#Manhattan his beloved

[voxiiferous]

**| I’ve spent the last 30 hours or so speed reading through a novel I needed to have read for class tomorrow, but between that (when it doing other class work!) I’ve watched a few of those architecture in cyberpunk videos which are great, and now make me want to do up a whole hc about architecture in the Blue Light District, because logic and genre convention states brutalist, but each time I edge towards that the Vox muse gets touchy.

So clearly Vox can’t be your traditional cyberpunk dystopic corporate dictator because he fucking hates that style of building. Assigned weirdly helpful corporate overlord because of taste in building aesthetic. That’s how it works, right?

[metamatar]

famously, zero nuclear physicists opposed bombing japan to rubble. only macaroni art creators are anti the use/creation/proliferation of nuclear weaponry. so smug. surely no one else but my favourite intelligent amoral scientists actually can think through tradeoffs. wonder what the einstein guy thought about all this after he initially raised the alarm about germany building a bomb.

ofc unless you're a nuclear physicist you deserve no right to talk about whether we should be vaporizing human beings and killing everything left with radiation.

[eir-parade]

doctor who rewatch going great fellas <- person who has cried atleast 7 times and has only just finished series 4

[bloodwrittenletters]

KISS ME ONE MORE TIME

pairing . . . percy jackson x fem!mortal!reader

the cassette playing . . . waiting room! phoebe bridgers

the letter reads . . . perseus jackson was supposed to die at 16, not get a girlfriend who he could break.

warnings . . . angst, cursing ( slightly ), slight nsfw ( making out ), ptsd ( post-traumatic stress disorder ), survivor's guilt, mention of suicidal thoughts

a/n . . . hi guys! sorry it took me a little more than what I said to get it published, I got an emergency and didn't have time to work on it (everything is alright 🫡) I REALLY liked how this turned out, I love the son trio SOSOSO much so of course I had to give them a little mention, hope you all enjoy it!! actual part 2 is on the way, I promise :pp also, this doesn't really follow the canon, so just fyi!!

a continuation of this . . .

percy jackson knew he loved you the moment he laid his eyes on yours.

because they were pretty, full of light and happiness, two orbes made out of pure beauty that were protected by soft eyelashes.

and percy jackson was a sucker for pretty things. or he was a sucker for you in general, because every milestone he had given you with his hear full of hope (because, yes, he had saved a lot of his firsts for only you), or because for the first time in his life, he had allowed himself to want something for himself. only for him.

since he was twelve everything— everyone had told him he was going to die soon, 'you're not gonna make it' 'you're too weak to be the hero of the prophecy' 'you will die alone, just how you started' blah, blah, blah. it didn't matter, he knew he was doomed to die soon, and for a long while, he wanted it, too.

percy started the end of his life at twelve, and by the time he was fourteen he was exhausted.

he worked himself to exhaustion each summer, picking up on more quest (or forcing himself in some, for a little while), not even allowing himself to break after each loss.

luke, chris, bianca, zoë, lee, charlie, silena, ethan...

it was all his fault, they were supposed to live, even if one of them made it out alive, it was his fault they didn't have a better life— the one they deserved.

he lost so many people. and everything in his birthday, like fate wanted to remind him that this was his fault. for all the time where the camp was in Manhattan, he even had forgotten it was his birthday, he was too busy focusing on trying to keep everybody alive to remember his day.

for a moment, percy felt bad for forgetting, and for the next one he just wanted to cry and find his mother. he wanted to be six again and be smothered by sally in Montauk, while they were away from the hell of house that smelly gabe had made.

that couldn't be, though.

percy jackson had found you, passed out on the streets of new york, holding bags of gifts and a boque of blue roses and lilies, all of which you had gotten for him.

"no, no, no, no," he breathed, repeating the word over and over as he laid his hand on your forehead. "please... j-just—" he cut himself off when his thumb rubbed on your pulse point. "you're good, yeah?"

he left a soft kiss on your forehead, before pressing his hear over your heart, sighing when he heard it beat loudly.

listen to me, i'm here, i didn't leave.

percy gently detached your hands from the bags, grinning at your hard grip, as if you didn't want to lose what you've gotten him.

"i'm not taking them from you, sweet girl, let me hold you, please," he whispered to you, holding you up on his chest, and grabbing your things before taking you to the Empire State Building.

if olympus were to fall, it would be after overcoming hundreds of demigods; that was the only safe place for you.

the rest was the usual for a hero, his beloved one waking up to his breakdown and being convinced to date. usual stuff. happens every tuesday in your local divinity show to your favorite sweetheart. you pick it.

he celebrated every day of dating you differently, but all started with soft, gentle kisses.

though, your second month anniversary had gotten... a little heated.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured against your neck, kissing the exact vein he had rubbed to make sure you were alright two months ago. then, he left wet kisses up yor neck and jaw before kissing your mouth. "i'm so grateful for you, baby. so, so grateful."

"pers—"

"what do you need, sweet girl?" percy gently shifted the both of you, grabbing his stuffed penguin and turning it around, before looking at you with a grin. "we don't want to traumatize him," he said as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

there were soft giggles between the two of you, before percy took a hold of your jaw and tilted your head, kissing around your adam's apple with wet lips, gently nipping the skin with his teeth, giving you a tiny smile when you digged your nails into his shoulder, creating soft crescent moons into his skin.

"so, what was it, angel?"

"hush, your lips made me forget."

percy wiped his head out from the crook of your neck, and pressed his big smile against yours.

it was one of his favorite memories with you, one hera couldn't take away from him as well as a lot of his memories.

there were only two things he was able to keep, your name, and the soft memory of your lips.

his only two amulets against all the hardships he faced in the little time he wasn't asleep.

"you should really consider calling home," frank, of course, had called after percy when he was slipping away into the endless pit of loneliness that had grown into his chest.

green eyes met brown ones, and soon percy's eyes had the water his irises imitated.

frank stepped forward and wrapped an arm around percy's body, and then the other, hugging him tightly as he held percy through cries.

"i miss her so much," percy voice was broken and low, yet the words cut through sobs.

"i know you do."

"y-you would love her, and she would love you," percy cried harder. "i.. i'm sorry, frank."

when percy tried to pull away, frank held him tighter.

"you're okay, percy, just cry until you feel a little better."

frank's body was like a living teddy bear, warm and safe, soon percy was gripping the purple shirt as he cried in his friend's shoulder, breaking apart after months— years, of holding it together.

every day for all the months he was missing had taken form of tears, falling and falling through his cheeks, burning his skin as more and more tears fell.

huffs and puffs, sobs and tears, all fell out of percy. soon he fell to his knees, only being held together by frank.

the boys sat on the sidewalk, frank's hand gently patted percy's head, supporting him through everything.

"t-thanks, frank," percy patted the shoulder his head wasn't resting on. "usually i'm good keeping it together."

"me, hazel and that girlfriend of yours are gonna have a talk about you putting too much pressure on yourself."

"what—"

frank pulled two coins from his pocket, like a magic trick, and offered them to percy.

"call home, percy."

percy looked like a fish out of water, an o instead of a mouth as he stumbled over his words, before swallowing them and grabbing the money, to then run over to the closest phone booth.

he punched in the only number he could remember, being the one from the jackson apartment, and hoped with every bit of his soul for his mother to pick up.

for someone to pick up.

"hi?"

percy wasn't expecting your voice, his stomach fell to the floor, feeling his organs creep and drool around his feet.

he opened his mouth, but then closed. once, twice, until your voice revived the line.

"anyone there? is this just some stupid prank?"

it wasn't. percy almost broke down again, gripping the phone tighter.

please, just say something, he begged himself in silence, feeling like he could pass out in a moment.

"i'm going to hang up if you don't talk soon—"

percy finally spoke up, feeling like he could cry.

"hi, baby... i miss you."

"holy shit."

percy laughed, finally hearing your voice, he just wanted you to beg you to keep talking. to never shut up.

percy laughed, more like a breath of relief.

"hi, pretty girl... can you talk?"

"y-you— me— percy, oh my god. where the hell are you?! oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod, i'mgoingtocry."

"uhm... well, it's a long story."

there was sobbing on the other line, and percy's knees went weak. he had to take a long drag of breath to stop himself from crying, too.

"sweetie.. please, don't cry, i'm too far away to hold you."

you composed yourself, hugging tightly the blue bunny you had, tears rolling down your neck. you had to focus on him.

"'kay. percy, my love, where are you? i'll tell annabeth and we'll go get you."

"tell her to tell you about camp, and to come get me from camp jupiter."

"alright... we'll meet you there," and before he could fight you on it, you rushed to your next sentence. "i love you, percy jackson. please don't run off to where i can't find you."

holy shit, indeed.

"i... i love you, too."

[telephonedear]

no because do you ever think about the apollo cabin?

they were one of the biggest cabins, probably second only to hermes’. as the healers and the archers, they were key players in the battle of manhattan. without will solace, annabeth would be dead, and without the cabin as a whole, so many other campers would be, too.

 the archers had to go fight on the front lines, which we literally see in the book. think of how many monsters and demigods they probably fought off- think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there. would camp half blood still have won the war? how many other demigods were on the bridge with michael yew, defending it? how many of them died when it collapsed? did they get confused in the midst of the battle field and shoot eachother?

and the healers. gods. not only were they working in the building, but it’s likely that they were in the midst of battle, too. many of them were probably sent out to try and save and revive campers all across the city, or offer ambrosia and what little supplies they had left. healers are made to protect, and so that is what they did. think of how many demigods they must have saved, and then think of how many healers probably died saving the lives of their friends.

but the apollo cabin was full of dreamers. they prioritize art and poetry and music. they were dancers, mediators, idealists. they were creators and lovers. the apollo cabin was a light around camp, and kept camp half blood together. they were the glue. they saved olympus and all demigods in the war, and held them together all throughout it, until the end.

the apollo cabin lost the most campers of any cabin, because they were there. they were present. so many of them died with a bow in hand, defending olympus and camp half blood. so many of them died while pushing campers out of the way from attacks, while giving stitches or ambrosia. think of how terrified they must have been, knowing that they wouldn’t return back to their cabin. think of all the bodies that littered manhattan in the aftermath, and then think of how many of those bodies belonged to the apollo cabin. think of apollo, when he saw his children, his beautiful, lovely children, radiating light in death. his beloved children, who knew the risks and chose to save, to heal, to love, to hope.

without the apollo cabin, kronos would have won the war. the apollo cabin went from one of the biggest cabins to one of the smallest. they were, undoubtedly, some of the bravest demigods alive. they gave their lives saving those who couldn’t save themselves, and i think that it is tragic.

[boujiestpoet]

STARCROSSED

SOCIAL MEDIA/NEWS chapter 1: Appaled

NEXT CHAPTER.

MASTERLIST

Summary: Two people and the rest of the world discover that their partners ain't shit

FACECLAIM: The extraordinary Tems

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE CHARACTERS DOES NOT REFLECT THE REAL PERSONALITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL UPON WHOM THEY ARE BASED. I AM MERELY BORROWING THEIR PHYSICAL LIKENESS AND THE PROFESSION THEY HAVE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS NARRATIVE

TW: Cringiness from the writer, grammatical errors (have mercy english is my semi firsr language)

Heartbreak in Hollywood: Renee Bennett’s Devastating Betrayal by Boyfriend Ben Field and Best Friend Leah Dawn

By: Sarah Caldwell | Celebrity Insider

In a shocking twist that has left fans reeling, beloved actress Renee Bennett has found herself at the center of a scandal that could rival any of her on-screen dramas. The star of the upcoming epic “Northern Winds” has been blindsided by the ultimate betrayal—her boyfriend, model Ben Field, and her best friend, influencer Leah Dawn, were caught in a scandalous embrace that no one saw coming.

The Scandal Unfolds: A Shocking Revelation

Renee Bennett, who recently returned from a grueling five-month shoot in Norway, had been looking forward to reuniting with her boyfriend, Ben Field. The couple, who had been dating for nearly two years, were widely regarded as one of the most stable pairs in the industry. But all that came crashing down when Ben and Leah were spotted kissing in New York City, a moment that has sent shockwaves through Hollywood.

Paparazzi captured the scandalous moment late last week, with Ben and Leah sharing a passionate kiss outside an upscale Manhattan restaurant. The photographs, which quickly went viral, have left fans in disbelief and sparked a media frenzy. To make matters worse, Renee had just returned to the U.S., believing she was coming home to her loving boyfriend—only to discover this devastating betrayal.

Best Friend Betrayal: Leah Dawn’s Double Life

What makes this betrayal even more heartbreaking is that Leah Dawn wasn’t just any woman—she was Renee’s closest confidante. The two had been inseparable for years, often seen vacationing together and supporting each other through the ups and downs of fame. Leah, a well-known social media influencer, had built her brand on the image of friendship and loyalty, making this act of treachery all the more shocking.

Leah Dawn was also dating F1 driver Charles Leclerc, a relationship that had its own share of drama. Rumors swirled that Charles was on the verge of proposing to Leah, but according to a recent blind item, his mother was reportedly not in favor of the union. The news of Leah’s infidelity has now thrown that relationship into question, leaving fans to wonder if the engagement is now off the table.

Renee’s Response: Silence Speaks Volumes

Since the scandal broke, Renee Bennett has maintained a dignified silence. Friends of the actress describe her as “heartbroken” and “utterly blindsided” by the betrayal. Renee, who has always been known for her professionalism and grace, is reportedly focusing on her career and taking time to process the situation away from the public eye.

“Renee is devastated,” a close friend revealed. “She never imagined that the two people she trusted most would betray her like this. Right now, she’s just trying to come to terms with what happened and figure out her next steps.”

Where Do They Stand? The Aftermath for All Involved

As for Ben Field and Leah Dawn, neither has made a public statement about the scandal. However, insiders suggest that both are facing significant fallout. Ben’s modeling contracts may be in jeopardy as brands distance themselves from the drama, and Leah has lost a significant number of followers on social media as the public turns against her.

Charles Leclerc has remained silent amid the scandal, leaving fans wondering about the status of his relationship with Leah. The F1 driver has not been seen with Leah since the photos emerged, and sources close to the couple suggest that the situation has left him reeling. With rumors of a potential engagement now in doubt, it’s unclear whether Charles will continue his relationship with Leah or if this scandal has irreparably damaged their romance.

A Love Story Shattered

This heartbreaking turn of events has left fans and Hollywood insiders alike questioning how such a betrayal could happen. Renee Bennett, who has always been the picture of strength and grace, now finds herself facing one of the most challenging moments of her life. As she navigates this painful chapter, her fans are rallying behind her, offering support and urging her to stay strong.

While the future remains uncertain for all involved, one thing is clear: Renee Bennett’s story is far from over. This betrayal may have shattered her trust, but it has also shown the world just how resilient she truly is. And as she steps into the next phase of her career, all eyes will be on Renee to see how she rises above the heartbreak and emerges stronger than ever.

Author's Note: And I'm back as I promised how do you find the social media chapters, advices are always welcome

[queers-gambit]

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[incorrect-gravescest]

(artist source)

💚: Once again, I am in awe of how the stupidest fucking ideas from you somehow work out in the end.

🩷: I told you! The Lucky Lannister Casino is so big that there's no way they can ensure that everyone on the floor is an employee. Now we can keep all the tips we make and get free food and drinks all day long!

💚: But you're not even old enough to drink or gamble!

🩷: Ashley Graves isn't old enough, no. But my driver's license says that Angela Vasquez is 23.

💚: Great. So we're trespassing, I'm dressed like the lovechild of a train conductor and a mime and you have a fake ID so you can dress like a Playboy Bunny and walk around with a tray and offer horny fat guys free Manhattans in the VIP section. I swear, if one of those pudgy bastards lays a hand on you...

🩷: No need to get your hands dirty, beloved. Have you seen the bouncer in the VIP lounge? It's this seven foot monster of a man who's a solid wall of muscle. His name is Hanz. No last name. He never talks or smiles, just watches me and the other girls to make sure we're okay. Anyway, I think our break is up. The CEO of Toxicola is celebrating his 75th birthday in the VIP Lounge and I heard he tips good, so I have to make sure Manson and Dahmer look their best. You should probably get back to the Shits Table.

💚: Craps! It's called Craps!

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Xo Xo Gossip Girl

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Gossip Blogger! Reader

Part 1

a:n The way I find myself digging for the perfect chapter gif only to scroll for five minutes and save my favorites is so embarrassing. I'm gonna need his girlfriend to hand over that game card... anyway hope u like this chapter.

word count - 4k

Masterlist Link

GIF by wyattjohnston

...

HOCKEY HEARTBREAK: THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE HUGHES-DEGREGIO SPLIT

Posted by Y/N @ The Daily Whisper | 11:42 PM

Settle in, Whisper Warriors, because do I have some piping hot tea for you tonight.

You know those moments when the universe just hands you the story of the year? Well, last Saturday at Vibe, somewhere between my second cosmopolitan and watching Matt Rempe fail at dancing (yes, that's tea for another day), I quite literally bumped into none other than Serena DeGregio. And let me tell you, after a few shots of liquid courage, Hollywood's newest "it girl" was ready to spill everything about her recent split from hockey's favorite bad boy, Jack Hughes.

Now, we've all seen the headlines: "Hockey Heartthrob and Rising Star Call It Quits." But the real story? It's juicier than your mom's Thanksgiving turkey.

According to Serena, our beloved hockey star couldn't handle being the second name in the relationship. While she was booking Netflix specials and selling out concert venues, Jack was sidelined with a shoulder injury that kept him off the ice for three months. And apparently, watching your girlfriend's face on every billboard in Times Square does things to a man's ego.

"He's still stuck in that high school hockey star mentality," Serena told me, twirling the olive in her martini. "You know the type – peaked at eighteen, never had to grow up because everything came easy."

But here's where I have to play devil's advocate (and maybe it's because I've seen those ice-blue eyes up close at press events). Having covered Jack's career since his rookie year, there's more to him than Serena's bitter pill would have you swallow. This is the same guy who started a youth hockey program in underprivileged neighborhoods. The same player who spent his injury rehab volunteering at children's hospitals. And let's be real – anyone who's seen him handle a puck knows he definitely hasn't peaked.

Maybe it's the journalist in me, but something about this story feels... incomplete. There's always two sides to every breakup, isn't there?

Update coming soon... if I can track down Mr. Hughes for his side of the story 😉

...

Y/N stretched back in her purple velvet office chair, admiring her latest post on the screen. Her "lair," as she liked to call it, was her happy place – fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, framed magazine covers featuring her biggest stories adorning the coral-painted walls, and her trusty mini-fridge humming softly in the corner, stocked with Diet Coke and chocolate-covered almonds.

The story was already gaining traction, comments pinging faster than she could read them. Her phone buzzed – Alyssa's face lighting up the screen. Y/N smiled, knowing her best friend had probably already devoured every word. As the head of corporate sponsorships at Manhattan's largest sports marketing firm, Alyssa always had the best insider information – and opinions to match.

"Y/N! Have you lost your mind?" Alyssa didn't even wait for a hello. "That post about Jack and Serena is everywhere! My entire office is buzzing about it. The PR team for the Rangers is having a field day."

"Good evening to you too, bestie." Y/N spun lazily in her chair, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

"Never mind pleasantries. I have information that's going to make your next post even bigger." Y/N could hear the smile in her voice. "You know that charity gala at The Plaza next weekend? The one my firm is coordinating with?"

Y/N threw her head back and groaned dramatically. The motion made her neck crack, and she absently rubbed it while whining, "Don't rub it in. I've been trying to get press credentials for weeks. Even my usual connections couldn't get me in."

"Well, guess who's not only attending but is being honored for his youth hockey program?"

Y/N shot forward so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall, rattling her framed cover of Time Magazine. "Jack Hughes."

"Bingo. And since I'm basically running the whole event..." Alyssa paused for dramatic effect. "I happen to have an extra ticket with your name on it. Perks of being best friends with someone who has to make sure all the corporate sponsors play nice with their hockey darlings."

"Shut up!" Y/N leaped out of her chair, nearly tripping over her discarded shoes in excitement. She caught herself on the edge of her desk, sending a stack of press releases flying. "Alyssa Martinez, you beautiful genius! How did you swing that?"

"Let's just say I convinced the foundation board that having an influential blogger there would be good publicity for their youth programs." Alyssa's voice took on a more serious tone. "Though after this post, I might have some explaining to do. You better make this worth it."

Y/N's heart raced as she glanced at her blog post still glowing on the screen, her mind already spinning with possibilities. "Trust me, this is going to be the story of the year."

"I'm counting on it. My reputation is on the line here too, you know. These athletes might be my clients, but you're my best friend. Don't make me regret mixing the two."

"Have I ever let you down before?" Y/N was already opening her notes app, fingers flying across the keyboard.

"There's a first time for everything," Alyssa teased. "So, are you ready to get the other side of the story?"

...

One Week Later

Y/N stood before her full-length mirror, smoothing down the silk of her black dress. Beside her, Alyssa was applying a final coat of mascara, her own black dress a perfect complement with its off-shoulder design.

"Stop overthinking it," Alyssa said, catching Y/N's distant expression in the mirror. "I can literally see the gears turning in your head."

Y/N sighed, fiddling with her delicate silver necklace. The blog post about Jack and Serena had exploded over the past week, becoming her most viral story to date. But something about it had been nagging at her, keeping her up at night as she replayed Serena's words in her mind.

"It's just..." Y/N paused, carefully considering her words. "What if we got it wrong? What if Serena isn't the victim she's making herself out to be?"

Alyssa raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you second-guess a source?"

"Since something doesn't add up." Y/N moved to her vanity, pretending to touch up her subtle smoky eye while her thoughts raced. "I've been doing some digging. Every charity event, every hospital visit, every youth program – Jack Hughes doesn't publicize any of it. His team's PR doesn't even push it. What kind of attention-seeking bad boy does good deeds and keeps them quiet?"

"So you think Serena's lying?"

"I think..." Y/N turned to face her friend, determination settling over her features. "I think she's a scorned ex trying to control the narrative. And maybe... maybe I helped her do it."

Alyssa's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And this sudden crisis of conscience has nothing to do with those ice-blue eyes you mentioned in your post?"

"This isn't about that," Y/N protested, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "This is about the truth. The real story." She grabbed her clutch, checking one last time that her phone and recorder were inside. "Every good journalist knows there are two sides to every story. It's time I found out his."

"Well then," Alyssa linked their arms together, leading them toward the door. "Let's go get your story, Lois Lane."

As they stepped into the waiting car, Y/N's mind was already racing with possibilities. She'd built her career on exposing the truth, even when it wasn't pretty. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she wasn't just chasing a story – she was chasing redemption. And maybe, just maybe, she'd find out who the real Jack Hughes was in the process.

The Plaza Hotel beckoned in the distance, its lights twinkling against the Manhattan skyline like a beacon. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. Bad boy or misunderstood hero, she was going to find out the truth – even if it meant admitting she got it wrong the first time.

...

Jack's pov

Jack's knee wouldn't stop bouncing under the pristine white tablecloth, making the water in his parents' glasses ripple like tiny earthquakes. Luke, ever the annoying little brother, flicked his ear.

"Dude, you're making the whole table shake. What's got you so worked up?" Luke's grin was nothing short of devilish. "Could it be a certain viral blog post about your 'high school mentality'?"

Jack pinched the sensitive spot under Luke's bicep, earning a satisfying yelp. "Shut up, man. At least I didn't trip over my own skates at practice yesterday."

"Boys," Ellen Hughes' warning tone cut through their bickering. She smoothed her navy dress with one hand while giving them both the look – the one that had stopped many locker room fights in their youth. "You're at a charity gala, not the rink. Act like grown men, please?"

"Yes, Mom," they chorused in unison, sharing a quick grin that made their father Jim chuckle behind his menu.

Jack let out a heavy breath, tugging at his bow tie. It felt too tight, like everything else lately – the press, the expectations, the endless questions about Serena. His leg started bouncing again.

"That's it." He pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "I need a drink."

"Water," his mother called after him. "You have a speech to give!"

Jack waved in acknowledgment, weaving through the sea of evening gowns and tuxedos. His shoulder twinged – phantom pain from the injury that had started this whole mess. Or maybe it was just his body's reaction to stress. The blog post had been everywhere this week, his phone blowing up with messages from teammates asking if he'd seen it.

He had. Multiple times. Each read made him want to throw his phone into the Hudson.

Reaching the bar, he slumped against the polished marble, pressing his forehead to the cool surface for just a moment. "Water, please," he groaned to the bartender. "Still, not sparkling."

"Trouble in paradise?"

The voice was unfamiliar, tinged with curiosity and something else he couldn't quite place. Jack lifted his head to find a woman in a black dress perched on the barstool next to him, stirring what looked like a cosmopolitan with delicate fingers. She wasn't looking at him directly, but he could see the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Before he could respond, a flash of red appeared in his peripheral vision, and he had to fight the urge to groan out loud.

"Jackie!" The voice was unmistakable – Rebekah Chen, Page Six's most persistent reporter. Her red dress matched her lipstick, both as bold as her personality. She latched onto his arm like a barnacle, fake nails digging into his jacket. "I've been trying to reach you all week!"

Jack threw his head back, closing his eyes as if that might make her disappear. "Not today, Rebekah," he muttered, feeling every muscle in his jaw tense. His hand curled around the water glass the bartender had just set down, knuckles white.

"Oh, come on!" She pressed closer, her voice dropping to what she probably thought was a seductive whisper. "Just a few questions. I can help you clear the air about that nasty blog post. Make that gossip guru eat her words." She batted her eyelashes. "All I need is a teensy exclusive about what really happened with Serena."

Jack's laugh was hollow as he extracted his arm from her grip. "Right, because that worked out so well the last time." He took a long drink of water, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to maintain his composure. "No comment, Rebekah. Same as yesterday, and the day before that, and—"

"But Jackie—"

"Not happening." Jack's voice was firm as steel. "There's nothing to say, Rebekah. Not to you, not to anyone."

Rebekah huffed, her red lips turning down into a pout. She opened her mouth to protest again, but something in Jack's expression must have finally gotten through. With a dramatic sigh and flip of her hair, she clicked away on her stilettos, no doubt in search of easier prey.

Jack's shoulders dropped as tension bled out of them. He turned back to the bar, catching the mystery woman in black watching him in the mirror behind the bottles. When their eyes met, she didn't look away.

"That happen often?" she asked, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.

Jack let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his carefully styled hair. "More than I'd like. Apparently, 'no comment' is journalist-speak for 'try harder.'" He paused, studying her reflection. "Though you don't seem like the pushy type."

"Maybe I'm just better at playing the long game." The corner of her mouth quirked up, and she turned to face him properly. "Besides, the real story usually isn't found in ambushing someone at a bar."

"Exactly." He found himself leaning against the bar, angling toward her. There was something about her that made him want to keep talking. "Like this blog post that went viral this week. Everyone's got an opinion about who I am, what I did wrong, but—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you probably haven't even seen it."

She hummed noncommittally, that almost-smile playing on her lips again. "I might have caught it. Though I tend to be more interested in the stories that don't make headlines."

"Like what?"

"Like why a professional hockey player spends his injury rehab teaching kids to skate in Harlem instead of lounging on some beach somewhere."

Jack blinked, caught off guard. He'd been careful about keeping that quiet. "How did you—"

"Just someone who pays attention," she said, gathering her clutch. "The real story isn't always the loudest one, is it?"

Before Jack could process what she meant, Luke's voice carried across the room. "Jack! Mom says get back here. Speech time!"

The woman in black slid off her barstool with practiced grace. "Sounds like you're needed elsewhere."

"Wait," Jack said, suddenly not wanting her to disappear into the crowd. "I didn't catch your name."

"Y/N," she offered, and for a moment, her smile was full and genuine. "Good luck with your speech, Jack.”

She moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume lingering. Jack found himself watching her weave through the crowd, his mind replaying their conversation. There had been something different about her – the way she'd asked questions without really asking them, how she'd known about his volunteer work but hadn't tried to use it against him like Rebekah would have.

"Dude." Luke appeared at his elbow, poking him in the ribs. "Stop staring into space. Mom's going to kill us both if you're late for your own award."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Jack followed his brother back to their table, but his eyes kept scanning the crowd. He spotted her finally, sliding into a seat near the back beside another woman in black. As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up, raising her cosmopolitan in a small salute.

For the first time in weeks, Jack felt himself genuinely smile.

...

"...and with your continued support, we can make sure every kid who wants to play hockey has that chance, regardless of their circumstances. Thank you."

The ballroom erupted in applause. Jack's shoulders relaxed slightly – public speaking had never been his favorite part of the job, but at least this speech was about something that mattered.

Near the back of the room, Y/N leaned toward Alyssa. "We should go," she whispered, gathering her clutch. "We're not gonna get anything else tonight."

Alyssa nodded, already standing. "At least the champagne was good."

They slipped out as the crowd continued clapping, their heels clicking against the marble floors of The Plaza's ornate lobby. Y/N's mind was already spinning with how she'd write this up – not the puff piece everyone would expect, but something different. Something true.

"Y/N!"

The call echoed through the lobby, making her freeze mid-step. That voice – she'd just been listening to it give a speech about youth hockey programs and second chances.

She turned slowly, Alyssa's hand gripping her arm in surprise. Jack Hughes was jogging toward them, bow tie slightly askew, still slightly breathless from his speech. His hair was ruffled like he'd been running his hands through it, and there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there at the bar.

"I—" he started, then seemed to realize he was still slightly out of breath. His hand came up to rest gently on her bare arm, the touch surprisingly warm. "Hey."

Y/N's eyebrows rose. "Hey yourself. Shouldn't you be back there accepting congratulations?"

He waved his free hand dismissively, though he didn't move the one on her arm. "They'll survive without me for a few minutes." His ice-blue eyes darted between her and Alyssa, a mix of nervousness and determination crossing his features. "You should come out with us. Both of you," he added quickly, offering Alyssa a genuine smile. "My teammates are headed to this bar just down the street. Nothing fancy, just... drinks. And conversation."

The way he said 'conversation' made Y/N's pulse quicken. There was weight behind it, meaning she couldn't quite decipher.

"I don't know," she started, but Alyssa cut her off.

"We'd love to," her supposed best friend said, ignoring Y/N's sharp look. "Lead the way, Hughes."

Jack's face broke into a grin that transformed his entire appearance. Gone was the serious hockey player from the podium, replaced by something younger, lighter. "Great! I just need to grab Luke and dodge my parents." He squeezed Y/N's arm gently before letting go. "Don't leave, okay? Five minutes, tops."

He was already backing away, that grin still in place. "Wait for me," he called out, just before turning.

Y/N waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Alyssa. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you the real story," Alyssa smirked, already typing on her phone. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She thought about Jack's smile, the warmth of his hand on her arm, the way he'd said 'conversation' like he was offering something more than just drinks and small talk.

"Five minutes," she conceded, trying not to smile at Alyssa's triumphant expression. "But if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

"Honey," Alyssa linked their arms, steering them toward the bar's entrance. "Something tells me this is going to be the best story you've ever written."

...

The bass thrummed through Y/N's bones as they approached the club, the line wrapping around the building like a snake. Jack stayed close to her side, his presence warm and solid as they bypassed the queue entirely.

"Mr. Hughes," the security guard nodded, unhooking the velvet rope without hesitation. "Welcome back."

Inside, bodies packed the dance floor, but Jack navigated them through the crowd with practiced ease. His hand ghosted over Y/N's lower back, guiding her through the maze of people until they reached a raised section cordoned off with another rope. Several men Y/N recognized from hockey highlights were sprawled across the plush booths, drinks already flowing.

"Look who finally made it!" Luke called out, now free of his bow tie and jacket. "We were starting to think Mom trapped you in conversation with the Vanderbilts again."

"Barely escaped," Jack laughed, helping Y/N up the small steps before following. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Alyssa."

The team welcomed them warmly, shuffling to make space. Y/N found herself wedged between Jack and the booth's arm, hyperaware of every point where their bodies touched. Her notebook felt like it was burning a hole in her clutch.

"I'm telling you," one of the players – Miller, according to his heated gesture at his teammate – was saying, "game seven, '94 Finals. Best hockey game ever played."

"You weren't even born yet!" Another player – Thompson – argued back. "2010 Olympics, Canada versus USA. That's peak hockey right there."

"You're both wrong," Luke interjected, leaning forward. "2018 World Juniors, outdoor game. Nothing beats playing in actual snow."

"That's because you scored the winning goal, you biased little shit," Jack laughed, his arm sliding naturally along the booth behind Y/N. The movement brought him closer, his cologne mixing with the lingering scent of his aftershave.

"What about you?" he asked, turning those blue eyes on her. "You follow hockey long?"

"My dad used to play," she found herself saying truthfully. "Nothing professional, just beer league, but he loved it. Taught me to skate before I could walk."

Something in Jack's expression softened. "Mine too. Well, him and my mom..." He shifted, angling toward her more fully. "It's different now though, isn't it? The pressure. Everyone watching, waiting for you to mess up. Luke and Quinn, they get it, but we're barely home at the same time anymore. Summer's all we got, really. And even then..." He trailed off, vulnerability flickering across his features in the dim light.

Y/N's chest tightened. This wasn't the cocky player from the tabloids or the bitter ex-boyfriend from Serena's story. This was just... Jack. Raw and real and trusting her with pieces of himself she had no right to.

"I need a drink," she blurted, already sliding out of the booth. "Excuse me."

She practically fled to the bar, gripping the edge of it when she reached it. "Whiskey sour," she managed when the bartender looked her way. "Strong."

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

She turned to find Rebekah Chen stumbling slightly, clearly several drinks in. Her red dress was slightly askew, her lipstick smudged at one corner.

"Is Jack here?!" Rebekah's voice pitched high with excitement.

"No," Y/N said firmly, accepting her drink from the bartender. "He's not."

"Ugh." Rebekah deflated, then perked up again almost instantly. "But oh my god, you'll never believe what Serena told me about him." She leaned in conspiratorially, alcohol heavy on her breath. "He's a total player. Like, major cheater. She said he was always sliding into girls' DMs when they were together, coming to places like this..." She gestured around the club. "Getting with random girls behind her back."

Y/N's eyes widened despite herself. The Jack she'd just left didn't seem capable of that kind of betrayal, but...

"Yeah!" Rebekah pressed on, encouraged by Y/N's reaction. "Serena has receipts too. Screenshots, dates, everything. She's just waiting for the right moment to release them." She swayed slightly. "Guess the golden boy isn't so golden after all, right?"

Y/N's drink suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Behind her, she could hear Jack's laugh carrying over the music, warm and genuine. She thought about how carefully he'd helped her through the crowd, how softly he'd spoken about his brothers.

How absolutely screwed she was if she was starting to believe in him.

...

Tag List <3

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[theonion]

NEW YORK—With the beloved characters joyously sharing the warmth of Yuletide cheer as snow fell gently upon Manhattan, HBO’s hit drama Succession concluded Sunday with the Roy family saving Christmas. “After years of sibling squabbles over who would take the throne at Waystar Royco, the hit series has elegantly stuck the landing with an episode that follows Kendall, Shiv, and Roman after they discover that recently deceased family patriarch Logan Roy was not only their father, but Father Christmas himself—and that his passing meant there would be no Christmas unless they could set aside their differences to deliver presents to the world’s children,” wrote New York Times TV critic Miranda Lawrence, praising the way the Roys finally accepted the spirit of the season and gave up their riches to make sure the Christmas wishes of all little boys and girls came true.

Full story.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Mbissine Thérèse Diop (Black Girl)—She’s a Senegalese actress known for starring in Black Girl, one of the first African films to receive international attention/acclaim. So much of the movie relies on her ability to convey her character’s sense of isolation/loneliness, she’s so amazing, I really wish she had acted more. However, she just recently appeared in the film Cuties!

Myrna Loy (The Thin Man, Manhattan Melodrama, Mr Blandings Builds his Dream House)—Started out a slinky silent screen vamp. Became a screwball lead who had a blast drinking, being married to William Powell, solving mysteries, and taking her dog everywhere in the Thin Man Movies. Broke our hearts in The Best Years of Our Lives and played a string of dream wives. Remained hot the entire time. Decades of hotness.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Mbissine Thérèse Diop:

Myrna Loy:

Myrna Loy excelled at playing coy women, so common in screwball comedies in the 40s. She batted her lashes, and shrugged with grace, and made her costars look like foolish heels next to her. She charmed with sneaky elegance, well-placed pouting, and repartee. Besides, she was sultry AF.

While Myrna certainly looked hot in some her earlier vampy exotic bad girl roles, I think shes hottest when her comedic chops got to be displayed. Her dry wit, comedic timing, and subtle facial expressions make her the queen of deadpan snark.

She's just very Mother

So beautiful and popular she was crowned Queen of the Movies in 1936, Myrna Loy was also an amazing actress. She's best remembered for The Thin Man and sequels, where she gets to show off her comedy skills, adding irresistible impish charm to her classic beauty and dancer's figure.

THE SASS

One of the few actresses who managed to successfully transition from silent to talkies, never won an Oscar but was at one time the highest paid woman in Hollywood. Advocated for better roles and pay for Black actors in the 1930s, so passionately anti-Nazi in the 40s she made Hitler's blacklist, spoke out against Joseph McCarthy during the Red Scare, and advocated for fair housing in the 1950s and 1960s, all while being hot as fuck opposite William Powell, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy and a whole galaxy of the Hot Vintage Men Poll all-stars.

Cute as a button with so much RIZZ! She and whatsisname in The Thin Man are relationship goals.

She was literally called the Queen of Hollywood! She is so sassy and funny in the whole Thin Man series. Absolutely hot in those, and who doesn’t love a woman who can laugh? She had the sultriest gaze and that style! Also before she was a star she sat as the model for an iconic statue for a school (representing “Fountain of Education”).

the glamour!! the banter!! the comedy!!

She's got this cute kinda scrunched up face AND shes funny AND shes got a bangin body.

[floralcyanidee]

ɪ sᴇᴇ ғɪʀᴇ - ᴊ. ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴏᴘᴘᴇɴʜᴇɪᴍᴇʀ

Cillian!Oppenheimer x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

request: scientist reader and Oppenheimer have sm sexual tension between them and trying to hide their feelings for each other cause they're colleagues but then when the Manhattan Project comes up and they both work on it together it just gets too much to handle. by @aporiasposts

disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. cillian's representation of oppenheimer is also fictional to a degree. if you dislike this kind of fanfiction, please keep scrolling and do not interact with this post. otherwise, have a lovely day. ♥

warnings: smut, penetrative sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple positions used, mutual pining, years of sexual tension

word count: 2090

author’s note: please read the disclaimer several times if you must before you decide to comment something snarky or send a dense anonymous ask. (: this is my first time writing smut for Robert so it was interesting!! I rather enjoyed it and I think I'm going to finish the other smut I was going to write for him. also, I changed the request details a little. reader is a historian/ political scientist of sorts instead of a scientist. I feel like there is a lot of scientist!reader fics out there and wanted to be a little different haha. I hope everyone enjoys!

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Having a doctorate in history has led you to places you never thought possible. One of those places ended up being the University of California - Berkeley. You were given the opportunity to lecture there with some of the brightest minds in the country- one of them being physicist Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer. Your disciplines differed but had the same solid foundation of facts, evidence, and logic. Needing to see things to believe it for yourself was one thing the two of you had in common, which brought you together. You were interested in his lectures and as he was yours. Both of you have learned a lot from each other and have become good friends. However, there were times when you would interact, and it felt intense. You’d grade papers together in comfortable silence, sometimes stealing glances at one another. Whenever you caught Robert staring, you’d give him a small, knowing smile. When he caught you staring, he’d hold your gaze, which made you nervous. 

You enjoyed attending Robert’s political discussions after class to see how passionate he was about current issues. Dr. Lawrence, your other beloved colleague, often warned you to avoid them, but you ignored him. The energy you’d feel toward Robert every time he’d rant about how every person deserves the freedom and the right to choose was electric. It was the very basis of your beliefs as a historian and a professor. The two of you would often go for a cigarette in the courtyard between classes to enjoy the fresh air and discuss politics. Robert loved hearing your stance on things, especially since you knew your stuff about the history of politics and how things work with them. The tensions were high that day, and before you knew it, Robert leaned into you as you spoke. But before anything could happen, it was time for classes to resume. So you went your respective ways. 

When you were contacted by the government to assist on a top-secret project, you were shocked. They needed your expertise in politics and history, as well as your reading and writing skills. You asked if Robert would be involved due to his talent in psychics, but you got no answer. You didn’t take long to learn of Dr. Lawrence’s involvement in the project, and you were ecstatic to have someone you knew tagging along. He was worried about Robert not being present for the Manhattan Project simply because of his mutual and close friends being communists. You insisted you’d speak to Robert about the matter, but Ernest objected. However, after a meeting about the Spanish Revolution that Robert had held, Ernest blew up on him. He mentioned there was a project and that Robert wasn’t allowed on it as long as he was sticking his nose in communist politics. So, Robert stopped the meetings, and sure enough, General Leslie Groves eventually poked his way into Robert’s office one afternoon to discuss the Project. 

Now, the three of you were involved and had to leave Berkeley. Robert quickly assumed the position of Project leader and already had a location picked out for the Project headquarters. You had heard many stories of this location from him and demanded he take you to it before construction began. You and Robert left Berkeley and traveled to Los Alamos via horse, talking and laughing the whole time about your childhoods and times in school. You both decided to camp there overnight and enjoy the desert and its beautiful sky before dealing with the most significant project in human history. As you sat by the fire that night with Robert, you stared at the sky in wonder. Robert watched you with just as much wonder, enjoying seeing you smile. Because pretty soon, there wouldn’t be much to smile about.

By the time you had moved into Los Alamos and started getting to work, the tension between you and Robert was becoming impalpable. The camping trip solidified whatever was going on between you two- even if it was nothing at all as of right now. Robert ensured you were at every meeting so you could give your two cents if it was needed; you were the brains and the empathy of the project. Gen. Groves admired you for it because no matter how steep the project was getting, you never once panicked or got in over your head. He also admired how you managed to keep your hands off Robert despite how you looked at him. And one day, he mentioned it to you.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get out of here?” Gen. Groves asked you one day during a field test.

“Oh, uh,” you hadn’t given it much thought, “I’m not sure. Probably continue lecturing.”

“No one special in your life you want to be with?” Groves asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Not really,” you mumbled sadly, your eyes glanced over at Robert, “Not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe once all of this is over, you can pursue them,” Groves suggested knowingly, “We’re so close now. It won’t be long.”

You nodded, seeing that he knew who was on your mind just by how he studied you, “Maybe.”

After all the hard work and growing sexual tension over the tedious years at Los Alamos, the bubble separating you and Robert finally burst the morning of the Trinity Test. The test was a success, and Robert was basking in the afterglow. Everything from getting his hand shaken to being carried by the crowd of excited and ecstatic workers- it brought him some relief. There’s always sunshine before the rain. 

You invited Robert over to your quaint house on the outskirts of Los Alamos for your nightly glass of wine, but this time it was heavier. It was more meaningful because you finally accomplished what you’d been working so hard for. When Robert sat next to you on the chaise next to the fireplace, his leg touched yours. The sexual energy was like a thick, wet blanket. You took large gulps of your wine as Robert’s eyes stared into yours, his glass pressed to his lips with slower sips.

“I can’t believe it’s all over,” you shook your head.

“Me either.”

“What do we do now? What’s life after this going to be like?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Robert had set his wine down on the floor, “But I’m sure about something else.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, polishing off your drink.

“You.”

You slowly sat back up after putting your empty glass on the floor by your feet, “Me?”

“Yes,” Robert paused, “Ever since I met you, I’ve wanted you in ways I can’t explain. And I can usually explain anything.”

You chuckled at that, nodding in agreement, “That you can.”

Robert leaned in, and your smile faltered. His hand reached up to touch your cheek gently, his thumb pushing some of your hair out of the way. Your eyes fluttered shut as you waited with bated breath for Robert to finally, finally kiss you. It had been years of waiting now. And the second his lips pressed to yours, all that time seemed to drift away. There was an explosion in your chest at the feeling of Robert pressing against you on the chaise, pushing you down onto its cushions. His coat and tie have long since been discarded, so all you have to do is worry at the buttons of his shirt with your shaking fingers. Eventually, you get the shirt opened and off his slender frame as it hovered over you. Robert let his skillful tongue slip past your lips with ease, exploring every centimeter of your mouth. How you had longed for this moment.

“Need you, Robert,” you pulled away for air and sighed as his hands pushed up your legs and underneath your dress, “Always have.”

“I’m here, darling. I’m here now.”

Robert shoved the skirt of your dress over your hips and stomach, revealing your slowly soaking white and dainty underwear. He hummed in satisfaction when his finger circled the wet spot at your entrance, causing a moan to leave your lips.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, pulling down your underwear without hesitation.

“Yes,” you said bravely, “Now, nothing fancy tonight. We have plenty of time for other things, but for now, I need you inside me.”

“Alright then,” Robert chuckles, hastily unbuckling his slacks before pushing them far enough down his legs to be comfortable.

He glided his tip along your slickness, gathering all he could to push inside you with less friction. You whined at the contact, a wanton moan escaping you suddenly as he moved into you at a patient pace. But you were anything but patient, especially at this point. You pushed your hips, causing Robert to enter you further, to which he let out a delicious groan. His hands gripped your sides intensely, sure to leave bruises tomorrow. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth baring down into the skin as he felt you suck his cock in. 

“Wanted- needed this for so long,” Robert whispered in your ear as his tip finally brushed against your insides.

“God, me too,” you cried out when he slowly pulled back out and then slammed back into you, “Fuck.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” Robert tutted playfully, to which you flashed him a smile, moving your hips to wiggle him further inside you.

Robert had thrust himself into you again, this time a little faster than the last. He kept doing this until he had a steady rhythm, lifting your legs to put on his shoulders to get a better angle. You growled at the sensation of him hitting your cervix, and your hands scratched down his back. Robert picked up speed, almost making the chaise scoot on the floor. He was fucking you like mad, and you were taking every second of it like his cock was water and you were thirsting in the desert. In this situation, the figure of speech wasn’t too far from the truth. The feeling of him repeatedly steering into your stomach made you nearly squeal from pleasure. Robert presses your thighs to your shoulders, the undersides of them against his chest. You were a mess, moaning like a whore and gripping Robert as if you blinked hard enough, he’d disappear.

“Taking me like such a good girl,” Robert grunted, moving a hand to your cunt to swipe at your clit in time with his thrusts.

You tossed your head back, crying out at the sensation. No one had ever fucked you with such vigor and passion. You felt that growing bubble in your gut, expecting it to burst any second.

“Cum in me,” you demanded, “Need to feel you.”

Robert laughed breathlessly at you, “Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

And as if he weren’t going fast enough, he pulled out, flipped you over, and took you from behind even faster than before. Robert pushed your cheek into the chaise cushion, watching you as you side-eyed him with utmost pleasure. You could feel yourself clenching around him, your orgasm creeping up. Robert pushed your lower back down as far as it’d go, your stomach flush with the material of the chaise underneath you. Your ass being in the air caused Robert to hit a new spot inside you, sending you reeling and spilling over the edge. As your cunt suffocated his cock with its walls, Robert followed your release with his own. His hot cum filled you up with warmth, your hips still bouncing against him. Robert panted from behind you, slowly pulling himself out of your now-dripping pussy. 

You rolled back onto your back, now facing Robert, “That was… wow,” you exhaled.

“I concur,” Robert joked, sitting back and pulling you onto his lap.

You hummed in exhaustion, blissed out as you hung your head on his shoulder.

“Want to stay?” you asked tiredly, eyeing the now-spilled remainder of wine Robert had placed on the floor earlier. You’d worry about it tomorrow.

“I’d love to,” Robert muttered into your ear, kissing it before picking you up off his lap.

The rest of your night is spent watching Robert study you as you lay beside each other in bed. He took you in as if he was seeing you in a new perspective- and he was. Robert was as curious about you as he was about the world and how it worked. Except now, he had to worry about not destroying you like he had the world.

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[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 41 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

41. reprieve

John is inscrutable as a rock, up until the moment you return to your room, and the door shuts behind you. You don’t get a moment to process what just happened in private, because he grabs you up in those strong arms and devours you. His relief is palpable–you feel it in his kisses, in the tremor that runs through his powerful frame, and the desperation with which he holds on to you. 

“That was—so fucking–sexy,” he tells you between pressing his mouth to yours. 

You cling to him, trying to think back. It all happened so fast. You realize a part of you has been wondering this whole time if your quick actions had in fact been a fuck up–there are rules upon rules and nuances upon nuances governing this strange and forbidden world–you are but a baby here. A mere cell. A gob of primordial ooze–and you have learned to fear a great deal that which you do not know. 

“I didn’t–get us–into more trouble?” you ask, stunted by voracious kisses and his big hands squeezing the breath from you. 

“No more than I did,” he assures you with his forehead pressed to yours. “I think…” He laughs, a rare and ragged sound, after your ordeal, “That we really are free to go.” 

“Is that what Winston said?” The hotelier and your intended had exchanged hushed and private words together on the roof, while you looked out over Manhattan, you hoped, for the last time for a while to come. 

It isn’t that you don’t trust John. But you have come to understand that Winston was right, when he said the subtler machinations of this shadowed world sometimes escape the blunt instrument that is your beloved John Wick.

“Yeah.”

You hug him then, holding him to you, your nose buried in the warmth of his hair behind his ear. You don’t want to, or mean to, but the magnitude of it all comes crashing down, and you begin to cry. Quietly, not for attention or even comfort, but because you just can’t hold it in anymore. You are so stealthy that some men might have ignored it, pretended it never happened, but not John. He is attuned to your every tell, and he kisses your cheek and holds you, knowing exactly what you need. 

After your tremors have subsided he sweeps back your hair to kiss your forehead, his soft lips such a soothing balm. “Do you want to stay one more night, just for fun?” he asks, and you offer a watery smile in return. The opulence of this place has been like a trip to faeryland for you, or an extended stay down the rabbit hole. Glittery and exotic and goddamn if you haven’t had your fill of it, maybe for a lifetime. 

“Honestly? I just want to go home.” 

He nods, understanding all too well. “Ok. Let’s pack up.” 

“Thank you.” You kiss him, a lingering taste, which leads to another, and then his hands are under your shirt, finding the warm hollow of your spine, and then lower, and he is walking you backwards until his weight is pressing you down into the cloud of a mattress, and you are all too willing to let this man have his way with you, to give him shelter in your body, in your arms. Maybe to everyone outside these walls he is A Killer, The Baba Yaga, The Boogeyman, a tool, a legend, a nightmare, a vengeful ghost…but to you, he will always be the man who loved you beyond reason, or measure.

And you, him. 

It takes you a while, to finally get to putting things in bags, but when you are finally settled into the passenger seat of the Rover with Dog in the back and John at the wheel, it is with the warm glow of a woman who is pleasantly surprised she is getting everything in life she’s ever really wanted.  

[jules-writes-stories]

I had a couple of asks about WIP Wednesday (including a playlist!) so wanted to post a blurb for Chapter 6. I threw a playlist together really quick. They're songs I listened to while outlining/ made me think of the story, setting, and characters. All vibes. No order or hidden message. This is not my strength, lol. 🖤

The Night Court Lounge | Tribeca, NYC | Ch 1-5 on AO3

Azriel x Eris

Chapter 6 (Excerpt)

Tribeca, NYC

“Lemme guess. Black hoodie?” Akon’s eyes peered back in the rear view mirror. 

Eris saw Azriel’s figure the same time his driver did. Of course he would do something reckless like walk up the island of Manhattan in the early hours of the morning. The pretty man clearly enjoyed stressing him out. 

Eris took a breath. No good would come of acting distraught.

They followed him down a cobbled street to an overpass that crossed over a highway below. Steam rose over manholes. Squares of light from empty, lit office buildings reflected off rain slicked streets. 

The car slowed to drive alongside Azriel. He wore Airpods and his hands were stuffed in his pockets. Eris rolled down his window.

After several seconds, Az turned to look directly at Eris and his eyes grew wide. Something like embarrassment and rejection passed across the man’s face, before it froze into a cool mask of neutrality. He pulled his dark hood up and picked up his pace. 

His beloved bat was growing fangs… 

Akon’s eyes flicked up to meet Eris’s and laughter shined in those dark pools. He needed no directions as he began to drive alongside the petulant pedestrian. 

“Azriel. Will you at least tell me why you stormed off?” Eris called out of the slowly moving vehicle, his voice laced with humor.

Hazel eyes were brazen as they narrowed at Eris. There was the magnificent creature in his submissive. Jealousy made a beast of Azriel. And Eris had the strange impulse to pet the beast, to soothe it. 

Azriel pulled out his earbuds and faced the car. They were stopped on the overpass now. Traffic flashed below like a river of light through the chain link fence behind him. 

Eris could tell the younger man was struggling, was on a precipice. And he considered… In business, it was customary to offer a concession. Eris would give something, and then, perhaps, Azriel, the silly man, would get in the car. 

“Azriel. I can’t fix it, if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Eris tried to keep his voice reasonable. This was him being reasonable. He was being… Yes, reasonable was the word. 

The beautiful man stalked towards the car. “Why did you even follow me? What do you want?” 

Eris felt that prickle of panic, control slipping once more.

Thesan’s words clanged through him.  Be vulnerable with him, or end it… All or nothing.

And the thought of ending it, of not seeing those hazel eyes or that shy smile, the way Azriel’s dark lashes fluttered against his cheekbones when Eris praised him. No. He did not like that idea at all. And panic grew at the thought. 

In fact, if Eris was being completely honest, he wanted to learn more. Who were his favorite artists? When was his birthday? Why did everyone at the Night Court feel the need to protect him and what happened to his hands?

Be reasonable. The last time Eris fell, it had been for Thesan. And it had cost him a year of his life.

What did he want? Right now? 

“I want you to get in my car. And talk to me.” Eris kept his voice level, even as the authority he was accustomed to using slipped through his timbre. He pushed it aside. This was not the bedroom or the boardroom-- this was a highway overpass, and he wanted this man. 

Azriel stepped closer, backpack slung over a shoulder. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you, Eris?”  His tone was icey, but there was something soft and needful in his gaze. 

Eris stepped out of his car and leaned against the door. He crossed his arms over his chest. They stared at each other beneath the fuzzy glow of the street lamps. The hum of traffic rattled the overpass. 

“What if I want you?”

Please let me know if you ever want on/off the tag | @the-darkestminds @fieldofdaisiies @mistandmemories @secret-third-thing @chunkypossum @talibunny30 @amalhe-kofee @shadowsandlint @queercontrarian @molcat07 @c-starstuff-man0 @lovely-vanserra-sunshine @hieragalbatorixdottir @brunetterebel010 @pippsmcgee @theartofmischief @born-to-riot

[expectiations]

The Husbands of River Song is not and has never been about the Eleventh Doctor being a deadbeat, distant husband (gross mischaracterization by the way) and the Twelfth Doctor being the "better, more mature, affectionate" husband.

It was about River Song. It was about River and how the events in Manhattan took such a toll on her. It was about letting us see River dealing with grief the way The Snowmen showed us how the Doctor coped after losing believing he had used up all his time with River.

Looking at THORS now with The Ruby's Curse in mind, I get the instinct (for lack of a word that I cannot remember) that the Manhattan incident Blue Roach read from River's diary was not the Manhattan episode that we saw in series 7.

On that note, I'd also like to bring up the fact that the Doctor grounds River and River grounds the Doctor. As Tree talked about in one of her tags, River's empathy is more cognitive than emotional and after musing on it for a bit – considering that the Doctor can no longer go to Manhattan (which may have changed in later series but I wouldn't know at the moment because I have yet to overcome series 7b) and that River does spend time with her parents in Manhattan post-TATM, would the latest Manhattan incident in River's diary be the funeral for Amy? Amy's death? Perhaps even Anthony's? I mean, we already know Rory died five years earlier than Amy. So, knowing how deep River's love for her mother is, it's not too farfetched to say that River spent that time with them. River was by their bedsides as they drew their last breath.

Then Rory's gone, Amy's gone, Anthony's gone. Where does that leave River? Where is the Doctor? (sulking on a cloud on top of Victorian London? trying to figure out the mystery of his newest companion? all while constantly mentioning a certain Professor Song who actually turns out to be his dearly sort of departed absolutely beloved wife?)

Without her parents (and her husband) to ground her, she goes on this maddened, grieving space Robin Hood spree. She seeks fun to fill in the void and takes up marriage as a hobby/side quest. Does she look for the Doctor? Perhaps. Yes, actually. Considering she crashed her latest sort-of-husband's ship onto a planet where she purported the TARDIS to be.

But... she's stealing the TARDIS. She could have just called the Doctor, yeah? So, she doesn't want the Doctor to know then. Well... yeah, considering she has two sort-of-husbands in hand.

So, River would just have gone on from one space Robin Hood spree to the next had the TARDIS not sort-of-stranded herself on Mendorax Dellora to make sure her Water stopped being stubborn and reconcile(?) with her Thief?

Also taking note of how River has read stories about them and knows that Darillium is purported to be their last night together (I could also bring up the fact that this is why I find it easy to digest the "River meeting regenerations of the Doctor younger than the Tenth Doctor makes sense and doesn't break cannon nor ruin SITL/FOTD" but that would take a whole other post). Does this River believe her time with the Eleventh Doctor has ended? The same way series 7b Eleven believed his time with older versions of River has ended? Is this all part of some grand fuckup in communication all thanks to their tangled timelines?

Maybe. Maybe not.

But has River not just been running from her family's death? Has River been running from her supposed last night with the Doctor?

"But River doesn't run." Oh yes. Yes, she does. She knows when to stand her ground. She knows when to charge. And she knows when to run.

"That's out of character for her." No, it's not. She's not invincible. She's this well trained assassin, yes. But invincible? No.

Invincible from the tendency to be blinded by their emotions? Obviously not.

River lies. And River runs.

She is not afraid of her death. She is afraid of the day when her husband, her Doctor, looks into her eyes and looks right through her. And it shouldn't kill her but it does. It did.

So she ran and ran until her bigger-on-the-inside Mum gently reached out and put her back together with the only person left who could ground her. Who she didn't recognize at first but still fell in love with (and would have loved even if he hadn't been revealed to be her actual, long missing husband). Who finally found out their last night wasn't just any night – it was a twenty-four year long last night. Who finally gave her a breather from all the running she'd been doing.

And oh what a night that was (it was the talk of the universe).

[urrockstar-xe]

detective sweetheart - n.a x fem!reader

posted nov 3rd, 2023 12:22 am

this was what i did for my "based on my day" challenge (i spent it watching svu season 14 lmfao) its also my first time writing for nick amaro or any detectives in general so I'm sorry if he's a bit ooc, its also a crossover with criminal minds and i think i made up the whole technical analyst assistant thing but that's my job in my criminal minds DR lmfao. hope you enjoy :)

this includes alcohol (reader consumption), use of Y/n, and possibly wrong wording for FBI stuff?? the reader likes children (in a not creepy way). Jennifer Jareau

summary: the BAU's technical analyst assistant develops quite the crush on SVU's detective Nick Amaro

masterlist

word count: 0.8k

You sat quietly in a bar, sitting amongst a group of FBI agents you knew well and a few detectives you’d just recently had the pleasure of meeting, chatting about the now-closed case and a few chatting about their children, you hadn’t spoken much, too busy trying not to stare at Detective Nick Amaro.

“Detective Amaro, this is Y/n L/n, she’s our technical analyst assistant, our official technical analyst is back at Quantico focusing on another case” Your boss, Aaron Hotchner, introduced you to one of the detectives you’d be working with for a necrophilia serial killer case, 

You two spent the last few days working very closely together on this case. 

Penelope had been working on another case and due to a small fire that you and Penelope accidentally started with a candle in your already small office, Hotch decided to bring you with the team to Manhattan.

And of course, with your luck, Penelope couldn’t be there to fangirl over the hot detective with you, so you had to deal with the consequences of your short attention span all on your own, (granted our beloved Spencer did try to relate and fangirl with you, he did his best, but he was quite busy getting into conspiracy arguments with Sergeant John Munch).

Now that the case was over, Hotch decided that the team was in no rush back to Quantico and could leave in the morning, so while he called in early and left back to his hotel, the rest of you went out with some of the SVU detectives,

Including Nick 

of course.

“What about you? Got any kids?” Nick asked, accidentally snapping you out of your trance, as he handed JJ back her phone after she showed him a photo of her boys.

“Oh, uh”

fuck, he smelt good, why did Derek have to sit you right next to him?? 

“No, no kids, I do adore them though” You smiled in a way you hoped wasn’t too awkward, before Emily spoke up “She’s great with them too! I mean they just love her” 

Nick smiled at that, nodding as Emily talked. 

You laughed awkwardly in response, “she’s exaggerating” you whispered just loud enough for Nick to hear, earning a laugh. 

oh my god, he LAUGHS?

“As much fun this has been, I’m gonna call it a night” JJ announced, standing up from her seat, her actions mirrored by Spencer as he agreed. 

They were shortly followed by Olivia, Fin, and Emily. Derek went home with a pretty girl (obviously) and finally, Rossi left with Rollins, after she offered him a ride back to the hotel.

That left, you and Nick, alone

of fucking course

“So, miss L/n, how was your first time in New York, huh?” He asked, taking a sip of his bourbon or was it whiskey? Maybe scotch? You couldn’t remember

“Oh, you mean besides the corpse-loving freak? Pretty great, thanks for asking, Detective.” you joked, feeling less intimidated thanks to the vodka cranberry sitting in front of you.

He laughed, “Yeah, dumb question” he shook his head almost embarrassed but you were eating it up.

“How was your first time working with the BAU, hm?” Nick smiled as you practically hummed the question, he thought it was cute, and you could tell, which only boosted your confidence.

“Gotta be honest, I was worried you guys would swarm in and take everything over but, it was a lot easier than I expected” You nod in response, 

“A lot of people think that, but typically it’s an ego thing. was it an ego thing for you, Nicky?” The nickname had slipped off your tongue with ease as you teased your schoolgirl crush, having called him that just a few days ago when you first started working together.

Nick scoffed, “What? No, absolutely not” but the small smirk on his lips was a dead giveaway. “Okay, maybe it was kind of an ego thing, just a little bit” he whispered his confession. You all but giggled in response

“It’s gettin’ late, what do you say I walk you back to your hotel huh?” he offered, standing up and putting his coat on before reaching for yours 

“I’d like that, thank you, Detective” You smiled, standing from your seat and sighing as he carefully put your coat on for you.

The hotel wasn’t far but god you wished it had been, it would’ve given you some more time to flirt with the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life

(exaggerating? Pft nuh-uh) 

But yet, here you stood, in front of the tall building that ruined your excitement.

“Hey, uh how would you feel if the next time you were in New York, I took you out?” Nick asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

You smiled, hoping the lights surrounding you both hid the blush on your cheeks instead of accentuating it. “Or if you’re ever in Virginia?” 

He smiled, nodding. 

“I think I’d like that a lot” You responded, quietly, suddenly very sober.

“Great, have a safe flight back home, alright?”

it's already over

“Thank you for walking me back, Nick” 

“Anytime, goodnight, sweetheart” he smiled once more.

Sweetheart

“Goodnight, detective”