#so yeah just going to queue and forget about it

[commandertartarsmoocher]

On this Friday I present to you:

a small batch of today's doodles !

[corcnaiism]

;-- alright ya'll here is the deal: starting on 12/21/24 i will be out of the country until 1/3/24. depending on how much signal i got where i'm going, this blog will be put on a small hiatus until i get back just to be safe. if i post anything at all between that time, i'll be mobile only and won't be doing replies. so yeah, just wanted to let you guys know.

[neverendingford]

.

[nagumaow]

itoshi rin - “ lost ? “

summary ౨ৎ

your boyfriend, itoshi rin, always looks a little lost whenever he’s out with you. he doesn’t really get your antics, but he’ll follow you anyways ♡

warnings ɞ

loverboy rin lol, reader is described as pretty, beautiful, etc, oh oh and reader buys a dress , not much else , and ummm just lots of fluff and cutesy stuff and yeah !

“are you looking for something, sir?” a store attendant asks, a kind smile on her lips. she looks back at him— the man you love— who is also known as your boyfriend, rin. itoshi rin.

“no.” he’d respond, shaking his head at the woman. short and simple, as always. in all honesty, rin’s not too sure what he’s doing here. he watches as the lady leaves, his eyes immediately shifting to the dressing room. you told him to wait out here while you try on some outfits, but he feels like you’ve been taking a bit too long in there. are you hurt?

the thought alone is enough to make him feel a bit skittish, his foot tapping against the floor. he peers inside, glancing back at the endless stalls of dressing rooms. he eyes the one you stepped into— number thirteen. thirteen, thirteen, thirteen. are you okay? he feels a bit sick. what if something happened to you?

he spots you walking out after what felt like hours of nervously chattering his teeth, and he relaxes immediately. shoulders slumped and the crease from his eyebrows furrowing smoothing over, he finds his feet just barely grazing the little fencing of the queue. he knows he shouldn’t, it’s the women’s dressing room— but you’re right there, approaching him with that happy smile on your face.

“riiinn,” you draw out, and he feels his knees going weak. you’re so beautiful he’s almost sure he could cry. but he remains stoic, his hand reaching out to take some of the clothes for you. “look.” you say, holding up.. some sort of dress. he thinks he recalls you showing him a picture of something similar earlier today.

“you’ll look beautiful. let’s go pay now.” he’d say, his tone just as gentle as ever. he’s always like this with you. his hand reaches up, cupping your cheek and brushing aside your hair as he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

he reaches for your hand, leading you to the register. it’s usually you leading him, but he feels sort of bad for trailing behind you like a puppy.

the next time you both go somewhere, you’re bringing him to a cafe. your favorite one. yes, rin remembers these things. how could he not? he’d never forgive himself if he were to forget anything about you.

“mhm.. yes, can i please get (favourite order)?” you ask, expression bright. rin thinks you’re like the sun sometimes. shining so prettily. he wishes he could take a picture— but he’d feel like a creep pulling out his phone in the middle of a cafe and taking photos of you like some stalker. but you’re the absolute love of his life, why should he care?

probably because he knows you’ll get all embarrassed and flustered if he does pull out his phone like he wants to. as much as he’d love to capture your beautiful smile in a picture to admire when he misses you, he would much rather have you happy.

but, don’t blame him when he ‘sneakily’ snaps a picture of you. the tips of his flush a pretty shade of red when his flash goes off, and rin is so embarrassed that he feels like that reindeer with the red nose when he watches your lips part.

“rin!” you exclaim, practically dropping your drink as you look back at your boyfriend from across the table. “did you just—“

“i didn’t.” he mumbles, gaze shifting away from yours. his pale lips curve into a subtle pout, and you really can’t bring yourself to be upset. you just flash him a knowing smile, which only makes his heart beat faster and spin the stars around his head a little harder. have you put a spell or something on him?

rin likes going out with you.

he feels a little confused sometimes, especially when you’re walking down the sidewalk, eyes bright as you look at the stores lined up. rin knows you like shopping, so he’s more than happy to come with you on your little trips to the store. even if he has no idea what he’s doing.

all he knows, is that you look so gorgeous when you smile. nothing could ever compete with you and your undeniable beauty, the absolute joy that radiates off of you like some sort of angel’s aura whenever you’re happy.

he feels a little proud, knowing that he’s contributing to your happiness as you tug him along, your fingers interlocked with his.

he likes it when you smile, he likes it when you’re happy.

on your next date, your boyfriend has no complaints standing with you in a line for some sort store. you told him it was a new one, and that you’re so excited to look inside. he’s just happy to be with you.

when you’re both finally let inside, he follows after you, eyes focused on your form as you excitedly look through everything. he has to physically hold himself back from falling over. you’re so, so, cute. he lives for that smile.

“rin, rin!” you wave your hand in front of his eyes, a small giggle escaping your lips at the dazed, or more like, lovestruck expression on his face. “are you listening?” you ask, tilting your head and leaning closer to him.

“of course.” he says quickly, feeling just a little ashamed for getting distracted. “…i’m sorry.” he says after a few moments. should he drop to his knees?

“don’t apologise.” you smile, cupping his cheeks and squishing them slightly. if you both weren’t so caught up loving each other, you could almost hear someone in the background.. something about.. ‘why can’t that be me?’ single people, these days.

“what were you saying?” rin prompts, nose scrunching slightly as you pinch at his cheek. he loves you more than anything, but this is a little embarrassing. he feels like a child. yet, he somehow likes it. maybe because it’s you.

“oh, right! have a look at this dress!”

and that’s how rin finds himself standing in the middle of yet another store, looking like a little boy who’s lost his mother after you ran off. he sighs fondly, eyes sparkling as he watches you look through a shelf. he doesn’t care about anything in this store. as far as he cares, all of it is just a bunch of little things that will bring you joy.

your dates are always fun, rin thinks. but he likes it when the two of you are together at home, too.

you’re curled against him, scrolling through tiktok with your head resting on his shoulder. yes, he loves this. even if he has no idea what the video you’re showing him is supposed to mean.

“your humour is interesting, love.” he mutters, nuzzling his nose against your hair. a playful jab watered down by his love for you.

your boyfriend, itoshi rin, loves you more than anything.

© me . pls pls don’t copy , steal , repost , translate , or do anything bad with my work and instead try and improve ur own skills ! ♡

masterlist ( 🪽 )

[cutiecusp]

Three's a crowd.

My first Ghoap drabble! Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x reader.

tw. talks of fantasy, sharing, threesome. HEA. MDNI!

"You want me to do what?" You exclaim, your voice high enough to startle the person in front of you. Standing in the queue for your morning coffee on the phone to your husband, Simon.

"Its just a fantasy i had, love. It's not important." You hear him reply, his deep voice smooth down the line.

"No- No i mean I'm open to it, but dropping it on me while I'm in the queue, Simon?" You ask, eyes flicking up to the board, as if you didn't already know what you wanted.

"I've just been thinking about it, and i know we talked about expanding things in the bedroom, didn't we?"

Your gaze landed on the cake pops as you nod, forgetting he cant see you.

"You there, love?" He chuckles, his voice light, as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell on you in public.

"I'm here, just processing." You reply, your face pink at the thought of the suggestion.

Drink and cake pop in hand, you find a quiet corner of the café.

"Is it a one time thing, or do you want more?" You ask softly, your thoughts running wild.

"Up to you, whatever is comfortable for you." Simon replies.

"And you want him to watch, or-?" Your face aflame, you hope no one is close enough to hear your conversation, your gaze flittering around the room.

Seemingly safe, you take a sip from your drink, cherishing the insane amount of sugar and cream in it.

"I want a night with you both, i see the way you look at him too, dove."

You almost choke on your drink, although you were happily married to Simon, and had been for years, there was something charming about the cheeky Scot who ate all your cookies and pressed a friendly kiss into your hair in thanks.

"Si- i don't-" You stutter, your voice cracking.

"Don't need to hide it, i understand." He says softly, his voice almost wistful.

"What if he says no, I'd be so embarrassed." You admit, gripping your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"Who do you think suggested it, love?" He replies.

You feel your pulse race in your throat as you clear it, your mouth unable to form words.

Johnny wanted this too?

"Uh, yeah, okay babe. If its what you want?" Your throat dry, you take another sip from your cup.

"Can't think of a better way to spend the night with my two favourite people." Simon chuckles down the phone.

A cough from behind you interrupts your phone call, turning round, you look into a familiar set of eyes.

"Why are you blushing so hard, Bon?" a deep, Scottish brogue asks.

"Ah, he's there." You hear your husband say through the phone.

"Meet you both at home." He says before hanging up.

Your eyes connect with Johnny's, and you were shocked to see the dark lust behind his eyes.

Holding out a hand, he looks down at you, taking in your flushed face, and the way your thighs are squeezed tightly together, a flicker of a satisfied grin on his face as his eyes travel from your face to your shoes and back again.

"Ready to go home?" he smiles again, the innocence of the question perfect for public, with the promise of more underneath.

You are unable to speak, so give a shaky nod before placing your hand in his, unable to ignore the electricity between you.

He urges you forward, collecting your cup and bag, before settling his hand on your lower back, the heat of his hand branding you forever.

He leans past you to get the door, his body brushing past you as you blush harder.

"Can't wait to see where else you blush, Bonnie." He whispers into the shell of your ear.

"I have a feeling you are going to be a very good girl for us."

.....................................................................

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker

[auroracalisto]

secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ♡ tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

[englishisaboutconfidence]

Morso d'amore : Part 2 of Ahyeon knows best

Dating Ahyeon was great for a number of reasons, one being you had a smoking hot girlfriend and second your girlfriend already knew you better than anyone else. The first few weeks of dating didn't cause you to have to change your life really at all. You still had the same classes with her and sat next to her during all of them. You two kept working on projects together for classes, so it was an easy excuse for your friends as to why you were with her and why you were leaving the dorm. She already knew how much of a nerd you were so she wasn't too mad (emphasis on too mad) when you would ghost her while gaming or when you would spend hours grinding solo queue. Although she did force you to be on FaceTime with her as often as possible if you were going to be gaming for a few hours. Plus, you know, the whole thing that you were having a very active sex life with one of the IT girls of your school, who also happened to be your childhood crush. So, to summarize your current situation, you had an amazing hot girlfriend, and your friends and family had no clue… or so you thought.

Your sister Pharita and told Ahyeon that she was going to spend the weekend with your parents, so naturally Ahyeon had let you know immediately, and you ran over to their dorm the second Pharita left for your parents. You barely had time to text Ahyeon you were there before she pulled you in and started making out with you. Stumbling onto her bed, you two were too busy fighting for oral dominance that neither of you noticed the door open and someone entered the room. Finally asserting our dominance, you went to remove Ahyeon's shirt when you heard a loud "Yaaaah". Spoked by this, Ahyeon released a loud shriek before hiding herself behind you. Turning around, you see your sister Pharita with her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face.

"How long has this been going on? My best friend screwing my brother?"

Awkwardly rubbing the back of your head, you say "Uhhhh, like 3 weeks".

Unsatisfied with your answer, you feel Ahyeon gently elbow you in the stomach, "And its ummm dating. Yeah, we've been dating for 3 weeks."

Still waiting for the most important part, Ahyeon cleared her throat "And I love her and intend to marry her."

Finally satisfied, Ahyeon gives you a quick peck on the cheek.

"Really?" Pharita asked which you and Ahyeon responded with an affirmative nod.

"God, you two are terrible at hiding it then because I realized it the Sunday you two returned from "dog sitting" at our parents".

Surprised, you and Ahyeon questioned your sister "Huh! What do you mean you've known since then?"

"Please, you two were making googly eyes at each other while you Y/N dropped Ahyeon off at our dorm. Plus, you two forgot there was an eyehole in the door, so I saw your little goodbye kiss. Also, did you two dumbasses forget that I have both of your locations so I can see when you two disappear to Ahyeon's house to fuck, or our parents place, or a love hotel? And of course, the fact that you Y/N make any excuse to come over and you Ahyeon don't even try to hide how much you love lying all over him when we watch shows."

Annoyed that your little secret wasn't really a secret, you respond to your sister’s very logical statements with a very mature "yeah whatever."

Chuckling at your annoyance, Pharita continued "Ahyeon although I do wish you would have told me yourself that you finally got Y/N to confess."

"Sorry Rita, I was a little distracted since this dummy finally stopped ignoring his feelings and accepting that he's mine."

"It's okay Ahyeon, I'm just happy that we are going to finally be sisters in law sooner rather than later."

Confused by the entirety of the conversations, you interrupt the two dormmates and childhood friends "Wait, what are y'all talking about? Rita, you knew that Ahyeon liked me and that I somehow liked Ahyeon? And what do you mean sisters in law? We just started dating 3 weeks ago."

Amused by your confusion, Pharita just smiled and said "Oh please, both our families have known that you two were destined for each other for years. You forget, but you would not stop talking about and hanging around Ahyeon when y'all first met in the 1st grade. You think that Ahyeon's infatuation with yours started out of nowhere? Please, you would always gravitate towards her and eventually, I guess Ahyeon somehow started to like you despite how annoying you were. 'Ahyeon said this. Ahyeon did that. Ahyeon likes this instead'. Good lord you would not shut up about her. Although in middle school you stopped talking about her as much though it was clear that she still occupied your thoughts and feelings and started to try to suppress your feelings for her with annoyance; but that's when Ahyeon truly showed how much she cared for you. She started following you instead and talking to you and about you all the time, or maybe how central you were in her life was made more apparent when you tried to hide how much Ahyeon occupied your life."

Hearing the quick recount of your two’s history, Ahyeon just smiled and leaned forward into your back while capturing you in a back hug.

Still confused and even more so with how relaxed Ahyeon was, you turn to her "Why are you so relaxed? If you knew all of this, why didn't you tell me."

Still smiling at you, Ahyeon gave you a quick peck before saying "Because honey, you needed to come to that conclusion mostly on your own. Plus, I was never scared about losing you, even when you were 'pissed' at me, your adoration of me was easy to see through the pointed jabs and attempts at annoyance and indifference. I knew that you only had eyes for me and that my happiness and joy for life were essential to you, even when you didn't realize it. Do you remember when my grandma died?

You nodded.

"Well, it was a really shitty time especially the funeral, but honestly, it is one of my favorite days because it showed me what kind of person you are and how much I mean to you. Your family was of course coming to the funeral; but I remember Pharita telling me how much pressure you put on your family to show up not only on time (which is struggle especially for your dad); but an hour early to make sure that whatever my family and I needed, you could provide. Of course, you didn't yell at them like a drill sergeant; but you kept subtly reminding your mom and by extension your dad that my family would do the same and that it's probably really important and helpful to show up early and take care of us during such a tragic time. And then when you arrived at the funeral, I don't remember you ever leaving my sight. You didn't ever really come up and tell me you were there for me explicitly; but you kept hovering in case I needed something, I could tell that you had your eyes on me the entire time, and whenever I did ask for something, you pretty much sprinted and got it for me and made sure that you were the one taking care of me. And of course, you comforted me after the funeral when everyone had left, even our parents and Pharita and you just sat with me for hours. And when I went to leave, you softly grabbed my hand and tried to console me but instead started to ramble awkwardly which led me to smile for the only time that day."

"I don't remember your smiling; all I remember is my rambling and staring at our hands instead of you because I could barely look at you in the eyes because of how nervous I felt."

"Do you remember how I finally got you to shut up Y/N?"

Blushing, you nod your head.

"God you two are the worst. It's like watching a cheesy romcom; but I also love you two and wish you nothing but happiness; but can you let me know what the hell she has been since I wasn't there, and she never told me this story?" Pharita said exasperatedly.

Looking at her, you silently beg Ahyeon not to tell the whole story, but she just lovingly pats your check and continues on

"Okay Okay. Well, despite his truly terrible and inaudible rambling, I knew the gist of what Y/N was trying to say as well as where it came from, so I decided the best way to shut him up was to do something that would truly stun him, so I grabbed his face with my right hand and raised his face so our eyes met and kissed him right then and there, at the funeral home on the day of my grandmas funeral. Then while he was stunned and opening and closing his mouth like a fish, I told him the truth, that I loved him and wanted him to be my first and only for everything in my life. And this asshole just stared at me and right when I was about to turn and leave, heartbroken; he grabbed my hands and pulled me into a kiss and told me that he had no clue how or why, but that he knew that he loved me too and that something inside of him was telling him that I was the one for him. We then just stood there hugging for a while before he walked me home hand in hand. But of course, being Y/N, the next day he was back to his old self and kept acting like I was the bane of his existence when we both knew it was quite the opposite."

"Awwwww, that's so cute. Disgusting but cute. I didn't realize how in touch with your emotions you were Y/N." Your sister said.

"I'm not. I just can tell what my gut is telling me, and it told me that if I fucked that up then I would regret it for my entire life. So, I am not cute and that story doesn't need to be repeated".

"Okay sweetie" Ahyeon responded.

"I'm not!" You responded back like a child.

"Of course,"

"I'm telling you Ahyeon. That story is not sweet or cute and doesn't need to be mass spread."

Sighing softly, Ahyeon just said "Y/N honey, that story is going to be told at our wedding and probably plenty of times before that so you are just going to need to accept the fact that everyone is going to know you’re a big softie who is also absolutely whipped for your wife"

"Fine, but you were obsessed with me and that's how we got together so you're even more whipped, so ha."

"Of course," Ahyeon sweetly responded before shutting you up with a quick peck.

Smiling since she knew she had won, Ahyeon turned to your sister and asked, "So are you going to your guys' parents or was that just bait?"

"Oh, don't worry you two, I'm still going. Just needed to confirm my suspicions so now I can tell both families the great news. But don't worry, I'll make sure they don't do anything tonight or tomorrow; but be prepared for Sunday because they will summon you then."

"Wait, shouldn't we be the ones to tell them?" You quickly questioned your sister.

"It's fine Y/N. They deserve to know ASAP, plus let's be honest, if you had it your way, no one would know until after the wedding."

Knowing she was right and that this was probably the best way for the news to be revealed to the parents aka you would have a 2 days to prepare for the Spanish Inquisition as well as an overindulgent celebration of you getting your head out of your ass, you just nod and say "Fine, just make sure we get to eat steak on Sunday and no one bothers us till then"

Smirking, Pharita responded "Of course dear brother… although I will tell them that you are busy making them grandchildren" before running out the door laughing.

"Wait, Rita. Don't say that!" you yelled at her retreating figure before laying on Ahyeon's bed sighing and saying "God they are going to be so annoying on Sunday. At least we have 36hrs before then. So, what do you want to do Ahyeon?"

Turning to look at her, you are met with an annoyed and dumbfounded look. Once again confused, you say "What?"

"Your sister who we thought was going to be gone all weekend is finally gone. She is telling your parents we are making babies. You came over specifically because she was going to be gone and we haven't fucked in 2 days, so what do you think I want to do?"

Realizing that you were in a very advantageous position and that to fuck it up would be an absolutely moronic thing to do, you make the very tough choice of giving your girlfriend what she wants as well as making sure you do what you came over to do.

You quickly recapture the moment your sister so rudely interrupted and pin your girlfriend to the bed with your hands while you capture her lips with yours. Moaning into your kiss, Ahyeon frees her wrists from your control and guides you to take off your shirt while making sure not to separate her lips from yours. Knowing what she wants next, you flip the two of you over and quickly remove her shirt. Taking a moment to catch your breaths, you are happily surprised to see that Ahyeon had decided to forego a bra that night and your eyes were met with her perfect, perky tits adorned with the most beautiful areolas. Knowing your next move, Ahyeon quickly shoves you back onto the bed before you can capture her tits in your mouth and wiggles out of her pants before quickly discarding yours along with your underwear (she of course doesn't have to deal with panties of her own since she had also decided to go commando for tonight).

Giving you a quick little smirk, she grabbed your cock and quickly started stroking it to get it nice and prepped for her. After needing a couple of seconds to recover from the pleasure that she was giving you, you grab her by the waist and pull her close to you before capturing her right tits with your mouth and giving her left one equal attention with your hand before starting to switch between the two like a man eating for the first time in weeks. Feeling how hard you were and knowing how easy it was for you to become distracted from the objective when her tits were present, Ahyeon tears you off her chest before straddling you and sinking down until you were fully sheathed in her. Not letting you recover, she quickly started to ride you but not before once again capturing your lips with hers. After a few minutes of her strong riding, you feel your orgasm coming. Sensing this too, Ahyeon quickly locked her legs around you and made sure you were buried as deep as possible in her. Burying yourself as deep as possible, you let your orgasm take hold and you release spurt after spurt of cum into Ahyeon's waiting womb. The feeling of you filling led to Ahyeon finally reaching her peak. Once the last remnants of your shared orgasm subside, Ahyeon finally allows herself to let go and she falls onto your chest. Pulling up the covers which you two had cast to the side during your lovemaking, you make sure that Ahyeon is properly covered before sighing and saying "Fuck, I love you Ahyeon". Smiling softly, Ahyeon raised herself up to give you a soft kiss on your lips saying, "I love you too". Content, satiated, and utterly spent, the two of you finally fall asleep in a loving embrace with your legs intertwined and bodies connected in a way that showed true intimacy.

[girasollake]

Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.

She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date

Thank youuu!

✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧

(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )

this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x

told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it

i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.

‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’

‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’

¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.

‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.

‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’

‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.

SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’

You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.

‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.

‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.

You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.

‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.

‘Of course.’ You smiled.

‘I have a question.’

‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘

‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’

‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’

‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.

Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.

‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.

‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.

‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’

‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.

‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.

‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.

‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’

‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.

His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.

He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’

You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’

His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.

‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’

‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.

He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.

‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’

The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.

He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.

He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.

‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.

‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.

‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’

‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.

‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.

You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’

‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.

Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.

He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.

‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.

His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.

‘I lied.’ You mumbled.

‘What?’

‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’

‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’

‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’

‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’

‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’

‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

@ girasollake 2024

[delopsia]

Erm, I would actually would like you to elaborate on milking Rhett if you feel like it.

Hell yeah, I'll elaborate 👁️👁️ now that I think about it, I have a slight memory of where I was going with that thought 💃

Notes for prostate stimulation, milking, and, of course, cum play. Minors and folks who have an agenda against playing with Rhett Abbott's ass, this is your queue to exit.

It's a little something that first kicks off when you and Rhett go out for lunch and find yourselves (unwillingly) eavesdropping on the conversation happening at the table across from yours. A little group of rodeo guys rambling on and on about their wild escapades and the craziest things they've done in bed. You and Rhett tried to ignore it; you really did, but you wound up listening when the guy in the red flannel mentioned a threesome in a Jurassic park themed hotel room.

You and Rhett are quietly giggling and whispering to each other until red flannel starts rambling on about how a girl convinced him to try milking a few weeks back. When Rhett's smile first falls, you honestly don't think much about it, but then red flannel starts going into detail, and Rhett's ears are turning redder by the second. It's like watching a cartoon, the longer the conversation goes, the redder your boyfriend becomes.

Your foot darts out to smack against the side of Rhett's boot, audibly jostling the spur that he forgot to take off. "You're awful red all of a sudden," spoken innocent as can be, like you can't possibly fathom what has him so flustered.

"Nothin," he shakes his head, eyes darting back down to his cold fries. He knows it's a lie. You know it's a lie. He knows that you know it's a lie.

Alas, it's one of those things that you giggle about on the drive home but forget about by the time the day is over.

It comes up again a few months later when you're both lying in bed, unable to sleep, and chatting about anything that happens to come to mind.

"Do y' remember them rodeo hands from the diner in town?" Rhett croaks, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"The ones who wouldn't quit talking about drunk hookups? And something about..." Hell. What's the word you're looking for? "Milking?"

His silence betrays him. You can hear how hard he swallows at that.

It's too dark to see, but you already know that his ears have flushed a bright, ruby red. Flustered? Too shy or embarrassed to say it out loud? Maybe it's all of the above.

"What?" You can only do so much to suppress the teasing lilt that colors your voice. "Is that something you may be into?"

Radio silence.

The cricket lurking outside the bedroom window chirps. Once. Twice.

"I don't know."

And, well, there's only one way to find out.

Rhett's hard before you even get those tiny black boxers past his thighs, cock slapping against his belly with a wet little 'smack' that bounces around the room. Even without light, it's impossible to miss the thick sheen of precum that spills out of his tip, dripping like a faucet, running down your fingers when you take him into your hand.

He's already so worked up that you hardly need to worry about going slow, only giving him a few seconds to adjust before you start working your hand over him in earnest. Oh, and the way he jumps when you do, those pretty hips rising up off the bed, chasing your touch as if he hasn't felt it in years.

And you're just so quick about it. It's hardly been a few minutes, and he's already babbling about being close, whining low in his throat as you drag that first orgasm out of him.

"Wait, wait, wait, shit—hah!" Shaky hands reach down to paw at you, half-heartedly trying to push you away, but there's no real effort behind it. His thighs flutter, a stray knee knocking into your side as you keep working over his softening length, his own cum slickening the glide.

"Too much?" You ask, fighting back a smile; he's wiggling against the mattress, slowly scooting himself up toward the headboard, but he isn't getting away from you.

Rhett's head shakes, the faintest 'nuh-uh' falling out of him as he blindly reaches over to the bedside table, all but tossing the half-empty bottle of lube at you. He hardly has to tell you what he wants, his half-assed attempt at spreading his legs is enough.

"You already want my fingers?" Feigning shock, as if you're somehow scandalized that he could already want such a thing.

"Mhm," Rhett isn't paying attention, unfocused baby blues glued to the sight of you pouring the lube onto three of your fingers. Three. Always three.

Wordless, you reach down, dipping between those plush, pale thighs to brush your wet fingertips against his entrance. Such a simple touch, and yet you can feel him clench around nothing.

But there's still something you're looking for. "Talk to me, Rhett."

"Yes," blurting out of him in an instant. Hopelessly impatient. "I...I do."

A little shiver races through him the moment that first finger breaches him, mouth falling open to form a soft 'o' shape. There's really no need for distraction, but your unoccupied hand begins to lazily work his half-hard cock anyway.

Fuck he's wet. Precum beading at his tip, spilling over the moment you press a second finger inside. He's tight. Rhythmically fluttering around you, and there's no pleasure that you could possibly get from it, but heat sparks between your thighs anyway.

You're not looking for his prostate yet, but you know you've bumped into it when his legs flutter around you, trying and failing to close. That third finger can't join quickly enough, crooking upward to rub against what feels like a little ball of nerves that have him squealing.

"Fuck!" Rhett's cock jolts in your hand, his body suddenly a live wire beneath you. Squirming against the sheets. "I—oh shit, oh my god, right there, ah!"

Silence falls. His mouth hangs open, but nothing ever escapes. Those eyes roll, and then...

He's cumming again. A strangled gasp bolts out of him just as a short rope of cum spurts out of him, painting his belly before you can catch it. His hips are bucking now, just as strong as those bulls he rides, but he can't shake you loose. The tips of your fingers still spiral into his prostate, a target you can't let yourself lose, albeit moving slower the more he huffs and puffs.

"No, no, no, keep—" he doesn't have to finish that thought. You hardly need any encouragement, working your hand in tandem with the fingers shallowly thrusting into his ass.

But your thumb swipes over his tip.

And he jumps once more. Cock weakly spasming in your gasp, a short rope of cum covering your hand. You're not sure what set him off so fast, but you're keen to find out, hardly even trying to slow down this time.

"Rodeo." It's there, and it's gone in a second, hardly even a whisper, but you catch it.

One last second tap against his prostate is all it takes to draw one more orgasm out of him. Watery eyes roll back into his skull, body jolting as the smallest bit of watery cum all but drools out of him, hardly even enough to amount to anything.

"Shit," sucking in a breath, "shit, you just," gasp, "you just made me cum again." Shocked. Like he didn't even see that one coming. But that awestruck gaze melts into a giggle as quickly as it arrives, lazily reaching for you with shaky arms.

"What was that, three? Four?" You chirp as you climb up the side of the bed, winded despite hardly doing much work at all.

"Felt like..." the thought visibly evaporates from his head, thin lips floundering for a word that isn't there. He gives up, dropping his head onto the pillow. "I dunno. A lot more than that."

Rhett Abbott may have just been replaced with a giggling ball of putty because that's all he is now. Incapable of doing anything but lay against you and laugh every time he remembers what just happened.

You would think that wearing him out like this would have him hesitant to jump to the concepts of a second time, but he's babbling about it before you've even gotten him up and into a bath. Something about wanting to try it with restraints and that new stroking sleeve that you bought six months ago and have yet to take out of its packaging.

You're gonna have to buy more lube.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your phone wakes you. The room tilts as you open your eyes. A dull hammering thrums in your temples. The morning light makes your brain rough as sand paper. 

Dregs of vodka stick to your dry tongue. The hangover weighs you down like an anchor. Just the thought of moving hurts. 

You reach blindly for your jittering phone. Bubbly music tinkles from the speaker. Shit. It's Barrett. What did he forget this time? 

You answer and put your clammy palm to your forehead. You squint at the ceiling then your eyes slowly round. Where the fuck are you?  

"Hey, babe. You at Wendy's?" Your husband asks. 

You gulp and peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth. This isn't Wendy's house. 

"Yep," you croak. Your eyes ping side to side. 

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. Things got heated and I know I was an ass--" 

You cough as you sit up in the strange bed. "Yeah, you were." 

"So why don't you come home and we can talk it out." 

You peer around the room and your lips curve in a frown. Where the hell would you go besides home your loyal best friend's? You scratch you scalp and turn your legs over the edge of the bed, "let me get myself together." 

"Babe. Please. I'm sorry." 

"When I get home." You hang up.  

It was a hell of fight. The minute he started yelling, you bailed. He knows better. You're not doing a ten hour day and coming home his nagging. So you left out your coffee mug. Big deal. You didn't say anything about the garbage bag he left out to be torn apart by raccoons. 

Whatever. Fighting over dishes. Not of it matters right now. 

Your clothes are on the floor. Someone's floor. Who it is is far from the point. You stand and stagger. You catch yourself on the nightstand. Your hand moves instinctively between your legs. 

You're naked and tender. Did you have sex? 

Think! You ran out with your purse. You went to Wendy's. She was up for a night out. A night to forget and body did you. First drink, second, third, then it gets blurry.  

Fuck! You didn't. You wouldn't. You're pissed at your husband but you wouldn't cheat on him. You're not that type of person. Right? 

You don't have time for that. You have to get out of here.  

You dress as you search the room. It's tidy. Half the bed is mad and the other half messed from your drunken slumber. 

You shake out your hands trying to shoo away the flurry of guilt and denial. Just get out. You'll think better with some coffee in your system.  

You push down the door handle slowly. You listen to the silence of the hall. You tiptoe out warily, checking left and right as you advance. It's a nice place. A condo. Much nicer than your cramped one bedroom. 

Not important! 

You come out into the spacious front room. It's as empry as the rest of the place. The kitchen too. The bathroom. No one. 

Your purse is by the door. Your shoes too. You grab both and let yourself out. You'd rather not face your mistake. 

No, you didn't do anything. You wouldn't. 

You hurry down the hallway to the elevators. You don't look back, just keep going. You don't think, just go. 

It isn't until you're outside the familiar cafe marquee that your let your mind settle. You enter and join the queue. Your order a black coffee and drink it at a stool by the window.  

You lean your elbows on the high table that stands inside the pane. You take a slow, savouring swig of coffee and let it trickle down your throat. You shield your face from the New York morning and put your hands over your ears. 

You can't remember anything but Wendy. Your anger had you ordering round after round, trying to drown out the bile. The thought makes your stomach lurch and you gulp thickly. 

You shake your head and groan. Your phone chirps. It's probably Barrett. Several messages from him and missed calls. All through the night. It's bad enough you betrayed him, you had him up worrying. 

No, you didn't! 

It can't have happened if you don't remember it. A generous stranger took you home so you didn't wake up on the curb. That's it. 

That's the story. Nothing happened. And you'll let Barret believe you were with Wendy. It won't make a difference. 

Your mind is set. Nothing happened. 

Nothing. Happened. 

Because you don't remember. Because you were too drunk to do that. Because you're married and it can't happen. 

You're going to finish your coffee and go home. Everything will be just like it was before... after you tell Barrett where to put that coffee mug if it's such a big deal. 

[understeeringirl]

Everything we're not saying

summary: the pretending is starting to crack. after the villa trip, everything is a little too quiet, a little too careful. lando begins pulling away—not out of malice, but because he’s scared of how real everything is starting to feel. you don't understand why, only that something is shifting. a forgotten hangout, a joke that lands wrong, a modeling shoot that doesn’t go to plan, and a silence that lingers too long. the slow unravel begins here. warnings: emotional repression, offhand comments, missed plans, social media pressure, modeling industry stress, loneliness, subtle heartbreak pairing: lando norris x fem!reader word count: 2k series: wrong side of the camera - intro - chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - chapter nine - epilogue

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re side by side on a couch for some lighthearted video. The kind where you’re supposed to be cute and charming and media-friendly.

The host beams. “You two are adorable. Clearly inseparable.”

You smile. “We try.”

Lando grins, but it’s sharp around the edges. “We see each other enough to get sick of it.”

The host laughs. So do the crew. You even laugh, because that’s your job. Laugh, smile, be unbothered.

But when you glance at him, his smile is already gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s something about the silence that gets to you first.

It’s not obvious. Not loud. Just... off.

The messages take longer to come in. The calls are shorter. The jokes, when they land, don’t linger the way they used to. Something's pulling tight around your chest, a quiet unease you can't name. You tell yourself it's just your own overthinking. That nothing's changed.

But it has.

You feel it the most when he forgets about dinner.

It had been a casual plan—not even a plan, really. Just a "Let’s hang out after your shoot," said three days ago in a voice note you played back twice because you liked how warm he sounded. You hadn’t confirmed it again, because you never needed to. You and Lando didn’t confirm things. You just showed up.

So you do. You show up for him.

You order in from that Thai place he likes. Set out your favorite blanket on the couch. Queue up the movie you always joke about rewatching. Put your phone on loud.

Nothing.

You check Instagram. His story’s active — he’s at dinner. A tagged photo from Oscar’s account shows Lando laughing, head tipped back, wine glass in hand.

You weren’t invited.

Eventually, you text him.

you alive or did the sim rig finally kill you

He replies forty minutes later.

shit i’m so sorry. got roped into dinner w the team. didn’t realize the time

You stare at the message for a full minute.

He doesn’t offer to call. Doesn’t say he’ll make it up to you. Doesn’t even send a voice note, which is his usual version of guilt.

Just sorry. Just late.

Just not here.

You sit with that for a while. You think about texting back something easy. Something light, like no worries or all good. But it sticks in your throat.

You don’t say anything, but two nights later, you try again.

It’s late. You’re curled up in your hoodie, makeup off, phone in hand. You type it before you can second-guess yourself.

come over tomorrow? no content. just us.

He replies almost instantly.

yeah. can’t wait.

It makes you smile. Makes your chest feel like maybe you were wrong. Maybe it’s still okay.

You spend the next day waiting. You don’t put on real clothes, just stay in the sweatshirt he left at your place last month. You don’t scroll too far, just refresh your texts. You think about what you’ll say when he walks in the door.

He doesn’t.

The sky outside goes pink, then dark. The movie plays twice on the screen without anyone watching. Your phone stays quiet.

You fall asleep on the couch.

At 12:48 a.m., a buzz.

shit. lost track of time. sorry xx

You stare at the message. No voice note. No call. Just three careless words and two kisses.

You want to believe him. You really do.

But something about the way he says it makes it harder than usual.

It gets weirder after that.

He still comments on your posts. Still likes your stories. Still sends the occasional meme or TikTok that reminds him of you. But there's something behind it that feels automated. Careful. Like he's performing closeness instead of living in it.

You chalk it up to a busy schedule. A weird week. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe you are too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s three days later when the next crack forms.

You’re not watching the stream. You’re shooting in Milan. You’re smiling for cameras and being zipped into your fifth outfit of the day when your phone buzzes with a screenshot in your group chat.

lando wtf

why would he say that?

You click the clip without thinking.

He’s mid-stream, grinning. Someone in chat must’ve asked about you — about your job.

He laughs, says, “Yeah, she’s got that influencer job where you tan and smile for cameras. Real exhausting.”

The chat explodes. Emojis, “LOL”s, clipped reactions.

You freeze in the makeup chair.

It was a joke. You know that. You know his voice well enough to hear the tease in it.

But it’s not the joke itself — it’s the distance in it. The way it feels like he’s already placing you on the outside of his world, holding you up for display.

By the time the clip makes it to Twitter, it’s everywhere.

Lando roasting his girlfriend 🤣🤣 Tbh he’s not wrong That relationship's got days numbered

You close the app.

You go back to set.

You don’t cry until after they call wrap.

That night, you lie in bed, eyes on the ceiling, wondering how something that felt so safe could start to feel so uncertain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time you see him is at a brand event. Cameras, champagne, fast smiles. You’re in heels you can barely stand in, posing for photos while pretending your heart’s not chewing its way through your ribs.

He stands beside you during the press wall photos. You feel the heat of him beside you — but not his touch. Not like before.

He doesn’t tuck a hand into your waist. Doesn’t whisper anything stupid in your ear to make you laugh.

He smiles for the cameras. That perfect, polished, nothing’s-wrong smile.

When the flash dies, you reach for his hand without thinking.

He adjusts his sunglasses instead.

You let your hand fall like it was never reaching at all.

He keeps glancing at his phone. You pretend not to notice.

Later that night, you’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, makeup off, legs crossed, Lando scrolling his phone beside you.

You look at him, softly.

“I liked this better when it was just ours,” you murmur. “Before the cameras.”

He doesn’t look up.

“Yeah, well,” he says, quiet but firm. “That’s the price of pretending.”

Your breath catches. You don’t know what you expected. Not that.

You nod. You don’t trust your voice enough to answer.

He turns off the light.

You lie there in the dark, back to back, close but never farther.

You don’t sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few nights later, your phone rings. It’s Lando.

You debate not answering. You answer anyway.

"Hey," he says. His voice is soft. Tired.

"Hi."

A pause.

"Sorry about the other day. I should’ve called. I just—things have been mad."

"It’s okay," you say. Because what else can you say?

Another silence. Then: "I didn’t mean that comment on stream the way it sounded."

You want to say, Then why did you say it like that?

You want to ask if he meant it anyway.

Instead, you just hum. "I know. It’s fine."

But it’s not. And you think he hears that in your voice.

"I miss you," he says.

And you almost believe it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, you’re on set for a shoot. A swimwear campaign—minimal coverage, maximum pressure. You’d asked him to come by weeks ago. Just to hang around. Be a familiar face.

He’d said yes. Smiled when he said it.

He doesn’t show.

You don’t hear anything. No text. No sorry. Not even a heart emoji.

The stylist asks you to smile more. The director keeps repositioning you like a doll. The sun’s hot on your skin, and all you can think about is how you never used to care who was watching—until now.

At one point, they ask for something “more playful.” You try. Toss your hair, tilt your chin, pretend you’re not one breath away from crying.

You pull it together, of course. You’re good at that. A pro. But you feel the cracks. The effort it takes to be what they need when you’re not even sure what you are to him anymore.

During a break, one of the brand reps laughs and says, "Where’s your other half? Thought this campaign was couple-coded."

You fake a smile. “He’s busy.”

They nod like they understand. You think they do.

That night, you post one of the pictures.

Caption: Still smiling.

He doesn’t like it.

But the internet does.

Within hours, the post is everywhere—Twitter, Instagram, reposted by fan accounts and fashion pages. You look polished. Confident. The kind of photo people mistake for happiness.

You read the comments anyway, because you’re masochistic like that.

She’s glowing lately. No wonder Lando’s been quiet. This isn’t what a girlfriend post looks like.

That last one sits funny in your chest. You don’t even know why. Maybe because it’s true. Maybe because it isn’t.

You don’t sleep much that night. You stare at the ceiling, thinking about how long you’ve been performing: for cameras, for campaigns, for other people’s definitions of what it means to be desirable. And lately—for him.

You think about how, at the start, pretending had felt almost like a secret you both shared. Now it feels like you’re the only one still pretending.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning is overcast and cold. You shoot in a studio this time, and everything is harsher under fluorescent lights.

The theme is “power.” Leather, boots, smoky eyeliner. It’s not your favorite.

One of the photographers asks if you can do the look “a little colder.” You say yes. You’re good at cold now.

You’re between takes when you hear two assistants whispering behind a rack of clothes. Your name, soft and sharp at once.

“She’s the one dating the F1 guy, right?” “I thought it was real at first, but she looks miserable lately.” “Can you blame him if he’s moved on? She’s kind of intense.”

You freeze.

You’re not even sure why it hits you so hard. You’ve heard worse. Been told worse. But the implication sticks—that you are too much. That he left. That you weren’t enough.

You finish the shoot. You smile in the photos. You nail the brief.

But when you get home, you cry in the shower and don't even know which part hurt the most.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stop reaching out first.

The space between texts stretches.

Your friends start asking if you’re okay. If he’s okay. You lie. Say yes. Pretend it's all still smooth, still under control. But the photos from the villa feel like a lifetime ago.

And that night comes back to you in pieces.

The blanket. His voice in the dark. The way he looked at you like he wanted to stay there forever. The way you let yourself believe he might.

You keep trying to forget.

He already has.

That night, you open your messages, record a voice note.

"Hey. Today was long. I, um… was thinking about the villa. And your dumb pancakes. Miss you. That’s all."

You almost delete it. You send it instead.

He plays it. You see the little icon shift.

He doesn’t reply.

You go to sleep that night with your phone on your chest. It doesn't light up.

You wake up and check it anyway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

sooo... this is the chapter were it starts to unravel. but don't worry, things are still salvageable (or maybe not?) hope you like this one! let me know what you think about it

see you next lap,

-N 🏁

[se4ttlellie]

BOYFRIEND - VI

Warnings : Cheating, smut, fingering (user receiving), swearing, party, wlw relationship, use of pet names, use of y/n, kinda au, alcohol use, dirty talk, mirror sex, exhibition?

Summary : In which, the reads boyfriend is being a dick and Vi helps her out

Authors Note : I truly promise that I don’t have anything with cheating bc it really seems like it rn 😭 but I was literally listening to “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron and I was like “yup let’s write a fucking fanfic about this” so here you are. I’m really sorry if this has been done before, it probably has but I’ve never seen it so, here’s my rendition. Enjoy! <3

Reader is purple

Vi is pink

Song lyrics is italics

__________________________________________

Your boyfriend was being a real dick recently, spending no time on you, forgetting your anniversary, getting angry all the time and it’s just getting on your fucking nerves. So, who do you go to?

Vi.

You lay with your head on her lap as she strokes your hair. You are just ranting about your boyfriend, probably talking her ear off but she truly doesn’t mind.

“He’s such a dick! Like, why can’t he put the fucking PS5 down for like a minute and pretend like he has an actual girlfriend right fucking here! Ugh!”

Vi can tell that you’re really worked up but she doesn’t really know how to help. Tonight was supposed to be a fun night, you were supposed to go out and have fun but, once again, your boyfriend killed the mood.

“Come on, let’s forget about him, go to the bar and just have fucking fun, y/n. Don’t let him ruin a good night with your best mate.”

Slowly, you nod, sitting up and running your fingers through your hair. You let out a deep sigh, standing up and grabbing your bag.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s get dressed and we can go.”

“Alright. No need to apologise, love.”

She gently hugs you from behind as a little bit of reassurance, resting her chin on her shoulder and rubbing your stomach. You notice that she is a little more touchy than usual but you don’t really read into it too much.

You get dressed, slipping on the perfect, sexy red dress and pairing it with your one pair of expensive shoes, your Louboutins that you bought yourself a while ago and never wore because you were too scared to scuff them.

Vi walks out of the bathroom in a much more chill outfit and scans you up and down. She whistles, making you laugh and hit her arm, causing her to pull her arm back and laugh too.

“You look hot.”

“I know, thank you. Don’t look too bad yourself.”

Vi, as per, is in a more masculine fit, sporting a pair of black trousers and a button up, white t-shirt with a few of the buttons undone and her sleeves rolled up. The rolled sleeves shows off her muscular, tatted arms perfectly.

She gracefully takes your arm, linking it with her on before grabbing your bag for you and leading you out of the door once you’re all ready.

You arrive at the bar, annoyed at the long line of people. I mean, you’d have to assume considering it’s a Friday night but it’s still annoying.

Turning around to Vi, you rest your head on her chest and she kisses your head, stroking your hair. She looks down at you, her arm wrapped around your shoulder and she leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Are you okay, cupcake?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just still a little bummed about Alfie.”

She nods, understandingly before noticing that the line is finally moving and you’re closer to the front. She gently squeezes your hip to alert you to move forward.

You finally make it into the club after getting past the annoyingly flirty bouncer and the queue that seemed to last forever.

Once inside, you immediately go for the bar, needing some drinks. You order your favourite drink, feeling someone behind you. You look behind and see Vi, holding her card.

“Vi, I can pay for my drink.”

“I know you can but so can I.”

You roll your eyes before quietly thanking her and taking the drink from the bartender. You take a sip, feeling the familiar burning sensation as the liquid flows down your throat. Fuck this is strong.

After a few drinks and seeing a few pretty girls (and paying for a couple drinks) you and Vi head to the dance floor, dancing and singing to whatever song comes on.

As the song switches, you instantly recognise the song as “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron and smirk. You feel Vi’s arms around your waist and you smile, letting her hold you and seductively sway with you.

“You reckon we got a lesbian DJ?”

She laughs, nodding because of the particular song choice. You’re both dancing with each other, singing the song when she spins you around, backing your body into hers. She presses you against her chest, her arm still firmly around your middle as the chorus approaches.

You blush, a little surprised by Vi’s boldness and, more importantly, hand placement as her arm is wrapped snugly around your middle. You place your hand on her arm, rubbing up on her a little.

As the chorus plays, you feel Vi’s hot breath on your neck, whispering the lyrics into your ear, causing you to tense up.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him. I could do the shit that he never did.”

You swallow hard, involuntarily tilting your head to the side as you feel your best friend’s lips press to your neck. You reach your hand back, grasping her hair as she kisses up and down your neck and shoulders.

You can kind of smell the alcohol on her breath and you know that she is a little drunk but you know that she is sober enough to know exactly what she’s doing and, more to the point, what it’s doing to you.

As Vi kisses your neck, you stand there, confused. You know that you’re enjoying this but you also know that you have a boyfriend back at home. As if Vi knows exactly what you’re thinking, she whispers in your ear.

“Don’t think about him, baby. You know you like this because, if you didn’t, you’d have told me to stop already.”

“Shut up and kiss me, Vi.”

You spin around, abruptly pressing your lips to hers, your arms wrapping around her neck as hers link around your waist. She presses into you, pulling you ever closer as her tongue slides into your mouth.

You let out an involuntary moan, causing Vi to smile against your lips. You already know what she is thinking but you kiss her again before she can make a comment.

Her hands sneakily slide down to your ass as you continue kissing, your chests pressing against each other. Slowly, her hands move closer and closer to your thighs, gripping them softly.

“Make it any more obvious you wanna finger me, Vi.”

She laughs, picking you up and carrying you off the dance floor. You kick and flail a little until you realise where she is taking you. She takes you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the sink and closing the door.

You continue to make out, now able to hear each other’s breathy moans and deep breaths as you get lost in each other’s touch.

Suddenly, she reaches down and lifts up your dress, grabbing your panties and looking up at you before pulling them down. You give her a simple nod, as you know that she was waiting for consent.

“Words, princess. I’m not gonna do this unless I know you want it.”

“Yes I fucking want it Vi! Please.”

She smirks at your begging, kissing your chest. Pulling off your panties, she wastes no time in gently rubbing circles on your clit, making you let out a loud moan. You grab onto her shoulders, throwing your head back.

Slowly, she slides a finger into you and then two. She kisses your neck as she starts to pump her fingers in and out of your hole. She smirks, sucking on your neck as she murmurs something.

“You’re already dripping. How long have you been thinking about me touching you like this, y/n?”

You can’t tell if her question is rhetorical or not but, hopefully it is because you couldn’t answer anyway, due to the amount of pleasure you’re currently receiving. You wrap your arm around Vi’s shoulders, pulling her in for another kiss.

You moan against her lips, feeling her fingers thrusting in and out of you faster now. You try your best to keep kissing her but you’re losing your breath so your head just falls forward onto her shoulder.

“Fuck, Vi. Yes, fuck, right there.”

You let out a really loud moan as she hits your g-spot perfectly, her fingers curling to get just the right spot. A small whimper leaves your mouth, causing Vi to speed up even more.

Your thighs start to shake against her fingers and you know that you’re close. She kisses your temple as your head rests against her shoulder.

“Look in the mirror baby, I want you to see how good you look when I touch you like this.”

You obediently nod, looking in the mirror and seeing your fucked out face and messed up hair. You keep your eyes on your reflection as you finish all over Vi’s fingers.

She softly continues to thrust into you, riding out your high as you now look away from the mirror and into her eyes. Your eyes are lidded and exhausted and she has a wicked smirk on her face.

Pulling her fingers out of you, she immediately puts them in her mouth to lick off your cum. You don’t know if you’re turned on or not but you certainly know that you can’t do a round two.

“Fuck, Vi.”

“Feel good princess?”

“Mhm.”

Vi laughs, pulling you into her arms and stroking her hair as she sees how exhausted you are. She kisses your head again, rubbing you back.

“Should we get you home, baby? Maybe we can have a bit more fun there.”

“Okay…”

__________________________________________

Taglist : @belliexpog @elliesanqel @ellieslvvt @bloodywilliams @xx2849 @sofaiscomfy @ashlynlovestlou

[shunsuiken]

DON’T FORGET WHO’S TAKING YOU HOME (and in whose arms you’re gonna be).

pairing(s). kaeya, childe, ayato, kaveh, neuvillette x fem!reader

genre. fluff

wc. 200-400 for each character

an. AND SING WITH ME 🎤🎤 SO DARLING SAVE THE LAST DANCE FOR MEEE michael buble literally left no crumbs with this song i had to write about it omg + ALSO happy valentines day everyone !!! i may not have a valentine this year but im happy to post this for anybody feeling a little lonely today !! you are so so loved okay ?!!! come and collect a kiss from me before reading on 💋 MUAH have a lovely valentines day !!! <33

kaeya alberich

you’re really good at hiding, kaeya thinks to himself with a huff and a smile on his lips. searching all over the plaza for you was making him break a sweat in his navy blue tuxedo. with another turn around the corner he decides to remove his tuxedo jacket for the time being, folding it over his arm to carry instead.

“no, no, no klee! stop it! you can’t play with your things here, if you blow things up-”

“-master jean will put me in solitary confinement…”

oho, kaeya recognises these two voices very well. he finds it so hilarious that at the end, his feet lead him right to you! not even a single thought was processed as he turned the corner two seconds ago but here you are.

he hides behind the large potted plant, listening to the conversation you and the beloved spark knight share. he stays there until it becomes quiet between you two.

“kaeya, you peacock, i know it’s you.”

kaeya lets out a baffled noise, finally showing himself from behind the plant, offended by the ridiculous nickname you gave him. “snowflake, how dare you?”

“klee, don’t eavesdrop on people like this man when you grow older, yeah?” you point animatedly at your lover, who’s folding his arms and scoffing at you.

klee only giggles, nodding her head. “i gotta go find albedo now!” you watch as she skips off towards the plaza, waving goodbye.

you then turn towards your next problem that stands behind you. “i thought you were out dancing?”

“i was, but they’ll start playing the last dance soon and how can my last dance not be with you?” your lover walks towards you, pulling you closer by your waist with his free arm. you immediately wrap your arms around his neck, smiling softly at his intentions.

you hear an announcement echoing from the plaza before you can reply, and you figure it might have been mika because of how timid the voice sounded.

“good evening everyone, please bring all your friends and company over for the last dance of the night!”

“sounds like our queue.” you slide your arms off his shoulder to grab his hand, pulling him with you without warning.

“oh snowflake, hold on-” kaeya almost trips on air and the sounds of your laughter bounce off the concrete floor and walls as you drag him down the staircase leading to the plaza.

childe

you can never refuse ajax’s request for a dance, because he won’t take no for an answer. especially when it comes to dancing. your feet hurt so much. you’re so ready to just fall on top of your bed and go to sleep. but the only thing that keeps you wide awake, heart pumping and everything is the look on your lover's face.

his gaze usually has this inhumane and dull look to them, but you find that whenever he looks at you or when he participates in something he loves, his gaze finally twinkles. it works so miraculously too. like all of a sudden life was returned to him and he could see.

the smile on your lips grows when you think about this. you think it’s sweet how you’re one of the reasons that the life in his eyes returns.

ajax notices the tighter grip you hold on his forearm, making his lips curl in curiosity. “what’s going on in your head, baby?”

you zone in on the situation, you’re still dancing, and you shake your head in response. “nothing, ajax.” you want to keep your thoughts to yourself but when ajax smiles at you like that, with the most expectant look on his face, you can’t help yourself. “actually, i just thought about the dance.”

he twirls you around to the music before connecting arms with you again. “you just thought about the dance?” his brow quirks in amusement.

“no, no not like that,” you say with a sheepish chuckle before continuing, “i just thought that this number is the longest one so far.”

“well of course,” ajax responds with an eye smile. “it’s the last song.”

“it… is?” you look up at ajax while trying to fight the urge to look anywhere else.

if this is the last song… and you’re dancing with him… then that can only mean-

when the choreography allows ajax to pull you against his chest, he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “you will be my final dance partner tonight.”

kamisato ayato

these few days at fontaine have been strumming the strings of your heart like a guitar—ayato has been spending so much time with you that you’re beginning to think of such ridiculous conclusions. his eyes that linger on your face, his hand that hovers on the small of your back when leading you out of a hall and it’s just these little things that he does with you that makes you want to claw an entire curtain off its rod. one time he even poured you a glass of wine before taking a sip with the same glass—it’s like he’s forgotten he’s the yashiro commissioner!

thoma and ayaka barely bat an eye. but also, they’ve known ayato for much longer than you have since you were a recent (and lovely) addition to the little family. so… perhaps this is just how he acts?

“uh-huh, when he’s courting someone that is.”

the sentence that thoma said offhandedly is the only thing that rings through your mind. but your thoughts must’ve shone through your expression because ayato is quick on his feet to smoothly guide you off the dance floor, gloved hand still holding yours as he brings you to a less crowded area—the balcony.

“you appeared to be distracted, that’s why i pulled us away,” ayato breaks the silence and your train of thoughts.

he’s still holding my hand—is what you’re repeating in your head. your eyes can barely focus on a single object within your field of vision. your bottom lip quivers at the revelation you’re carefully starting to uncover.

“i am not distracted,” you inhale sharply when you accidentally meet ayato’s gaze. “i…” your brows crease as you try to get words out of your mouth.

ayato brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and you can physically feel the blood rush up to your fingertips. “would my lady like to return to the hotel?”

your voice leaves your throat in but a hoarse whisper, “what did you just call me?”

you hear a chuckle from ayato and it makes you snap your head around in embarrassment. this new term of endearment rolls off his tongue way too easily, the rascal must have been practicing!

“oh no, no, no, my lady, you must look at me,” a grin appears on ayato’s face at your attempts to hide your expression and when he finally gets you to look at him, you’re caged between his arms.

“why would you call me that?” you whine at his teasing.

“well i just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore,” ayato murmurs, a dust of pink decorating his cheeks. “will you allow me to call you that?”

kaveh

three hours. it’s been three hours since you and kaveh decided to learn a cute couples dance routine ‘for funsies’. whose idea was this again? weren’t you two supposed to be just friends? doesn’t kaveh have a client meeting tomorrow that he should be preparing for?

“so we do this—then this and then we’re supposed to oh—!”

the silence is deafening. the song playing in the background fades as you both stare at each other, even mirroring the same expression. eyes as wide as saucers. lips just inches from connection.

kaveh’s breath fans over your lips and you can hear the audible gulp he makes at the closeness. he’s also entirely aware that the red in his cheeks has reached his ears by now. while you, on the other hand, have started hearing the percussion of your heart in your own eardrums.

“o-oh…” your legs are frozen in place and hang on a second, why haven’t either of you let go?

his hand is respectfully sat on your waist, while the other is occupied holding your hand. you hear him inhale and it grabs your attention before you can get anymore lost in his gaze. his gaze observes your lovely face, eyes flickering from one feature to another as he whispers, “has anybody ever told you you’re pretty up close?”

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no.”

kaveh likes this answer, humming as he ponders for a moment.

your eyes sparkle when that handsome smile of his appears on his lips. he chuckles shortly at your expression, your palm feels so warm when connected with his.

“i’m glad i’m the first to tell you.”

neuvillette

“oh dear, neuvillette,” you chuckle softly, walking towards him as he takes another sip of his water. he stands in a more secluded corner of the hall, briefly greeting guests with a nod of the head. which is why he stands out like a sore thumb—arctic white hair, designer blue suit and a piercing gaze.

but that gaze doesn’t fool you. the dragon sovereign is probably pondering on retiring for the night and is only still present to keep up with appearances.

“yes, lady y/n?” it’s to nobody’s surprise that he heard you from metres away.

when he turns around, your eyes immediately land on the problem you’ve sensed since you returned from the dancefloor.

“your tie,” you reply, standing in front of his figure, nonchalantly raising your hands in preparation to adjust the garment. “will you allow me to fix it?”

the gears in neuvillette’s mind pause abruptly at your question. he certainly has no problem readjusting his own tie. his hands aren’t holding anything else other than his cup of water—which he can definitely put down on a nearby table!

but why can’t he bring himself to say no?

the ‘of course’ leaves his lips faster than he would have liked, but that’s no matter, your expression shows no sign of displeasure. instead, he watches your sweet smile brighten.

when your fingers reach the tie, neuvillette notices how you tiptoe to reach him. so he does what any normal person would do—he leans down.

it catches you off guard, the tips of your fingers just slightly grazing against his neck in the process. you profusely apologise in whispers to which neuvillette can only chuckle at.

“it is no trouble lady y/n, i appreciate the kind gesture.” the corner of neuvillette’s lips curve, his hands neatly tucked behind him as he allows you to redo his tie.

neuvillette’s lips only seem to further break into a smile as he watches you pat on the tie in completion.

“there, all finished.” you look up at the iudex, chuckling, “you ought to learn how to do this yourself.”

neuvillette hums, “perhaps you could teach me.” he takes your hand, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before kissing it. “but for now a dance shall suffice, would you care to join me?”

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (9 - The Sokovian Witch)

Chapter Summary: It's Halloween, and Wanda provides just enough distraction to make you forget the incident of crossing the Hex's barrier, but it inadvertently leads you back to the same spot as a Night Patroler, determined to keep your family safe. Meanwhile, Monica and Jimmy must face the consequences of their defiance. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: Happy New Year! One more chapter to go, and we'll see what really led Y/N to Westview :) and yeahhhh totally forgot to queue this for last night lol // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Isn't this beautiful?”

You're walking hand in hand with Wanda through a sunlit meadow. Wildflowers stretch out in every direction, and the sky's the bluest you've ever seen. Everything feels perfect. Wanda turns to you, her eyes reflecting the clear sky, and smiles.

You squeeze her hand a little tighter. “It is. But not as beautiful as you.”

She laughs lightly, the most melodic sound in your ear. Being with her like this, you can't imagine wanting anything more. She's not just the light of your life; she's the reason you exist. 

As you walk, you notice how the sunlight seems to glow a little brighter around her, as if she's the source of it. The thought crosses your mind that maybe she is—that without her, none of this would exist. It's a strange idea, but it feels true somehow.

But then the sky begins to darken. The colors start bleeding out, and a chill creeps into the air. Wanda’s hand in yours starts to crumble, grains of sand slipping through your fingers.

“W-Wanda?” You try to hold on, but she's disintegrating, pieces of her caught in a wind you can't feel.

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, eyes full of something like fear. You reach out to touch her cheek, but your hand passes through her like smoke. 

“Don't go,” you say, but she's already gone.

You're alone in a field that stretches forever, under a sky that's the color of nothing.

“Mom!”

The sound pulls you back. Your eyes snap open to see Billy and Tommy bouncing at the foot of your bed, both dressed in their Halloween costumes. One's a pint-sized wizard, the other's a little speedster.

“Finally! We thought you'd sleep all day,” Tommy says.

You rub your face, trying to shake off the dream. Heart pounding like you've run a marathon. 

“What time is it?”

“Time to get candy!” Billy grins, eyes bright.

“Right,” you say. “Halloween.”

As you make your way downstairs, the warm smell of pancakes and cinnamon greets you. Wanda is in the kitchen, humming softly as she waits for the toasts to be ready. She looks over her shoulder and gives you that radiant smile. 

The same exact one in your dream.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning,” you mumble in reply, pouring yourself a cup of coffee. You watch her for a moment, taking in the way the morning light catches her hair. She's so effortlessly beautiful, and for a second, you forget about your dream.

“Kids are excited,” Wanda says, setting a plate of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the table.

“Yeah,” you mumble distantly.

“Everything okay?”

“Just a weird dream,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It’s too bitter, but you don’t mind. You need something strong to wake you up more fully.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head.

Wanda watches you for a moment longer, but you’re too dazed to notice. She’ll accept your silence in the meantime. “Breakfast is ready,” she says, moving on. 

As you all sit down, the conversation revolves around candy and costumes. You cut the sides off your sandwich, while the boys do most of the talking. Wanda laughs along with them, and you’re there but not there.

After breakfast, the twins don't waste any time heading out to compare notes with other kids in the neighborhood. You start clearing plates. Wanda comes up beside you.

“You're quiet today,” she says.

“Just tired,” you tell her, before wincing at your sorry excuse. Tired at eight in the morning? You could do better than that.

She touches your arm. “You sure that's all?”

The contact coerces you to consider it—consider telling her everything. How she disappeared in your dream. How it felt like losing the only thing that matters. How sometimes it feels like she's the center of everything, like without her, you'd just stop existing.

But you don't.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I'm good.”

She doesn't look entirely convinced but nods anyway. “Okay. Let me know if you want to talk.”

You watch the boys through the kitchen window. They're tearing around the yard, laughing like nothing else in the world matters. You want to keep it that way. Make this Halloween one they'll never forget.

“Do I really have to change into a costume?” you ask, glancing over at Wanda.

She giggles, pinching your cheek. “We talked about this, honey.”

“Now?”

“It’s a whole day's event, you know that.”

You groan, make a big show of it, drying your hands on the towel. “Fine, but only because it's for the kids.”

“I'll be right there with you! Make sure you wear everything—cape and all!” Wanda calls after you as you head upstairs.

Your footsteps fade up the stairs. The moment you're out of earshot, Wanda's smile falls. She grips the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white.

Last night was too close. You almost broke through. Beyond the boundary, your body started to come apart, unraveling like a loose thread pulled too hard.

She can't let that happen again.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Red energy crackles at her fingertips, as she tries to keep herself calm and in control. The nightmare she slipped into your mind should be enough. Enough to keep you from remembering. Enough to keep you here.

“Mom!” Billy's voice shakes her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

“Be right there!” she calls, forcing brightness into her tone.

She takes a deep breath, wipes any trace of worry from her face. By the time you come back down, awkwardly adjusting the cape around your shoulders, she's composed again.

“You look amazing,” she says, her eyes warm but hiding so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, fiddling with the costume. “Let's get this over with.”

For now, the day ahead seems promising. Everything has to stay perfect. 

She won't let it be any other way.

—

Agnes stares out her window, eyes following the charade playing out on the street. Kids in costumes wander by, the whole neighborhood stuck in a loop of synthetic joy. She drums her fingers on the windowsill, impatience eating at her.

Messing with things from the shadows was entertaining at first. A glitch here, a nudge there—watching Wanda, supposedly the most powerful witch she'd ever met, none the wiser. For someone twisting reality itself, Wanda's awfully oblivious and somewhat naive. 

Agnes snorts to herself. All those years buried in the Darkhold, chasing after scraps of forbidden knowledge, and she never touched this level of power—actual reality manipulation. Near-perfect autonomy. It's like Wanda's playing god without reading the instruction manual.

But the novelty is wearing thin.

She needs to find out how exactly Wanda is doing all of this and tap into the source of her power. Maybe even claim it for herself. The thought sends a thrill through her veins. But first, she has to get Wanda alone, away from the distractions of her playground.

And so, a plan starts to form.

It shouldn't be too hard. She knows how to play the nosy neighbor, the concerned friend. It's worked before.

Agnes steps back from the window, a sly grin creeping across her face. She grabs a plate of warm cookies—props help sell the part—and heads for the door.

“Time to drop in on dear Wanda,” she mutters.

Tonight, she’ll make her move.

—

Back at the base, the wind knives across Monica’s face as she walks toward the Command Center. Ever since the incident, things have been... quiet (especially without Darcy’s chatter every minute). Not calm—it’s never calm given the situation—but it’s like everyone’s holding their breath, waiting for the next explosion. Monica knows that if Hayward chose to back down, they'd all be scrambling for cover in no time.

Jimmy walks beside her, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “It’s like a ghost town in here,” he mutters under his breath.

Monica gives a curt nod. “Hayward's up to something. I can feel it.”

At the checkpoint, two guards block their way. Stern faces, their hands near holsters.

“Agent Rambeau, Agent Woo, Director Hayward wants a word,” one says.

Monica arches an eyebrow. “Funny, I was just looking for him.”

The agents don’t smile, don’t offer even the hint of small talk. Instead, they turn sharply, motioning for Monica and Jimmy to follow. Inside, Hayward stands at the center of the room, assessing the damaged drone Wanda threw at his feet. He turns as they enter, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“Monica, Agent Woo. Glad you could join us,” Hayward says.

Monica crosses her arms. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” he replies smoothly, nodding to the guards. They take a precise step back, but they remain close——close enough to remind Monica and Jimmy they aren’t free to move as they please. 

Hayward clasps his hands behind his back, his expression pulled tight with feigned regret. “Effective immediately, you’re being removed from this operation.”

Monica’s brows knit together. “Excuse me?”

“You're off this case,” he states flatly. “And you can take the FBI with you,” he adds, his eyes darting to Jimmy, dismissing him with a glance. “The FBI has no jurisdiction here. This is a S.W.O.R.D. matter.”

“With all due respect, Director Hayward, the safety of American citizens is our jurisdiction. And last I checked, this entire situation is happening on American soil.” Jimmy says. 

“Not when it involves phenomena like this one. This is above your clearance level.”

“Whatever you're planning,” Monica starts, “you can't outgun Wanda. Antagonizing her is only going to make things worse.”

Hayward shrugs, casual in the face of her warning. “We’ve assessed the risks.”

“Have you?” Monica challenges, stepping closer. The agents around her follow, startling Monica, though manages to keep her composure. “None of know what will happen if Wanda dies or loses control.”

But her words bounce off him like rain against steel. “You're becoming an impediment to this mission,” Hayward continues,“constantly advocating on behalf of super-powered individuals.”

“I’m advocating for a solution that doesn’t leave a body count in its wake!” She fires back. “If Wanda is our problem, she has to be our solution.”

Hayward lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes glinting with something almost cruel. “This isn’t about peaceful resolutions, Monica. This is about neutralizing a threat.”

“Your fear is clouding your judgment—”

Hayward’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Careful, Captain Rambeau. Your history with Carol Danvers is well-known. Your affinities—”

“Leave her out of this.”

Hayward tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, clearly savoring her reaction. “You’ve always had a soft spot for the enhanced. But the world doesn’t run on goodwill and second chances, Monica. Sometimes, things need to be burned down to be rebuilt.”

“Director, ignoring Monica’s insight is a mistake. She’s the only one who’s managed to make any connection with Wanda inside the Hex,” Jimmy explains in a placating manner. 

Monica shoots Jimmy a sharp glare, irritation flashing in her eyes. She hates the way he’s playing the good cop, even if she knows it’s probably the right move. What she wants is to tear Hayward apart, drag him in front of a tribunal, and make him answer for every reckless decision he’s made.

Hayward looks at Jimmy with a bored expression. “And look where that got us. An agent compromised. A situation spiraling out of control.”

“You’re not listening!” Monica yells, fists clenched tight at her sides. “We have a chance to fix this—without more people getting hurt.”

“Enough.” 

Hayward's voice drops, cold and final. He signals to the guards flanking the room. 

“Arrest them.”

Monica instinctively takes a step back. “What?”

“You heard me.” His stare doesn't waver. “You're both under arrest for insubordination and obstructing a tactical operation.”

Jimmy’s hand twitches at his side, inching toward his belt. The guards move forward, guns raised—not aimed, but ready. He scoffs in disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious.” Hayward's smile is a thin blade. “Hand over your devices.”

Monica’s eyes dart to Jimmy. They’re cornered, outnumbered, and every exit is covered. Resistance will only make things worse. Slowly, they remove their communication gear—phones, earpieces, anything that connects them to the outside world—and place them on the table.

“You're making a dangerous mistake,” she warns Hayward, but looking at all of them in the room.

“The only danger is letting you interfere any longer,” he replies, and then turns to his men. “Lock them up. They'll stay secured until the anomaly is resolved.”

The guards close in, securing their wrists with zip ties.

“This isn't over,” Monica asserts as they're led toward the door.

Hayward smirks as he finally reveals his true colors—so far removed from the man she’d known five years ago. For the first time, Monica realizes how completely she'd misjudged him. 

“For you, it is.”

—

Halloween—the one time of year that feels like pure magic, even if the other celebrations are a little hazy in your memory. The town square's a carnival of fake cobwebs and carved pumpkins, strings of orange lights draped between lampposts, jack-o'-lanterns grinning from every doorstep. 

You’re standing beside your wife, who’s dressed as a Sokovian witch—though you’re pretty sure real Sokovian witches didn’t dress like that. Not that you’re complaining. Honestly, you’re just glad the other guys in town seem distracted because you haven’t been able to stop staring since she slipped into that costume.

Billy and Tommy are off to the races, dashing back to doors they’ve already knocked on, hoping for extra candy. They compare their haul with other kids in costumes, trading them like astute business men.

Watching your family, the nightmare from last night becomes a little less real. 

“Hey there, neighbor!” Agnes materializes out of the crowd, wearing that smile of hers—one that, admittedly, is starting to creep you out. She's decked out in a witch costume, pointy hat and all. How original.

“Agnes,” you say, forcing a polite smile.

“Wanda, darling! Love the costume,” she gushes, then turns her attention to you. “We're a bit short-handed for the Halloween patrol tonight. Too many tricksters, not enough treaters, you know?” She throws you one of her signature, overly exaggerated winks. “Think you could lend a hand?”

Wanda's smile falters. “Oh, I don't think—”

“Sure,” you cut in. “Happy to help.”

Wanda looks at you, partly annoyed that you’re about to ditch her out of nowhere. “Are you sure? We were going to take the boys to the haunted hayride.”

You shrug, ignoring the nagging sense that this might lead to an argument later. “It won’t take long. Besides, better safe than sorry, right?”

Agnes beams, evidently pleased. “Fantastic! Meet us by the gazebo in ten minutes.” With that, she vanishes into the crowd as quickly as she appeared.

Once Agnes is gone, Wanda turns to you, her hands on her hips. “What's that about?”

“I just feel like... it'd be good to keep an eye on things. Make sure everyone stays safe.”

It’s a weak excuse, and you know it. Wanda knows it too. But you’re too desperate for a moment alone to clear your head.

Wanda watches you closely—suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”

“Just thought I could help out. It's a big night. Lots of kids running around.”

She reaches for your hand. “You know you can tell me if something's bothering you.”

“I'm fine,” you say, mustering a smile that wobbles at the edges but manages to settle just in time. “Really.”

“Alright,” Wanda sighs. “Just be careful.”

“Always,” you say, turning away before the doubt in her eyes anchors you.

At the gazebo, a motley crew assembles—neighbors you recognize but don't really know. Agnes flits around, assigning everyone in pairs despite some groans and protests.

Agatha eventually reaches for your arm and starts dragging you to someone. “You're with... her!” she declares, practically pushing you towards a woman adjusting a pair of oversized glasses. Agnes leans in and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve seen her around before, but I think you can handle a complete stranger, am I right?”

You're puzzled why Agnes thinks you're the best choice to pair with a newcomer, but you can't complain. It's the perfect cover to snoop around without Wanda wondering where you are.

“Hey, I’m Jane,” your newly-assigned partner says, offering a gloved hand. “Looks like we're stuck with each other for tonight.”

“I’m Y/N,” You shake her hand, a sense of déjà vu washing over you. “Have we met before?”

“I don't think so. I'm new in town.”

“Oh? Well, welcome to Westview.”

“Thanks! Happy to be here,” she says brightly. “So, where should we start our patrol?”

You glance around, considering. “Maybe we should stick to Main Street? That's where most of the activity is.”

She leans in conspiratorially. “How about we head to the southern boundary instead?”

You raise an eyebrow. “The southern boundary? That's pretty far from all the festivities.”

She shrugs with a grin. “Exactly! The perfect spot for mischief-makers to hide. We wouldn't want any trouble brewing unnoticed, right?”

Her suggestion is oddly specific, but you can't fault the logic. “Alright, southern boundary it is.”

—

“Been in town long?”

Jane sits beside you in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio that's only picking up static and oldies. She hums along to a tune you've never heard. Despite your repeated reminders, she hasn't buckled up. Instead, she's sitting casually with one foot on the seat, as if you two have been driving together like this forever.

She turns to you with a half-smile. “Just moved in yesterday.”

“From where?”

She freezes, hand hovering over the radio dial. The silence stretches uncomfortably. It's like watching a video buffer, stuck in that endless loading circle.

“From... another town,” she finally says, the words feeling rehearsed.

You glance at her. “Which town?”

She blinks rapidly, as if rebooting. “Just a small place nearby,” she says, a little too quickly.

The conversation stalls. As you drive, the houses grow sparser, streetlights fewer and farther between. You feel like you've been here before—in a distant dream. You're starting to question whether joining this patrol was the right choice instead of enjoying the night with Wanda and the kids. Actually, it's not doubt but a strange dread you're feeling now, like this is the last place you should be or there will be dire consequences.

“You sure we haven't met before?”

She gives you a non-committal look. “Pretty sure. Why do you ask?”

“It just feels like I’ve seen you before,” you say, “and like I’ve driven down this road, but I can’t remember when…”

She chuckles softly. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

“Maybe.”

Suddenly, a figure darts across the road.

“Watch out!” Jane yells.

You slam on the brakes. The tires screech. Jane lurches forward, her head smacking against the dashboard.

“Shit! Are you okay?” You reach over, but she pulls back, touching her forehead where a thin line of blood appears.

She sits back, eyes unfocused. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “Oh my God.”

“Let me see,” you say, but she seems more rattled by the second.

She turns to you abruptly, eyes wide with recognition. “It's you!”

“M-Me?” You're baffled.

“You’re Y/N!” She screams.

You back off a little. She's starting to act crazy, and you're preparing to bail if she turns out to be dangerous or violent. “Uh, yes. I told you my name earlier,” you say.

She shakes her head slowly. “No, I mean... you're Y/N!”

“That's what I said.” You frown. “Are you sure you're okay?”

She takes a shaky breath. “Sorry, yes. I'm not Jane. My name is Darcy Lewis, and boy, do I have something to tell you.”

[fluoriteflygon]

DashCon 2 Final Thoughts:

I have one more post in my queue as a send off, but a final thoughts feels warranted.

DashCon 2 was incredible. It was MORE than incredible, words can’t describe how amazing yesterday was.

I have never been very good at talking to people. I think plenty of people on tumblr can relate to that. I was a weird little autistic kid who could never seem to get it right, who hid behind my family and whispered what I wanted to tell strangers to them so they could say it for me. Yesterday, not a single person felt like someone I couldn’t talk to.

The community was kind, and respectful, and amazing to interact with the whole day though. I could set my bag down and know nobody would steal it! At one point, I had my stuff spread out across FOUR different places and not a single thing was lost or stolen! When I almost lost my water bottle, it was at the stand I had forgotten it at (sorry again to that artist).

I’ll be honest, I was nervous about going to an event like this alone. But I made so many new friends and mutuals—I had nothing to be worried about in the first place.

I only got to go to one panel (after that I wanted to finish up my shopping and get a picture in the ballpit, and by the time I was done it was time for closing ceremonies, and then they had the party immediately after) but the panelist was fantastic, the concept was interesting, and the crowd was engaged. And the panels I didn’t get to go to because they were during my volunteer shift? The crowds were great for those too! I could hear them from my station!

Speaking of volunteering, my group was AMAZING and I felt so insanely lucky to be able to work with them. I would kill to work with them again, and if this con keeps going I really hope to become a longtime volunteer. As happy as I would’ve been going as a guest, being on the team making it happen was an extra kind of special and I couldn’t be more proud.

The dance party at the end was so much fun, it kinda reminded me of cast parties I used to go to in middle/high. People were so friendly during that, I got to dance with people I’d never met and scream the lyrics to songs we loved before getting their names. That’s how I made some of the new mutuals I got! We danced and then we exchanged handles. Both on here and over on Instagram.

Of course I also loved getting to meet a creator I’ve been a fan of since I was literally 12 who’s the entire reason I have the interest in internet history I do (and, by extension, is the entire reason I went to DashCon 2 in the first place). I still can’t believe it. She was incredibly nice both times I talked to her! I still feel bad about only having a copy of a Pokespe volume to get a signature on lol, but hey it just means that book is extra special, yeah?

I also don’t think I’ll get over THE Croaker complimenting my cosplay. Like the tags said, the president himself said he liked my shoelaces. I’m glad to report that both internet celebrities they got were very nice and lovely people!

This is all a bit of a ramble, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something I’ll be mad about forgetting later, but my final thoughts are that this is what DashCon was always intended to be: a niche little event for a community of people who found each other over the internet, and one which brought them all together for a short period of time. Something that makes all the weird little kids who never fit in—who could never seem to do anything right—feel seen, and heard, and accepted, and loved. It succeeded in that and more.

If it weren’t for the merch and the bruises and all the new friends, I would’ve thought it was a dream.

Thank you to everyone involved with Dashcon 2 in any way—organizers, con-goers, volunteers, panelists, online attendees, people who followed the event on tumblr, whatever. That really was the best day I could’ve possibly asked for.

It was a sense of community I’ve never experienced before, and it was magical.

Long live DashCon 2!

[itslikepoetrythat]

Hot take.

While I’ve stayed out of the ‘Who’s at Fault for Weirdmagedon discussion pretty much since the beginning of my liking of Gravity Falls. I think there’s something about this conversation that has always rubbed me the wrong way. Obviously there’s the blaming of Mabel which was horrible and literally she was a 12 year old girl tf you want her to do. But also, the plain blatant dismissal of Ford’s trust issues.

Like I’m seeing a lot of people say that: ‘If Ford had told Mabel what the snowglobe thing was, then none of this would have happened in the first place!!!’ And while that is true. It feels almost cruel to say that, when it’s so in character and understandable why Ford would do so. In Gravity Falls— ‘There’s no one you can trust.’ And while, that’s very much Ford’s paranoia speaking, it’s understandable and almost painfully human in the way this harkens back to when Ford was last here. Keep in mind that Ford has only been back for what? A week tops. The last two weeks Ford was here before he fell into the Portal, he was quite literally going insane from sleep deprivation. He believed he saw Bill possessing everyone at the diner when he almost fell asleep in that one page in J3. Also queue the long list of torture Bill put him through in TBOB after his painful betrayal at the hands of someone he thought he could trust the most. And this isn’t even accounting in the fact of everyone else who he has ever felt betrayed by. (Stanley, Fiddleford etc.) I would imagine the memories, the scar of this, is still quite fresh for him, especially since he has relegated himself in the basement area where the Portal is. How many long nights has he spent dismantling the Portal, staring at it, and reliving his worst moments over and over again?

While we know Mabel wouldn’t have told anyone. How could Ford be sure? It was a surprisingly big step for him to even open up to Dipper at all about the Rift, and that was after he felt safe and understood. Those two bonded first, and I believe that if we had more time to see Ford and Mabel interact one on one, then he would have eventually told her about the Rift as well. (Looking at you, Gravity Falls fan episode where Ford erased Mabel’s memories.) We know that he should have told her, but I don’t see it as a failing that he didn’t.

And it’s like ultimately, I think it’s neither of their fault that Weirdmagedon happened. Not Mabel’s, not for dropping the Rift; Not even Ford’s, for summoning Bill despite the warnings and ‘falling’ for his tricks.

I think people forget that despite everything, there was really no singular person at fault for Weirdmagedon. Because it was all Bill. Bill isn’t some kind of time bomb, he’s a being with fully autonomous decision making capabilities and with powers to back it up. At any time, he could have been like, ‘This partying thing is dumb.’ And just not taken over the world. Or told Sixer the truth about the Nightmare Realm collapsing and just moved, normally, into the dimension. But no, he wanted his party and his takeover and his weird stone throne made out of humans. So yeah. That’s my take. And I fully believe that Bill would be offended if you said that Weirdmagedon was anyone’s machinations besides his own.