#new york mirror magazine

[centralbazaar]

Maysa, New York Mirror Magazine, 1961

[labellenouvelle]

MCM BRASS CHEVAL MIRROR

A Mid century Modern, circa 1960's, solid brass cheval mirror by GLO-MAR Artworks, Inc, New York. Elegant and chic, solid brass with it's back clad in ribbed brass. Full length mirror. Easy to adjust. Superb quality and design sure to add sophistication to any room. Item No. E5720 Dimensions: 69" tall x 24" wide x 17" deep List Price: $ 2200

504.581.3733 / t

info@labellenouvelle.com / e

[cmonbartender]

Front page of New York Mirror on August 6th, 1962

[nayedoll]

Baby came home

joost klein x fem!reader

rpf below, pls don’t read if you’re uncomfortable!!!

read part 2 here

summary: reader and joost used to be together but broke up. four years later they meet again, having realized their mistakes.

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut (blowjob, unprotected p in v), angsty

word count: 6k

a/n: this is kiiiiind of based on the songs ‘baby came home’ and ‘baby came home 2/ valentines’ by the nbhd fyi if u want to listen to them!! also im sorry that im yapping sm in the first paragraphs i promise joost is gonna show up lol🥲. anyways enjoy!!!!!!

───────────────────────

You enter the bathroom, the deafening music from the club reducing to a muffled sound as the door behind you closes. Your hand immediately reaches for the sink and you look up to see your blurry reflection in the mirror. The dark red tint of your lipstick has faded by now and your eyes look tired under the bathroom lighting, lightly smudged with mascara.

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut in order to get ahold of yourself. The floor underneath you is vibrating with the sound of the loud bass, mirroring the quick rhythm of your heartbeat as you open your eyes again, meeting your distressed gaze in the mirror. You feel lost, unable to recognize yourself under the layers of makeup as tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

Today wasn’t supposed to go like this. You expected it to be another long night of partying with your coworkers, the group of you sat in the fancy vip sofas as always, drinking champagne and gossiping. You never really liked them or their snobbish attitude, the only reason you always agreed to go out with them being your job — a stylist for one of New York’s biggest fashion magazines.

You had always wanted to be involved in fashion so naturally when you got the opportunity to work for such a prestigious magazine two years ago, you accepted every part of the job, the good and the bad. It was sort of an unspoken rule; if you wanted to go higher, you’d have to make compromises — and for you that compromise was to tolerate all the rich elites you worked with, pretend to be one of them.

You thought your plan had been working, especially with how your boss was treating you lately, even promising to give you the promotion you so badly wanted and deserved.

So naturally, when she announced another person as the art director today, you couldn’t help but protest, ask for an explanation from your boss who called you crazy in her usual patronizing tone. With the help of alcohol in your system, the complaints soon turned into a heated argument as you resigned, left the table and ended up… here.

Maybe I should have never left the Netherlands; this is the only thought going through your mind right now as you let out one last shaky breath and your tears gradually come to a stop, leaving a reddish blush on your cheeks as a confirmation that you have been crying. You slightly fix your makeup, clearing the smudged mascara under your eyes before leaving the bathroom.

The music gets progressively louder as you re-enter the large venue filled by people dancing.

You glance at the vip section one last time, easily spotting the people you unfortunately know so well, dressed in expensive designer clothes. They are chatting and laughing as if nothing has happened, the same fake smiles lingering on their faces. You scoff to yourself, all those years of working together and not one of them cares enough to check on you.

You don’t bother to stay any longer and make a turn for the exit door, as the music from the club gradually fades.

The familiar security guard opens the door for you and you smile subtly at him for what you hope will be the last time.

The air is cold and humid against your hot body, causing you to wince as you put on your lightweight jacket that doesn’t do much to warm you up.

You look around you, blinded by the vibrant lights reflecting off the windows of the tall buildings and restaurants. Despite how late it is, the city is still as busy as ever with numerous people walking by, going from club to club and the loud music from cars is booming at every corner.

You decide to rest on a wall a few meters away, seeing as your ride home was one of your coworkers but that scenario doesn’t seem very likely anymore.

You pull out a cigarette from your purse and your trembling fingers rush to light it, desperate to feel the addictive burn in your throat.

For the first time in a long while, you suddenly feel better, relieved as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It almost feels liberating to not work at that place anymore, knowing you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not, that this may be your chance to escape the toxic environment you’ve been living in and find your old self back.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you instinctively whip your head to the direction you heard it come from, then pause. In front of you, is standing Joost.

Joost as in your ex boyfriend from the Netherlands.

You met him shortly after having moved to the country because of your dad’s job, both of you being just 17 without the experience of any previous partners and big feelings. It didn’t take long before you got into a relationship, the newfound passion of a first love quickly drawing you closer together and taking over your minds. It was the first time in your life that you had such strong feelings for someone, especially someone you had known for so little at that. You really thought you had found the perfect man, the one you would someday marry and start a life with, no matter the hardships.

But as time passed, the problems soon began to emerge in your relationship. The main issue lied with the fact that you both didn’t exactly know how to convey your feelings and emotions to one another; Joost opted to ignore them and move on, whereas you often came off as controlling and selfish in an attempt to show him just how much you cared.

You loved each other a lot — and you both knew that — but inevitably you broke up with him in the heat of an argument, the biggest one you’d had yet. In the following month, you barely talked and it was then that you made the impulsive decision to move back to New York, finding no reason in staying in Amsterdam anymore. You didn’t tell Joost but he found out eventually, leading to another big argument just one day before your flight and then another month of no contact.

At last, you did talk things through, him calling to apologize and try to make things right again as you cried over the phone because you knew it was too late for either of you to make up for all the problems.

It’s been 4 years since then in which you kept some sort of communication, mostly on your birthdays and on holidays or when he replied to your story sometimes and vice versa.

You stare up at him in shock. “Joost?” You blurt out, blinking repeatedly as if to make sure he is actually here.

He smiles, his dimples bringing back a bundle of memories and you get chills just at that.

“Hey,” He pulls you into a hug which you reluctantly return, careful to not burn him with your cigarette as you linger in his arms a moment longer, taking in the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with what seems to be cigarettes.

“How have you been?” You ask, eyeing him up and down.

He looks slightly different, having grown into his face through the years. His hair is still the same shade of blonde, though grown out as it sticks out under his hat and you notice the small trimmed mustache on his face. He’s just about the same height, maybe slightly taller as he towers over you even with your heels on.

“Good, everything’s good I guess,”

“Yeah? I heard your album did well last year,” Albino; It had popped up on your feed a few times but you hadn’t looked into it too much, in fear of undoing all your efforts to get over Joost.

“Are you stalking me?” His question coaxes a laugh out of you as you roll your eyes at him.

“Get over yourself,” You say playfully, “I saw Tantu post about it on Instagram,”

Joost grins and nods as a response. “How have you been?” He redirects your initial question to you.

You take a moment to respond as you awkwardly look away from him. If you were to be honest with him, you’d say you’re basically all alone, crying and second guessing yourself on the daily — also without a job from now on — but you find that it may be too direct of an answer for the situation.

Instead you say, “Not too bad either,” giving him a weak smile.

“Still in fashion?” He asks, his words unknowingly sting but you try your best to look okay.

“Mhm,” You nod, “I uh- I work for a fashion magazine,” Or maybe worked would be a better word, you think to yourself.

“That’s awesome,”

“I guess so,” You can’t help but let a sigh fall from your lips, hinting at the insincerity of your words. Joost senses it because he furrows his eyebrows at you as if to ask you what’s wrong but you don’t let him.

“Want a cigarette?” You hold out your pack of cigarettes that’s almost empty, in hopes of changing the subject. Joost gets the message and takes a cigarette from the package, deciding not to bother you with any more questions. Besides, it isn’t exactly his business after so many years of barely any contact.

You light the cigarette that hangs from his lips as your eyes meet over the small orange flame and you stay silent, watching as he takes a long drag.

“By the way,” You utter “Why are you in New York?” Maybe it’s a dumb question as obviously a trip would be the reason, but frankly you’re more curious about who he is here with.

Joost goes on to explain, “Me and my friends booked this trip a while ago,” He exhales a thick plume of smoke.

“I don’t see anyone here,” You look around, searching for the familiar faces of his friends.

“They’re sitting at that bar over there,” He nods to the small building that is just a few meters away, the one you have passed by countless times after leaving the club. “I just came out here to make a few calls,” He adds.

“To your girlfriend?” You can’t help but ask him, the drinks you had earlier playing a part in your bluntness. You’re not drunk but definitely intoxicated enough to not feel embarrassed, especially when you see how Joost’s face lights up at your question.

“Nee, I don’t have one,” He gives you a cheeky smile, “Why? Are you curious?”

You shake your head, looking down to the concrete ground, “No, just… asking,” Your voice is weak as you shy away from your words.

“Alright,” You hear him chuckle, it makes you smile too for some reason.

“But I’m sure you have a boyfriend,” He says causing you to look back at him in confusion, “He must be waiting for you inside that club,” He points to the same building you were in just a few minutes ago.

“Where did you get that from?” You laugh in between your words, making it clear you do not in fact have a boyfriend.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs his shoulders, smiling down at you. “You’re pretty, why wouldn’t you have a boyfriend?” You bite the inside of your mouth, fighting back a smile but Joost sees you, secretly enjoying the effect his words still have on you.

“Haven’t found the right one yet,” Both of you know that’s not true. You had found the right one, in fact he’s standing right next to you but you both just had to ruin everything.

Joost knows you don’t mean that, but still, the thought that you have moved on from him stings even though it’s normal all these years later. He has matured, you both have and he often thinks how things would turn out if you got back together again, right now.

His silence doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you put out your cigarette with the sole of your shoe and turn to fully face him.

“Anyways,” You sigh, “I was going to leave soon,”

“Oh,” Joost takes one last puff of smoke before also putting out the cigarette on the ground, then he looks at you again. “Ja, I should probably head back inside too,” He says but none of you make a move that indicates you’re leaving.

You don’t want to say goodbye and possibly never see him again, knowing that once he’s gone you’ll sink back into the misery of your life. He’s currently the only person you feel comfortable talking to and you don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.

You say, “Joost?” Your voice soft and quiet.

“What?” He gives you a sweet smile.

“Do you want to… come to my place?” You’re reluctant in your words, trying not to make them sound suggestive because really, they aren’t.

“Sure,” He smiles, not having to think about it for long which leaves you satisfied. “I’ll just call Appie to let him know,” He adds, pulling out his phone.

You wait for him to end the call as Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, presumably because the music from the bar is too loud for Apson to hear. Your Dutch isn’t the best but you manage to make out most of what Joost is saying, catching your name in between sentences. You hear Apson yell something on the other line which makes Joost giggle and mumble shut up as you give him a weird look.

He hangs up the phone, “Should we go?” He asks, you nod as you walk with him to a taxi down the road and usher him inside.

The ride is quite long, given the inevitable city traffic as you pass by more tall buildings that are sparkling with light. You’re sitting next to Joost in the backseat as your shoulders lightly bump into one another every time the driver makes an abrupt turn. Joost whispers little jokes to you every now and then, making you laugh with his humor that has not changed one bit. It fills your heart with warmth, reminds you of the old times. You keep glancing at him as he looks out the window and the lights illuminate his face beautifully, bringing out the beauty mark under his lips or how blue his eyes really are. He catches you staring a few times, smiling to himself at your poor attempt to hide it and the pattern repeats itself until you reach your apartment complex.

Joost thanks the driver, quickly closing the car door behind him to catch up with you as you’re already at the old-looking entrance door of the building, unlocking it.

“Quick, quick!” You giggle as he jogs to you in his usual silly manner and you let him in.

You take the elevator and on the way up you lightly hold his hand, bringing it closer to see the tattoos on his knuckles.

He chuckles to himself, “You like them?”

“Mhm,” You nod, letting your thumb lightly graze his digits. Your eyes return to his, he’s much closer now and you feel your heart beating faster than ever with the way he looks down at you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Your faces get closer and closer as you let his hand fall from yours, forgetting all about his tattoo, then ding.

The elevator door opens, revealing the narrow dimly lit hallway your apartment is in and just like that, the moment ends as you both step back from each other and out of the elevator.

You hurry to the end of the cold hallway and unlock the door to your place, ushering Joost inside.

The lights reflecting off of the surrounding buildings come through the big windows of your apartment, illuminating the room with a faint brightness. The space is relatively small and simply decorated, the only luxurious thing about it being the view of the city.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You ask, already making your way into the kitchen. “There’s wine and tequila,” you say loudly.

“Tequila,” Joost responds quickly, taking off his puffy jacket and leaving it on the coat rack next to the door.

By the time you’re back to the living room, Joost is sat comfortably on the big couch and you notice he’s turned on the lamp next to him which now casts a warm yellow light in the room.

You hand Joost his shot placing the half empty tequila bottle on the table, then sit down next to him, maybe in closer proximity than truly needed.

“Cheers!” He grins as you both down the shots, the feeling of the hard liquor going down your throat momentarily giving you goosebumps. Joost drinks it like it’s water before slamming the glass on the table, a sight that makes you laugh in surprise as you remember how easily he used to get drunk when you first met him.

“I needed this,” You sigh, your words implying how shitty your night — or life in general — has been.

Joost narrows his eyes at you; he had already sensed that you’re not well from your previous implications but now he has to ask. Even after everything he still worries the same amount, hates seeing you unhappy.

“You okay?” You turn to look at him, smiling at his question. You can’t even remember the last time someone asked you that.

“Yeah,” You nod repeatedly in an attempt to convince Joost, not wanting to ruin his night with your seemingly unimportant problems but he sees right through you, his face making it clear he doesn’t believe you. “Or no,” you laugh to loosen the tension, covering your face with your hand in disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” Joost asks calmly while he caresses the small of your back.

“I don’t know, it’s just…” you mumble, “Sometimes I get the idea that I made the wrong choice returning here,”

You’re looking away from him, not used to oversharing like this. Usually, you would have stopped at the first sentence but the drinks from the club paired with the shot you just had, make it harder for you to shy away from sharing your feelings.

“Like what if I’m not good enough at this? Maybe this life isn’t for me after all,” Your voice becomes strained as you fight back tears, this being the first time you express your fears out loud.

“That’s not true,” Joost raises his voice ever so slightly, “You’re great with fashion, you’ve always been great. You even picked my outfits for me sometimes, remember?” He chuckles at his last words, the shared memory making you both giggle as you finally face him again.

Your eyes linger in his and you get the urge to kiss him, realizing that you may want this night to end differently.

He stands up straight in front of you and says, “Here,” smiling widely as you look up at him confused, “Judge my outfit,”

“Judge your outfit?” You repeat his words to him and laugh. Joost nods as he turns around, letting you see the full outfit and posing in between. You’re clearly amused, letting small chuckles slip from your lips every now and then, watching as Joost shows off his clothes one by one.

Your eyes can’t help but fall to his belt as he plays with it, the metallic letters that read Albino glowing in the darkness of the corner he’s standing at. Your body feels warmer at that as a sinister thought flashes through your mind which you quickly shake off.

“Models aren’t allowed to touch their clothes, you know?” You point out sarcastically, mimicking the tone that your boss usually had when she talked to the models.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you,” He says in a half serious tone as you nod.

“So?” He asks, you’re assuming he’s waiting for you to judge his choice of clothing as you sit up straighter on the couch.

“Well…” You take a coy expression, holding back the smile on your lips, “It could use some changes, with my help,”

“You think?” Joost takes a look at his outfit, not directly understanding the true motivation behind your words. “Like what?”

“Come closer and I’ll show you,” Joost pauses for a second, a smirk grows on his lips as he starts to catch on to what exactly it is that you’re suggesting. He takes a few steps forward, so close to you that your face is practically aligned with his belt as you suck in a deep breath. You don’t really know where you’re going with this but the alcohol in your system doesn’t let you think of your choices thoroughly right now, instead you’re overcome with need, the desire to touch Joost in any way possible.

“I’m all ears,” He says, his voice low and raspy.

You bite back a smile, tugging on the soft material of his t-shirt. “This needs to go,” You say, masking your lust with an innocent voice.

“Do you want to style me or undress me?” Joost raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your intentions.

“I need a clear canvas to work,” You respond coyly and once again pull on his shirt, coaxing him to take it off.

“Fair enough,” Joost pulls the shirt over his head, revealing the blonde hairs on his happy trail. His pants are hanging low on his stomach, making the waistband of his underwear stick out all the more, the letters supreme on it and you shamelessly take in the image of his bare chest.

Joost soon brings his hand to your chin, lifting your head up so that you can see his face clearly. Your body is practically aching with need by now, imagining how his fingers would feel in other parts of your body.

He silently leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You’re initially taken by surprise as it takes a few seconds for you to part your lips before you finally get to feel him against your tongue. He tastes like cigarettes and liquor but you don’t mind, it only serves as a reminder that this is actually happening.

Joost lowers his body, resting one knee on the couch to balance himself as he pushes you back into the big pillows. His lips wander off to your neck, peppering small kisses on it which later turn into gentle bites that are sure to leave marks on your skin.

“Do you like that?” He asks, noticing the small whimpers that escape your mouth. You hum in agreement, feeling yourself grow more wet under his continuous touch.

“It’s been so long,” He mutters in between more kisses distributed evenly across your neck and jaw. You wonder if he has missed this as much as you have, whether he has also been thinking of you every now and then, searching for you in every girl he has met since you left.

At this point you’re eager, unable to keep your composure any longer. You pull him away slightly, ignoring the confused expression on his face as you quickly shove him back against the couch, switching roles with him.

Your knees fall to the wooden floor, you bring both hands to his knees, looking up at him then towards his belt.

“Your pants are next,” You say, in reference to your previous conversation. Joost chuckles, mumbling some curse under his breath, he’s flustered and it’s because of you. He unbuckles his belt impatiently, shifting slightly to pull his pants down as you do the rest for him, tugging on the rough material of his pants to fully take them off.

His legs are also littered with tattoos, similarly to his arms and your fingers instinctively trail up his thigh until they reach his underwear. You can see the outline of his hardened cock as you gently press your palm on top of it, earning a stifled groan from him.

“These can stay on,” You decide to tease him, Joost laughs at that.

“Fuck off,” He says, earning a smile from you.

Gladly, you think to yourself as your fingers play with the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes shift to his face briefly, quietly asking for his consent to which he nods at. With a final pull, his cock springs free from his boxers, reminding you of its big size. The tip is leaky with precum as you lick it, making Joost hiss at the sensation.

You take him in your mouth eagerly until the tip reaches the back of your throat, causing you to wince ever so slightly.

“Easy there,” Joost coos, pushing your hair out of the way for you and keeps it in a gentle grip as you skillfully begin to suck his cock. The way your mouth stretches around him coaxes a mixture of groans and curses to fall from his lips, his hold on your hair tightening. He looks down at you, still in your fancy little dress and on your knees for him, the sight turning him on all the more.

The fact that you’ve gotten so good at this makes him think of all the men you’ve probably been with after him and he can’t help but feel a little jealous at that.

“Like that,” His voice is breathy as he mumbles different kinds of praises to you, sending a rush of heat through your core. He starts guiding your head with gentle force, careful not to hurt you, slowly pushing his cock until it nudges the back of your throat . Your face feels hot and despite Joost’s gentleness, there are tears in the corners of your eyes, most definitely smudging your mascara and the dark eyeshadow on your eyelid.

Joost is close but he doesn’t want to come just yet, opting to come inside of you later. He pulls your head back slightly, drawing his cock out of your mouth with one last breathy moan.

You’re breathing heavily as you lock eyes with him, your lips swollen and eyes glossy with tears. He caresses your cheek with his big tattooed fingers, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“You wanna get undressed too, baby?” He says in a low tone.

“Sure,” You mumble softly, getting up from your knees that are red from how long you’ve been sitting on the floor.

You take off your black boots that end just below your knees, uncovering the rest of your black patterned tights. Your fingers impatiently reach for the zipper to the back, fumbling with it until you finally loosen the silk dress you’re wearing, letting it fall to the floor as you stay in nothing but your black lingerie adorned with tiny bows here and there. Joost’s eyes linger on your body and he swears this is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, noticing how beautifully your body has grown over the years and how confidently you stand in front him now, more like a woman and less like a girl.

You can sense his infatuation with you with the way he’s looking up at you and it only fuels your ego, a sudden cockiness coming through you.

“Are you just gonna stare?” You taunt him, Joost smiles at that.

“As if you don’t enjoy it,” He says, you assume he’s right.

He reaches his hands out to your hips, pushing you closer in between his legs as you place your arms loosely around his neck. He massages the area of your ass, though the material of your tights is in the way, preventing him from fully feeling your skin against his palms.

“Let’s take these off, shall we?” You smile in agreement and give him a small nod as he begins to lower your tights inch by inch, exposing the soft skin of your legs. Once they’re off, he presses wet open-mouthed kisses on your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing but solely the idea of his mouth in between your folds, tasting you with his tongue as it swirls around inside of you.

The momentary fantasy draws loud sighs from your lips, correspondingly to the kisses Joost places on your skin. He notices, unable to hide the cocky smile on his lips as he starts moving higher, towards your stomach.

“Your bra,” he mutters, continuing his work on your body, “Take it off,”

You do as he says, trembling fingers rushing to unhook your bra, all the while Joost keeps on kissing your stomach that is rising up and down from your intense breaths. You pull your bra off, tossing it to the floor where the rest of your clothes are as Joost stares at your breasts, your nipples hardened as a result of his previous touch on your skin.

“You’re beautiful,” His small compliment sends a warmth to your face, a sweet smile forming on your lips and you can’t help but caress the sides of his face with your thumb.

You place one knee on the surface of the couch as you come face to face with Joost, giving him better access to the upper half of your body. Now that you’re this close to him, you notice the small stain that your red lipstick left on his lips earlier, letting out a small laugh at that.

He smiles, kissing you deeply on the mouth, jaw, collarbones, then finally your breasts. The tingling of his tongue on your nipples makes you moan quietly as he takes one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive skin.

The inside of your thighs is practically burning with anticipation now as more moans fall from your lips. “Joost please,” You breathe out in desperation as he hums against your boobs, “I can’t wait any longer,”

“I get it baby,” Joost withdraws from your chest, places a peck near your lips then nods to his side, “Come on, lie down,”

You lie down on your bare back, resting your head against one of the pillows to get a better view of your body. Joost turns to you, his hands slowly sliding up your stomach as he gazes down at your naked body, the only thing covering it being your panties.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks, his voice soft.

“You make it sound as if I’m being drafted into the military,” You say, causing him to giggle.

“Just asking,” He slightly puts his hands up in the air, “It’s been a while,” He says ever so softly as you both share a smile, silently expressing how much you want this. To anyone else, it would just look like a casual hook up but to you it’s so much more than that, layered with feelings and memories.

“Okay, you have my consent,” You say slowly, your voice close to a whisper. He nods satisfied, planting one last quick kiss on your lips before his fingers find the waistband of your black lace panties. His cock is hard, falling on your inner thigh, an image that only adds to the heat you’re experiencing.

You lift your ass, only a little so that Joost can slip your panties off of your legs, not bothering to tease you much about it. The air of the room feels cold against your wet pussy, causing it to twitch as Joost mumbles some curse in Dutch.

“So wet for me,” He coos as he collects the wetness from your folds with a quick stroke of his tip, making you gasp, your thighs closing at the sudden friction. He props one hand close to your face for balance and lines his cock with your entrance before starting to push into you slowly. The sensation of your walls clenching around him inevitably lets a shared moan fall from your lips as Joost bottoms out, then begins to thrust into you in a controlled manner that makes your head dizzy with pleasure.

“You’re so tight schatje,” The pet name is familiar, yet you still fight back a smile at the sound of it.

You stare up at him in adoration; his bare chest is glistening in sweat, his blonde hair is messy and his lips are slightly parted as soft grunts escape them. He was and is still the most beautiful man to you, despite all the insecurities that linger on his mind.

You notice he’s kind of tired because he’s struggling to stay propped up on his arms above you and you wrap your arms around his back, pulling him down to your chest. His body is heavier against yours but you don’t care, you embrace him while he continues his deep thrusts to your core that gradually become faster.

The way he fucks you is so perfect that it drives you wild. He knows your body so well, knows all the right places to touch as his tip keeps on hitting that one spot inside of you, pushing you closer to your climax.

Joost is close too, burying his head on the crook of your neck as you feel his hot breaths and the vibrations of his groans on your skin.

Your fingers dig into the sticky flesh of his shoulders, your breaths are shallow and you can’t suppress your loud moans given the frantic pace at which Joost is now slamming his shaft into you.

You try to tell him but it seems like the only words you can utter right now are continuous curses in between your uncontrollable whimpers.

“I’m- fuck,” Joost breathes, “I’m coming baby, I promise,”

Before you can respond in any way, you’re driven over the edge. Your vision becomes blurry, the only things you can hear are your embarrassingly loud moans and Joost’s own groans as you come on his cock.

Joost follows shortly after your orgasm, his warm release spilling inside of you while he sloppily fucks every part of you.

“Fuck,” He exhales and collapses on top of you. Your fingers graze his back, trying to soothe the red marks that your fingernails left on him earlier. Joost places his arm around your waist as you both let your deep breaths fill the silence of the room.

You stay like this for a minute or so, then he carefully pulls out of you as you hiss slightly at the feeling.

-

You’re the last one to take a shower and as you come back to your bedroom, you see Joost lying comfortably between the pillows and your stuffed animals, an image you wish you could see everyday. You climb atop the bed, also lying down as you cuddle him without hesitation and he’s quick to wrap an arm around you as well.

“When are you leaving New York?” You ask, hoping for the answer to be never, despite how unrealistic that sounds.

“In two days,” You nod against his chest but really, you want to break out into tears at the simple thought of losing him again and so soon.

You feel him take a deep breath, “Joost?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?”

“Can we spend the day together, tomorrow?”

He smiles even though you can’t see him, a bittersweet smile at that. He feels the same way as you, dreading the moment he’ll have to leave you, wanting to make up for the lost time. “Of course, liefste. Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know,” You mumble, “Oh! Maybe I’ll take you to my favorite restaurant, it’s not too far from here,”

“Okay, that sounds perfect,” His hands caress your hair and he leans down to place a reassuring peck on the top of your head.

You wish this moment would never end. If you could, you’d move with him back to the Netherlands tomorrow and start over, do everything right this time. But for now, all you can do is hold him tighter, make every moment count until he leaves. And then who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be together again.

───────────────────────

thank you for reading !! <3

[kjupchurch-xx]

💋 Sexiest Man Alive 💋

November 19th, 2008

                    New York City, New York

              

✨ Author's Note: In this one shot, for story purposes, Hugh is not married. We'll say he divorced from Deb recently to keep the flow of the story.

I double checked my appearance in the mirror before heading out. Today is the day I will be interviewing Hugh Jackman for his People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive crowning. The interview will be filmed and broadcasted live on national television. I decided to go business casual, wearing black capri slacks, a white and pink flowered cami tank top with black 6-inch heels. My dark brown hair was shoulder length and wavy. My makeup was flawless. To say nervous would be an understatement whenever you're interviewing someone that's been named the sexiest man alive.

Everything seemed perfect, so I rushed out to my 2008 Ford Mustang and sped off to our studio in downtown NYC. Traffic was hectic, but I managed to get there with 25 minutes to spare to go over the interview questions before our guest of honor arrives. One question in particular stood out to me, it was a question pertaining to his sexuality due to circulating rumors that he's gay. I'm normally shameless, but this would be an awkward thing to ask him.

"You ready?" My co-worker/camera man Justin asked, stepping in front of me.

I nodded, "As I'll ever be! Just going over some of the questions. 'How do you feel about the circulating rumors of you being gay?', 'What turns the sexiest man alive on?', Justin, what the hell are these questions?" I asked with a humorous horrified look spreading across my face.

He failed to contain his laughter, "I didn't write 'em, I just control the cameras."

I shuffled the cards, "This is going to be the weirdest interview. This dude is probably going to leave the set mid interview." I laughed.

Justin shook his head, "Hugh is a pretty good sport. He should take it in a humorous way. You should be good. He'll be here any minute, so get ready."

I nodded, "Alright."

I stood to double check the set and make sure the props were in their correct location, making sure the set was clean and presentable before sitting back down in my chair. I stood back up, hearing an Australian accent coming from the hallway, that must be Mr. Jackman.

"Glad to be here, mate. Thanks for havin' me." He said, shaking hands with our producer Mack, while walking into my view.

Mack smiled and pointed in my direction while walking Hugh up to me, "Mr. Jackman, this is Kaitlyn. She'll be doing your interview."

I smiled, extending my hand out to Hugh, "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan and honored to be doing your interview today, Mr. Jackman."

He gave me a smile, shaking my hand, "Call me Hugh. Nice to meet ya, Sweetheart."

I can see why he was voted sexiest man alive now. No photoshop or CGI needed. This man was cut. He had the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen and did not look a day over 28 despite just turning 40 last month. He was wearing dark colored blue jeans with a white t-shirt adorned with a black blazer that made his biceps pop. I could swear the temperature in the room went up at least 20 degrees since he'd walked in.

As we sat down, I noticed him smiling at me and looking me up and down as if he were checking me out. I smiled back while grabbing the cue cards with the questions for the interview and looked towards Justin, who gave me a slight nod to let me know we were rolling,

I smiled from ear to ear as the camera zoomed in on only me, "Good afternoon, New York! Today's guest was just crowned People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive of the year. You can purchase his edition today in stores. Please allow me to welcome Mr. Hugh Jackman!"

The camera zoomed out showing Hugh and I both sitting in the chairs at the small table separating us. I looked over smiling in his direction, allowing him to speak.

He gave a huge smile towards the camera and then towards me, "Thank you for having me! How're you doing today?" He asked.

I smiled, "I'm great. How are you? How have things been since being named People's Sexiest Man Alive?"

"They've been quite interesting. I was told Brad Pitt wasn't available this year." He said with a cheeky laugh.

I failed to contain my laughter, "I believe a lot of people feel that you've earned the title, especially given your portrayal of Wolverine in Marvel's X-Men."

I could see him blushing, "Honestly, things have been great. I just finished up a movie with Nicole Kidman called Australia, which comes out next week. We're pretty pumped for that."

I shifted in my seat, "How was filming that with Nicole?"

He got serious for a moment, "It was great. She's a good friend of my ex wife's, so it was a bit awkward at first, but overall a great experience. Shooting the film back home in Australia was exciting."

I nodded, "We'll be sure to check that out next week once it premiers." I felt a slight smirk appear on my lips, "Okay, now for the good stuff you all have been waiting for. Juicy questions for the sexiest man alive. Are you ready for this, Hugh?" I asked with as much confidence as I could possibly muster.

He giggled, "Baby, I'm always ready. Let's go."

I took a dramatic deep breath for dramatic effect, "Alright, so given you're now the sexiest man alive, what are some of your turn-ons? What's something you find sexy in a woman?"

He chuckled, giving me a smirk, "Oh, getting a bit cheeky, are we? You waste no time." He noticed me trying to keep a straight face and continued, "What turns me on? I'd have to say confidence, a strong woman that can sometimes put me in my place. I also love a woman in summer clothing. I'm from Australia, I love the outdoors, I love the water. I feel like a woman comfortable in her own skin, enjoying herself on the beach is very attractive to me."

I smiled with a nod, shuffling the cards in my hands, "Good answer."

He smirked at me, shifting in his seat, "I have a question for you. When are we heading to the beach?"

I looked a bit flustered, "I didn't know we were! But I'm happy to go with you any time!" I said with a small laugh.

He chuckled, "Dually noted." He tapped his forehead as if he were retaining the information.

This man was gorgeous. I'm sure he's just being funny for the camera, but I'm still enjoying this.

Attempting to stop chuckling, I went with the next question, "So Hugh, what do you make of the circulating rumors of your sexuality?"

He shrugged, "I think they're funny. They don't really bother me."

I nodded, "What did your friends and family say after you broke the news of being the sexiest man of 2008?"

He laughed, "My mates found it funny. My kids think it's funny but also gross their father is being called sexy. My family also, but they were proud of the accomplishment."

"Given your recent divorce, the ladies would like to know, is Hugh Jackman on the market?" I asked curiously, with a slight giggle.

He looked at the camera, "Hugh Jackman is on the market, ladies." He turned to me, "Is my interviewer also on the market?"

I failed to hide the red blush appearing on my cheeks, "Is Hugh Jackman hitting on me?" I said to the camera acting as if I were in shock with a tilt of my head.

He laughed, "You didn't answer my question."

I smirked, "I'm the interviewer. I ask the questions."

He shook his head, "Feisty, are we?"

I chuckled, "Mr. Jackman, do you have a secret talent?"

He smiled, "I'm very well trained. Not toilet trained, but I'm trained in other things. Barbara Walters told me I give phenomenal lap dances."

I laughed, "Did she? Barb is a great judge, so I trust her judgment."

He immediately stepped up from his chair, looking towards Justin, "Do we have music? I'm going to demonstrate." Looking back towards me he continued, "I have to showcase my talent for you."

This has definitely been the most interesting interview of my two year career.

I looked at Justin as music began playing, "Oh? I'm getting a lap dance too?" I asked playfully throwing the cue cards across the room. "Forget the script."

Justin failing miserably to contain his laughter watched on as Hugh began swaying his hips, removing his blazer and stepping to me. I sat not knowing how to react or if this was some odd dream I was having. He was in front of me with both of my legs between his, while still swaying his hips in a seductive motion.

His voice now seductive shook me from the thought, "How're you feeling, love? Isn't this your best interview yet? C'mon, look at me, baby." His finger grasping my chin pulling it upwards to look at him with the cheekiest, sexiest smile on his face.

I nervously laughed, blushing, "Oh my god." Was all I could manage to say. His other hand gripping my shoulder as he moved closer, almost putting his crotch 2 feet from my face.

He immediately began dying laughing as he sank to the floor, placing both hands on my knees. "How was that?" He asked.

I shook my head with a smile, "That was... I mean, I've never had an interview leave me speechless."

I could hear the film crew failing to contain their laughter as Hugh reached up and hugged me, straddling my lap. This must be every woman's wet dream. His laughter piercing my ears as he hugged me.

"Job well done then." He said cockily. "Turn off those cameras. We're headed backstage." He managed to say through his laughter.

I squealed, dying of laughter, "And that concludes our interview with Mr. Hugh Jackman, ladies and gentlemen! Go pick up your issue of People's magazine's Sexiest Man Alive-" I struggled to grab the magazine but finally reaching it, holding it up towards the camera, "Today!"

The cameras immediately cut and Hugh hopped off of me, laughing at the crew's reaction as their laughter grew louder now that they didn't have to worry about the rolling cameras.

"Best interview of your life?" Hugh asked me with a knowing smile.

I laughed, shaking my head, "Definitely. I was not expecting my day at work to end with a lap dance from Wolverine."

He pulled me in for another hug, "Next interview I'll be giving you another lap dance."

I playfully rolled my eyes, hugging him back, "I'll be sure to remind you."

He got serious for a moment, "Would you like to grab lunch with me? I've got a bit before my next press."

I nodded, "Sure. I'd love to."

He gave me a smile, "Seriously though, are you on the market and when are we gonna go to the beach?"

I looked at him nervously, "I am on the market, and I'm available anytime after 3."

He grabbed my hand, leading me towards the hallway. "Great. All I needed to know. I'm looking forward to that next lap dance, beautiful."  He said with a smirk.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

EWAN MITCHELL PHOTOGRAPHED AND INTERVIEWED FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES MAGAZINE.

ABOUT BEING RECOGNIZED

Like most people, Ewan Mitchell is accustomed to anonymity.

So during a recent trip to Manhattan, he was surprised by what a hotel doorman asked when he arrived: “You haven’t packed your eye patch?”

The actor is still getting used to strangers making the connection in public.

“I wouldn’t think people would recognize me, but they do.”

“I think it’s because of my strong chin.”

“When I’m dressed up as Aemond and catch myself in the mirror, he scares even me a little bit.”

When he’s not in character, Mitchell is soft-spoken and occasionally flashes a boyish grin, though he retains much of Aemond’s seriousness and quiet intensity.

He is also very private: He stays off social media and in the past has shied away from sharing much with the public.

“Once you lose the mystery, you can’t really get it back.”

HE KNOWS THAT AEMOND'S KEY ROLE IN S2 MEANS HE MUST ALSO EMBRACE THE SPOTLIGHT:

“There is a point where you have to go, now’s the time to pull back the curtain.”

Like Aemond, Mitchell is a second son.

He grew up in Derby, an industrial town in the middle of England, and his parents expected him to follow his older brother’s footsteps and work at Rolls-Royce (the aerospace and industrial technology company, not the carmaker).

HIS INSPIRATIONS AND BECOME AN ACTOR

Inspired by films like “Citizen Kane” and “Taxi Driver,” Mitchell knew early on he wanted to become an actor.

When he was 13, his teacher asked each student in his class what they wanted to do when they grew up.

“Then it came to me, and I said, ‘I’m going to be an actor,’ and everyone laughed at me.”

His family could not afford tuition for drama school, so Mitchell attended a two-year vocational school, where he studied design and technology while working part-time at a restaurant and in customer service at a local soccer club.

Midway through the program, at 17, he was accepted into the Nottingham Television Workshop, a drama group that trains young people in acting.

Through the Workshop, Mitchell landed a leading role in a 2015 short film called “Fire,” about a young man who leaks fire from his hands.

Once the short was released, Mitchell downloaded it onto a dozen CDs, took the train to London and stopped by the offices of every agent he could find, handing them each a copy.

The one person who called back continues to represent Mitchell.

“By hook or by crook, I wanted to make sure that I was going to be in this business.”

ABOUT BEING CASTED AS AEMOND TARGARYEN

Aemond’s growing prominence in the show requires Mitchell to embrace the spotlight as well.

“There is a point where you have to go, now’s the time to pull back the curtain.”

But being cast as Aemond in “House of the Dragon” has been his biggest professional turning point by far.

“Since landing him, I feel like I’m able to now steer the course of my career.”

Mitchell had been rewatching the classic Hollywood adventure film “The Vikings” (1958) and musing about how he wanted to play a morally dark character similar to the one played by Kirk Douglas when he received an email inviting him to submit a taped audition for Aemond.

When he eventually auditioned in person, he left a lasting impression on Ryan Condal, the showrunner for “House of the Dragon.”

“When Ewan came into the room, he just had this presence to him that I can best describe as unsettling,” Condal said.

“It was kind of quietly terrifying the way he performed it, and it was totally different than everybody else. And then he thanked us very politely and left the room.”

Condal recalls asking Kate Rhodes James, the casting director, “Is he always like that?”

She replied, “Oh no, he’s just a very intense northern boy.”

To prepare for his role, Mitchell did not watch “Game of Thrones.” Instead, he read portions of “Fire & Blood,” the book by George R.R.

Martin that inspired the show, and studied the performances of Michael Fassbender in “Prometheus” and Peter O’Toole in “Lawrence of Arabia,” each playing a figure who wields power for his own ends.

ABOUT MATT SMITH AND DAEMON TARGARYEN

On his first day on set, Mitchell consulted with Condal and decided that he would avoid interacting with Matt Smith, who plays Aemond’s similarly menacing uncle and rival, Daemon, in order to heighten the tension between the two characters.

Mitchell had grown up admiring Smith’s performance in “Doctor Who.”

But on set Mitchell avoided any eye contact with him, keeping his distance until the climactic scene near the end of the first season when Aemond and Daemon finally face off.

“There’s this addictive kind of quality when you’re in the shoes of a character.”

“When you lose yourself for a moment, it’s almost like a dream.”

ABOUT HIS HOME AND HIS DOGS

When he isn’t acting, Mitchell still lives at his family home in Derby and spends time with his dogs, three whippets named Eva, Bella and Bonnie.

“Now that I’m on it.”

“I’ve just got to stay on the dragon.”

[trickago]

your father's blood will be your blood until you're both rotting in the ground. when you stare in the mirror, his face will be glaring back at you with the utter disdain and disappointment only a father can truly have.

id in alt text, sources below

Sources:

Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump Breaks Down Cinematic New Song "Church" / Franz Kafka’s letter to his father / Life Magazine February 3, 2006 / “American Made” – Fall Out Boy / Pete Wentz's blog - archived / myheartisbetweenmyknees June 22, 2006 / petewentz on instagram / “Love From the Other Side” – Fall Out Boy / Field of Dreams / myheartisbetweenmyknees May 17, 2006 / taylorstuck on Instagram / The Sun is Also a Star by Nicola Yoon / stagecoachesbecomepumpkins December 2006 / Ocean Vuong / “Family Tree (Intro)” - Ethel Cain / “Origin Story” by Desireé Dallagiacomo / James Baldwin Reflects on ‘Go Tell It’ PBS Film in the New York Times / Pete Wentz interview with Rock Sound - archived

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to razziecat for sending this 1900 home in Buffalo, New York. 4bds, 2.5ba, $379,900. Isn't that iron work beautiful? This home has been featured in the Heritage magazine for its exquisite craftsmanship and its status as the 1st home with electricity in the city of Buffalo, New York, so it has a lot of history.

Original door with beveled mirror glass and door knob.

So different, isn't it? Love the lamps on the carved newel posts.

The wood in this home is pristine. Corner fireplace and wainscoting is perfectly preserved.

In the front of the house, in the sitting room, is a wonderful built-in window seat.

I would imagine that the next room is the dining room b/c it has this fabulous original built-in cabinet. Amazing how well loved and taken care of this home is.

The kitchen looks like it was modernized around mid-century. Look at the MCM clock set into the wall. That certainly is a classic.

There's an everyday dining area.

Cute little pantry with hooks to hold your aprons. Wow, this piece in here is gorgeous.

Not sure, but I think that these steps are in the kitchen.

Guest powder room.

Here we are on the 2nd fl. I think that this may be the primary bedroom with a sunroom.

Bedroom #2. Beautiful floor.

Wish they hadn't done this to the bath.

This is interesting, it looks like a bedroom with a closet. The floor is 1950s tile, so it must have been redone back then.

This room also has 1950s tile.

Outside is a newer garage.

Plus a yard that a person with a green thumb can do a lot with.

[make-friends-with-the-rats]

Newsies Interview with Christian Bale for Seventeen Magazine, 1992

(transcript under the cut)

---

Cristian Bale lumbers into a conference room on a rainy Saturday morning. He plops down in a chair, yawns, and wipes sleep from his eyes. Dressed in black jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, he apologizes for being late. "I'm just getting over the flu and I'm still jet-lagged," he explains, "so I'm moving a little slowly."

But the six-foot-two British-born actor, best known for his film debut as a young schoolboy in Steven Spielberg's epic Empire of the Sun and more recently for Kenneth Branagh's Henry V, need not apologize. For the past few weeks, he's been flying round and round from L.A. to London to Prague and back again.

"I've been doing reshoots for Newsies here, doing preproduction work on a new film, Swing Kids, in Prague, and visiting my mom, sister, and girlfriend in England. And I don't even like to fly!" he says with a slight shudder. "Before I came here, I flew on a plane that sounded like it had a window open the whole time."

When Bale heard about Newsies, a live-action musical recounting the tale of the New York newsboys' strike of 1899, he claims he had no interest in auditioning for the project. "I'd never sung or danced, and I didn't think I could do a musical," he says. "I read for the film in England, and then Disney flew me to Los Angeles for a screen test. But before I signed the contract, I meet with the director [Kenny Ortega] and told him I wasn't comfortable with the dancing and singing and I didn't want to be a bloody Artful Dodger in a remake of Oliver!, jumping down the street with a big smile on my face. But he told me it wouldn't be like that, and then he lied to me about all of these different actors who had done musicals, like Al Pacino."

After he was cast as Jack Kelly, the head Newsie, Bale joined the rest of the films actors and dancers in two months of "Newsies school." He studied singing, dancing, speaking with a Brooklyn accent (circa 1899), gymnastics, and karate. "We had a kung fu master," he recalls with a laugh. "Thirty of us would be standing in a room doing something like t'ai chi to this humming music. It's very relaxing, but when you see yourself in a mirror, it's really funny.

"Filming Newsies was a blast," he says. "By the time the cameras started rolling, we were so prepared we were ready for anything. The blend of technically great dancers and actors with great characterizations made it all work perfectly." And what about his Oliver! fear? "Sure, we're singing and dancing in the streets," he says, "but we don't always have smiles on our faces."

Immediately upon finishing Newsies, Bale flew up to Prague to begin Swing Kids, which costars Robert Sean Leonard and Frank Whaley. "It's set in 1930s Hamburg, Germany," the eighteen-year-old explains. "There was quite a big culture then among teenagers who liked to dress in zoot suits and go to swing clubs. The story is about three friends from different backgrounds who love swing music. I play the bad seed."

In between movies, Bale tries to squeeze in time with his family and girlfriend. "I've been going with the same girl for three years," he says shyly. "But she's going to a university in England and I'm relocating to Los Angeles, where my father lives. If I had nothing to do with the film industry, I'd stay in England, but Bournemouth [the city where he's lived for the past five years] isn't exactly the film capital of the world."

If he never made another movie, however, Bale says he wouldn't mind a noncelebrity life. "I love making movies," he concludes, "but I also love my privacy. If it all ended tomorrow, I'd just live by the sea and be perfectly happy."

[venus-haze]

What's Your Pleasure? (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Joining Vought’s newly announced superhero team Payback could be the big break you’re looking for. When it comes down to you and Crimson Countess for the last spot on the team, you’re shocked to hear Soldier Boy will be conducting your final interview. You shouldn’t be shocked at what it involves.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I wanted to reflect the goofy ass superhero names that older supes had, so you’re Galaxy Girl. This takes place in the late 70s. Inspired by the Jessie Ware song. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo or ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Casting couch situation. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion, power imbalance, some spanking, mentions of masturbation and oral sex. Drug and alcohol use by both characters. Reader is a horny dumbass. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The scrap of paper that sat on your vanity had a hastily scribbled address and time that you’d practically memorized since you got the call from Vought International. You recognized the address right away, one of the nightclubs in the city that was favored by supes. As one of Vought’s affiliate superheroes, you’d been there a few times for events they held, whether to schmooze with their investors or party with other supes. It was, however, an odd place to hold an interview to join a superhero team.

Your competition was fierce, though. The last coveted spot in Payback had Vought executives in a deadlock as to whether you or Crimson Countess would be the best addition to the team. Countess was a powerful supe who you respected, unlike some of the other self-important clowns who ran around making a mess of Manhattan. Not to mention, the both of you had overwhelmingly positive approval ratings across most demographics. Unfortunately, you heard through the grapevine that fucking Swatto had already gotten a spot on Payback, and suddenly your slight edge of being able to fly was no more.

As you applied your signature makeup in the mirror of your vanity, you tried hyping yourself before the night that would make or break your career. You were Galaxy Girl, for fuck’s sake. Your powers allowed you to harness the sun and moon’s energy to create and control meteor showers. Sure, sometimes your aim would be a little off, and you’d accidentally rain flaming rocks into a person’s car or take out a backyard every now and then, but it was for the greater good.

Glancing at the worn photo of Soldier Boy taped to your mirror, one you’d cut out of a magazine when you were a kid, you felt a wave of anxiety crashing over you despite your best efforts. After looking up to him for years and getting into the hero business because of him, you weren’t sure if you could handle the rejection from him, no matter how much he might sugar coat it if he went with Countess instead of you.

Not being chosen to join Payback wouldn’t mean the immediate end of your career, but it’d flatline into obscurity inevitably. You’d heard the argument that supes were mostly in the hero game for the attention, and you couldn’t disagree as far as you were personally concerned. You sure as hell didn’t hate the fanfare and special treatment you got.

At a quarter to eight, you made your way out to the balcony of your apartment, taking off from there and flying in the direction of the club. Flying calmed your nerves the way going on long walks helped most people clear their heads. It was freeing and refreshing, and in a city like New York, you could fly at all hours of the night and see everything clear as day.

When you landed in front of the club, the crowd of people surrounding the bouncer parted momentarily, only to crowd you in a frenzy of people asking for your autograph. You obliged as best as you could before being pulled inside, nearly stumbling directly into the host. He was saying something to you as he led you to the tables that surrounded the dancefloor, but you could hardly hear over how loudly the DJ was playing Donna Summer. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, shouting that he was going to let Soldier Boy know you’d arrived.

You chewed on your lip as your gaze followed the host to the large booth that faced the raging dancefloor. There he was, in all of his glory, Soldier Boy. On paper, he was almost sixty years old, having been in his twenties during World War II. Being a supe had certainly done him well, because he didn’t look a day over forty.

For a moment, you felt like your legs were going to give out from under you when he looked in your direction, the slightest smirk on his face. After what felt like an eternity, the host returned to usher you over to Soldier Boy's table. You were reminded how slow and inconvenient walking was, wishing you could just fly over to him instead of snaking through the crowd of people.

Soldier Boy smiled when you stood in front of him. “Galaxy Girl, right on time.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, Soldier Boy–sir,” you said, quickly adding, “You can call me GG, by the way. If you want to, of course.”

“No, I like GG. It’s sexy,” he said, and you felt yourself smile despite yourself. “Take a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down next to him in the booth, but leaving a bit of space between you. Seeing the glass next to him calmed your nerves, and you knew after a drink you’d loosen up a bit. Sitting next to your hero, the prospect of working on his team sent a rush through you. Before you could say anything else, he shocked you with a compliment.

“You know, I saw that meteor shower you did for Vought’s investor gala last summer, pretty impressive,” he said.

“Thank you so much,” you said, trying to keep yourself from smiling too wide. “That’s so ceremonial, though. With my powers, I can—“

“I know what you can do, sweetheart. That’s why you’re here.”

“Right.”

“C’mere, why don’t we relax a little bit, get to know each other?” he said. “What’re you having?”

Almost as soon as he lifted his hand, a waiter practically materialized at the end of the table, pen and paper in hand to take down your drink order. Soldier Boy leaned over, effectively eliminating any space between the two of you. His body heat practically radiated onto you, and you caught the scent of a typical, masculine cologne and what you could’ve sworn was cinnamon.

The one drink was enough to lower your inhibitions and allow him to practically pull you onto his lap, his strong arms around your waist as his fingers brushed up and down the thin spandex material of your purple, iridescent costume. In all honesty, it felt less like an interview and more like a first date. He’d lean in close to talk to you, the club’s loud music a good excuse, though you tried not to stare at the face you’d only seen in movies, posters, and your own dreams.

He’d been in the middle of ordering more drinks when you heard your own, altered voice booming through the club. Galaxy Girl Groove, a disco single that Vought ordered to boost your youthful appeal. You didn’t do very much of your own singing on it, but that didn’t seem to matter to the DJs that had it spinning on their turntables from New York to Europe. It was something you were proud of in any other situation, but sitting next to your idol, it just felt corny.

Flying through the galaxy All this love for you and me Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

“Oh my god, I swear I didn’t plan this.”

He shook his head, to your relief. “No, this is a good song. You looked great when you sang it on Solid Gold, but damn, color TV doesn’t do your ass justice.”

“I—thank you,” you gasped, feeling him grope your ass through the thin layer of elastic fabric.

Your head was spinning from the confidence boost. Walking into the club earlier that night, you never expected your long-time supe crush to find you attractive, let alone hot. He, on the other hand, knew he was attractive, from the way he carried himself and acted around you. The conversation shifted by drink three, when you decided to call it as far as anything remotely alcoholic went.

“What got you into the supe business?” he asked.

You hid your face in your hands, giggling at his question. “I’m going to sound like such a kiss ass if I say it.”

“Now I gotta hear it.”

“You did—Don’t look at me like that, it’s true! Oh my god I drove my parents crazy talking about you when I was growing up. Your D-Day speech from ‘The Soldier Boy Story’ was my senior yearbook quote.”

He licked his lips, “Yeah? Was I the first guy you got yourself off to?”

“Sorry?”

“C’mon, you don’t get voted America’s sexiest supe two decades running without being finger-banging material. So what was it? Poster on the ceiling? Magazine under the pillowcase?”

“Poster on the ceiling,” you answered quietly, the lightness you’d felt in his presence suddenly feeling oppressively dark as he nearly gave you whiplash at how quickly he shifted the tone of the conversation.

“Which one?”

“You’re standing on a tank, and the tank gun is sticking out between your legs—“

“That one’s a classic. You’ve got great taste, GG.”

“I’m sorry, what does this have to do with Payback?”

“Everything. I mean, it’s my team. Wouldn’t wanna work with someone who doesn’t like me,” he said, as if asking a prospective hire about their masturbatory history was normal. “I need people on my team who respect me and know how to take orders. No second guessing when the going gets tough.”

His intense gaze made you feel six inches tall, looking up at the looming symbol of American heroism. You may as well have been standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, trying to scale your way up Honest Abe with your bare hands. The implication of his words weren’t what caused your sudden feelings of discomfort, but rather frustration at your own naivete for going into this so-called interview without considering this would happen. Stars were born under pressure, you knew as much from your powers, but figuratively, it’s how things worked in Hollywood too. Thinking Vought would be an exception to the rule was laughably short-sighted.

Even if you didn’t get into Payback, you’d already admitted your long-standing infatuation to his face. You’d fantasized about him, imagined he’d be every bit of the all-American dream man, and the place in your heart that was still filled with mushy nostalgia for the world’s first superhero hardened to stone before you could blink. Turning him down would be weak posturing at best and surely get you on Vought’s shit list at worst. You did want to fuck him, but you would’ve preferred different circumstances.

“I’m a team player. I’ll do whatever it takes,” you said.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private, then?”

“Lead the way.”

Though you slid off of his lap, he kept his arm around your waist as the two of you got out of the booth. He led you back through the club, past the dancefloor and the maze of occupied tables that broke into whispers at the sight of the two of you together. The realization hit you, he wanted them to see you leaving with him, purposely took the long way to the elevator that was guarded by a bouncer, who immediately moved out of the way for Soldier Boy.

The elevator ride was short yet tense. You were locked in on his profile while he looked straight ahead, his only acknowledgement of your presence the gentle squeeze of your hip. The elevator doors opened far too soon but not soon enough, and you walked with him down the dimly lit hallway. He stopped in front of the door, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocked it. You didn’t even know this club had private suites, but then again, you weren’t important enough to have one.

The suite had a sophisticated sleaze that only money could buy, from the generous animal prints to the abundant reflective surfaces in the room. The bed on the far side of the room was bigger than any other you’d seen in your life, and you began to wonder how the hell it even fit through the door in the first place until you heard a loud sniff come from behind you.

Turning around, you saw Soldier Boy wiping his nose, two lines of coke left on the coffee table that he sat in front of. He wasn’t the first person you’d ever met who took drugs, hell, you did too, but he was the one with his face plastered on anti-drug PSAs.

“You want any? It’ll calm your nerves,” he offered.

“I’m not nervous,” you said.

He hummed in response. “No?”

You shook your head, though you knew he could see right through you. He stood up, staring you down for a moment before making his way over to you. Your confidence waned with each step he took, an amused expression on his face as your facade crumbled until you let out a shaky breath when his lips were hardly an inch from yours.

He kissed you, full of the aggression and experience you’d always imagined him having. His full lips were soft against yours. Even then, your fantasies paled in comparison to the feeling of his tongue in your mouth as you let him take you as he wanted. You liked that he was so cocky and sure of himself, not feeling the least bit embarrassed that you played right into his hands.

Though he moved to pull away, you weren’t about to let the kiss end just yet, gently nipping at his bottom lip. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he obliged your unspoken desire.

“Why don’t you take this off for me,” he ordered softly, tugging at your costume.

He made himself comfortable on the edge of the large bed. Even if he wanted some kind of strip tease, you weren’t sure if you could manage something like that gracefully with how your costume hugged your body. It made you look and feel incredible, but it was a pain to take off. Fuck it. If the way you undressed was a dealbreaker for him, you could live.

To your relief, the opposite seemed true. He palmed his crotch through his own costume as you shimmied out of yours, shedding your platform boots and gloves. Keeping his earlier comment about your ass in mind, you turned around when you pulled off your spandex leggings, making a show of bending over.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned under his breath.

You turned around to unzip your top, the last of your costume that you were still wearing, letting it fall to the ground. You, on the other hand, floated a few inches above your discarded costume, pride pumping through your veins as Soldier Boy stared in awe.

Flying the short distance across the room, you landed in front of him, your feet barely touching the ground before he grabbed you. You’d nearly forgotten how strong he was, but he almost knocked the wind out of you with how he pulled you onto the bed with him, pinning you to the silk sheets.

He kissed you again, though you moaned into his mouth as he rutted his clothed cock against your bare pussy, the rough material brushing against your clit. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lifting your hips to get more of the burning friction that felt good despite the discomfort. You couldn’t believe you’d been so unimaginative in your fantasies of him, all so soft and serene, as if you were afraid to truly confront the wanton desire you had for him.

He let out what you could only describe as a growl before he flipped you over, landing a harsh smack to your ass. “All fours, sweetheart.”

As soon as you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, he rutted his clothed cock against your ass, his fingers playing with your clit. Digging your fingers into the sheets, you pressed yourself closer to him. Who cared if he thought you were desperate? You were desperate after fantasizing about him for so long. There was no guarantee it’d happen again, anyway.

He slapped each of your ass cheeks, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the force he used. Your skin stung, and you let out a shaky breath when you heard him unzipping his fly. It wasn’t taking him that long to undress, but you were antsy and curious, turning your head to sneak a glimpse of him naked. Your breath hitched at the size of his cock. His bravado sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He spanked you again, harder than before. “Did I say you could look?”

“No.”

You dug your teeth into your lower lip when he slapped you again.

“No, what?”

“No, sir,” you whimpered, turning to face the headboard again.

“That’s better.”

A moment later, he slipped his hand between your legs, his fingers feeling how wet you’d become at his manhandling your body.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. You like it rough, huh?” he asked, his voice teasing as he rubbed circles on your clit.

“Yes, sir.”

His cock pushed between your folds, slowly filling you before he began to thrust, nearly knocking you flat on your face. His pace was rough and relentless. He clearly had no intention of going easy on you, landing smacks to your ass as he pounded into you. The pain was intense, raw and unfamiliar, but you wanted more, even if it meant you wouldn’t be able to sit for the next few days.

The sound filling the space was nothing short of obscene between the slapping of skin and your pained moans. Throwing your head back, you could barely make out with your blurred vision the distorted reflection of you and Soldier Boy from the mirror on the ceiling. You clenched around him at the thought of how primal and exploitative it was, his cock claiming your pussy just so you’d have a chance at a spot on his team. You moaned, unabashedly turned on by the fucked up situation.

“You close, baby? You gonna cum for me?”

“I—fuck—yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he growled.

With another thrust that made you feel like your arms were going to give out from under you, you came, tears clouding your vision as all you could feel was pleasure and his hot cum pumping inside you. You’d grabbed the sheets beneath you, squeezing them in your fists as you rode out your orgasm. A tingling sensation in your fingertips was followed by a slight burning smell. Fuck. You burned through his sheets.

As soon as he pulled out, you collapsed onto your back, a hand on your chest as you tried to catch your breath. The bed shifted as he moved to sit next to you, his tongue darting out from between his lips.

“I was just gonna have you suck my cock, but I’ve only had better fucks at Herogasm.”

“Yeah?” you asked, a teasing smile on your face.

He kissed you again, his strong hands squeezing your thighs. “How about you? Nothing like the real thing, huh?”

You could only manage a breathless ‘yes’ in response as you sat up, which was good enough for him. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a joint and a lighter. This time, you accepted his offer when he held out the joint to you. Though, instead of handing it over, he put his arm around your shoulders, bringing his hand to your lips. The action felt oddly intimate as you inhaled.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before looking at him again. “Well, now I’m gonna fail a drug test if I get the job.”

He snickered as he toked, coughing a bit. “If Vought drug tested supes, they would’ve dropped my ass years ago.”

“Sorry about the sheets, by the way,” you said.

“The what—“ He looked over, seeing the holes scorched in the sheets you’d been clinging to. “Shit, that’s actually kinda hot.”

After a few silent moments, you spoke again. “When will I know? If I got the spot in Payback, I mean.”

He shrugged noncommittally. “You’ll get a call in a few days.”

A few days. At least you had some idea of when you’d hear back. Reluctantly, you got up from the comfortable bed, feeling a bit of a chill from the absence of his body heat. You got dressed, glancing at yourself in a mirror on the wall. Your lipstick was smeared, mascara smudged, and the glitter on your cheeks had spread all over your face. At least you wouldn’t have to do any kind of walk of shame out of the place.

“Mind if I leave from here?” you asked, pointing to the window.

He grinned. “Go for it.”

“Have a good night, Soldier Boy.”

“You too, GG.”

Opening the window, you pushed off from the ledge and into the air, soaring above the traffic below. Some of the people standing around and walking down the street recognized you, pointing you out to those around them. Hiding in a place like New York was almost impossible for a supe, and you never bothered with a secret identity like some of your peers did. Besides, you wanted to be recognized, for the city to know who Galaxy Girl was, so you indulged the onlookers with waves and a big smile as you flew by.

As soon as you landed on your apartment’s balcony, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions. There was a little bit of disappointment in being that desperate for a spot on Payback, but mostly, you felt excited disbelief. Despite the circumstances, you and Soldier Boy fucked, something you’d admitted to his face that you spent years resigning to the confines of your most intimate fantasies. Even if you didn’t get chosen for the team, you could live with coming out of the whole thing with nothing more than knowing he was a good lay.

The next few days passed with an anticipation that turned your stomach sour. You stopped a few crimes, did a publicity appearance at a new club, and hoped to god you wouldn’t run into Crimson Countess at some point. You had no idea if her interview went similarly to yours, though you could only assume it did. That didn’t bother you, but you didn’t want her to potentially end up being the bearer of bad news.

Every time you left your apartment, you worried that the phone would ring while you were gone, and you’d miss the most important call of your career. Just after you woke up one morning, the phone rang, and as you’d done since you left the club that night, you rushed into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello, is this Galaxy Girl?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling on behalf of Vought International. A decision has been made on the last position in Payback, and the board would like to extend a formal offer to you as the newest member of—“

The phone fell from your hand, knocking against the wall as it swung back and forth on the chord. You could hardly process the confused, muffled voice on the other end of the line asking if you were still there. The next hour went by in a blur, as you got yourself together and flew over to Vought Tower.

You walked into the conference room to find that the only available seat was next to Soldier Boy, who was sitting among the Vought executives. The board members gave you their congratulations, a lawyer explained what you needed to sign and where, and a photographer started snapping pictures almost as soon as you picked up the pen.

“Look alive, Galaxy Girl! C’mon, you’re making history here!” the photographer exclaimed.

“Don’t overthink it, GG. You more than earned this,” Soldier Boy said with a charming smile. He gave your knee a friendly pat before resting his hand on it, slowly bringing his hand up to your thigh and squeezing.

You managed to give him the most genuine smile you could muster up in return. He was right, after all. You had earned it that night, gave that final push to make yourself stand out, and you hadn’t hated it either. With a deep breath, you signed your life away to join Payback, just like you wanted.

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!” 

You don’t. 

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes. 

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man. 

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic. 

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.” 

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it. 

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you. 

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain. 

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him. 

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way). 

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met. 

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly. 

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave. 

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour. 

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?” 

Even her voice is elegant. 

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door. 

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public. 

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain. 

Or at least a super-something. 

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.” 

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits. 

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her. 

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.” 

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct. 

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!” 

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool. 

And then it’s just you. 

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here. 

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right? 

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit. 

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him. 

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?” 

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full. 

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it. 

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go. 

And now he’s leaving you. 

So you take your chance. 

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying. 

Then silence.

How awkward. 

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low. 

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in. 

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space. 

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool. 

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back,  “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps. 

Little Red? 

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 2

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, vague references to violence

Author’s Note: Much appreciate all the love for part one, thanks y’all!

Part 1

---

The sound of your alarm pissed you off even more than usual the next morning. 

You padded down the hallway, pulled down on the knotted string hanging from the ceiling of your bathroom and winced when your face appeared in the mirror. Your horrendous night of sleep was vividly painted across your face, seeping into every pore and newly formed wrinkle. You pulled and prodded at your dull skin. Hopefully no-one would mention it.

Anxious thoughts slowly dripped into your mind as you got ready for work, eventually settling like a heavy cloud that hung around you as you left your apartment and began to walk down the stairs. You’d fought with Bucky before, of course you had, but you’d never been left feeling like this. Your relationship always teetered on the edge of chaos but this is the first time it felt like it might have lost its balance.

You paused at the bottom of the stairs, collecting yourself and taking your first deep breath of the day. The cloud thinned a little. You’d get through this, you told yourself repeatedly, you just needed some time. Turning into the lobby, your nerves were further soothed by the familiar sound of rustling paper, a faint smile starting on your lips when you spotted your old friend huddled in the corner.

“Morning, Lily,” you stopped beside her and let your eyes dance over the headlines she’d neatly arranged on the floor, “anything exciting today?”

She swivelled round from her crouched position as soon as she heard your voice, something resembling concern washing over her crinkled features. “Oh, are you alright dear?”

“Course.” You gulped. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Last night, I heard some raised voices and loud rattling. I thought it might be the television but I never usually hear-”

“It was the TV,” you forced a smile, “sorry. I’ll try to keep it down from now on.”

“If you say so.”

Her eyes twinkled slightly as she turned back around, attention returning to the papers. You reached for the latch on the door and pulled it open but, before you could step outside, she thrust something into your free hand and firmly closed your fingers around it. A shrewd smile briefly flashed in your direction before it and its host disappeared through a doorway like some kind of moth-eaten grey shadow.

You shook your head, just to double check you weren’t in some kind of vivid fever dream. Sometimes it worked.

Stepping outside, you paused and uncrumpled your daily offering. It was a clipping from the vows section of an old New York Times. A young couple were pictured, dressed in all their wedding finery, grinning above the headline Against All Odds. You chuckled and glanced back at the building, sometimes that place was weirder than a fever dream.

Checking up and down the street, you saw no sign of Bucky’s car. What a relief. He obviously realised you’d need some space after what happened, he could be smart like that when he took a second to stop and think instead of letting his paranoia get the better of him. If only he did that more often.

You turned and began the short walk to the library, neatly folding the paper and sliding it into your pocket. The usual sounds of engines backfiring and horns blaring were slowly tuned out as you became lost in thought, replaying the events of last night in your head. You understood why Bucky worried so much, and sometimes you felt guilty for letting it piss you off, given the circumstances, but you just couldn’t help wishing he’d at least try to move on.

The two of you never really spoke about it. It was just over a year ago when you started to notice the same guy cropping up more and more in your daily routine, leaning against an expensive-looking car with a cigarette in his mouth outside your apartment, browsing through the Home and Lifestyle magazine section at the library, joining the queue behind you at your regular coffee shop. At first you brushed the encounters off as coincidences, as someone new to the area exploring the few pleasant attractions, but noticing him tucked in the back corner of the bar during karaoke night made you start to panic.

Bucky erupted when you told him. He stormed out of your apartment as soon as you finished speaking and didn’t show up again until two days later, with the same clothes on and no skin left on his knuckles.

You guided him through to the kitchen and stuck his hands under the faucet, running warm water over the wounds while you prepared some bandages. He shook off your questions at first, only drip-feeding you bits of information once you’d cleaned him up, the thin veil of calm periodically slipping away and revealing a deep, frightened anger. 

He told you that you were being targeted, while in the same breath promising that it wouldn’t be a problem anymore, that he’d solved it. He didn’t say what you were being targeted for. He didn’t say how he’d solved it. You didn’t ask.

Even since then Bucky had been incredibly jumpy, obviously terrified that the next incident might end differently. You never said it, but at the time you found yourself hoping the whole ordeal would be enough to convince him to leave all that shit behind, hoping you wouldn’t have to keep choosing the man you loved over your own safety.

You’d underestimated how deep his father’s insidious claws had already sunk in.

—

You finally checked your phone on your lunch break. Just the one missed call, he knew how to take a hint. Biting your thumb nervously, you typed out a message, offering to meet after you finished work. The coffee shop where you first met seemed like the best idea, somewhere public but filled with happy memories for the both of you. Hallowed ground.

He was waiting with your drink in front of him when you arrived. He always did that, made sure to arrive early so you didn’t have to wait in line, and you were always too appreciative of the gesture to point out that your coffee was cold by the time you got to it. His hands reached across the table to hold yours as soon as you sat down. You let it happen but didn’t let your arms stretch towards him at all, you couldn’t have him thinking he was off the hook just like that. There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before he cleared his throat and spoke.

“I’m so sorry baby,” his fingertips brushed over your lightly bruised wrist, “are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

“Only a little.” That answer seemed to pain him but you weren’t sure what else to say. It was the truth.

“You need anything? I can ask for some ice, or go around the corner for some Tylenol?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

You lowered your gaze to his hands so he wouldn’t see the faint smile you were attempting to smother. Again, you didn’t want to give him the impression that everything was back to normal, but you couldn’t help the joy you felt at the reappearance of your usual, sweet Bucky.

“I can’t believe I did that,” he swallowed harshly, “wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me. Don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.”

You took a deep breath.

“I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but only because I know you, Buck, and that wasn’t you. It was-”

You cut yourself off, unsure if stepping into this territory again was wise.

“Was what?”

“It was more like something your dad would do.”

He looked down into his coffee. “You’re probably right.”

That seemed to hit him pretty hard. You understood what he was feeling, coming to terms with the fact that the man you’d looked up to your whole life was, to put it mildly, deeply flawed was a fucking rough thing to do. 

He just needed time. Lucky for him, you were more than willing to wait a little longer, you just needed to make sure the two of you were on the same page.

“Look, I know why you think you want all these changes. All the men in your family follow the same path, meeting a nice girl at church, moving in together, marrying within a year, kids within two. Some people want that and that's fine, but I don’t, and I don’t think you do either.”

“I just want you,” his grip on your hands tightened slightly, “however.”

“Then we’ll figure this out.”

He smiled. You smiled back, loosening the tension in your arms so he could pull your hands closer. The two of you stayed there, talking, until the coffee shop closed and they swept you out onto the sidewalk. Things were starting to feel better.

He held his elbow out and you laced your arm through his, the two of you starting the short walk back to your apartment by predicting how many clippings Lily would have for him today. Your conversation was cut short, however, when his phone began chiming from his pocket. It was his dad. He apologised, answered and told him he’d call back later. As long as you’d known Bucky he’d never once sent his dad to voicemail.

You pictured the villain on the other end of the phone, bright red face framed by a receding hairline. He was quite a bit shorter than Buck but in surprisingly good shape for an old guy who was never without a cigar and a glass of liquor. His shape, however, wasn’t enough to compensate for his oily demeanour and the permanent leer that was etched on his face. To men like him, women were either useless or they were receptionists, and receptionists were just potential mistresses with plausible deniability. 

He never liked you. In all fairness, you never liked him either, but at least your dislike had been vindicated when you overheard him at Bucky’s brother’s wedding calling you a cheap broad. You’d never done anything to him. Well, nothing he knew about.

You chose not to tell Buck about that, but only because you wanted him to come to his own conclusions about his father, to see the light without you having to shine it directly into his face. Your heart filled with dread as you watched him pacing and struggling to get off the phone, hoping against hope that he’d never turn into that man.

He eventually managed to free himself, his expression turning pretty bleak as he walked back over.

“Everything alright?”

“Mhmm.”

“Buck.”

“It’s nothing, really, I just-” he rubbed his eyes, “I kinda felt like I needed to talk to someone earlier, so I told my brother about last night. Fucking stupid thing to do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause it sounds like he’s already told pretty much anyone willing to listen, now dad’s trying to set me up on a date with one of his friend’s daughters.”

“Damn, he works quick.”

“Tell me about it.”

You chuckled. “I guess that’s what you get for picking an outsider.”

He forced a smile. You could see the cogs starting to work in his head. The whole time you’d been together he’d been trying desperately to come up with a way to marry his two opposing lives together, to work out all the kinks and somehow make everyone happy. It broke your heart having to watch him slowly realise that it might not be possible, and you wondered if he’d ever even considered what kind of life would make him happy.

You tightened your arm around his. “You know I’d never ask you to choose, right?”

“I know.” He planted a kiss on your temple. “Thank you.”

---

Part 3

---

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[weantuniverse]

New York Mirror magazine illustration, 1958. 

  (via Facebook)

[jedivoodoochile]

Joanne Latham.

Latham was born in Wolverhampton. After studying classical ballet for nine years she took a scholarship to the Royal Ballet School. A dancing competition led to her modelling for retailer Miss Selfridge. This led on to other modelling and television commercials, including appearing on Page 3 of The Sun and in the Daily Mirror.

In 1978, ATV made a documentary about her called "A Model's Dream" in the series England, Their England. After a shoot with leading glamour photographer Patrick Lichfield, he included her photo on the inside front cover of his book The Most Beautiful Women, a collection of his photographs.

In 1979, men's magazines Playboy and Penthouse competed to publish the first nude pictures of her. Latham signed a contract with Bob Guccione and Penthouse, which promised a fee of £70,000 for her to appear in the September 1979 issue, which was also the 10th Anniversary of the US edition. Latham was selected as Pet Of The Month and featured on nineteen pages of the magazine, including the cover. That edition made U.S. history, selling more in dollar percentage than any other magazine to date and making a profit of $18 million. She also appeared with other Penthouse Pets in the televised broadcast pageant for the selection of the 1979 Pet Of The Year, in which she participated in the opening segment with singer Frankie Valli and a fashion show. After a brief affair with Guccione, Latham's contract was terminated with Penthouse when she fell in love with Guccione's son. She moved from New York to Los Angeles and briefly became the girlfriend of Hugh Hefner, living in the Playboy Mansion. In the early 1980s, Latham returned to England to her Midland home in the village of Tettenhall.

Latham was featured on the cover of Death Penalty, the debut album by the heavy metal band Witchfinder General, which was released in 1982. She also featured on the cover of Friends of Hell, their second album released in 1983.

In 1982, Latham was involved in a serious car accident, after which she gave up modelling and opened the first 'workout' keep-fit studio in the UK. Her daughter, Elizablue Nairi, was born in southern Spain in June 1985.

In later years, she studied drama at Birmingham Repertory Theatre, working under a director of the Royal Shakespeare Company and went on to play the lead role in a government-funded film for the arts.

In 1999, Latham became a teacher of yoga training at the Sivananda Yoga Vendanta Centre in Nassau, Bahamas. Since then, she has continued working in the healing arts. Despite several offers, she has refused to write her autobiography. She has set up her own charity with her daughter 'Blue', who is also a teacher of yoga.

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Shower of Flowers

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader

tags: fluff, just pure fluff, college boyfriend Seungmin, non-idol!au

masterlist

Exhausted.

That's how you felt as you took a deep breath in the closed stall of the bathroom before stepping out. You look at your made-up face in the mirror. Eyeliner, lipstick and blush are on point. Your favourite A-line dress flaunts all that your body has to offer while still leaving a lot of room for imagination.

You have never looked better and you knew it. You had finally reached a point of confidence in your body that even staring at yourself in the mirror for more than ten minutes didn't make you want to pinpoint a tiny blemish across your hand.

You were smart and you knew it. You were starting your new job at a prestigious magazine because you deserved to be here. You had worked hard and believed in yourself and made it here. It was all there.

Yet a part of you constantly felt out of place, something always felt missing.

Your friends were waiting outside the door of the restroom. The ones who had watched you grow and come into your own during your grad school years. The same ones you had spent days and years crying, laughing and having fun with. Yet it felt out of place on certain days. The days when your anxiety got the best of you and even smiling felt draining. You didn't need a social battery with these people, there was nothing to think much about except that anxiety was a pain in the ass that existed constantly.

Shaking off the negative thoughts from your head and fixing your lipstick you head out.

"Oh yes y/n is here finally, let's go, guys!" You see Jisung shout to the rest of the group as everyone gets up from the different chairs they'd been sitting on while you were gone.

"Sorry guys, there was a queue." You smile sheepishly.

"It's okay. Now let's go to the pier next." Yeji had always been the mother of your little group and she did her job well by leading the way.

All of you step out of the small restobar and head out into the dark, cold New York evening. The long-awaited New York trip was finally happening. weeks before you'd all start your new jobs in different parts of your country. Yeji and Han were moving to California, Felix to Arizona and Seungmin and you to Chicago. This really was a once-in-a-lifetime trip for all of you. It was the last night before all of you had to fly back home and decided to check out the pier 57 rooftop and gaze at the magnificent city's skyline to end this masterpiece of a trip you'd had.

"Hey, you alright?" Seungmin's voice brings you back to reality, the one where all of you are walking toward your destination. Seungmin has fallen in step with you as the other three walk around happily a few steps in front of you. You tilt your head to look at Seungmin and see his worried gaze. A small smile forms on your face, it always does when you see Seungmin.

"I'm fine Minnie." "You sure bub?" You nod unable to verbally respond through the slight choke in your throat at the term of endearment.

Seungmin and you had never discussed what you were, but there was always something that just crossed over the thin line of friendship and proceeded to more. Since freshman year of university, the both of you have been dancing around this unknown territory. Never verbalising the emotions that you knew are present in both your hearts. Just existing in the comfort of the bubble you had created around the two of you. The rest of your friend group has tried their best to pursue the two of you into making it official but the fear of losing each other had always prevented both of you from speaking on it.

God only knew how ecstatic you were to find out that Seungmin was also going to live in the same city as you after graduation. It felt like a piece of home was always going to be with you, even if it never went any further you were content just having him next to you.

Seungmin wasn't exactly a soft, sunshine-y soul like Felix, and neither was he your biggest hype man and mood booster like Jisung. But Seungmin understood you. He saw through the layers of facades, he reached out to your heart through the thick layers of dark clouds in your head. Seungmin might make you want to pull his and your hair a lot of times when he is being playful but he is also the one who kept you company over countless sleepless nights. The one who'd understood your need for physical space but also managed to do anything and everything to cheer you up. Seungmin let you into his world, giving you the privilege of being the one to take care of him when he needed it.

Even now he walks side-by-side, close enough to touch but still far enough to respect each other’s space. Since you told him about your issues with boundaries Seungmin has not once initiated physical contact without your permission and every time it melts your heart. Eventually you realised that with Seungmin, you have no problem in holding hands, hugs or even cuddles. And when he figured that you became comfortable he let himself hold you.

You look at him again, he's looking up at the sky and staring into the distance. From the side, he looks so beautiful and ethereal that you don't want to turn away. Seungmin was not exactly the most handsome guy you’ve seen, but as your affection and feelings for him grew he became gorgeous in your eyes. You could stare at him forever, but you force yourself to look away as Felix shouts happily at the gorgeous view in front of you.

You gaze at the lights, the water and take a mental picture of the sight and soak it all in as you sit in the nearest sofa facing the scenery. On the side, Yeji and Jisung are fighting to get better pictures as Felix laughs and entertains them. You feel heat radiate from your left side as Seungmin sits next to you. There is a small smile tugging on his lips as he watches the skyline. You look at the direction he’s seeing and find yourself staring at the pretty moon.

“You’re my moon.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself.

From the periphery of your vision you can see Seungmin’s smile grow wider. “And why is that?”

You turn to face him, he is looking at you with an amused expression. Maybe tonight you’ll be a little bolder, finally take the chance you’ve been waiting to take for years. Maybe tonight it won’t be a failed chance and for once you won’t just have to dream of getting to experience Seungmin’s love. For once you would be true to the feeling that has been growing exponentially in your heart since you got to know him.

“You’re my moon because you shine the brightest during my dark days. You light me up from within on days when I can’t find it in myself to like me. Ever since you came into my life you have been a constant presence, in one form or the other. Some days you’re not there physically, and on some you’re there with me for every breathe I take. Even if it is one text or a simple smile, you make sure to be there. Your presence has been significant especially during the turbulent high tides of my life. And no matter where I go, even when the day ends and the light disappears, you shine on the dark sky. And that is why you’re my moon, Kim Seungmin.”

His eyes have gone from amusement to realisation and with that his eyes have gotten glassier. His expression tells you that he knows the gravity of your words and that he feels the pull too.

Usually you’d be ashamed of being this open to him, you’d be running in embarrassment or making a lame joke to cover up your vulnerability. But today, you felt bolder, you felt the physical urge to let it all out.

So you reached out and intertwined your fingers in his. As usual, Seungmin was warm. His touch reverberated in you, made you feel alive. You squeezed his palm, like he’s done for you a million times now. You angle your body to fully face him on the bench. Not a single care about your friends or the other people there. Tonight all you knew and all you saw was Seungmin.

“I might be too late, but I wouldn’t know. Because when I’m with you, time ceases to exist. I feel like I live in an eternal cherry blossom on a chill spring day. Days merge into nights, yet all I see is you. I don’t know when you consumed me so wholly, but I can’t see myself without you. Every waking moment there is something in my life, in my day, that reminds me of you. The idea of existing in the same realm as you does satisfy me, but I am a greedy human. I want more. I need more. I need you. I need to love you, to let me take care of you. I need to fight with you, to cry with you, to laugh with you and to grow in love with you. Seungmin, I’m scared. So entirely petrified. I know I am ruining the friendship that we so carefully built. I am throwing something so solid for something that has been fragile till now… but you make me feel like loving you could be as ethereal as watching a moonflower bloom. This is risky, and for years I stayed back fearing the change. But, now I would rather fail trying to love you than being a coward who never got to try.”

The sentences flow into the other as you speak and the words tumble out of you in a sure manner. Seungmin is left speechless, he’s staring at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You’ve never sounded this confident and a second after your big speech you want to bolt. You consider it, for a good minute before Jisung interrupts the two of you.

“Hey are the two of you coming or what?”

You turn to face a bouncy happy Jisung and the lack of understanding must be clear on your face. Before Jisung can repeat his question, Seungmin speaks up. “Actually the three of you proceed, we’ll meet you back at the hotel. I think we’re done with the sightseeing.”

You blink back and forth between the two boys- Seungmin and his polite smile, hand still in yours, and Jisung with his big smile that turns into a pout. The latter considers refusing Seungmin’s offer for a minute but changes his mind and leaves with a big wave. You crane your neck and watch as the thee of them skip along out of the pier.

You take a deep breath before turning to face Seungmin.

He’s looking at you with big eyes, a wide smile and slowly moves forward. His free hand comes up to your right cheek, a slight brush of fingers and then rests against your face.

“That was beautiful Y/N. before jisung interrupted anyway.”

To say that you’re a mess would be an understatement. You feel like a thousand rainstorms are pouring inside you and no words come out your mouth. You must be expressing the short-circuit of your system through your face as it causes Seungmin to break into his cute giggles.

He lets go of the other hand that you were holding and cups your face with both his palms.

“I want to try too Y/N. So desperately, like my life depends on it. You’re my everything. All that I’ve wanted since the day you showed up to class with lunch for me. For years you’re all I could think of. No matter how much casual dating I tried to do, there’s not been a single day that has gone by without me wanting to be the one you love. To hear you say all this feels like watching a dream unfold in front of my eyes. I knew you were fragile when we met, you wanted to heal and you needed to. So I waited. I waited for you to allow yourself to be loved, to be taken care of. And I was willing to wait as long as it took you. But the man in me is so shamelessly thrilled that you want me too.”

You don’t realise when the tears started to trickle down and when seungmin started rubbing circles on your cheeks. All you know is he loves you too. The two of you have been learning to love each other from apart without realising. And at this moment it feels like the universe has aligned in a perfect line for the two of you finally.

And the only logical thing you could do at that point is to throw yourself into his arms, so you do just that. Seungmin is ready to welcome you as always and this time he doesn’t hesitate to hold you close.

Whenever you’ve hugged till now, there has been slight hesitation and tension in holding each other close for a longer time. But tonight, there are no apprehensions in how strongly you cling on to him and if his grip on your waist is anything to go by, Seungmin has no intentions of letting you either.

It feels like a million lifetimes congregated to create this singular moment of joy for the two of you. Your heart feels like it is going through a Big Bang of its own resulting in the equilibrium of loving Seungmin. The million different phenomenons of the universe has led to this moment where time expands to last a lifetime and the human body is nothing but a mere vessel to express the insurmountable love you hold for each other.

The two of you stay there until you feel the initial drops of rain fall on your cheeks. You break apart to look at the sky, now cloudy and ready for a big downpour. Then you see Seungmin and he looks radiating. He definitely looks thousand times more handsome when he’s happy.

“Maybe we should head back?”

He mulls over your words as more drops fall on you both. Then he pulls apart takes your hand and walks you to the edge of the peer. Just as you can question him, he pulls you into a hug, leans close to your ear.

“Orrr I could kiss you into oblivion under the rain, with this view like I know you’ve always wanted…” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ve seen the books you read Y/N, don’t be so shocked.” He adds with a chuckle.

His words leave you stunned and before you could back out you nod a hurried yes.

He leans in and the moment his lips touch yours the universe showers her gratitude by blessing you with the sweet rains like a shower of flowers.

[darcytaylor]

What do you make of Luke and his team lying and putting out articles saying he was single when he clearly wasn’t?

But all of the articles that did come out saying that Luke was single never had his team confirming anything. None of the articles were exclusives (and this goes for the People Magazine that came out the day of part 2). It has never been confirmed or denied by his team or Luke himself that he is in a relationship. The ONLY exclusive was from The Mirror (it was after the New York premier), and it didn't straight out confirm a relationship status, just that it was early days, they haven't gone public, and they were growing close.

Now I'm not saying we have to believe this at face value, but because of the exclusive part of it, they got a source from somewhere. It could be from Luke's PR team, Antonia, Antonia's mom, a friend of Luke, a colleague of Luke or Antonia, a family member (there are many people who it could be). But this is the only report that is an exclusive where there is even a possibility of Luke's team confirming his relationship status. (even though it didn't confirm it at all). All of the other articles were 100% speculation.

The articles saying he was single always stated it in a way that said "It seems like Luke is single", but it was never his team confirming this or Luke himself. The articles were always ambiguous and never confirmed or denied anything. Because they didn't come from Luke or his team.

Now if you were in the fandom during that time, even when these articles did come out, you always knew that they just didn't take the time to do the research. It was known that Luke was in some kind of a relationship with Antonia. It never came as a shock to me.

So what do I think of those articles stating he was single? I think that the articles were poorly researched and lacked factual accuracy. The only article that stands out as being "truthful" (I used that word loosely) and maybe from his team are the exclusives.