talking rings and talking cradles, i wish i could un- recall how we almost had it all’ this is definitely about charles…

user2: wait so she wanted to marry charles but he wasn’t ready??? but charles was always talking about how he wanted to start a family with her

pascaleleclerc: mon amour ❤️ (my love)

user3: CHARLES BROKE NO CONTACT, I REPEAT, CHARLES LIKED

user4: the alchemy is definitely about how charles always looked for her after he wins..

arthurleclerc: that idiot

arthurleclerc: love this, y/n!

charles’sgirlfriend: ❤️❤️❕

→ user5: what’s SHE doing here

→user6: @/user5, and after liking all those shady tweets about y/n too

user7: 10 years..

user8: ‘Said you’d never leave, never mind’ WHEN CHARLES ALWAYS SAID Y/N WAS THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND THAT SHE WAS THE ONE FOR HIM- HE SAID “ID NEVER LEAVE HER” OMGGGGG

-

charlesleclerc shared a new post!

liked by F1gossipm, charles’sgirlfriend, arthurleclerc, 870k people

charlesleclerc: stole his phone :))) amourrr (love)

user1: That caption.. looks eerily similar to the one Y/n posted all those years ago

charles’sgirlfriend: @/charlesleclerc, yes i didn’t put the filter :)

→ user2: notice now he didn’t respond?

→user3: shut UP copycat

user4: another day of her trying to be y/n

arthurleclerc: okay 🤨

→ user5: hahahaha arthur is NOT impressed

pascaleleclerc: 🤔

→user6: OMGGGG MAMA LECLERCCCCCCCC

→user7: that woman is not impressed by this behaviour..

→user8: i just KNOW she hates charles’s girlfriend

user9: The difference in how Charles looks at her vs how he used to look at Y/n is comical

-

liked by F1wags, chary/n, y/nfanclub, user1, 368 other people.

F1gossipm: BREAKING: According to fans in Monaco, Charles Leclerc appeared very displeased with girlfriendname, and was actively ignoring her during their evening outing. Could this be about Y/n’s new album…?

user1: LETS GOOOO

user2: that snake never even wanted charles for him

user3: TEAM CHARY/N UNITE

chary/n: can’t say we didn’t see this coming

read more..

-

yourusername shared a new post!

liked by y/nfanclun, chary/n, charles’sgirlfriend, charlesleclerc, pascaleleclerc, arthurleclerc, 1.8m other people

yourusername: FIRST SHOWWWWW!!!! sosososossosoooo grateful for all the love i’ve received <3 this album was a jumbled collection of songs i wrote in 2023. i wasn’t sure how it would turn out, because at that time my emotions were all over the place, and as you know my songs are a big reflection of what i feel. this is for sure the most intimate album i’ve made. it contains the most unfiltered parts of me that someone really special encouraged me to display. it’s 4am as i’m writing this, so i’m just gonna end it with this: to that special person, this one’s for you. i wish you well.

user1: so we’re all in agreement that it’s for charles right?

user2: GUYS CHECK @/F1GOSSIPM RIGHT NOW

charles’sgirlfriend: ❤️❤️🐍

→ user3: the fuck is that supposed to mean?

user4: charles keeps liking… ;))))) we’re so back

user5: She sounds better than ever!

pascaleleclerc: Repose-toi bien ma chére ❤️(rest well my dear)

→ yourusername: thank you maman!!! :)))

→ user6: She still calls pascale maman omggg

arthurleclerc: Congrats!

-

F1gossipm shared a new post!

liked by charles’sgirlfriend, chary/n, arthurleclerc and 136 other people

F1gossipm: BREAKING: Charles Leclerc seen at Y/n L/n’s latest show, sources say his girlfriend was NOT in attendance!

user1: what’s girlfriendname and arthur doing here?

user2: I smell chary/n!!

user3: I wonder if Y/n knows

user4: charles please just leave that snake and get back tgt with mom

read more..

pt. 2 coming out soon

pls give me suggestions and tell me what you want to see in the next part because like my money, my creativity is running very low nowadays 😃

[mikkomacko]

how do you think a situation would play out in the "him and i" universe where nico has to go to switzerland or somewhere else internationally but the reader is hesitant due to what happened with lena 🤔

maybe the reader and nico fight about it and he leaves while she stays with luke, alex, and johnny

nico is upset that the reader doesn't trust him to keep her safe but ultimately understands the fear in being another unknown country given her past

“What do you mean you don’t want to go?”

It comes out harsher than he intends for it to, curiosity getting lost in translation and turning into offense. He’s always had a hard time communicating hard feelings in ways other than anger or silence.

“It’ll be easier,” you shrug, like it’s no big deal. Like you didn’t just tell him you want to spend a week away from him. “We won’t have to worry about Moose or the house. And I’ll have the boys stay here with me.”

Nico doesn’t even know what to say. The more you speak, the more an ugly feeling creeps into his belly. And you won’t even look at him, going about your bedtime routine with a practiced patience he can’t fathom having right now.

You don’t want to go with him to Sweden. It’s no tropical vacation or anything, but Jesper has some family stuff he needs to handle and wanted backup. Nico thought it’d be fun, a little trip for you two, a do over from the last shit trip to Europe he took you on.

“You don’t need me for a business trip, right?”

Nico wants to rip his hair out. He wants to rip his hair out and bang his head against the wall and maybe fall down the stairs where he’ll lay in a heap on the wood floors for the rest of his life.

You’ve never rejected him before.

And the worst part is, you’re really sweet about it. All pretty with your hair tied back and moisturizer half rubbed into your cheek, wearing just his shirt and speaking to him all soft like that. Comforting.

“I need you for everything,” he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest like an angry child “more importantly, I want you there.”

You still avoid his gaze after drying your hands off, eyes shifting to look from just above his eyes to his mouth and then his chest. Anywhere but him.

“I just…” you hesitate, wincing uncomfortably and that ugly feeling in his stomach throbs.

“Tell me,” he urges, “the truth. Not some excuse.”

“I don’t really want to go.”

Silence. Nico blinks, taken aback. Obviously he could tell you didn’t want to go so you did technically tell him the truth, but still not everything.

You don’t want to go with him. You want to be away from him.

Nico opens his mouth, closes it. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t stand here and make you tell him that you don’t want him right now. He thinks he’d go into cardiac arrest having to hear it out loud. So he just nods, turning on his heel and heading into the bedroom.

Quietly, you follow behind him, the air in the room heavy and cold as he tugs off his shirt and gets into bed. As close to his side of the mattress as possible. You want space from him, want a whole ocean between you two, but he can’t do that just yet so this will have to suffice for now.

Nico stares up at the ceiling, heart thumping sadly in his chest as you shut off the bedside lamp and climb under the covers. You don’t say anything and neither does he, both of you laid out on opposite sides of the bed. It’s not as comfortable, he thinks, without you pressed into his ribs.

He hasn’t slept without you in his arms in years.

Bitterly, Nico shuts his eyes and rolls to his side, ordering himself to just go to bed. It only takes about two minutes for you to huff under your breath, mattress dipping as you shuffle over to his side of the bed.

He doesn’t move but that doesn’t stop you from curling into his back, a gentle hand on his ribs and then he drifts off, thinking maybe you are lying to him.

If you want a break from him, why are you chasing him across the bed?

~~~~

Nico practically runs from you the next morning. Up and out of the bed before you can wake up, showered and out of the house before the sheets have even turned cold.

He ignores your texts too, unsure of what to say after you ask him if everything is ok. What’s he supposed to tell you? Yeah things are ok, you just don’t want to be around him?

He’s grumpy and in a mood all day to the point that everyone steers clear of him. The air is awkward in every room he steps into and he ends up banished to the office of Sötis to work on delivery scheduling for product.

That’s where you find him an hour after he usually comes home, having ignored the text he sent saying he was working late.

It was bullshit. He knew it. You knew it. And you were willing to call him on it.

“Next time you don’t answer your phone for five hours I’m taking the boys and we’re turning over every inch of Jersey.”

Internally, he winces. He should’ve known to give you some response hours ago when you first messaged him. At least to let you know he was alive. But his pettiness got the best of him and all he wanted to do was spare his poor heart.

Which is why he still sounds like an asshole when he ignores your gaze, shifting through papers with a dismissive, “didn’t think you’d care.”

“Nico what are you talking about?” You ask, an edge creeping into your tone. “I care about where you are every second of every day. I worry about where you are from the moment you pull out of the drive until the moment you’re back home, safe.”

His heart skips, endeared by the sincerity in your tone but all he can hear are your words from last night. I don’t really want to go.

Ugh, brutal.

“You don’t care about where I’ll be in Europe, why would you care about it here?”

He’s not getting any work done anymore and yet he still reads over the same lines, tries his best to pretend he’s actually being productive.

“That’s what this is about?” You implore after a moment, and Nico shrugs. “You think I don’t care that you’ll be so far away? The furthest we’ve ever been apart?”

You move further into the room, coming around the desk to stand by his side and even though he doesn’t want to look at you, his body takes over for him and he pushes the chair back, thighs parting to let you step between them.

At his silence, you hesitate, paused between his legs. Carefully, like you’re scared you’ll spook him, you run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracking and Nico’s head snaps up to look at you, concerned and panicked at the same time. Why are you crying? What’s going on?

“I didn’t want to say it out loud because it’s stupid.”

His hands move on their own accord, grabbing at your hips and urging you to sit on his thigh. You go easily, slipping an arm around his neck and staring down at his hand on your thigh. Your fingers rest on top of it, rubbing over his knuckles soothingly and he has to fight back his smile. He loves when you do that.

“What’s stupid? You not wanting to go with me?”

“Of course I want to go with you!” You whine, dramatic and borderline hysterical and Nico winces. “I always want to be with you.”

He takes a deep breath, forces himself to say his words in his head before speaking them because the last thing he wants is to sound angry. Obviously something is tearing you up and he doesn’t want to add to it.

“You said you didn’t want to go.”

Your fingers pinch at his knuckle, not enough to hurt but enough to jolt him and he watches, worried, as you gnaw at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t want to. But I don’t want you to go either. I just…”

Knowingly, Nico grabs the back of your neck with his other hand, holding you tightly. A steady touch to keep you grounded, to make you feel safe, and just like it was intended, you ease up at gesture.

“I don’t want to go to Europe because the last time I went I almost didn’t come back.”

It comes out in a rushed, mumble of words but he hears them clear enough. You’re scared. After everything with his family and Switzerland, with Lena, you’re scared to go so far from home. Even if he’s with you, you’re scared.

“Baby,” Nico whispers, his own heart breaking at the thought. You don’t feel safe enough with him to go. “I wouldn’t let that happen again. You know that right? You have to know that-“

“I do,” you interject, glassy eyes staring at your hand over his still. “I know I’d be safe anywhere with you but I don’t want to be a distraction or a tag-along on work because I don’t trust myself to be there without you.”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing heavily, you slump into his shoulder, hiding in his chest. “I freaked out last time and I did something stupid, and I don’t trust myself to not do it again so I just shouldn’t go right?

“It’s better for you guys too. You won’t have to be constantly watching me and I’m safe here with Moose and the boys, and…”

You still won’t blame him for Switzerland. Everything got messed up in the first place because he didn’t communicate with you and when you panicked and reacted and something went wrong, it should’ve been his fault. It is his fault.

Yet here you are, still punishing yourself for it.

“No, it’s not like that.” Nico swears, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing you into his chest like he’s trying to get you to absorb his words. “Switzerland wasn’t your fault baby, and it wouldn’t happen again. I know better now and so do you.”

Struggling in his hold, you shrug.

“It’s just easier, Nico. And then I’m not scared.”

It’s incredible to hear, to be reminded that you could never be scared in the home he built with you, in the city he gave you. But it still hurts to know that something out there scares you and he can’t really do anything about it.

It’ll just take time, he reminds himself. You were scared after Philly, and he helped you through that. You’ll get through this too, eventually. And that’s what makes the decision for him.

“M’not going without you, then.” He says, “I’ll send timo in my place and stay here with you.”

“Nico don’t cancel because of me-“

“I was only going to go with you. I want to show you the world and take you to amazing places and get to love you in every city on earth. And if I need to wait to do that, I’m going to.

“Sweden will always be there. Europe will always be there so I’m staying here to be with you.”

It’s a done deal after that. You cling to him, accepting his words with silent thanks and Nico mentally promises himself that one day, he’ll take you back to Europe, where you’ll get to enjoy the continent with all your heart.

[first-saturn-return]

Rico Nasty spoke about her first Saturn return

Journalist Larisha Paul interviewed rapper Rico Nasty for Rolling Stone.

And the first Saturn return emerged in their conversation!

The journalist said: "You’re in the middle of your Saturn return, which is usually marked by confrontation with things you’ve been avoiding facing for a while. Tell me about that moment you had when you were like, “OK, something needs to change.”"

And the rapper commented: "You get to that fork in the road, like, you either are gonna become a shell of a person or just accept yourself for all your changes. You don’t like it anymore and it’s something that you’re known for — “Oh, well! Do something else. I shouldn’t have to stay dressing like this and doing certain things that I was doing just because that’s what you guys know me for.” That definitely was a part of my Saturn return, because I just remember being like, “But why? Why don’t I like this anymore? This is all that I fucking like. This is all that I know. How does someone just wake up one day and not like shit? What is that about?” Looking at certain choices I made, certain outfits, and just certain people I had in my life, I’m like, “Why the hell was I doing that?”"

The re-evaluation of those experiences and relationships you enjoyed before the Saturn return is a classic manifestation of this transit.

Your taste mutates. Some of the things you liked in the past may feel disgusting or alien in your late twenties.

Something's gotta give during the Saturn return. And the ringed planet will guide you to the breaking point in your late twenties.

Check the interview here:

[insomniac4000]

Chained Together Part 7

“We have a problem,” Florence sighed. Her and George were sitting on the sofa in the living room of the hose. The other four were actually playing pool in the other room but neither Florence nor George wished to join.

“What apart from the fact we’re shackled together?” George replied not taking his eyes off his phone.

“Why did you agree to be a part of this video if you didn’t want to be with someone? Is it really worth ruining a video over?” Florence asked. Since the others were playing pool the cameras were on them, leaving Florence and George with their go pros, because of that she was feeling a lot bolder talking to him, people had been walking over her most of her life, she wasn’t about to let him do it too.

“If I knew I was going to be stuck here with you I probably wouldn’t have,” he scowled.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a snap judgement about me when you don’t even know me.”

“I’ve heard enough. Anyway what’s this problem?

“How are we going to get ready for bed?” Florence asked brushing a hand through her hair sighing. There were clear instructions about showering and dressing in the morning but no one had mentioned about getting dressed for bed. There was no way she was going to sleep in her clothes, it was daunting enough having to sleep next to the guy who clearly hated her for reasons unknown.

“Am I going to have to sit through your beauty routine?” George whined rolling her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you sleep naked,” Florence feigned disgust. Sure he had those beautiful eyes, chiselled jaw, perfect hair but the way he was acting was making her hate him. The last thing she wanted was to feel even more conflicted having to sleep next his muscular frame.

“You wish,” he winked at Florence who rolled her eyes.

“Look I know you have this idiotic pre conceived notion that I’m this horrible person but you could not be further from the truth. You on the other hand are acting like I’m supposed to fall at your feet despite the fact you’ve been nothing but cruel to me. I’ve had enough shit in my life without egotistical shitheads like you trying to ruin my career and is supposed to be a fun shoot.” George was incredibly taken aback by Florence’s outburst. He was about to open his mouth to say something when everyone else came rushing into the room, Theo and Cal in a very good mood.

“I’m not having that, I demand a rematch!” Chip shouted

“You alright mate?” Arthur asked George who had a very pensive look on his face, his eyebrows pulling down, eyes looking deep in thought and his mouth was pursed and in a slight frown.

“Fine.”

“We were just wondering how we were going to get ready for bed, unless we all plan to sleep in our clothes?” Florence steered the conversation, despite blowing up at George just now she really wasn’t one for starting drama and was hoping he wouldn’t stir things up either. Luckily for her it was Simon who spoke first.

“You know we didn’t think about that…”

“Does this mean I’ll find out Arthur’s beauty routine which will reveal why he looks so youthful,” Chip joked elbowing Arthur.

“I secretly think he’s a vampire,” Florence joked. She could feel the tension radiating from George’s body, she could feel the heat, not warmth in a good way but in a red hot anger way. She was hoping bringing Arthur into the conversation would calm him down a little. George was acting awfully to her but she still had to be around him for thirty six hours.

“We’ll allow you time to get dressed but any other vampire ritual has to be done together,” Simon eventually informed everyone after talking to all of the producers. Everyone decided to all get dressed together quickly thinking it would be better that way and they were all going to reconvene for the night.

“Actually I think I might turn in if that’s okay,” George commented when he came out of the bathroom, the handcuffs were placed back onto his wrist.

“Oh? We were just talking about the beginning of all or careers?!

“Yeah Florence I’ve heard you have such a great story. I mean you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Arthur’s big brown eyes had a hint of sadness to them, Florence’s breath caught her throat a little, how did he know? She felt all eyes on her, no more so than the man currently chained next to her.

“Maybe not in front of the cameras eh, save the editors a job. Plus I guess I’m turning in,” Florence looked at George who stood frozen for a few moment before nodding.

When the pair were safely in their bedroom with the door closed George turned to Florence and placed his free hand on hip, his eyebrows were furrowed which accentuated the small scar on his eyebrow he sustained by falling off the e-bike.

“What did Arthur mean when he said you had a story?” George asked her. Florence bit her lip, she knew she had to talk about it one day but George was not someone who had proved trustworthy of knowing. She also thought and wondered why Arthur knew she had a story to tell, suddenly it dawned on her, Esme and Chris had been talking he must have mentioned something to Arthur.

“Earth to FloMC?” George’s voice pulled her out of her train of thought, his voice was a lot softer this time, Florence couldn’t remember a time when he had spoken to her without any hint of distain or sarcasm.

“I know it’s going to sound weird because of our job but there are just some aspects of my life I’m not comfortable with making public,” Florence responded, rubbing her upper arm a little, she always did something like that when she was nervous, fiddling with her sleeves or her hair. George’s eyes looked a little shocked, almost taken aback initially before they softened, the mulleted man nodded in understanding.

“That’s completely understandable. Here was me thinking you live your whole life in front of a camera,”

“Well you can add that to the long list of wrong assumptions you made about me,” Florence replied as she started to climb into bed. George followed, he had no other choice but to join her. Florence closed her eyes as soon as she laid on her back, she let out a sigh. She hated this, she had visions of going to lie on her side which fling George across the side of the room by the joined arms. Florence smiled a little bit at the imagine before squeezing her eyes tight and ignoring the warmth and the breath of the man lying next to her.

[youareatragedy]

hello— this has been nagging at me for a while but why does feyre suck at being a high lady? i get that sjm probably did it to make it some sort of feminist power move— but she really only handles surface level stuff. she may be powerful and have small drops of each high lord but does she do well enough in running an entire court and overseeing their entire lives? she’s only in her twenties and is in charge of everyone. i’m ngl i’d be hella pissed if i was living in velaris and had to watch a young woman who is illiterate be crowned as MY high lady? after all that she’s done? or *after the shit she’s pulled?* yeah, she broke the curse and saved everyone in prythian— but girly your actions after that are questionable🤨 destroying of the spring court, stealing the book of breathings from tarquin which i’m pretty sure was a very important artefact— like they couldn’t have just asked him instead? and then she’s giving HIM orders, in HIS house? and then her overgrown bat of a husband claims “she’s the high lady of the night court, she can do what she wishes” mr riceman, this isn’t the fucking night court. i swear feyre is such a wack narrator— because all she cares about is rhys and the IC. never mind the people dying around them as she did what she did in the tent, or never mind the women suffering in illyria of having their wings clipped as they watch as she flies around, *or* when they decided to have s*x in the sky. where the poor citizens of velaris could have seen that. like how inconsiderate can you even be atp— smh. it’s so funny— she’s titled the high lady of the night court yet she can barely read or has any experience in running a court💀💀💀 i wonder if she knows her precious inner circle will only heed rhys’ orders and not hers and if they do follow her orders it’s because they don’t want to suffer the wrath of rhys😭💀

feyre is… a questionable character. i liked her more in the first book. but when she became high fae— girl wtf happened to you😭😭 she became riceman’s trophy wife. i just know that sjm will make them high queen and high king (totally undeserved btw) and everyone will eat it up.

i’m sorry for this rant btw— i sound like such a feyre hater. 😭😭 nesta’s book slays as always, because at least we get a perspective on someone that isn’t so biased.

Anon, let me hug you. I think you answered your own question lol. But I'd like to add that she sucks at a job that is just a fake title anyway, so I bet all of Prythian knows no one should rely on her to do anything important and still asks Rhys for serious matters. And I think they do, because after ACOWAR, what she did as a High Lady was write correspondence (maybe Rhys gave her that task so she could practice what must be her ugly penmanship), visibly look uncomfortable when visiting a dive bar (she already forgot she lived in a hovel a year ago), and create an art studio that she will use anyway but in the name of "look at this thing you will all benefit from but it will be mine to do as I please."

Most of all, I think it's selfish for both her and Rhys to have a death pact. It's not romantic it's stupid as all fuck to do that when they're supposed to govern. The chaos that would ensue if NC lost both their highest ranked leaders in the same minute? Feysand do not care about their court. Assuming Nyx would be the next HL, what would happen to him if he's only four years old when his parents die (because remember there's still a war coming soon)? Who will take care of him and the NC for him when he's still a toddler? How is that fair for the caretaker? And not to mention how easy it would be for someone like Keir to just kill Nyx. There might be a coup. Chaos. Death.

So Feysand are just bad leaders and bad parents because they selfishly think they can fuck, breed, and orphan their child because they're entitled and assume someone will step up and be Nyx's parents. And the thing is, they did it without agreement from anyone in the IC (the people who will have to take care and protect Nyx).

So Feyre is a bad High Lady, Rhys is a bad High Lord who thinks it's fine to let his wife believe she's in charge when she's actually a tradwife who will not have time to use all that power she has anymore because she's too busy being a mom and painter, and I'm sure there are things we've missed regarding how bad she is as a High Lady. But everything you said is the answer. I would not want a war criminal to lead me, but I guess her stans think it's cute that a barely literate female who doesn’t understand fae and fae laws at all can be a girlboss "first High Lady ever" (again.. fake High Lady), as long as they can have fanart of her wearing gowns, tiara and cool tattoos.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 2

A request that turned into a short story. *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Previous chapter Next chapter

From then on, every Sunday night Bucky could expect a knock on his door at about 7:00 p.m.  It was always Y/N, bringing him a new plate of treats to try.  Her bubbly vivaciousness was palpable as she would talk to him and explain what it was she made, then wouldn’t leave until he took a bite in front of her.  First it was classic chocolate chip cookies, then sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and almost every type of cookie imaginable until she moved on to brownies, cake, and now ice cream.

Bucky at first tried to turn it down, but she was persistent, and he would eventually cave and just take the damn treat to make her leave him alone.  He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked her coming by, but would indulge showing her his one bite of trying it in front of her before she left.  After she had come by with mint chocolate chip ice cream, which he really wasn’t that fond of but knew Sam would love so he took it, he closed the door and turned around to find his girlfriend glaring at him.

“Who the fuck was that?” Mandy asked, her arms crossed on her chest.

“My neighbor,” Bucky said, bringing the ice cream into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer.

“No shit, Sherlock.  What’s her name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” Bucky said simply before facing her and crossing his arms.  He hadn’t really told Mandy about Y/N.  It didn’t seem like he needed to.  “She’s a baker and likes to bring treats by.”

“So you know her name and that she’s a baker,” Mandy said, her eye twitching in annoyance.  “What else do you know?  Huh?  Has she been here before?  Are you flirting with her?”

“What?  No, Mandy, god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.  “I helped her move some boxes when she moved in and she insisted on paying me with treats, because that’s what she does.  Nothing inappropriate has happened.  Why can’t you trust me to just, I don’t know, know people outside of you?”

“How well do you know her?” Mandy asked, her voice raising.

“Not well,” he shrugged.

“Where does she work?” she asked, her teeth nearly grinding.

“I think she said that bakery on 5th, but I could be wrong,” he said simply, shrugging again.  “I don’t know her.  She’s just a neighbor who likes to bring me treats.”

“Then why did she call you sweet pea?” Mandy growled.

“She just does, that’s her thing,” Bucky sighed.  “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you really that stupid, Bucky?  Some bitch is bringing you food and calling you nicknames and you’re just ‘neighbors’ and nothing more?” Mandy yelled.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Bucky yelled back.  “I told you this jealousy thing has to stop.  Not every woman I walk by or associate with in my life is trying to steal me away from you.  And you calling her names just because she’s being nice isn’t going to make me feel any better about this,” he gestured between them.  “I’m telling you, Mandy, I’ve had it.  I’m done doing this with you–”

“I’m sorry!” Mandy said, suddenly looking sad and pouty.  “I’m sorry.  I was just insecure, alright?  She’s…nice,” she said it like it hurt her to admit.  “Please don’t break up with me over something like this.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Okay, okay.  Just please, no more of this weird jealousy thing.”  He walked over and hugged her.  “She’s just a nice person who lives across the hall from me.  That’s all.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, still not sounding sure but accepting it.

***

The little bell rang over the door and Y/N came out from the back to greet the new customer.  “Hello!” she said cheerfully, watching the woman scowl at the bakery.  “What can I help you with today?” she continued, trying not to let the woman’s dislike dampen her mood.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘She’s Tasty’?” the woman asked, giving Y/N a dirty glance.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised.  “It’s based on the fact that all my bakes are named after a typically female name,” she explained, pointing at the menu above her head that had lists of names, categories and what the dessert was made of under each one.  “It’s just a play on words.  Like, ‘Ooh she’s tasty!’  You know?”

The woman grimaced.  “Right.  Well, I’m not here for a dessert.  I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter and frowning.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarled.

Y/N smirked.  “Okay.  Who’s your boyfriend?”

She looked even angrier.  “Bucky!” she cried indignantly.

“Bucky?  My neighbor Bucky?” Y/N asked incredulously.  “I didn’t know he was even social enough to have a girlfriend.”

“Well, he is, and I’m the girlfriend telling you to back off,” she spat.

“Back off from what, exactly?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head in question.  “I haven’t flirted with him.”

“Yes you are!  You keep bringing him treats!” she said, slapping the counter.

“Okay, hun, just chill out,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t bring treats anymore, k?  I’m sure I’ve paid him back for helping me move in plenty at this point.”  The girlfriend kept glaring at her.  “I was just being friendly and neighborly,” Y/N continued.  “No need to be jealous of some little treats.”

“Just stay away from him,” the girlfriend snapped, then turned on her heel and stomped out of the bakery.

Y/N rolled her eyes again and walked back to the kitchen.  She hadn’t said or done anything to warrant this type of response, but whatever.  She wouldn’t make Bucky’s treats anymore.  The less drama she had to deal with the better.

[secretmarvelsideblog]

I’ve always found the dichotomy between the enhanced and non-enhanced Avengers (and co) to be extremely underexplored. Like, how do these normal ass humans feel about playing on the same field as supersoldiers and aliens and sorcerers and all that crazy shit? So of course, because I’m me, I decided to traumatize a character about it. That unlucky bastard is one Clint.

Picture this:

Rogue Avengers have received their pardons and moved back into the Tower. Steve and Tony, despite being on very rocky terms at first, have since made up. All is well.

It was supposed to be a routine mission. A little pocket of HYDRA had managed to survive and establish a stronghold, and the Avengers were there to knock heads and such. Only it was a decoy. The real stronghold was somewhere else, and this one was just bait to lure the Avengers in. They don’t figure this out until the dust settles and they realized that Clint is gone.

Meanwhile, at the real stronghold, Clint finds himself with two main captors, let’s call them Sergei and Sofiya.

Sergei is huge- 6’5, 300 lbs of pure muscle. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does he’s barking orders in Russian, both to Clint and the various guards and orderlies whose faces Clint never sees. Clint doesn’t have a chance against him, not when he’s tied up, sleep deprived, hungry, concussed, and any other manner of impaired. He learns to fear and hate Sergei in equal measure.

Sofiya, on the other hand, is unassuming. She speaks softly, dare we say kindly. Clint knows what they’re doing, it’s the oldest trick in the book, but despite himself he can’t help but notice that Sofiya flinches when Sergei shouts, and sometimes sports bruises just like the ones Clint has. What’s more, she patches him up when she thinks Sergei won’t notice, and Clint might be imagining it, but he swears that his meals are slightly bigger when Sofiya brings them. He doesn’t see enough of them to tell if Sergei and Sofiya are lovers, or just colleagues, or siblings, or what, but whichever way you slice it, she’s scared of him, and that’s something she and Clint have in common.

And then the ‘training’ starts.

Well, no, actually. The next thing that happens is two weeks of no beatings or interrogations, two weeks of Sofiya regularly and openly giving him medical attention. Just when Clint thinks that maybe, just maybe he’s caught a break, things go right back to shit, just in a different way this time.

Now, instead of being beaten and left in his cell, Clint is forced to run and jump and spar until he can barely breathe and his legs giving out as he collapses to the ground. And then he does it all again the next day, and the next, and the next, until he barely remembers what it feels like to have muscles that don’t ache and breath that doesn’t hurt to draw.

Clint questions why they’re doing this. He questions everyone he sees, even Sergei, and especially Sofiya. The masked ones, the ones whose faces and names Clint will never know, say nothing. Sergei and Sofiya only have one response for him. “мы делаем тебя лучше” they tell him, “we’re making you better.”

That is, until one night. Sofiya is tending to his wounds again. Today, Clint was forced to spar nonstop, first with the masked, who were defeated with varying difficulty, then with Sergei, who knocked him clean out only after rounds of battery, each punch carrying the weight and hardness like someone was swinging a baseball bat at him.

Sofiya’s voice is imperceptibly soft, more breath than whisper, when she confesses what she’s been holding back this entire time.

The Avengers sold Clint out. They’re tired of his uselessness, tired of working with someone like Clint- someone with no enhancements or special skills. So Tony Stark gave this HYDRA cell the resources they needed to get on their feet, with the understanding that they’d mold Clint into the model agent for them.

Clint doesn’t believe her.

He laughs at her, in fact, because seriously? The Avengers are his friends, his chosen family. They would never.

But, the the thing is…

The thing is-

The Avengers haven’t come for him. It’s been months and they haven’t come to bust Clint out. When Steve was captured, they were going in guns blazing within twenty four hours, but it’s been months and multiple failed escape attempts, and there’s not been any sign that they’re coming, that they even want him back at all.

The thought creeps in slowly…

What if Sofiya was telling the truth?

Clint doesn’t let himself believe that. He can’t believe that, because if he doesn’t have faith in his team, if he doesn’t have faith that a rescue is coming, that he has more life to live beyond these gray walls, then what does he have?

But as the one year mark comes and goes, which Clint only knows about because Sofiya tells him, that hope gets harder and harder to hold onto. His sparring sessions with Sergei have advanced from simple hand to hand brawls to multi-weapons duels, some of which he actually wins, especially since projectiles are added to the mix.

Another new thing, Clint is helping Sofiya plan a coup. Because Sergei might be in charge of this base, of this pocket, but there are still HYDRA cells all over the place. If Sofiya and Clint kill Sergei, and if Sofiya takes the position of leader here, then she could joint up with another pocket, and be the start of a HYDRA revival. That thought should revolt Clint, but the whole Sergei-being-dead part makes that difficult. For the cherry on top, Sofiya has promised that, once Sergei is gone, she’ll set Clint free.

Clint knows it’s bad when he doesn’t immediately dismiss her as a liar, he knows it’s worse when the slim chance to see the sun again makes helping her worth it even if she is.

It’s the eve of the plot. Midnight. Sofiya should be by any minute now with the keys and a gun, and Clint is absolutely giddy. The thought of getting Sergei in his sights and firing into that rat bastard’s forehead is curling his lips up into what he suspects is a rather manic smile. In all his time in captivity, a gun is the one weapon they’ve never trusted him with. Smart of them.

Instead of the soft click of the key in the lock, an alarm begins to blare, emergency lights painting the hallway outside the cell an eerie red, and Clint hears something he never thought he’d hear again.

It’s the rush of the Iron Man suit, and Steve’s voice shouting his name over the sound of gunfire, getting closer, and suddenly, the solid steel door is ripped off its hinges.

And there’s Steve, in all his star spangled glory, and then Tasha’s there too, pulling Clint into a hug-

And it’s all too much. Clint feints into her arms.

—-

When Clint wakes up, he’s in the quinjet heading back to the Tower. There’s an IV in his arm, and Tasha and Bruce are sitting nearby. They comfort him, tell him they’re glad he’s back. Bruce mentions how Tony and Steve have been working themselves to death trying to find him. Clint glances past them to where Steve is scrubbing explosive residue off of his shield. The bags under the soldier’s eyes are dark, and Clint thinks he believes them.

He believes Tasha and Bruce, not Sofiya.

Because nothing Sofiya told him makes sense now that his team has come for him- only, it does. It makes too much sense, Clint realizes in horror. Because if Sofiya was telling the truth, the fact that it took the team so long makes sense. The fact that they only came for him once he started winning against Sergei more times than not made sense.

But Steve’s eye bags look real, as does Tasha’s soft smile. And this is his team, his family. They wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t, and that’s what Clint chooses to believe.

And even if they did, it doesn’t matter. Because now they want him back, and the Avengers are good and HYDRA is evil, and…

And if the team did that to him, they had a good reason.

And they didn’t anyway, they wouldn’t, so it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

The team investigates the base, and Clint finally learns his captors’ real names, Svetlana Ivanova and Anton Makarov. They’re still Sofiya and Sergei in his head.

As the weeks pass by, Clint sees more and more evidence that Tasha and the others were telling the truth. He sees the state of Tony’s lab one day, all the projects pushed to the side, started as a way to take the inventor’s mind off things before being abandoned in favor of the next lead. He catches the way Steve looks at him, as if the captain can’t quite believe what’s he’s seeing, and smiles this warm, buttery smile, like all is right in the world.

One day, Clint stumbles across the monopoly game that he, Sam, and Scott had started back then, the one that had been interrupted by the mission, still sitting untouched in the conference room they’d highjacked after being kicked out of the common room. In the seat Clint had once sat in, instead sits a plushie version of him- a frankly adorable crochet mini-Clint, clad in purple with a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He holds up a note:

‘Come home soon,’ it reads, ‘we saved your seat’.

Next to the plushie, sits a grappling arrow- obviously Tony’s work- along with a small carving of Lucky that Clint recognizes as a product of Tasha’s fine dexterity. A packet of pizzaritos stands out, and a smile glances across Clint’s lips as he realizes that it must be Scott’s. Finally, a novelty bird figure dressed in Clint’s signature purple, one which he remembers fondly Sam mocking him mercilessly over, completes the collection. Behind them all, stands a pencil drawing of the archer in his battle gear, sharp shadows cutting across his jawline, making him look like a hero.

A shrine, that’s what this is. One Clint’s teammates put together for no reason but sentimentality. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tear drops dampen his hoodie.

Clint’s doubts should be put to rest. By all indications they are. Still, he, perhaps unconsciously, pushes himself harder and harder during training. He used to strive to keep up with Sam and Tasha, now he keeps his eyes on Steve, always falling short but refusing to accept the supersoldier’s clear advantage- or rather, refusing to accept that fact as an excuse to ever fall short, and each time he does, Sofiya’s words echo in his mind.

Clint doesn’t tell the team about her, about what she told him, what he almost did. What he almost believed. He doesn’t think he’d be able to face them.

Until he gets sick, like really sick.

The high fever muddies his thoughts, mixing past and present and sending panic rushing through his mind.

Because he’s sick, he can’t train, never mind go on missions. And if he can’t train, if he can’t go on missions-

If he can’t make himself useful-

The team is going to give him back to Sergei and dear god he can’t-

He won’t survive-

He won’t stop trying to get out of the medbay bed, Steve has to physically tie him down, which doesn’t help the panic. Restrained, overpowered, confused, in the delirium Clint does the only thing he can.

He begs.

He begs anyone and everyone, promising to be good if they’ll just give him another chance, please, he’ll be so good, he’ll be perfect, he’ll do anything, just please don’t give him back-

And the fever gets worse.

Clint doesn’t remember where he is now, and as horrifying as Clint’s begging has been, this incoherent babbling might be worse. Because one name keeps coming out, Sofiya. Only, the Avengers don’t know of anyone Clint knows names Sofiya, especially with the way he pronounces it with a certain Russian slant. Clint only told them the bare bones of what happened to him, hadn’t even known their names, but Natasha had always suspected that there was more to Clint’s captivity than the man let on. Given the contents of the archer’s previous ramblings, Natasha infers that Sofiya is really Ivanova, and that she was more to Clint than a simple captor.

After two agonizing days of intensive care, the fever finally breaks.

In the aftermath, Clint tells Tasha everything, with tacit permission to fill in the rest of the team. Over the next few days, every single Avenger, but especially Tony and Steve, come to assure him. Tony feels so bad that his name was used, that when Clint finally returns to his quarters, he finds a fully equipped archery and firing range attached to his suite. Natasha, for her part, dives back into the records recovered from the base where Clint was kept. She looks for answers, something she can tell her shaken friend.

This is what she finds:

It was all a trick. All of it. Down to their very names. You see, Ivanova- Sofiya- was the real mastermind behind everything. To start, the name Sofiya was chosen for its softness and popularity across America, while the name Sergei was chosen for its opposite qualities.

Her and Makarov’s plan had been to turn Clint against the Avengers, to get him to join them willingly. Makarov had been cast as the ‘bad cop’ to Ivanova’s sympathetic ‘good cop’, a threat to push Clint towards the only person around who resembled an ally.

But that wasn’t her only scheme.

Because the coup? That was a real plan. Ivanova needed Clint to kill Makarov for her, not only to get rid of the only one standing in her way, but to bond them in this shared conspiracy. To make Clint stay with her, even after the steels doors and chains were gone.

It was evil. It was genius. But something about the technique scratches Natasha’s mind, and a closer look at Ivanova’s photo reveals exactly why. A memory from the red room flickers at the back of her mind, and Natasha sees the face of a young girl she met once age into the Widow who almost brainwashed Clint, almost turned him into a HYDRA agent.

It makes her sick.

Relaying this information to Clint, things finally settle in the archer’s troubled mind. He feels, though he’s been back at the tower for weeks, as though he’s finally come home.

Ho boy that got out of hand lol- but yeah how I got from “isn’t is crazy how there are just normal ass humans on the same battlefield as Thor” to “what if we gave Clint some more trauma, as a treat” I don’t know.

[regendary]

Misty spends the entire show making herself indispensable, both as a means to help people and as a means to manipulate them, and it turns out she’s very good at it. But why is she so good at it, you ask? Well, the answer lies in how many of her conversations start with “Shut up Misty, I don’t have time for you.” She has, her entire life, had to find ways to get people to continue talking to her and spend time with her after them saying that—which, mind you—EVEN THE OTHER YELLOWJACKETS have done all the way into adulthood. Otherwise, she hardly exists to them until they need something. It’s to the point where she has someone in her life now who genuinely loves her and continually shows up for her AND SHE DOESNT EVEN RECOGNIZE THAT HES WHAT SHES ALWAYS WANTED. It’s like how if an animal lives in darkness for so long it becomes blind, it’s so fucked up

I know she has her own shit she’s dealing with, but I do think it’s especially disappointing how Shauna seems to think Misty has no moral code. As if she does all these insane things for nothing. As if she’s some unique, different level of damaged that’s impossible for any sane person to understand or connect with. She’s right there, Shauna! Remember her? The girl who stepped up to do first aid when the plane first crashed? The girl who helped you deliver your baby? The girl who helped you cover up your love-affair-turned-murder TWICE, once herself and again by proxy through Walter? Who showed up and didn’t even complain when you stuck her with Lottie and Callie?

This is also why Mistynat falls flat for me. All of Misty’s relationships aside from Walter are like this, and Nat was no exception. (I love Shauna Nat and the rest of the gang, don’t get me wrong, I just love Misty more😤)

Everybody needs to get off my boy Walter's back. NO he's not abusing and isolating Misty from her friends, he is very TACTFULLY and CORRECTLY pointing out that they don't give a shit about her because THEY DON'T. They just use her. NO ONE ANSWERED THE CALL FROM HER PHONE UNTIL W.

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2]

me: why don’t I remember some things

also me: OH YEAH L TAKES OVER FOR LIKE 87% of EVERYTHING

[kavehayati]

I cannot fathom the level of self importance some people must have to behave this way

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️