#googled the most expensive wine

[loppytaffy]

He's such a dickhead

What a petty bitch. I love him.

[captivemuses]

Starter for @ghoulsmuses

"Time for you to open up that bottle of Brunello di Montalcino Riserva that I know you've been hiding in the back of the shelves." Sitting himself down in the normal spot with the normal amount of expectancy in his voice as he tapped his fan on the counter, of course nosy Kaoru had noticed a different wine bottle on the back shelves of Sia la Luce considering he regularly mooched drank from what Kojiro had in stock. But Kaoru was using today as an excuse to get his boyfriend to open up the most expensive bottle in the house, how could he not use it to his advantage for a good white wine on his birthday?

[emeraldxphoenix]

Nose wrinkles in distaste at the thought of rule following. “How terribly dull of him.” Odin has always been into rule following of course – most of Asgard has, in fact – but somehow the appeal of such a thing escapes Loki entirely. What good are rules that cannot bend or break when the circumstances require it? What fun would life be without a little chaos?

Long fingers reach out, boldly tracing along the lotus-flower silk covering his chest. Loki decides then and there that he likes her (among other things). Eyes darken. “I aim to please.” The god continues to lap up every moment of attention Lilith has to offer, lifting his free hand palm upwards to summon a drink into existence for her. “So tell me, what does a beautiful lady such as yourself drink? Golden champagne? Cabernet Sauvignon? An original mai tai?” The drink in his outstretched hand shifts with each suggestion, a green shimmer enveloping the space where the previous one sat and replacing it with a new one.

Her expression softens into a laugh, eyes glinting with playful mischief as she looks over at him. "What a polite way of putting it."

She doesn't move as he steps closer, rather enjoying the attention and the compliments. "You're better off. He's big into rule following. Hence why he and I never did see eye to eye." Her fingers reach out, dancing up along his chest. "You're definitely the most handsome God I've met, so congratulations on that." Head tilts. "Want to get a drink with me?"

[4drianaaaa]

You should do a cutsie thing about y/n and hamzahs anniversary going on a date and maybe some nsfw 🫶🏼

omg this so adowable 😙, also I was looking at my posts about Hamzah and I just realized it's mostly smut LMFAOO. YOU HORNY MUTHUFUCKAS (I have no problem with that 👅)

nsfw! 18+ | fem reader!

🎀 | It has been a year since the boy who asked you out in the most puppy love-type way. Bringing a bouquet of tulips and a big poster that you checked 'yes' on to be his girlfriend. Now the two of you live together in his small apartment with his cat peter.

You dabbed on some blush at the apple of your cheek as you saw your boyfriend through the mirror as his warm hands wrapped around your waist "How did I get with someone so beautiful?" he kissed your cheek, "Careful Hamzah I'm gonna stain your shirt" you placed the blush powder on the counter of the sink as you shifted your body to his as he sat you on the counter "So your not gonna answer my question?" he huffed as you kissed his soft lips "Maybe cause' your so hot? I don't know?!" you ruffled his hair.

You wore a simple short black dress pairing it with a small white bag, the both of you were now on your way to the restaurant he has reserved a week prior. You both went to a small booth as the place looked like nothing but rich. You looked at shocked “Hamzah this looks so fancy- where did you find this place” you took a sip of the white wine in front of you prepared at the table once you walked in “i dunno’. I searched up ‘expensive, fancy, romantic restaurant on Google and this one popped up!” He replied as he smirked “just get what ever. It’s all on me baby” he set his hand on top of yours as his thumb rubbed on the sparkly diamond on your ring he gave you in the morning.

The two of you chatted as you both ate the most delicious dinner enjoying your self’s company and laughing about memories of you two.

“I remember the first day I moved in with you, there was a big mess.” You teased as he huffed “alright babe. May I remind you that I barely moved in as well and I was so overwhelmed! Not to mention I was raising Peter too.” He spun the wine in his cup as he took the last sip “and you act like it wasn’t a mess in my bedroom when you barely got here…bra on my floor-“ you cut him off by stepping on his shoe “Hamzah! We’re literally in public” you turned as red as the wine you were sipping on as he couldn’t help but bust out laughing. His thoughts grew as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “what?” You tilted your head as lustful memories filled his mind. The way he’d roam his hand all over you as you squirmed under him, “nothing” he said clearing his throat as the waiter ended his thoughts “here’s the bill” Hamzah placed his card on to the receipt as the waiter took it off with him.

“Thank you so much baby for the dinner, i enjoyed every second of it” you kissed his cheek as he said nothing. Your eyebrows furrowed. “So you’re not gonna tell me what’s on your mind? Was it because I stepped on your shoe. Crybaby?” You said closing the car door “Fuck, I just need you so fucking bad- I don’t know how I contained my self over there.” He exhaled as you smirked “so that’s what it is hm?” Your hands roamed down his chest as you kissed his lips “I have a surprise back at home too” you whispered into his ear that sent a cold shiver down his spine. He sped through the night Toronto streets as you made it to your shared apartment. His lips not even trying to leave yours as you struggled to open the door

“Fuck” he panted licking his lips as he opened the door shutting it behind him as you walked to your bedroom as your hands wrapped around his neck as he removed his black blazer throwing it onto the floor. Your lips parted as he sat at the edge of the bed “wanna show me what’s under this gorgeous dress princess?” He laid his hands around your waist as you turned your back to him “find out” you said moving your hair to the side as he slowly zipped down your dress as the cold air hit your back causing your breath to hitch. His eyes widened at your white lacy lingerie with little bows everywhere. He practically drooled as you spun back around to him as you smiled as he pulled you into him “your so beautiful baby” he grasped “yeah?” You hummed as he nodded his head twirling his fingers around your lacy panties biting his lip.

He unbuttoned his pants leaving him in his boxers as he laid you onto the bed. As you began removing your bra he immediately grabbed your hand stopping you, “I want to fuck you in this pretty set baby- please just leave it on” he whined as you nodded. His hands palmed his hard dick as you opened your legs just wanting him inside you already. He bit his lip as he pulled down his boxers revealing his erected member as pre-cum coated his tip, “fuck Hamzah please!” You begged as a smile creeped onto his lips. He rubbed his tip against your clothes panties as you cursed under your breath. He looked at you as you moved your pantie to the side begging for his dick to be inside you already, he slowly rubbed his member around your aching clit as small whines escaped your lips. He slowly inserted him self into you as you grabbed onto the white sheets of your shared bed “fuck baby, your soaking” he moaned “just fuck me Hamzah” you squirmed around as he held onto your hips as he entered in and out of you. Your hand flew on top of your mouth as skin slapping against each other and small moans and whimpers escaped both of your mouths filled the room.

He leaned down kissing your neck as your hands gripped onto his hair tightly “fuck Hamzah I’m so close!” You moaned into his ear as he nodded “yes baby” he whined as you felt your self at your highest as you panted, his mouth found your chest as you wrapped your arms around his neck before coming all over him “holy shit.” He grunted as he quickly thrusted into you as your body shook from the over stimulation. He pulled out before coming as he pumped his aching member on your lingerie set.

“Looks so much better coated all over my cum” he teased as you chucked “how about a warm bath? Cause I know you can’t stand” he joked as he noticed your shaky legs “sounds good” you kissed his forehead as he laid next to you.

-

I feel like this was so short omg 😣

[ghastlyfilters]

SPEAK SOFTLY LOVE

— “WE’RE IN A WORLD, OUR VERY OWN. SHARING A LOVE THAT ONLY FEW HAVE EVER KNOWN.”

pairing; post spray jeremiah valeska x fem!reader

summary; jeremiah takes you to see the first part of one of his favourite film franchises of all time. the godfather. and when you return from seeing such a cinematic masterpiece, jeremiah decides to dance with you to one of the songs from it.

note; HII!! i can’t even explain how excited i am to be writing this. i love the godfather and gotham, so i’m glad the thought came to me. nothing wrong with appreciating my love for both jeremiah valeska and michael corleone;)

also, here’s some of the italian words used in this fic, and what they mean! (if these ain’t accurate just blame google translate)

non smetti mai di sembrare raggiante, tesoro. - you never fail to look radiant, darling.

grazie - thank you.

MASTERLIST

You and Jeremiah panted as you had ran back in the rain to the entry of his hideout. Tonight he’d took you to see one of his favourite cinema classics. The Godfather.

He’d had this planned for AGES. Years even. He knew one day he wanted to share with you the joy he felt in watching such an amazing cinematic masterpiece. And today, he had successfully got what he wanted.

There was tons of abandoned theatres scattered throughout Gotham. But Jeremiah didn’t want to take you somewhere shabby and wrecked. No.

He’d taken you to Gotham’s oldest theatre. A building that had been stood even before the very first time The Godfather came to cinemas. It was high class, and full of money people at all times. The theatre was known for showing tons of classics. So tonight was Jeremiah’s lucky night.

He’d made sure he booked out the whole screening. He didn’t want a soul interrupting any moment he was planning on enjoying with you. Only thing was that because of how high class the theatre was, it would cost a shit load to buy tickets, let alone the whole thing.

Jeremiah made sure the owner knew that money wasn’t everything. Well.. after holding a blade to his throat.

The whole thing went smoothly. And you’d never seen him so happy. He looked more like an excited child rather than a grown man thrilled to see the most loved mafia movie on the big screen.

As the heels of his shoes tapped against the flooring, you heard him softly hum the Godfather waltz. And he did so with nothing but pride.

You sat on the couch, your fingers slowly tracing circles onto the beautiful fabric. Jeremiah always had ways of making you feel so expensive.

“A glass of Chianti, darling?” He called out.

You looked back and nodded as he swiftly poured the Italian wine into a tall crystal glass for you.

Jeremiah carefully strutted over to you, two glasses in his hands. He placed one down in front of you, giving you a kiss on the hand.

“I must say,” He said, sitting down beside you, already motioning for you to move closer. “My expectations for this night with you were perfectly met, my dear.”

Jeremiah put a gloved finger on your cheek, and you practically purred at his touch. He held your waist as you moved into his lap, grinning.

“I suppose now I see why you always used to be so persistent on having that slicked back hair, Don Valeska.” You mocked. You’d known for years Jeremiah took a deep liking to Michael Corleone’s character. You couldn’t blame him, of course. Michael and Jeremiah both shared a great charm.

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a sip of his wine. He let out a small gasp as an idea struck him. And you furrowed your brows the minute he took you off his lap.

“Miah?” You said, curiosity clear in your voice. He held a finger up, hurrying into another room. You just sighed, wondering what he was planning now.

Jeremiah soon returned, a vinyl in hand. He flashed you a smile, before darting over to the record player. He set it all up, and you started to giggle the minute the song started to play.

Speak Softly Love by Andy Williams. A song that included an instrumental theme used in The Godfather. Which had made the song a true gem to listen to.

He rushed back over to you, and you could see the amount of joy dancing around in his eyes despite the song only just starting.

“Shall we?” Jeremiah grinned, putting his hand out for you.

You accepted it, and he immediately pulled you up. Gracefully, but you could tell he was desperate to finally dance with you to this.

Speak softly, love and hold me warm against your heart..

I feel your words, the tender trembling moments start.

We're in a world, our very own..

Sharing a love that only few have ever known.

Another soft giggle escaped your lips as he directed you to sway around with him. You’d never admitted it, but Jeremiah was an incredible dancer. Always so careful with his partner.

Wine-colored days warmed by the sun..

Deep velvet nights, when we are one.

“Non smetti mai di sembrare raggiante, tesoro.” Jeremiah whispered into your ear. God you loved when he spoke Italian.

“Grazie.” You replied, planting a kiss onto his cheek. However, he redirected your lips. He tilted your chin upward, and soon you felt his own velvety smooth lips brushing against yours.

He put one hand on the back of your head, caressing your hair. He pulled away as the rest of the lyrics played on the vinyl, and the two of you went back to swaying again.

Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky..

The vows of love we make will live until we die.

My life is yours and all because..

You came into my world with love, so softly love.

You both waltzed around the room as the strong instrumental part of the song really kicked in. You caught a glimpse of Jeremiah’s face glistening from the moonlit sky outside throughout Gotham.

You’d truly began to admire his new features now. His ghostly white face, red ruby lips, and those icy green eyes..

Some were scared, meanwhile others like his followers found it intriguing. But you.. oh.. you found it hauntingly beautiful.

His change in attitude was also something you were secretly enjoying. Before the spray, Jeremiah had been incredibly shy with showing you affection. His overthinking always crept in, giving him the hint that perhaps you did not feel the same way towards him as he did for you.

Now, he was incredibly bold whilst showing his love for you. And he wanted every single person in the city to see that.

Wine-colored days warmed by the sun..

Deep velvet nights, when we are one.

His gloved hands made their way down your body, cupping your hips. Jeremiah loved your curves. You were so womanly. And it was another part of you he’d always admired.

“This is…” He breathed. “Rather.. exhilarating.”

Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky..

The vows of love we make will live until we die.

My life is yours and all because..

You came into my world with love…

“It’s definitely-“

“A night to remember.” Jeremiah cut you off. You dipped down as he hovered above you, his grip tight. He bent toward you, kissing you once again.

So softly love.

THIS WAS LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE. either that or it’s the concept of mixing my two favourite interests together. but man i love jeremiah more than anything.

[ctimenefic]

Became obsessed by the idea of Alex getting his grubby mitts on George's nudes, had a breakdown, bon appetit.

positive negatives Rated Explicit Fandom F1 RPF Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell 4,963 words

Summary: George doesn’t regret that shoot, exactly.

He had for a long time. After the first high of seeing the rushes wore off; after overhearing a murmured warning in general casting, days too late; after he woke up at three am to reread the release he’d blithely signed without thinking, and spent the next four hours staring at the ceiling hoping to wake up. He’d regretted it then.

For years after, the memory of it could hit like an ice cube sliding down his spine. Always, of course, at the most inconvenient moments. When he was working, or networking, when he needed his wits about him, couldn’t afford to stutter over his words. They’d put him in white silk, or offer him wine, or he’d walk into a room with slow, warm jazz playing, and the whole excruciating mess of it all would come back. He’d learnt how to smile through it, then how not to blink at all. (rest of the first chunk below the cut)

And when the pictures had finally leaked – first onto some old-school subscription gay porn site, then everywhere else a day later – he’d put his lessons to work. Keep smiling. Don’t blink.

It had been a surprise to look back, a month later, when the worst was over and his clients and his billboards and his agent were all still there, with an extra 400,000 followers on Instagram to boot, and think Was that it? 

When he looks at the photographs now, it’s like that first time again, young and bloody-minded and startled to see he had a flesh-and-bone body under all those choking layers of denial. He looks good. He looks good at looking good, at ease with himself in a way that George-at-twenty-five knows he took years to relearn. And maybe the desire of the camera reads as lecherous now he can see the places where his youth shaved the fat from his hips, but George still remembers being that boy. He deserved, he thinks, to be wanted. 

Still, he doesn’t mean to tell Alex about them. Alex doesn’t really get modelling, or the difference between George’s shoot for Calvin Klein, plastered up and down the Tube, and the accidental softcore porn he shot at 19. It’s been a long time since their karting days, and George’s career has taken quite a while to bring him back into the orbit of rich men driving even more expensive cars for a living.

Also Alex is his boss, technically. Or his client. Alex is going to put him in some very stupid clothes with far too many pandas and cats and horses on them, and George is going to sell the fuck out of them. (It won’t be a set to add to his portfolio, but it’s the least he can do for an old friend whose smile is just as bright and broad as it was ten years ago.) George doesn’t have a normal job, but he knows it’s probably a tad unprofessional to bring up why “...gay” “...2018 shoot” and “...dick” never leave the top ten Google autocompletes for his name. 

But then he gets to the private members’ club in London where Alex is going to show him the final designs (and George is going to nod and smile like he’s never worn Versace) and Alex, already there waiting for him, looks tired. Worse than that – haggard.

“We can’t all be fucking supermodels, Georgie,��� Alex retorts. It’s mild enough that George files away deliberately mixing up super-licence points and the other, better kind for a different, pettier occasion. Still, he slides his (prescriptionless, fashionable) glasses down his nose for a brief disappointed look. 

George still follows F1 – he has the app, keeps Alex in his fantasy team but puts the double boost on Verstappen every race with just a twinge of guilt – so he knows the run to summer break hasn’t been kind. No position higher than 15th. No points. 

He’s not seen Alex actually down about it before. He’s certainly never heard Alex talk about Red Bull, and the fiasco that happened there long before George met Lewis Hamilton at LFW and found himself waltzing back into a racing paddock. It presses at something tender in the depths of him, behind layers of poise and millimetre-perfect physical control. 

The iPad propped against the bar has gone dark, fashion long forgotten. George would sit through a hundred abominable fish-print shirts if Alex would laugh again. 

“Sometimes I feel like I fucked it right at the start, you know, and I’ll never get past it,” Alex tells his pint glass. He’d told George he was only allowed one, then looked pissed off and affectionate when George had held him to it. Like George didn’t understand a strict diet. “Do you ever- Nah. Course not.” 

He can’t stand that, the way Alex’s eyes glide up and down him, a smooth surface. And that tender part wants to crack him open from the inside, press itself against Alex’s bruised under-eyes. 

So George tells him about the shoot. The stifling heat of the studio. How the sheets had stiff spots that snagged against the hairs on his arms, and he hadn’t realised until later how they’d got that way. He’d been so thirsty, and so trusting that the water was shut off. The wine had been cheap and nasty and he’d not had the experience to know the difference.  

He hadn’t known he’d made a mistake until the photographer had messaged days later, said he wanted a follow up of George freshly fucked out and offered to do the honours. 

He tells it like it’s funny. It helps, he’s found, if he can make the jokes first. Alex laughs in the right places but nervously, like he’s not sure it’s allowed. 

“-So, yeah, I understand, a bit. In the end it’s probably got me more jobs than it’s lost me, but if you want a bright side, no one’s put your Red Bull season on a porn site. Well, none of the mainstream ones at least.”

“I try not to think about what the admins won’t tell me,” Alex responds darkly, but his eyes cut back to George’s face with a hint of guilt behind them. “Jesus, Georgie. I didn’t know it was like that.” He hesitates. “Should I stop making the jokes about your shirts falling off?”

George laughs properly at that, loud enough people at the nearby tables turn their heads. He feels their glances lingering. It’s a sixth sense by now. “Nah, it’s become a crucial part of the brand. But show me the horse one again?” 

This time, Alex smiles as he explains exactly why the ‘Horsey’ line is actually covered in cats. 

The collection is fundamentally ugly. There’s no getting round that. But at the shoot itself, the snapper Alex has hired, a teasing chap with an accent that meanders between Dundee and Penzance, doesn’t mind when George pulls faces at each change. The clothes feel good at least – well-constructed, made by a women’s collective in Thailand that George’s agent had checked aligned with his ethics clause. 

Alex isn’t there, off at a training camp. It doesn’t affect how George does his job – he’s a consummate professional – but, well. He’d been prepared to show off a little. He could’ve got away with fewer crunches that morning. 

Still, he persuades the photographer to take at least one shot for each shirt with a very technical definition of ‘wearing.’ Inside joke, he promises. 

It’s about a week later when he gets the email from Alex. Subject line: AA23 Pet Collection Edit. No body text. Attachment: GR_Photos.zip.

When he opens it up, he doesn’t blink. Just smiles. 

Read the rest on AO3 or, like, bully me to post it here.

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a Valentine's Day fic rec list! All of these fics involve Valentine's Day in some way or have a Valentine's Day vibe. We had a very short version of this rec list that we posted many years ago, but as you can see, there have been a ton of amazing Valentine's Day-related fics posted since then. Happy reading!

1) The Valentine's Day Special | Explicit | 1,322 words

Every year on Valentine's Day Harry and Louis spend the whole day participating in whatever kinks they want. This means February 14th is one of their favorite days of the year.

2) Valentine's Day | Explicit | 1,900 words

Louis and Harry are excited for Valentine's Day and can barely make it back to the hotel room.

3) All The Love | Explicit | 2,118 words

Harry smiles warmly when he sees the room with the makeshift dining table, coffee mugs for wine glasses, and a couple lit scented candles scattered across the room. He fills an empty glass and places the flowers in it, setting it on Louis’s bedside table. His smile grows even more fond when he sits across from Louis, seeing the meal his boy has prepared. They’ve only been officially dating for about a month and a half, but things couldn’t be going any better. “What’s this?” Harry asks, nodding in the direction of the dishes in front of him. “Chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of mash,” Louis says full of pride. “My little chef,” the curly haired boy grins, leaning over the table to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek before taking a bite. “This is really good baby.”

4) Red Pants | Mature | 2,463 words

One shot in which fem Louis wears his tight little red pants to school on Valentine’s Day, and discovers he has a secret admirer.

5) Love Me Like You Do | Not Rated | 3,964 words

Louis is all in if Harry is, and Paris seems like the perfect place to ask

6) Lagrangian Point | Explicit | 4,055 words

They find each other again the night of Valentine's Day.

7) I've Loved You Three Summers Now Honey, But I Want 'Em All | Mature | 4,216 words

The restaurant was small and bright, soft colors filled the walls and tables and fairy lights hung from everywhere. From what Harry had read, the food wasn’t overly expensive but it was still comparable to what you would get at one of the more expensive places. If Harry could he would take Louis to the biggest most expensive and extravagant restaurants to do what he planned to tonight, but this would do. After being led to their table Harry nervously tapped his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the small box still there. Tonight was the night. He couldn’t wait till it was time to surprise Louis with all the gifts he got for him. Then finally the big surprise.

8) Reckless Serenade | Explicit | 4,446 words

Note: This fic features Girl Direction.

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

9) Dancing In The Moonlight | Explicit | 4,587 words

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

10) Keep Your Head Down And Make It To Me | Not Rated | 4,643 words

“You know, if I hadn’t been so stupid 8 years ago, we could’ve been doing this for 8 long years. My sincere apologies,” “Maybe, but now I get to enjoy this moment even more because it’s been 8 years and I’ve never stopped wanting to kiss you ever since,” Louis admits, a light blush surfacing upon his face. “I love you,” Harry repeats. Louis beams at him. Literally beams. “I love you, Harry.”

11) Cherries In The Snow | Mature | 5,151 words

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Harry is not in the mood. So naturally, Louis lets Harry paint his body with kiss marks to make him feel better.

12) Be Mine, Little Valentine | Explicit | 7,435 words

All Louis wants is to find someone who’ll love all of him. There’s just one tiny complication.

13) Indecent Proposal | Explicit | 8,445 words

The one where Louis and Harry reminisce the ups and downs of a relationship that once was, imagining themselves as the happy couple celebrating in front of them, and decide that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too bad to relive their relationship one more time.

14) Let Me Be Your Good Night | Explicit | 10,517 words

Cupping one hand over his fist and holding them to his chest, Harry’s nose scrunches hopefully, “Would you want to get a drink before calling it a night?” Louis stares at him. “I know you’re probably tired, it’s just—” Harry sighs, wiggling his hands around nervously. “We’re both going to be alone after this and I really enjoyed talking to you, so maybe this is a little pathetic, but I could use the company?” “I, uh,” he stalls, weighing his options: either go home, have a wank, then bathe the night off, or talk more with the affable sweetheart while sharing a drink or two. Easy. “I’d like that. Sure.”

15) Better Than Words | Explicit | 11,321 words

Note: This fic is the second part of a series.

Harry and Louis have an argument while at the doctors to check on their baby. Then they celebrate Harry’s birthday and Valentine’s Day in their own way.

16) Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice | Mature | 13,487 words

You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.” Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing. “You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

17) Lead Me To Paradise | Explicit | 14,615 words

No one told Harry that a paramedic could be this pretty.

18) James The Pimp | Mature | 28,255 words

Everybody, please welcome my other good mate and Harry Styles’ Valentine Date, Louis Tomlinson!” 'Kill My Mind' played as the dusty-haired singer walked onto stage from the opposite side that Harry entered. “Thanks for having me, James.” Louis’ light voice carried well as he hugged James. With the grin still plastered to his cheeks, he looked around the bulkier man at Harry politely. “But, uh, I’m a tad bit confused. As lovely as Harry here is, you should probably both know I’m, er, into women.” There was a hint of awkward hesitation in his words. He likely thought Harry wasn’t straight and didn’t want to offend him, which Harry appreciated, even if he knew he had to say his next line despite it being utterly untrue. “The same goes to you, Louis, but I am as well.” James waved a hand flippantly. “Pish posh. Who really cares about that anyhow? Come along, boys. This is my show, so if I say you are each other’s Valentines, then you are each other’s Valentines. Now act like it!”

19) Cupid’s Chokehold | Explicit | 35,326 words

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn’t work out as planned.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

fake title: almost tethered

💋 Almost Tethered

This was, by far, the longest and most awkward silence in the history of mankind, and yet, Louis couldn’t, for the life of him, think of a single thing to say.

Because, really, what was he supposed to say?

He knew fuck all about the man sitting casually on his chaise in a frieghteningly sexy brown duck jumper, except that he had been crazy enough to agree to a threesome with Louis and his fiancé to help spice up their already very extended engagement (that every single person they loved was still waiting for them to call off).

Well, okay, Louis didn’t know ‘fuck all’ exactly. He knew he had a face that was a little too pretty to be true (so much so that Louis had bet Robbie they were being catfished and was now down £20), that he was probably making an obscenely (heh) good living if his (surprisingly tasteful, only-strategically-posed-artful-nudes) OnlyFans page had anything to say about it, and that his actual real name was Harry Styles.

So, Louis knew some things (four, he knew a total of four things), none of which he could use to fill this rather excruciating silence. Lovely.

It didn’t help that Harry hadn’t said a thing to him either since walking through their door – not that he could have, what with the way Robbie had bulldozed through the introductions before swiftly exiting to make everyone martinis.

(“Do you even know how to make a martini?” Louis had asked as they were getting dressed that evening.

Robbie had waved off his very pressing concern. “I’ll Google it. Wine just seems a little too pedestrian for a threesome, you know?”)

Louis began to roll his eyes at the memory but quickly aborted the motion, worried Harry might think it was directed at him. He reverted back to their mutual staring, though, admittedly whilst Louis was sure his expression was similar to that of a frightened raccoon, Harry’s was painfully cool. Collected and poised. Almost serene. Unbothered.

His smirk was soft; green eyes kind yet still somewhat appraising. Louis supposed he couldn’t help it, given their, ah, agenda for the evening. He actually found himself hoping Harry liked what he saw.

Louis certainly did; found himself wondering if it would be appropriate to lick at the swallows tattooed on Harry’s collarbones, or if that was more of a second session kind of thing.

Would there be a second session? Likely not, since the entire point of doing this with a stranger was to avoid all the awkwardness afterwards. (Which said nothing of the awkwardness during.)

He was overthinking and needed to stop, immediately.

God, say something! Louis commanded himself, unable to remember the last time he blinked. As had become habit since his engagement, his hand drifted down to fiddle with the watch he wore with a fierce kind of loyalty on his right wrist. His mind drifted to three words hidden under the expensive leather strap – his accidental life mantra, bestowed upon him by fate.

He thought of how the curve of capital D swooped, how the N had always been a little crooked, how he had learned the cursive version of an S before he could even write or read.

How Robbie hadn’t said the words when they’d met.

How, because of that, his family thought this engagement had been doomed from the start.

How Harry still hadn’t said anythi—

“Don’t be nervous.”

Louis’ answer was automatic, almost involuntary, because he’d been saying it in mock response all his life. “I’m not.”

Needless to say, the next time Louis found himself staring awkwardly back at Harry Styles, it was not because of their impending threesome. It was because said third in their impending threesome had just uttered his soulmark.

— Or, there were a multitude of awkward ways to meet one’s soulmate. They could say your mark from the urinal next to you mid-wee at a funeral, or sneaking out of your flatmate’s bedroom after a one night stand, or trying to upsell the newest state-of-the-art dildo in their family-owned sex shop.

Still, Louis was pretty sure his version was the one that took the cake.

[severus-snaps]

new headcanon: snape & karkaroff

So this might only be new to me but I guess them's the breaks when you (re)join a fandom after a few decades but

Snape and Karkaroff knew each other reasonably well - very well, given that Karkaroff is happy to hound him and hover around him at the drop of a hat, he named Severus in his trial some years prior so they must have spent some time together (and most DEs were split up or anonymous to one another, for various reasons).

Obviously at the time that they're in GoF together, Snape is in his early-mid 30s. Karkaroff is presumably older, at whatever age that a gentlemen goes from having black hair (during his trial 14 years earlier) to white hair (at the time of the Tournament). (Google informs me that "Half of all people have a significant amount of gray hair by the time they turn 50." so presumably he's about or over 50, as his hair is now entirely white). He is also a Headmaster by this point, which suggests a certain level of maturity (given the general ages of the deputy/headteachers at Hogwarts, anyway, and wizarding lifespans).

So (and please do correct me if I'm wrong bc I haven't read GoF in ages so I'm working off of the chapters I've gone through recently) in theory Karkaroff could've been the Dark Arts teacher OR the headmaster at Durmstrang already, by the point Snape graduates from Hogwarts himself.

In a world with little to no higher education, but mostly 'on the job' and similar work experience counting for something, where might Snape have gone to get the 'CV experience' or an apprenticeship he needs to get the DADA job he later applies for?

Durmstrang, of course; where they teach the Dark Arts, and not just defence. I don't think it's a leap that Lucius and/or one of the other Death Eaters or Slytherins would've known Karkaroff before Snape did, and made a connection for Snape to study/apprentice there.

And where did Snape learn to teach? From the very man who outright favours Krum, at the rude expense of other students, perhaps?

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?” “Professor, I vood like some vine,” said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully. “I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy — ”

It's giving:

[Snape] was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob... “Idiot boy!” snarled Snape.

(Also, such a Snape complement)

Minor evidence for this also includes the fact that Karkaroff calls Snape "Severus", meanwhile Snape calls him "Karkaroff" - a sign of respect or formality, how Snape always calls Dumbledore, 'Dumbledore' - or a sign of dislike, like how Snape is "Severus" to Lupin who's 'playing nice' meanwhile Snape always calls him 'Lupin' and not 'Remus'? Who can say. Possibly both; he's both outranked and irritated by Karkaroff.

By the time Snape meets Karkaroff again, he's somehow cultivated his slightly cooler persona (given how awkward and unpolished Snape was as a student vs how he tries to present himself as a professor at Hogwarts). He is also a much braver man and, arguably, in a safer position than Karkaroff (having over a decade of information on Dumbledore for Voldemort vs having sold out a bunch of other Death Eaters and widely denounced Voldemort), Snape's riddled with grief and even more bitterness - so Karkaroff's constant worrying is, undoubtedly, genuinely irritating to him, as well as the fact that he's genuinely unsettled by Voldemort's possible return as well, even as he tries to hide it.

Now, I can't remember whether it's canon or fanon that Snape first applied for the DADA position on Voldemort's orders, or whether he did it under his own steam, but I think either way this would fit; young Snape would want and/or need the 'relevant' experience of teaching the Dark Arts either way to get the job, and if nothing else he was too young to get it, so how better to fill his time than to prepare somewhere where the Dark Arts aren't only taught to be defended, but in their own right?

Travel isn't really an issue, either; with Portkeys, Floo, Apparition (questionable at that distance and given Hogwarts' own Apparition ban), and a giant magical boat, they could be doing their thing in Durmstrang by day and doing... whatever it is Death Eaters did by night, but I think being at Durmstrang would also be a stronger position, with more resources, to be experimenting with Dark magic and potions than trying to do it in the Malfoys' back garden, for instance

(Also, where did Voldemort like...live during the first war? Did he just pitch up to the Malfoys' every time? Has he got his own house? Have I forgotten that? Was it mentioned?)

Anyway please do correct me if I've gotten anything terribly wrong, but otherwise I'll be holding on to this

[foxilayde]

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

[denaliwrites]

Something Meaty For The Main Course

Aziraphale x GN!Reader

Summary: You cook a special meal for Aziraphale to tell him how much he means to you.

Soundtrack: Take Me To Church by Hozier

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Blatant use of Take Me To Church lyrics for the symbolism. Also weird Christian symbolism. I saw the opportunity and I took it.

You were no trained professional when it came to cooking, but you knew your way around the average kitchen, you knew the names of most tools and utensils, and in a pinch you were quite skilled with Google.

But Aziraphale deserved better than "average home cook." He deserved a meal even Gordon Fucking Ramsay couldn't find fault in. You weren't exactly sure you could deliver that kind of meal, but you'd be damned if you weren't going to try on the angel's behalf.

After all, this meal in particular had to be perfect. Literally perfect.

You settled on roasted lamb with pomegranate sauce and mint.

You didn't consider yourself a particularly religious person, or a particularly sinful person, but you were pretty sure Aziraphale wouldn't miss the meanings there. You were also pretty sure God was docking off some points for your brazenness.

There were still a few minutes left on the kitchen timer when Aziraphale's knock on your door filled the otherwise silent flat. "Coming!" you called, shooting the oven a warning look (as if it could see or understand) before wandering to the door and opening it for the angel to enter.

"Oh, it smells absolutely heavenly, my dear," he purred as he stepped over the threshold. You could see his eyes taking in the flat -- you didn't have a lot of belongings, and most of what you did have was second-hand. It didn't bother you too much, that was just the reality of living on your wage.

Even though you knew he wasn't, you couldn't help but feel a little judged.

He stepped towards the kitchen area, and you followed with your hands nervously wringing as they rested over your belly. "Erm, the table is just there," you offered uselessly, motioning towards the rather obvious dining set that he couldn't have possibly missed.

Stellar.

"Would you like me to sit?" he asked, and when he turned to you his eyes were nothing but cheerful and kind.

"Oh, er... only if you want," you stammered. "I didn't mean to... you can keep looking around. The roast isn't ready yet, anyway."

"Oh, you've made a roast? How delightful!"

The genuine joy warmed your heart and your cheeks. Much like the table, you were sure it was impossible for him to miss how red your cheeks got.

Despite your invitation to keep looking around the flat, Aziraphale chose to take a seat at the little table. Unbeknownst to him, he'd taken your usual spot -- you weren't going to tell him that, of course. He could sit wherever he wanted. You'd let him sit on your corpse if it so pleased him (though, now that the thought had crossed your mind, you really hoped it didn't).

Wordlessly, you stepped into the kitchen and grabbed the wine you'd bought for the evening. It was nothing special, the most expensive you could afford was a twenty pound bottle of some red you couldn't say the name of. But you knew the angel liked red wine, so you'd squeezed it into the budget for him.

You'd just set the bottle and two glasses on the table when the timer for the roast went off. "Oh," you sighed in disappointment.

"Would you like me to get it?" he asked helpfully.

"Oh, no, I couldn't... ask that of you," you told him, holding a hand out to pause his progress upward. "It's fine." You made sure he sat down fully before you ducked out again, this time to get the roast out and prepare everything.

You'd had to buy serving trays for this meal, something you hadn't really thought you needed until this whole affair. Now that you had them, though, you were determined to use them for any occasion that you could justifiably use them for.

You transferred the roast to a tray, then carefully carried it out to the table. Next were the potatoes, then the salad, and finally the gravy boat filled with pomegranate sauce. Finally, you were able to sit down, and you all but collapsed into the chair.

Aziraphale's attention immediately snapped from the food to you. "Are you all right, my dear?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," you answered, waving a hand dismissively. "Just glad to be off my feet."

He smiled sympathetically, then looked back to the food, his eyes lighting up. "Wherever did you learn to cook like this, my dear?" he asked distractedly.

"Google," you answered honestly, thankful he hadn't actually wanted an answer and hadn't seemed to hear you regardless.

He looked to you, as if asking for permission, and you motioned for him to go ahead.

You weren't sure how much you'd expected the angel to eat, but it certainly wasn't... nearly as much as he served himself. Not that you were complaining, you couldn't eat all that food by yourself, even as leftovers.

While he was busy piling food on his plate, you busied yourself with opening the wine and pouring the glasses, making sure to set his somewhere he wouldn't accidentally knock it over.

"This was very kind of you," he said suddenly, and when you looked up his eyes were on you rather intently. Uncomfortably intently.

"O-oh... no, it's nothing," you weakly assured him, smiling nervously.

"No, no, it's not nothing," he insisted, shifting in his seat to move closer to you. His delightfully warm hands wrapped around yours, and while his hands warmed your skin, his smile warmed your soul in a way you didn't even know was possible.

Then again, he was an angel.

"It is," you said, voice stronger. You wondered if he had something to do with that. "Nothing, I mean. It seems perfectly normal to cook dinner for someone you love, you know?"

Both of you froze.

Shit.

Well, that certainly wasn't how you'd planned to tell him, or how you'd planned to phrase it. You wondered, idly, if maybe he had something to do with that, too. Not that it really mattered now, since the words were out there, hanging awkwardly in the air.

"You... love me?" he asked softly.

"Oh, yes. Very much."

Finally, he cracked, and a joyful smile spread over his face, eyes gleaming. "Oh, isn't that just wonderful! And I you, of course."

"Of course," you agreed deliriously. "Of course."

"I do think this calls for a toast."

"With cheap wine?" you asked with a light chuckle.

He made an odd motion with a hand, then gave you a wink. "Not anymore."

[gaysindistress]

When Night Come- three

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: cursing, Jessica being Jessica (we love and hate her)

word count: 3.5k

two | masterlist

Tag list; @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21​ @unaxv​ @mal-adaptive-dreams @elizacusi-blog

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

For the most part, the week had gone by smoothly. Only minor behavioral issues with the kids at work and even fewer tantrums from their parents. Bucky hadn’t made an appearance at pick up but that was to be expected since he rarely had in the past. However, a part of her wanted him to. Sunny may have told Jessica that she wanted nothing to do with Mr. Sexy but after going through the texts between him and who he thought was her, a part of her wanted him to talk to her the way he had in those messages. His charm was undeniable, after all, he was known as the flirt of Brooklyn but knowing those messages were meant for her and she only stirred something in her even if she didn’t want to admit it. In the past she would’ve dropped everything for a man like him, giving into him the first time he’d asked her out for dinner but with time and horrible experiences, she’d built a resistance to that part of her. Still, it egged her on, leading her to indulge in short-lived daydreams of what could be. One thing stood in the back of her mind throughout the week though; how high had she been to convince herself that she’d seen a fang when Peter was talking or only feel cold when Bucky touched her? Yelena kept her distracted though from overthinking it all.

She thought it was hilarious that she had gotten the wrong message even if she didn’t know what her original message should have been. The conversations between the two girls were less flirty and more casual, like a friendship with hidden feelings was developing. The attraction was there for both of them but Sunny guessed that Yelena knew about her date with Bucky so Yelena had chosen to back off. Admirable, yes but only one of them could ultimately continue to date her and her rational side, begging the romantic to let it be Yelena, the drop-dead gorgeous woman who could make her laugh at the stupidest things. 

Jessica, sweet Jessica is no help either as she’s caught up with Peter once again, having gotten sucked into his hurricane of a personality. Having asked Sunny to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t fall back into his hands, she’d practically pleaded with her more sensible friend to go out for dinner to take her mind off of it. The rather fancy restaurant is not the place two women should be talking about the size of an ex’s dick but alas Jessica did so without a second care and a glass of merlot in her hand. 

“It’s definitely a grower but he acts like it’s 10 inches or some shit which wouldn’t even fit in reality,” the woman who passes by the table on her way to the bathroom makes a horrified gasp when she hears the crude words.

“It’s honestly so embarrassing, more for him than me because homeboy acts like a real fucking Chad.”

“Jess keep your voice down,” Sunny tells her, snickering from behind her own wine glass, “You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“They can all get fucked, I’m in pain and in need of some expensive sushi and wine to ease my agony.”

“Spoken like a true woman of class,” Sunny says, setting her glass back on the table, “But let’s be real here; are you going to let him back in or are you done with him for good now?”

Jessica shrugs slightly, the chandelier’s light bouncing off the chain strap of her top, “I want to but something keeps pulling me back in and no it’s not his dick. There’s a Peter that I can’t get to but I know he’s there, a version of him that’s not such a douchebag.”

“Are we sure that’s even possible or is this wishful thinking?” “I know, I know, I don’t have great taste in men and we both already know how terrible he can be but I’m telling you Sun, he can be such a sweet guy.”

Sunny half-heartedly hums partly because she’s overhearing about Peter and because the sushi she’s eating is just that good she forgot her train of thought. If hearing about him means more of this divine sushi, then she’s glad to sit and be the wall that Jessica tells all of her troubles. 

“Earth to Sunny,” Jessica waves her hand in front of her face, “Did you hear what I said?”

“Shit no, I’m sorry. I got distracted by my food, what did you say?”

She gives her a skeptical look before glancing over her shoulder, “Don’t make it obvious but look behind you. Is that who I think it is?”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” she asks as she’s getting ready to turn around but Jessica stops her with a hand on hers.

“Never mind, I think they’re going to walk past us, and don’t freak out, I’m serious.”

“What? Why would I…” the words die on her tongue when that damned cologne and honeyed voice waltz past their table with a woman wrapped around his form. The woman, who’s wearing a very low-cut dress, makes a show out of gently hitting Bucky’s chest as she laughs obnoxiously at something he no doubt whispered in his ear. He’s, of course, wearing that dazzling smile anyone would want to see every time they go to sleep and wake up. Whether or not he sees either woman is a mystery because he makes no attempt to say hi or even stop as he leads his date past their table. While they’re seemingly having a grand time, Sunny’s heart drops at the scene before her as her eyes dart to a very pissed-off Jessica. Something about the whole scene feels with her unease but she brushes it off as anger and maybe jealousy. 

“Please tell me I’m going blind because I didn't just see that,” she scoffs, still holding tightly onto her friend’s hand, “At least have some decorum if you’re going to parade around with gold diggers, Jesus Christ. Oh my god, Sun I’m so sorry.”

“No no, it’s uh….” her words are dying again as she blinks rapidly trying to come back to reality, “It’s fine. We’re not together or anything, we haven’t even gone out yet so it’s not like… it’s not like we’re exclusive. He can… ya know.”

Jessica grips her hand tighter to draw her attention to her, “Say the word and I’ll fight a bitch.”

“It’s whatever, seriously,” she offers a sad smile, “Let’s just forget about it. Please.”

“Of course,” she removes her hand and goes back to eating while ranting about her boy problems. 

Meanwhile, the hole that Sunny feels doesn’t shrink no matter how much wine or sushi she consumes. No amount of Tinder profiles shoved into her face can erase the sight of Bucky flirting so openly with that woman. She tries to convince herself that she shouldn’t care because like she said herself, they are not together. He does not owe her exclusivity no matter how pretty his words are. They haven’t even gone on their date yet so again, she has no reason to feel the green rage of jealousy or the blue wave of insecurity that threatens to crash over her but she still does. The romantic in her is crying over broken Valentine’s Day hearts with her makeup smeared while the logic in her is rolling her eyes and setting fire to whatever feelings she has left for Bucky. 

She quietly excuses herself to go to the bathroom which unfortunately requires her to pass by the table he’s at with that woman and another person she can’t see. Against her better judgment, she looks. She looks at that table and makes the briefest of eye contact with the man she wants to burn the world for and because of. However, when she does catch his blue eyes, they are devoid of any emotion and she tells herself that it’s because he didn’t recognize her rather than the alternative as she fumbles to close and lock the bathroom door. Her hands tremble as she grips her phone with white knuckles, back to the cold metal door. It buzzes, startling her and she drops it with a gasp as her heart tries to pound out of her ribcage and into her throat. 

“U good?” - Jessica 

“Jesus, get ahold of yourself,” she whispers to herself. Bending down to pick up her phone, she contemplates her choices regarding their date; the romantic is screaming for her to just go out with him and forget all about it. Once again her logic kicks in and she’s typing before she even realizes it. 

“Can’t make it Friday. Sorry.”

Another truly aggravating laugh rings through Bucky’s ears when his phone vibrates in his pants pocket. Aside from the fact that he can’t stand to be around Lycan in general, this woman is the prime example of why he hates them. Steve flashes a very forced smile at whatever the woman said, trying his hardest to not ruin the deal that’s almost closed. The woman is completely oblivious, or at least pretends to not care about both men’s frustration with her, and continues to make jokes at the wait staff’s expense. Bucky pulls his phone out, giving Steve a silent signal to continue the conversation if this can even be considered one. Upon reading the fatal message, his jaw muscle feathers to not lose his cool even more. Years of practicing his self-control in other areas have led him to be able to starve off the allure of allowing the other side of him to make an appearance. Rather than damage the already fragile relationship, he doesn’t respond right away and instead messages Yelena. 

Yelena’s habit of getting on his nerves is growing out of hand however she’s irreplaceable and Steve might actually kill him if anything happened to her. She is, after all, the little sister to one of their close friends, and her sister made it very clear that if anything bad happened to her, there would be hell to pay. Even so, having her tail Sunny gave her that much more ammo when it came to teasing him, and adding in the fact that she, too, was interested in her made things even more frustrating but what’s a little friendly competition? 

The unbearable woman at the table seemed to think that any woman within a fifty-foot radius of the table is a threat to whatever sick daydream she has concocted where she has a chance with Bucky. The way she belittles the poor server and makes lewd comments about other people in the restaurant is enough to make both Steve and Bucky want to rip her throat out even if it might kill them. Regardless they still have a business deal to close even if their skin is crawling while doing so. 

Bucky slips his phone back into his pants and leans back in the booth, “Juliette, I need that name you promised.”

“Awe Baby, I thought we were having fun! Why’d you have to go and ruin it with business talk?” she says whilst trying to sneak her hand over his knee. 

Steve clears his throat loudly, disrupting whatever foul plan she had, “I believe we agreed that this meeting is strictly professional. Give us the name and we’ll see what we can offer in exchange.”

“Now that isn’t going to work for me,” she rolls her shoulders back, dramatically pushing out her chest, “I need reassurance that nothing is going to happen to me if I rat out my boss.”

“That depends on if we get the name we’re looking for. You’re a smart girl, you know how these things work.”

She rolls her eyes at his words before letting out a considerable sigh, “Her name is Alix, with an I, Wright. She’s the big boss out of California you’re looking for and if I were you two, I would give her what she wants. She’s the type of person you want working with you, not against you.”

“And what is it that she wants?” She snorts like the dog she is, “I’m not telling you that until you tell me what I get out of this.”

“A ticket out of the country.”

“Not good enough.” “Europe?”

“Only if this man here,” her hand finds Bucky’s knee again, “can come with me.”

“No. What does Alix want?” He can’t hide his contempt now as he pushes her hand off roughly. 

“Fine,” her eyes flash gold for a second, returning to their usual green in moments, “She’s looking for a Y/N L/N. Rumor has it she’s an ex and she wants her back but that’s all I know. There’s a photo floating around but I haven’t seen it.”

“Can you get it?” 

“I could but I’m not going to. I like being alive so I’m not going to risk it any more than I already have.”

“You should be more concerned about the people in this room. Get us the photo and you’ll get your plane ticket.”

“No no no. That’s not what we agreed on. You got your name and now I get my ticket. The photo wasn’t a part of the agreement,” she tries to reason with the mob bosses in front of her who are looking at her as if she’s a part of the menu.  

“Things change and we need the photo as well so get it to us and we can discuss your ticket,” Bucky says as he and Steve stand up, “Don’t call until you have it. My time is valuable so don’t waste it.”

With that, they exit the restaurant and leave the woman fuming at the table, disgusting pheromones from her anger rolling off of her. 

Bucky’s nose wrinkles at the smell that has no doubt clung to his clothes as he pulls out his phone the moment they settle into the car. Steve briefly glances over at him, “Want to tell me what happened back there?”

He doesn’t answer right away, too engrossed in whatever is on his phone. It takes Steve calling his name a few times as they pull away from the curb to get his attention. 

“What changed in the restaurant?” “It’s complicated.”

“I highly doubt that.”

A moment passes. 

Bucky’s phone vibrates again in his lap and yet another crestfallen look takes over his face. 

“I didn’t know she was going to be there. She saw us with Juliette and canceled our date tomorrow night.”

“And?”

“And Yelena just confirmed that she’s actually Y/N L/N.”

“Ah, I see. That does complicate things,” he says whilst checking his mirrors before merging into a new lane, “Look, we both know how dangerous Alix Wright can be but we’ll do what we can to protect Sunny, Y/N, or whatever she chooses to go by. As for your canceled date, I think you owe her some flowers and an explanation.”

“Yeah, Yelena already lectured me about it.”

“Are you going to?”

Upon not hearing a response, he glances over and sees that Bucky has his phone to his ear with an annoyed look. 

“Not answering your call?”

His answer; is a short groan when the voicemail answers again instead of the woman. Against his better judgment, the slight desperation kicks in as he remembers the almost kiss they had at Yelena’s party. The thought of having blown his one shot to get to know her controls him as he texts her. Even if she leaves him on read, it’s still something, anything to prove that she might give him a second chance. However, he isn’t so lucky as she continues to ignore his calls and leaves his texts on delivered. His only lifeline to her is Yelena and she has the perfect opportunity to sweep her off of her feet. Well, he does have another person but Jessica is very adamant in her dislike for him as is evident in her texts to him. 

“Jess being helpful?” Steve asks. 

“Not in the slightest,” he drops his phone down, “And the worst part is that I know where she lives but I can’t just send shit over without it giving off…”

“Stalker vibes,” Steve finishes his sentence for him, “You’d think after two centuries you’d get better at courting people.”

“Yeah well, shit does change over time so it’s not like I can just show up with flowers and not have her worry for her safety.”

“Have you thought about it how it’s all going to work? She’s human so eventually she’s going to notice something is up when you don’t eat or age.”

“That’s assuming she’ll give me the time of day after this,” his nose wrinkled in disgust again when the Lycan’s smell fills the air once more, “Jesus I’m going to have to burn this suit. She must have scented me.”

“You think? She was all over you,” Steve coughs out, rolling down the windows so they can finally stop inhaling the traitorous air. 

“Oh my god, he won’t leave you alone! He just keeps calling and texting and then calling again. It’s soooo annoying,” Jessica sighs as she tosses the phone off to the side and hugs Sunny closer to her side of the couch. 

She doesn’t say anything, only hiding her face a little more into Jessica’s side while half-watching whatever stupid movie was on. Negative thoughts and questions consume her as she second-guesses everything. Was he actually flirting with her? Did she misread the texts? Was he really trying to kiss her at the party? When he said she was beautiful, was that him or her imagination filling in the gaps? Why the fuck didn’t she remember feeling the heat of his body when he was holding her? Her friend’s nails tapping away at a phone screen brings her consciousness forward through the storm of emotions inside. 

“What are you saying?” “Oh, ya know ‘fuck off, leave her alone,’ that kind of stuff.”

“What is HE saying?” “The usual bullshit about how you need to talk and he needs to explain but take it from me, it’s all a bunch of lies to just gaslight you into forgiving and forgetting. Don’t fall for it, Sun, no matter how good his dick is.”

Scoffing she pulls away from Jessica and curls up into the corner of the couch, hugging her arms and a blanket around her. Her phone appears in her peripheral but she just shakes her head, “I don’t want it.” 

“Can I keep messing with him then?” “No just leave it. We still have to see him and I don’t want it to be too awkward.”

“That ship sailed when he decided to be a player…”

Sunny cut her off, “Please, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

She may not be able to see the intense roll eye of Jessica’s but she can certainly feel it when the tension starts to bubble under their skin, threatening to be released at any moment. Sure they are good friends and they had been for almost as long as Sunny had been in New York but Jessica didn’t know the first thing about her old life or who she really was, the world she came from. Being around so many painfully naïve humans did drain her from time to time but it was refreshing given the alternative. The thought of even being in the presence of a Lycan again made her stomach churn and her skin crawl. The unsettling feeling she felt at the restaurant suddenly makes sense; that woman had been a Lycan and dread fills her body at the idea that Lycan was in New York still AND Bucky seemed to be a little too friendly with one. Something spurs her to start questioning Jessica without any forethought, “Jess does Peter have sharp teeth?”

“Girl, what the fuck kind of question is that?”

She pushes herself out of the corner just enough to look at her friend squarely, “Are Peter’s canines sharp?”

“Umm,” Jessica’s voice is full of confusion as she shifts in her spot, “Yeah but aren’t everyone's?”

“But were they sharper than they should be?”

“I don’t know. Why are you asking me?”

“Never mind, forget about it,” with defeat, she drops back into her corner albeit Jessica is still confused about her abrupt and strange line of questions. 

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that and order us some ice cream. The usual?”

[lucky-clover-gazette]

captive prince book 1 highlights & annotations

prologue & chapter 1

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

‘The Prince, we hear, enjoys a challenge,’ said Lady Jokaste. 

she's not incorrect.

Hand picked, she matched all that was known of Damen’s tastes. Her skin was as white as the marble of the baths, and her yellow hair was simply pinned...

damen likes blondes mention #1

The courtiers were nondescript except for one: a young man with an astonishingly lovely face—the kind of face that would have earned a small fortune on the slave-block in Akielos.

“astonishingly lovely face” + “in my fucked-up culture you’d be expensive” great first impression 

also, we’re just jumping right in with damen’s slavery stuff huh? from almost the first page we’re given signs that he is not an entirely morally upright narrator. also that he isn’t really… a slave? which we only see more and more of, in his actions and thoughts, as the story goes on. 

Damen’s attention caught and held.

yeah. we know.

Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white as though in reaction to a slap, or an insult.

to be fair, damen murdered his brother

‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ said Laurent, not quite pleasantly. ‘I speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart.’

‘Think what that’d be like, getting a leg over the Prince.’ I imagine it would be a lot like lying down with a poisonous snake, thought Damen, but he kept the thought to himself.

Laurent’s slightly lidded eyes, the slackness around his mouth, spoke of a night wasted in a dissolute courtier’s overindulgence in wine.

context: he got hammered last night because his uncle is terrorizing him with the man who killed his brother. the reader might assume that laurent drinks all the time, but in reality he only drinks in extreme instances like this

‘Petty prejudice,’ said Laurent.

the regent knows damn well that this man killed auguste. this is a shitty thing to say, whether or not he knows that laurent recognizes damianos

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E10 - The French Connection

The episode from which I found out that there are some islands close to Canada that belong to France somehow. And apparently now there's also a crime show set in those islands?

From Wikipedia: Saint-Pierre is a Canadian police procedural television series, slated to premiere in the 2024–25 season on CBC Television. The series stars Alan Hawco as Donny "Fitz" Fitzpatrick, a police officer with the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary; after one of his investigations gets uncomfortably close to the corruption of a powerful local politician, he is exiled to the French territory of Saint-Pierre and Miquelon, where he partners with local police officer Geneviève "Arch" Archambault (Joséphine Jobert) to to solve local crimes.

Now, wait a second. That's about half the plot of this Hudson and Rex episode!

Anyway, on to the episode.

A girl carrying baguettes on a bicycle???

"I hope he's not some pretentious Godard-quoting chain smoker." Just once, look around before you speak.

I got you now, mister Black Coffee. That's more milk than what I put in my latte.

We've already established some of the most popular stereotypes for French and Canadian people. Valerie is already snobbish and Charlie has already apologized once.

While on duty?

Oh my god his face when the dude spits out the gin in the spit bucket lmao

I like many kinds of drinks but I admit that gin leaves me uninterested. I don't know what it is about it.

Well, hello there, Aaron Ashmore, twin brother of Shawn Ashmore. For anyone who doesn't know, this not the guy who's on The Rookie, but he is the guy who was on Killjoys, with Mayko Nguyen.

People keep handing Valerie drinks and Charlie keeps saying "we're on duty". Just give up.

Why does he look so happy to be digging through trash???

Claire just said that there's no law against lying to the police. What?

Valerie, when you doubt Charlie, it's funny. When you doubt Sarah and Rex, you sound like a twat.

Well, don't sound so proud about it.

"You're more comfortable with dogs than people". Probably, but that's because people are often twats.

Charlie's face is pure comedy in this episode. So funny.

Sarah gets to go undercover AND drink gin. Well, if we call that drinking.

She says "you guys" but only looks at Charlie. You're not even subtle.

Charlie: Oh, hell to the no. This is a trap.

Valerie is not wrong here. That's gross, not to mention unsanitary. He'd put so much milk in it that it must have gone bad by now. And judging by his reaction when he takes a sip, it probably has. Never drink coffee with dairy that's been left out for more than two hours, folks.

I only wish I could capture the following scene with Sarah and Jesse competing on who's going to deliver the new evidence that they have found out. But I think Sarah's "I'll fucking murder that twink" face is very telling.

Now, cognac, I like. Although, according to google, the most expensive cognac is Henri IV, not V. I'm sure they've written that intentionally. The real cognac is worth up to 2 million dollars, by the way. People are crazy.

Charlie does not understand any of this and to be honest, neither am I. Any bottle of wine that costs more than 20 Euros is a scam. Any clear alcohol like whiskey, gin, rum, vodka, that costs more than 50 Euros is also a scam.

"No CCTV cameras anywhere. You might say that it's the perfect place for murder". I don't remember a lot of cases outdoors that were solved by watching CCTV cameras either way. Which makes sense. I mean, how many CCTV cameras does a city like St. John's need?

This is such a funny episode, really.

We must do this at least once in any Rex adaptation. I bet it's in the contracts lol

Joe: *counts* One [Valerie], two [Charlie], *skips Jesse* three of you [Rex] are going on a trip. lol poor Jesse.

*tries to speak French and gets guns pointed at him* Come on, it wasn't that bad, was it? (Yes, I'd have put that line in there if I could.)

That's why he'll move soon!

The chase scene was good too.

Ugh, Valerie has her finger on the trigger. No.

Joe: "Can anyone explain to me why I was asked to comp a 300 dollar cognac bill?" Justice isn't cheap, Superintendent. Although for that many bottles... I mean, I can't find cognac that cheap here.

We had whiskey glasses in S1, what the hell happened?

Well, I enjoyed that. I didn't remember it was such a funny episode. And I maxed out the image limit again.

[drowninnoodles]

You shoulda known this was coming by now

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

7. earbuds or headphones?

8. movies or tv shows?

9. favorite smell in the summer?

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

12. name of your favorite playlist?

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

18. ideal weather?

19. sleeping position?

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

21. obsession from childhood?

23. strange habits?

24. favorite crystal?

29. best way to bond with you?

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

33. most used phrase in your phone?

35. average time you fall asleep?

41. last person you texted?

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

47. favorite type of cheese?

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

51. current stresses?

52. favorite font?

53. what is the current state of your hands?

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

66. favorite flower(s)?

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

70. left or right handed?

71. least favorite pattern?

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

83. writing or drawing?

85. fairy tales or mythology?

87. your greatest fear?

88. your greatest wish?

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

93. nicknames?

94. favorite season?

95. favorite app on your phone?

98. favorite historical era?

oh god.

1. coffee mugs and teacups

6.pastel, goth, formal ig

7. earbuds

8. movies

9. uhh idk ice creams-

11. sausage? ketchup basicially

12. lmao i dont have any playlist

16. in armchair with legs on that one thing to put legs ndjz

17. slippers

18. Smth cold like fog or snow

19. yk how people lie in coffin-

20. google docs on phone lmao

21. what do we consider childhood. Monster High ig or Hello neighbor in early teen years

23. UHHH apparently sitting everyday with parents is considered weird to some people so

24. i know shit about it but amethyst is pretty

29. fandoms probably or just talking to me much (i often forgot about people if then just appear once a time)

31. yk that tiffany one

33. probably smth like "japierdole"

35. 23 - 2am

41. @naciapiracia

42. pants

43. leather or cardigan

45. fantasy but i dont like any tbh

46. nightgown with straps thing

47. any

48. something tasteless but expensive

50. hhhh i remmeber i was talking to somebody at night once and was laughing into pillow but i dont remember context

51. everything

52. Smth bubbly and round, i dont have one i think

53. are connected to the arms

57. people

58. drawing. Uh. Hm. writing. idk what i do more help

59. get fucked, little one lmao

66. not a flower but I like ferns

69. raccoon in the ass

70. right

71. honestly geometrical things other that stripes are kinda boring

76. mashed potato or baked

83. both. both is good

85. fairy tales

87. being alone

88. probably making smth that is my own like game

92. fairy lights

93. noodle, cinnamon

94. autumn, winter

95. Tumblr probably

98. dinosaurs/j

bro lmao

[faebriel]

brrrr rainduo hunger games au

mad shoutouts to bee, beans, daisy and cherry for hopping on the rainduo hunger games bandwagon kdhkdjd

okay so nonnie i have a bit of hunger games knowledge (have watched the first two movies with some pals in the last month, various clips on youtube, etc) so i decided to take this one to my friends in clout farm to bounce some ideas around. niki and wil as tributes? niki as a tribute and wil as an estranged old friend who won the games five years ago and then was swallowed up by the capitol? two coworkers in the world's worst subminimum wage job? then bee comes in with the sledgehammer

for everyone else who also thought oh god i need to google that: avoxes are rebels, traitors or deserters who had their tongues cut out as punishment, and are forced into servitude by the capitol.

alright so. wilbur and niki are two kids in district 12 in the midst of a potential regime change - and they're kids, around ten and fourteen each. to-be-president schlatt is shoving around president dream and it almost seems like this might be a window for change, something wilbur is so passionate about

and then that wrong person overhears, and wilbur is gone.

niki assumes that wilbur is dead. (and tries not to think about how he got taken, because of nothing more than sheer bad luck, and she didn't.) it's awful, but seven years pass and she does her best to cope with it. and then her name is called at the reaping, when she is seventeen years old.

niki has absolutely zero intention of playing along with the games - she thinks they're horrible, just another way for the capitol to terrorise the people of the districts, even if she's learned by now the consequences of actually saying that out loud. she meets her mentor, jack - a year younger than she is, district 12's only remaining victor. he came out of the coal pits at thirteen, with just enough charisma and confidence to win over the sponsors and just enough grit to outlive every other tribute in his games, despite his age.

unfortunately for jack, niki is stubborn as hell when she makes her choices, and she's chosen not to play. fuck the capitol - fuck acting as their entertainment while they burn her entire fucking world down. fuck smiling how they want her to and acting sweet. why should she? she should she, when they've ripped her away from everything she had to lose? niki can hold her own, but not like this - and if she is going to go to her death, she refuses to act pretty about it.

and then she encounters wilbur.

it's one of the dinners for the tributes - one of the early ones, right after they're paired off with their stylists (niki doesn't entirely know what to make of hbomb, who asks her what colour hair dye she'd prefer in one breath and then lays out the most cynical, how-to-get-ahead guide to the games in the second, and then exalts the benefits of a kitty ear motif in the third) but before the interviews and grading. they're eating the fanciest food niki has seen in what is probably her entire life, although it tastes like nothing more than ash in her mouth, and pouring the tributes and their mentors glasses of expensive wine - never mind that almost all the tributes are underage, because when else will they get the chance to drink, hey? niki is still silently fuming, pushing her food around her plate and refusing the sixth damn offer to refill her wine glass and she finally looks up and behind the mask he's wearing, behind the unrecognisable silence, behind seven years of thinking one of her best friends had been horribly killed (and being entirely unable to process that fact) - she sees wilbur.

she immediately asks, wilbur? - not that he responds, and now hbomb and jack are giving her weird looks as hbomb informs her it's just an avox and jack goes oh, yeah, they don't have them in the districts, but -

none of their words matter, because half of niki is solidly trapped in this space between reality and dreams and her worst nightmare - she's only able to pull her shit together once jack has dragged them all back to the district 12 tribute spaces, and gives her the whole spiel about what an avox is, and by extension, what happened to wilbur.

niki is horrified. to think she mourned for all those years, and wilbur was alive - not just alive, but mutilated and tortured at the hands of the capitol. niki didn't think she could become more furious, more enraged with them. she was wrong.

the problem now, then - if niki wants to help wilbur, actually help him, she has to play. she has to win.

(and yes, she does set the forest on fire. she has to win, after all, doesn't she?)

this post is getting so so long so i am putting some more miscellaneous thoughts about The World and more details about niki's games under the cut ⚔️

okay so dream WAS president but was overthrown by schlatt in a "peaceful transfer of power". this was around when niki and wil were 10/14 each - and naturally uprising resulted in a peacekeeper crackdown in the districts, leading to wilbur's capture and arrest :(

2. haven't really nailed down other tributes in niki's reaping (i'm already handwaving the guy from district 12. he doesn't exist to me he is stock image steve) besides uhh ranboo who niki makes brief friends/allies with and then dies horribly. i was thinking aimsey and guqqie because from what i've seen of their content they love a tragedy? but yeah idk

3. sam is the gamemaker for this arena! he was a former victor and has decided to use this knowledge in the worst way possible.

quackity is Also a gamemaker (young upstart with no experience yet in the arena or out of it) and they have terrible workplace drama. is he hooking up with the president? i will not say yea or nay.

4. rest easy in the knowledge that, as a servant to the capitol, wilbur got to see on live television the moment niki was reaped :']

5. niki does, in fact, win the games - by the skin of her teeth. while she is so full of fury at the capitol, i feel like she'd Actually kill like, one career and then feel Extremely ill about it. unfortunately, she has too much on the line to lose. this isn't just about surviving, or going home - she needs to get herself and wilbur home in one piece. she Cannot Afford To Fail.

she ends up winning by setting the arena on fire with use of a match donated by jack and some sponsors he managed to twist the arm of, plus probably some clever digging around in the arena itself to find something flammable (maybe some kind of fuel to power the arena itself?) this fire ends up killing off the remaining few tributes at that point - at least one in front of niki herself - and damages the arena too. niki, already injured before the fire started and now barely clinging onto life past her burns, doesn't even hear the sound of the cannon shots as her victory is announced - she only realises that she's won once the hovercraft descends, perfect steel against a fiery, smoke-filled artificial sky.

she can't really stand the sight of flames after that. unfortunately, fire becomes her new branding.

6. district 13 Is a thing. Eventually. can't overlook niki's beloved anarchist friends :3c

and finally: