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navybrat817 · 3 days ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 12

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 11 | Series Masterlist | Part 13

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.7k

Chapter Summary: Bucky gets under your skin when he takes you shopping.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dirty talk, mild dubcon (kissing, touching), tension, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, gaslighting, manipulation, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and hope you enjoy! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how much time passed with Bucky’s head resting in your lap, your fingers absentmindedly moving through his hair. While his body relaxed, you remained rigid. You tried to think of positive things. Your upcoming trip to the winery, Addison’s wedding. The images in your mind darkened though as if a cloud loomed over them. In a way, it did because you didn’t know what Bucky had planned for those events. Because even if Bucky really let you go to the winery alone, someone would be watching.

You forced the cloud in your mind to lift. Things could still be positive. You could still have a good day and have the best time with your friends.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to work,” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your thigh and lifting his head with a smile. The darkness had left his eyes. How long until it returned? “Thank you for calming me down.”

“Of course,” you echoed because what else could you do?

Brushing his pants off once he got to his feet, he helped you up and didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t attempt to pull away. He made sure to grab the money you left on the table before he paid the server and you tried to give the poor guy a smile when you thanked him. You just wanted to get on with your day.

As Bucky led you out of the cafe and back to the shop, you caught Ray’s gaze as he stood by the car and waited for his boss. Whatever concern he showed for you faded when he blinked. How did he deal with this life? Would he ever walk away from it?

“I’ll pick you up after work then?” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” you said. You didn’t tell him when your shift ended, but he knew, didn’t he? “Thanks for lunch.”

“It was my pleasure, but one more thing.” Bucky stopped you before you could enter the shop. “This regular customer you mentioned earlier. How often does he stop in?”

He asked as if he had no idea and maybe he didn’t in this case. That assumption didn’t ease your worries. “Once a month,” you said, your stomach turning slightly. “Listen, the roses he tried to give to me, I gave them to him first. They were his usual order and I thought it would be nice gesture and I was just-”

His brows pinched a little as his hands gently framed your cheeks. “Kotyonok, why do you sound so upset?” He asked, his thumbs moving in a soothing motion as you took a deep breath. “Wait, are you scared that I’d be mad at you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you said. You didn’t necessarily think he’d be upset with you, but after his mood swings at lunch and everything else so far you weren't sure what to expect. “I just don't know.”

“No, no, no, I’m not mad at you. Why would I be mad that you were kind to another person? That’s one of the things I love about you. It drew me to you,” he assured you. You oddly felt better by his assurance. “I don’t want you to stop doing kind things for others because you’re worried it might upset me.”

“So, it doesn’t upset you?”

“You being you would never upset me,” he smiled. He had said more than once that he loved you as a person, so maybe he was telling the truth. “A man trying to give flowers to you while going through a break-up is, at the very least, a little strange.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you said, not wanting to admit that he had a point and that you were slightly put off when Clark tried to give the roses to you.

“I’m also well aware that you don’t hit on any guy who comes into your shop, so I wouldn’t view any act of kindness to a customer as trying to get their attention.”

“That’s true,” you agreed. Even Ray had pointed out to you that you didn’t give guys in the shop the time of day. Why would you when most of them were buying flowers for someone else? “But I just wanted you to know.”

“I appreciate you telling me, but you have nothing to worry about. Just have a good rest of the day.” With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, he whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you until I see you again.”

You weren’t sure why your heart fluttered. Relief that Bucky reacted calmly to what you said? You didn’t dwell on it as he held the door open and smiled after you as you went back into the shop. It was time to concentrate on work again.

Mrs. Crandle smiled and waved to Bucky through the door. “Oh, he is a looker,” she winked. “How was lunch, dear?”

“The food was good and Bucky and I got to talk a bit, which was… nice,” you answered, glancing around the shop and wondering if the place was bugged, too. Could he get access to the shop? Letting you continue to work seemed too good to be true, but he’d have nothing to worry about if he had eyes and ears there, too. “He’s taking me shopping tonight.”

She clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s wonderful! And don’t you dare be modest. Let him spoil you.”

“I have a feeling he’ll spoil me even if I don't ask him to,” you said.

Your whole experience with Bucky was whether you wanted it or not, so why would he stop now?

As expected, Bucky arrived back at the shop a few hours later to pick you up. Instead of giving him the chance to go inside and speak to Mrs. Crandle again, you grabbed your bag and rushed out the door to greet him. He caught you easily when you nearly collided with him, and for the first time, you felt like you were intruding in his space instead of the other way around.

“Eager to see me?” He smiled, his voice teasing as he kept a hand on your shoulder and helped you into the vehicle when you didn’t immediately answer. “How was the rest of your shift? I hope no one else bothered you.”

Just you.

“It was uneventful. I got a lot done,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you from the normalcy of your afternoon. “And no one bothered me.” Your gaze flickered to him and he was hanging onto your every word. He also looked much more relaxed, like the moodiness at lunch never happened. “How about you? How was your day?”

“Also uneventful. A couple of boring calls. Kept thinking about you though and it got me through the day,” he said, slipping an arm around you as the car door closed. The way you two were speaking to each other sounded almost normal. Checking in on each other, seeing how the other was doing. “Steve asked about that double date.”

“I’m sure he’s excited for that,” you said, wondering if that poor coat check girl had any idea.

“We both are. You can find a dress for that, too,” he smiled fondly. “In fact, what would you think of me getting you a new wardrobe when you move in? Your style, your choice on everything. You name it.”

You raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you. “Is there something wrong with my current wardrobe?” You hadn’t done anything to deserve a whole new set of clothes and you hoped he wasn’t suggesting it to mold you more to his liking.

“Nothing wrong with it at all. You have great taste and I just want to spoil you,” he said, running a finger down your side. This was the man who let you go into his exclusive club wearing a dressed down outfit simply because it was you, so he’d probably let you get away with any sort of wardrobe you wanted. “Do you know how ravishing you look right now?”

“I’m not ravishing. I’m in my work clothes,” you muttered.

“You are ravishing,” he said, moving his finger back up as you shivered. “We should get some stargazer lilies for your first night in our home. I could strip you down, lay you out on our bed, and brush one of the petals along your skin.”

You inhaled sharply and closed your eyes, trying not to picture him spreading you out on a luxurious bed. He would say something like that when he was right in your space and you had nowhere to go. The man went from zero to sixty in seconds. No doubt he could feel you tremble and knew your heart was racing.

“Bet it’ll feel soft against your nipples,” he whispered, exhaling against your ear. “And your pussy.”

Your next breath was shallow, but you managed not to whimper. “Where are we going shopping?” You asked evenly, hoping to get to the destination sooner rather than later.

You stubbornly kept your eyes shut when he chuckled. “You’re changing the topic because you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Worried you’ll get your panties soaked before we get to the shop?” He questioned, your heart thudding. You didn’t want to think about it at all. You wanted out of the car so you could properly breathe again. “I’m sorry. I’m not playing nice, am I? We’re going to one of your favorite stores and you can pick out whatever you want.”

You’d no doubt look at the price tags out of habit since you shopped on a budget and bought your nicer pieces on sale. “Do you ever really play nice?” You asked, opening your eyes. “One moment you’re being vulnerable and talking about your family and the next time I see you you’re talking about sleeping with me. I’m shocked the whiplash hasn’t scrambled my brain.”

The image of him destroying the utensil at lunch like it was nothing flashed in your mind for some reason. And him and his gang beating up John. Just how strong was he? Was he a killer?

“Sometimes we’ll talk about something tough or serious and the next it may be something more fun or intimate. That’s part of being in a relationship,” he said. If only it were an authentic relationship. “I want that with you, telling you what’s on my mind and how I feel.”

If he cared about what was on your mind or how you felt, he’d back off and let you have a bit of space. “Relationships are built on mutual respect and trust,” you said. Did he not see that the mutual respect wasn't there since he pushed for things to be his way? And trust was something he couldn't force no matter how powerful he was.

“I understand that. You also said a first date was getting to know each other and seeing if there's a mutual connection. I'm opening up to you, letting you get to know me. I’m getting to know you, too, beyond the things I knew in advance,” he said. What was he learning about you that he didn’t already know? “And you can't tell me you don't feel something for me.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear, Bucky? That I want you and want to be with you?” You asked. Even if you did develop feelings for him, it would have to be classified as some form of stockholm syndrome. And even then, strong feelings wouldn’t be enough. He wanted everything from you. “That I don’t want anyone else?”

The hand along your side crept up to your neck, tension heightening when he gently squeezed. He loved putting his hand around your throat. “You do want me, you do want to be with me, you’ll never want anyone else once I have you and I know you love how much I want you,” he spoke with confidence, like he could make the words come true as you took your next breath. “Should I check your panties before we go inside and feel how wet they are?”

You needed to distract him. Fight him. Do something. “What’s your love language?” You blurted out. “Physical Touch?”

“What?” He whispered, your heart still pounding when he slowly moved his hand away from your throat.

“Your love language. You constantly touch me when I’m close to you, so I guessed Physical Touch,” you explained. He always had a hand on you.

He sat back with a pensive look. “No one has ever asked me that.”

“Oh,” you said as the car rolled to a stop. You blindly reached for the door handle. “Well, it’s something to think about if you don’t know.”

He held your arm when you tried to get out. “You express yourself through Acts of Service with loving gestures and helping with tasks, but what you crave is Quality Time because you value meaningful interactions and connecting with people on a more personal level.”

You nodded slowly. It was why you loved hanging out with your girlfriends. You cherished making memories with them.

“You also appreciate Words of Affirmation, even if compliments make you feel uncertain because you sometimes feel overlooked. The combination of those languages makes you feel seen and heard,” he continued, giving you a tender smile. “I can hear and see you if you let me.”

You found yourself unable to speak as he gauged your reaction, your throat tight as if gripped by an unseen force. He nailed it right on the head about your love languages, didn't he? “I need air,” you whispered, letting yourself out of the car once he let you go.

The tightness in your throat moved to your heart. Bucky saw and heard you in his own way, didn't he? Not just as a passing thought but because he genuinely believed he loved you, deeply and wholeheartedly. The more he sank his fangs in, the more venom he injected. You had to be your own antidote.

With a shake of your head, you glanced up at the shop. True to his word, it was one you loved. Another piece of yourself that would now be tied to him.

You jumped when Bucky appeared beside you and took your arm. “You okay?” He asked, studying your face with gentle eyes.

“Just fine,” you replied, smiling for his sake. “Let's go shopping.”

You walked into the boutique together, the air filled with a subtle mix of lavender and something sweet that made you feel right at home. The space was a blend of trendy and rustic, exuding charm and intimacy. Clothes lined the wooden shelves and vintage racks, showcasing a variety of styles that ranged from casual to bold. Delicate accessories sparkled in the soft light, inviting you to explore.

You could easily find the perfect dress for the winery here.

“Hello! Welcome to… Oh! Mr. Barnes,” the associate smiled, her heels clicking on the floor. She was a picture perfect example of style and beauty. “I have the back dressing room set up and I’ll be sure no one disturbs you or your girlfriend. It was sundresses you requested, correct?”

Bucky looked proud of himself. “Yes, the perfect sundress for my girl,” he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you. “And whatever dress you choose, you’ll need jewelry. Oh, and a clutch.”

“Girlfriend?” You asked. He must not have wanted a repeat of how the hostess treated the two of you at lunch. “Wait, you already have dresses selected for me to try on?”

“He called and gave us all the details. And we’ll make sure you have everything you need,” the associate promised as Bucky nudged you ahead of him to follow her. Was anyone else in the shop? “Would either of you like a water?”

“No thank you,” you said. You were never offered a water when you shopped there before, but you were never there with Bucky Barnes.

“Just let me know if you need anything at all,” she smiled, opening the dressing room door.

Bucky thanked her as he took a seat in one of the chairs across from the door, watching you expectantly. “If you don't like any of them, we can go somewhere else.”

“I’m sure they're fine,” you said, going into the room and shutting the door before he could say anything else.

Quickly slipping off your shoes, pants, and top, you turned your attention to a small rack with a range of sundresses. Checking each tag as you pushed through them, none of them on sale, it wasn't a surprise that they were all your size. And all something you'd consider wearing. After flipping through the dresses twice, you decided to try on a sleeveless white dress with small rosebuds. It would be nice for a vineyard.

Before you could put the dress on, the door opened. “Need any help?” Bucky asked as you spun around in your bra and underwear, his eyes slowly scanning your body before you had a chance to cover yourself.

“No. I…” you trailed off as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he breathed your name, want written all over his face. The dressing room felt small. Hot. You could hardly breathe as panic threatened to overwhelm you. And you couldn't do anything but step back as he stepped closer, a predator ready to capture his prey.

Your back hit the mirror when he brought a hand to your chin, your knees shaking as he leaned in. “You’re right about one thing,” he said in a husky tone. “I do crave Physical Touch. Yours.”

He pressed his lips to yours, keeping you still and giving you no chance to turn your head away. It was a light, feathering sort of kiss before his tongue flicked out to trace your lips. He teased you until you opened up for him and allowed his tongue to sweep into your mouth. You couldn't think as he groaned and continued his claim. It was only a matter of time until he claimed you completely.

Bucky pulled away a little, his free hand moving down your torso in a possessive path. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped. You felt so small, your insides both frozen and melting from his touch. “Just wanna take you home and make you ride my face before I fuck you.”

You gasped when his knee moved between your legs, your hands flying up to hold his arms. He rocked his leg and you felt power in the motion, a promise of what was to come once he had you where he wanted you. “Bucky,” you whispered. The next word out of your mouth was smothered by his lips, but he didn't increase the urgency in his kisses. He took his time. Like the world could be burning around you and he’d let the flames take over as long as he was kissing you.

You bit back a whimper when he rocked his knee harder, the friction sending heat to your core. Another roll of his body and you were certain you felt the outline of his cock. Bringing a hand to his chest, you lightly pushed. It was already going too far. To your surprise, he broke the kiss. His eyes were still hungry though. “You said you want to hear me?” You asked breathlessly, your lip trembling when his thumb brushed it. “Then not here, please,” you whispered, praying he'd stop.

If he was going to have you, it wouldn't be in a dressing room.

“Right. Not for our first time.” He tipped his head back as he took a breath, no doubt trying to control himself. “Just one more kiss, Kotyonok. One more for me to dream about tonight,” he groaned, bringing his face back to yours for one more kiss with fervor. Just when you thought it would turn more ravenous, he shifted to something soft, tender. A feeling that had both of you shaking when it ended, but likely for different reasons.

You stayed upright when he stepped back and gave you space, but your legs still shook as he straightened up his clothes and looked you over once more. If he could devour you with a look... “Thank you.” He actually listened to you and didn't push it any further.

He glanced down as he adjusted his pants and you tried to avoid looking at the tent he began to sport. Horror filled you when your gaze went lower to the wet spot by his knee. He hadn't gotten you off, but you both knew he sparked some arousal within you. “Can’t wait ‘til you really make a mess on my pants,” he smirked, walking out just as quietly as he entered the tiny room.

Fighting back tears once he shut the door, you touched your lips. Bucky finally kissed you. Your mouth still tingled. You still felt him there.

Glancing at the rack of dresses, you wished he really was a sweet boyfriend trying to spoil you just because he could. But he hadn't given you a chance to pick them out yourself. He spoke for you, like you were a doll. It was just another piece he put in place for his twisted puzzle of your relationship.

What was wrong with you?

You pulled your clothes back on and flung the door open so hard it almost hit the wall. Bucky’s smug look immediately changed to concern when you walked out holding a sundress. “This one's fine,” you said in a flat tone.

“Are you sure?” He asked, sitting up more in his chair. “You didn't try it on, did you?”

“It’s the one I want,” you said, calling for the associate before Bucky had a chance to argue. You gave her a stiff smile when she joined you and handed over the garment, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you. “Whatever jewelry and handbag you think will go with this, I’ll take it. I trust your judgment.”

“Oh, this dress is lovely and we have the perfect accessories for this. Would you like to look at shoes as well? Or maybe something to go with any of the other dresses?” She asked, her eyes wide as you brushed past her. “Miss?”

“I’m sorry. I need to step outside,” you said, not wanting to be rude to her.

Bucky called after you, but you ignored him. You were furious with yourself. You let him kiss you and allowed some of his words to get under your skin. He didn't fuck you, but he still won, didn't he? And you were letting him. Just like with everything else.

You took two steps out of the shop before you felt a grip on your arm. “Woah. Slow down,” Bucky said, turning you to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.

“It doesn't matter, but if you really want to see and hear me, please, pay attention,” you said, yanking your arm away. “I want to go home.”

“Why? Is it because that kiss meant something to you and you don't want to admit it?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “If you're embarrassed that it made you wet, don't be. I'm flattered. Besides, it got me hard.”

Heat filled your cheeks and you wanted to smack him. There was a fine line between the delusion he had in his head and the reality of the situation. The tightrope you were walking was close to snapping. “I’m not embarrassed. I can't breathe.” You stepped back, trying to give yourself space. Was Ray watching from the car? “Everything in my life recently has revolved around you or you being there. Say what you want about me being lonely, it doesn't give you an excuse to take over.”

Bucky’s smile slipped, like he was really seeing how bothered you were. “I told you I just want to love you. And you enjoy Quality Time.”

“Quality Time when we agree upon it. And love itself should be the thing to take my breath away, not you smothering me,” you gently stated.

“I’m not trying to smother you.” He shifted like he was the one uncomfortable, his gaze flicking to the ground. “I… I know you can't breathe,” he said, lifting a hand as if to reach out before he dropped it and took a deep breath. “That’s why I'm leaving you alone tomorrow,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You're what?” You asked in disbelief, catching the hint of vulnerability in his eyes as his shoulders dropped. He hadn't left you alone since he broke in. Why in the world would he stop now?

“I was going to bring it up when I dropped you off.” His hand worked its way through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about it and talking and… I’m smothering you. I know I am. Rearranging your schedule, making you meet my friends, and everything else. So…” He reached for you this time and took your hand. “I’m giving you a breather and I’m not going to be around tomorrow. No surprise visits. No calls. Maybe a text, but nothing more.”

You blinked. “So, we won't see each other tomorrow?” You tried not to get too excited. It was only a day, but between that and the girls day that was still something. You had to go the cautiously optimistic route again and take what you got.

But you also couldn't help but wonder why he was really giving you that space. Did Ray or someone say something to him? Was this another ploy to keep you in line?

“You won't see me. God knows I’ll miss you, but it's just a day, right?” He squeezed your hand. “Maybe you’ll miss me, too.”

“I appreciate you giving me that space,” you said sincerely. He needed that space, too, even if he didn't believe it. “And maybe I will.”

“We won't have to miss each other much longer once we're together in the penthouse,” he said, his tone soft and your heart sinking. “Will you answer one thing: Did that kiss mean something to you?”

You didn't want to answer that. If you denied it, it would be a lie or he’d either see through it or snap. If you confirmed it, it would feed him more hope. You still had to examine your feelings because you were afraid and you couldn't think with him staring at you with those longing eyes.

“It meant something,” you answered, not expanding on what exactly it meant when he exhaled. It wasn't smart to let him decipher it how he wished because he could use it against you later.

He took your breath away once more when he pulled you close and brushed his lips against yours. Just as quickly as he started, he stopped and brushed his nose against yours. Any passerby would think it was a sweet moment between a couple making up from an argument. “Thank you,” he whispered, his thumb moving along the racing pulse in your wrist. “Come back inside, please? Pick out a few things for real and then I’ll take you home so you can relax.”

You remembered that the bugs were still in your apartment, which took some more of your enthusiasm away. But if Bucky was really going to leave you alone tomorrow, you’d have to appreciate the time to yourself. Maybe you could pack a bag and get out of the city even sooner than planned.

It wouldn't hurt to try, right? What was the worst that could happen? Making him freak out over your safety? That could be bad.

“Okay. A few things for real and then home,” you agreed.

“That’s my girl.” He turned and paused at the door with a smile. “Can I at least help you try on the dress? Or you can model it for me and I'll tell you how beautiful you are.”

You smiled back a little. “Don't push your luck,” you said, missing the pair of blue eyes that watched you and Bucky go back into the shop.

So, a little bit of action. 😏 Will it be enough to tide Bucky over? Is he really going to leave you alone for a day? Who was watching you? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 days ago

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chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?”

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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cakelitter · 1 day ago

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Sweetheart Club

Professor! Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: dirty talk, pet names, p in v, thigh fucking, semi public sex, age gap, mentions of exhibition, cheating (not on reader), angst with a happy ending

summary: “You wanted to talk, professor?” he turns around and faces you, placing down the papers he’s holding on his desk and taking his glasses off. “Yeah, mind explaining the absences?”

words: 2.2k

a/n: prof Leon is rotting my brain, this is a technically a part 2 for "A+" but no need to read the previous chapter to understand the plot of this one. Enjoy!

You’ve kept your promise to yourself.

Slipping away from the comfort of his broad arms and continuing on with your life like nothing happened. Like a couple of weeks ago your professor wasn’t whispering sweet nothings into your ears while he stroked your hair; plotting a gentle kiss on your forehead as post sex sleepiness overtakes your senses.

You ignored his texts and calls, skipped his classes for weeks; all to keep those blue eyes don’t lure you in like they did the first day you met. You focused on yourself, burying your head between assignments and tests; keeping any thoughts of him at bay.

Crazy how you used to live like this, now you’re making effort to make things go back to the way they were. Was life always this cold away from his embrace?

Wish you could say that you didn’t miss him, him and his stupid jokes, and his stupid soft air, and his stupid mellow voice. The three crow feet that would appear on the corner of his eyes every time he smiled, and the mole on his neck burned into your memory.

Wish that you could say that he’s no good for you. That he’s a horrible person that ruined you, that you feel like shit because he treated you as such, maybe if he was like that, you’d have an easier time moving on. But that’s far from the truth.

He was softspoken and gentle, giving you his jacket when it’s cold, buying you gifts and holding you close till you fell asleep. How are you supposed to hate the hand that showed you nothing but love and affection?

Either way, it had to be done. Funny how a ring around his finger still left a bitter taste in your mouth no matter how sweet his presence in your life was. Maybe you should’ve talked to him about it—told him how it made you sick to your stomach, seeing him go back home to another woman after he had been worshipping the ground you walked on.

Well, aren’t you technically the other woman? After all, the one he goes back to is his wife on paper, regardless if he loves her like a husband should or not. The guilt is staring to overshadow any of the blossoming feelings he planted in you.

You’re not disgusting, not the kind of women that get off to the idea of stealing another’s man. Not the kind to go around parading your relationship like you won the lottery.

That’s not you.

If you knew better, you would’ve never gotten involved in this. Would’ve kept your legs closed and mouth shut. But you didn’t. And now, your balls deep in a mess you willingly created.

Taking in a deep breath, you step into his class, mixing in with a group of students and sitting down in the far back. Whether you want to see him or not, you have to pass this class. Taking any more absences will affect your GPA, this course was hard even when he was personally tutoring you for his exams. Reading the notes that your friends took while they’re half asleep are not doing you any good.

You see him, eyes fixated on his laptop waiting for more students to arrive. Your heart is already beating out of your chest and he hasn’t even looked in your direction yet. You mentally scold yourself for yearning for him, feeling all the progress you’ve made in hopes of moving on going down the drain.

Does he even want you back anymore? Your brows furrow at the possibility, what if you were just a pawn in his game, chewed you up and spat you out without even glancing behind. Yeah, you pushed him away. But with each passing day, you looked forward to see that missed call notification pop up on your phone.

A few minutes later, he gets up and starts explaining, his eyes falling every now and then on the empty seat where you’d usually sit; completely unaware of your presence.

However, that was short lived when his eyes finally lock with yours. Your heart drops, anxiousness overtaking your senses as you try to not let it show. He keeps looking at you as he explains, his expression hard to read, unable to tell what’s going through his mind before you look away.

Enchanting blue eyes snap back to you between pauses in his explanation, pools so deep you feel like you’re suffocating.

Coming here was a waste of time, your thoughts drowning out the voice around you. It looks like your GPA is going to drop whether you attend or not, might as well keep whatever is left of your dignity and stop showing up.

The sound of people packing their bags and leaving snaps you out of your thoughts.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you begin packing your things as quickly as you can; wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. But as you’re about to get up, his voice calls your name. “Please stay for a second, we need to talk.”

Shit.

How do you always find yourself in these situations? He’s not even looking at you, eyes scanning through papers he’s holding as he waits for the class to empty.

Not a single bone in your body wants to talk, actually that is a lie. You do want to talk, just not about what he has in mind.

Maybe you can just sneak out the door? No, he’ll probably just follow you and you’d end up embarrassing yourself. Pretend to have an emergency? He knows everything about you, that would never work on him.

What if you just jumped out the window? He’d never expect that. But the both of you are going to hell, so you’ll meet eventually. Fuck, there is no escaping this.

The room eventually empties, leaving only the two of you. Honestly, the sooner you get it over with the better. Just rip off the bandaid and tell him that it won’t work.

‘No Leon, we cannot fuck anymore. You’re married, act like it.’ See, plain and simple.

Getting up, you walk over to where he stands, feigning confidence like you weren’t spiraling two minutes ago.

“You wanted to talk, professor?” he turns around and faces you, placing down the papers he’s holding on his desk and taking his glasses off. “Yeah, mind explaining the absences?”

Ok, we’re starting off professionally, interesting. “I was having some complications.”

“With?” he immediately retorts, voice becoming more agitated closing his eyes in frustration. “I-”

“I send you texts, I call you, I send you a fucking email, and you don’t respond.” Yeah, there it is. “You skip my classes, and fall off the face of the earth for almost three weeks. Do you know how fucking worried I was?”

His voice softens at the last part, this is honestly the first time you’ve seen him this pissed. He takes in a deep breath looking up at the ceiling, loosening his tense muscles. Stepping closer towards you, his large hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing the skin soothingly.

“Sweetheart… why are you doing this to me?” God, that pet name rolls off his tongue so perfectly, your knees are about to collapse. You look up at him, noticing the worsening state of the dark circles beneath his eyes. “Leon, I- We can’t keep doing this anymore.”

His gaze softens, hand stilling its movement. “Do what?”

“This.” you gesture at the hand on your cheek. “Leon, you’re married. You have a wife, and you’re out here fucking your student.”

Your throat tightens as tears begin to brim on your lash line. The words you spit out feel like venom, inflicting pain on the two of you. “I don’t know what’s the situation with your wife, and every time I bring it up, you end up changing the subject like what we’re doing is normal.”

Warm tears drip down onto your cheeks, your voice shaky as you attempt to compose yourself. “I love you, so much. But I feel fucking horrible every time I remem-”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“...what?”

“I’ve been considering getting one before I even met you. Meeting you showed me everything I’m missing. My relationship with my wife… has been honestly nonexistent for years now, and I know that doesn’t justify what we’re doing but-”

“I should’ve done it sooner. I’m sorry, baby.”

He smiles softly, his thumb wiping away the tears that cascaded down your face. “You still mad at me?”

Relief rushes through your body, the heavy feeling of guilt slowly being lifted off your shoulders. Your head leans against the hand brushing through your hair; your smile mirroring his.

His face inches closer towards yours before finally connecting your lips together. Never realized how much you’ve missed his lips, till you tasted them again. The kiss is sweet and slow, your hand reaching up and resting against this jaw, his rough stubble scratching against your soft hand.

Grabbing you by the hips, he pulls you closer till his chest is flush against yours as he mummers against your lips, “Missed you so much, sweetheart.”

You giggle, connecting your lips once more. This time, the kiss is deeper, his tongue brushing against yours. The hand on your hip guides you towards his desk, his mouth latching onto your neck, leaving kisses and bites across the sensitive skin.

“Please, touch me.” You whine out, grabbing his forearm and leading his hand over to one of your breasts. Groaning, he sneaks his hand beneath your shirt, groping the soft tissue through your bra. Your fingers tangle through his thick hair, your other hand clutching his bicep.

“Turn around, and take these off.” He hisses in your ears, his finger hooking the waist band of your pants, letting go of the material and letting it snap against your skin. Doing as you’re told; your hand fumbles with the buttons before pulling them down enough to expose the wet patch on your underwear.

Cursing beneath his breath, his hand cups your mound, the digits rubbing against your swollen clit as his thumb teases your entrance. “So fucking sexy.”

You bite your lip to stifle a moan, his hand moving to the fat of your ass, spreading you open for him. You hear his belt getting undone, and it doesn’t take long before you feel the tip of his cock smearing precum over your thighs.

“Close these thighs for me, sweetheart.” Your head turns around slightly to look at him, a happy trail running down from beneath his white shirt, leading to a trimmed bush above his thick cock. Your eyes linger on it, tip shiny with precum and veins traveling up it’s length. “Leon, please.”

His fucks his dick between your thighs, the tip brushing against your warm clit causing you to move back into him. He lets out a moan, his head tipping back as his fluids coat your panties, making the material stick uncomfortable to your sobbing cunt.

Squeezing your thighs together to get more friction, a breathy moan escapes his lips as he holds your hips firmly. “Yeah, yeah baby. Just like that.”

“Leon, I want your cock, please.” His hand sneaks below you, rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I know, I know. Just gotta make sure this little pussy is soaked when I stuff it full of my cock.”

Leaning in he kisses your jaw, his other hand cupping your breasts as he whispers into your ear. “You’d let me play with you, yeah sweetheart?”

You nod eagerly, gipping the desk below you; shifting your attention the warm feeling blossoming between your thighs.

Deciding he’s had enough, he slips your soaking panties down, placing one of your knees on his desk. You can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. Leon centers his tip at the opening of your hot cunt, collecting more arousal before bullying himself into you.

You let out a yelp at the stretch, resulting in his hand clasping over your mouth as his hips begin to thrust into you. “Gotta stay quiet, baby. Can’t have anyone walk in and see you getting this pretty cunt stretched out like this, yeah?”

The idea causes hot arousal to shoot across your body, your walls pulsing around him. “Fuck, you’d like that? Want someone to see you getting cockdrunk on my dick? See how well you take it?”

Your mind imagines every word he’s saying; simply thinking of how dirty the sight must be is enough to send you over the edge. You thrash around beneath him, pussy pulsing around his thick length earning a moan out of him.

He begins to chase his own high, hips slamming against yours, the grip he has on you is rough, enough to leave a bruise. Your body goes limp, hearing him whisper incoherent praise into your ear.

“So good for me.”

“So fucking tight.”

“Pussy made for this cock.”

Moments later, he reaches his own release as hot ropes of cum coat your walls. You hum at the warm sensation, watching him pump into your spent cunt a few more times, before he eventually pulls out with a low hiss; cursing beneath his breath as he watches your mixed releases ooze out.

Before they drip any further, he grabs your underwear; pulling it up and leaving a soft kiss on your hip with a reassuring pat. He fixes himself up and helps you look as proper as possible. “I think I just missed my lecture, thanks to you.”

“Forget about it, got three weeks’ worth of concepts to make up for.” He smiles, arm pulling you closer to him. “Gotta make sure to pound those points in before finals.”

divider by: @d-oie

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artistic-endchamber · 3 days ago

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You've probably heard it before but I'll be honest. Having the parents I did and still do only helped me become America's next greatest spy. I could recognize who was walking down the hallway, how close they were, which way they were going, where they stopped, and why they were going where they were going all with like. 3 steps.

It taught me how to lie to someone without showing any signs of being dishonest. I could look someone in they eye perfectly and tell them that I was born with green nails -- and they might even believe me. I had guilt for the wrong things. I was never scared of an action but instead how bad I would get a beating from my dad instead.

Once, my mom told me that if I had been hit more as a kid, that maybe I would've been raised right and gotten better grades (This was over an A- in my Algebra class). I just stood there. Dumbfounded.

Even when they hit you and bust up your lip and worse, they still pull out the "This is nothing." or the "I've never done this before to you, compared to (Someone else's messed up parents)" line. It never gets old. And it does, actually, start to make you think that maybe they arent so bad. that's not true.

"We didn't raise you like this!!" Yeah, but you know how you did raise me? Alone. Scared. Unable to comprehend how my own BODY works. Unable to understand how my life isn't my grades and academic achievements. You raised me to not understand that you can have love and good grades.

Generational toxic masculinity.

#Ha.#.abuse #<- prev tags #aarii needs to shut up #sensitive topic

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keferon · 1 day ago

Note

im curious on ur opinions of armada starscream? or just starscream ever getting a "redemption" in general

I haven't watched Armada yet, but I absolutely love Starscream's redemption arc in idw.

The moment when Starscream goes out in public and loudly and honestly and clearly lists everything he's done and every crime he's guilty of? Oof that was strong and that was awesome.

And everything leading up to that? His gradual realization that he's his own biggest problem? And that in order to make things better around him, he has to change himself first? The way he tries to do the right thing with his old "evil" methods and gradually comes to the realization that you can't build a new house out of old moldy bricks? It's beautiful. I'm a big fan.

Starscream from Earth Spark, however...well...even if we pretend season two and three don't exist, I think his arc is still terribly underdeveloped. Is Starscream doing something good a new behavior for him or has he always been like this? I don't know, the show hasn't given me any basis for comparison. I don't know if he's gotten better, because I've never seen him be worse in the first place.

Something like that.

Little side note, If I could magically remake Earthspark I would make it about Dot, her husband and Twitch doing adventures with the Autobots and Decepticons. Cut out all other Terrans and Maltos. Give their screen time to Screamer and Megs and Tarantulas and Idk. Croft? Croft was so underdeveloped I kept forgetting she was even there.

Another side note. It was some time since I watched tfes and read Idw. I may be remembering some things a bit wrong

#megatron standing in court: eugh augh mmmm no Imma do something tricky to stop them from punishing me #Starscream standing in front of massive crowd during the election that could give him crazy amount of power: I'm guilty. I'm guilty #I'm guilty of the things you couldn't even think about and I'm not going to hide even the tiniest bit of it. I have done so much shady shit #but here I am standing in front the whole Cybertron so every mech knows who I really am and what have I done #Judge me punish me do whatever you think is right I will accept it #it's......such a strong fucking move for him and his whole character

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themeraldee · 3 days ago

Text

Mark Me Yours

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 4.6k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Biting. Established Relationship. Mild Pain Play. Cunnilingus. Fingering (with gloves on).

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #16: Biting

Amongst the buzz of some vague Halloween music and constant chatter, Homelander is impatiently looking around the room. As an annual treat, Vought organizes a Halloween-themed party for their shareholders, ambassadors and any and all influential people that get easily swayed by expensive champagne and an impressive catering spread.

The one person not impressed is Homelander himself.

He’s had his fill of schmoozing and brown-nosing at Madelyn’s behest. By now he’s just looking for an excuse to leave. He’s not one to indulge in partying like the rest of the Seven. Looking at the state of them leaves him with a bitter feeling. There they are being more rambunctious than ever while he’s the only one who’s trustworthy enough to actually get the job of upselling and marketing done right.

While it’s dressed as a fun party, Vought doesn’t do things for fun. It’s a thinly veiled attempt at getting all the powerful people in the room to spend more money and sign onto more superhero-led campaigns in their fields. Really, to Homelander it’s a waste of fucking time. There are so many better things he could be doing. But no. He’s stuck having to sweet talk every C-suite level person in the room.

And while part of him wishes he could just relax and kick back like the rest of them he just as much scoffs at the childish Halloween costumes the rest of his team came in. Before the party even broke out, Deep thought it would be funny to come dressed in one of those terribly cheap polyester Homelander costumes all the pathetic lowlifes wear on this day of the year.

Pfft. As if they could ever understand the burden that comes with wearing the suit. Neither, really, could Deep. That’s why one look was enough to get through even his thick and algae-infested skull that if he doesn’t change out of the suit there won’t be a body to dress up for the party.

With an exasperated shake of his head he looks for you. He comes into these parties with decent energy, soaking up the applause and the adoring words but very quickly the praise turns sour when he feels just how empty and vapid each executive he talks to comes across as. They don’t actually care for his attention. They just want to wring him dry for more cash and fame. You’re the only one who’s managed to keep his usually soured high going. Your look doesn’t turn vacant, instead there’s a real person behind those eyes. One that’s his. One that adores him and is his to adore.

So where the hell were you anyway? Your presence is what makes him tolerate the insipid crowds these days. Besides the fact that he gets to be with you and show you off to the world, he happily uses your name as an excuse to get out of conversations that just about manage to reach levels of stupidity and numbness that even his media-trained smiles and nods can’t keep him looking interested.

Fucking Halloween. What a stupid holiday, he thinks. Homelander slides his tongue over the fake plastic vampire fangs you insisted he wears throughout the night. As if he’s a child that has to partake in the “festivities”. As if it wasn’t enough that he’s gracing everyone here with his effervescent presence. Surrounded by cameras he has no choice but to keep up his flawless smile, now tainted with the silly prop.

And really at this point he’s getting less annoyed and more worried. You promised you’d show up. And while the party is in full effect you’re still nowhere to be seen. Homelander steps a little to the side, removing himself from as much of the chatter and music as he can, instead listening carefully, honing in on the familiar pitter patter of your heart. Only outpaced by the clicking of your heels as you rush across the stone flooring.

Tsk, late as always.

Not even a minute later you make your way through the open door, immediately looking around for him. Homelander watches you try to calm down your rush as you finally settle your eyes on him. You’re smoothing down your dress and calming your breath. He leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow and with a lifted gloved finger he motions for you to come close.

Thank god you’re finally here. Just the sight of you is enough to release the tension in his shoulders. Relieved that there’s finally someone who he doesn’t have to pretend in front of.

And what a sight you are. Dressed to the nines, a gorgeous classy black evening dress that fits your body perfectly.

He would know, it’s one of the many he handpicked for you.

Looking at you now he can’t deny that he’s got impeccable taste. His keen eye is good when it comes to picking clothing that dresses your figure in a flattering way. Not just any dress would do, it always has to be perfect.

Until he actually notices the little band of cat ears across your head that has him recall the very long-winded argument—or an exchange of opinions as you liked to call it—about the importance of dressing up appropriately during any festivities you come to be a part of.

“Look who finally showed up. I was beginning to think you stood me up.” He flashes you a grin, letting the fangs exaggerate the sharpness of his smile.

You stutter through your answer, caught off guard, and instead of defending your tardiness you change the conversation. Homelander watches as your eyes widen in surprise, locking on the way he slides his tongue over the pointy ends. The shiver that runs through you doesn’t escape him either. Well… isn’t that interesting.

“Oh my god—I didn’t think— you’re actually wearing them!” Almost comically you put your hand over your mouth in shock and he takes the time to properly look you up and down. In your initial shock you let him in on not one, not two but three secrets.

From the gasped breath and the excited shiver running down your body he deduces that your earlier adamant begging to have him dress up was for an entirely different indulgence.

His second surprise upon checking you up and down was the lack of any undergarments. Not that he wouldn’t be able to look through the flimsy bits of fabric as well but the lack of them certainly inspires a mood.

And the third secret your body lets him in on is just how much you enjoy the sight of his fanged grin. Your thighs rub together but with no fabric to soak into, your slick just squelches in between your legs. A sweet little symphony for his ears only. Maybe tonight won’t be so boring after all.

If this was the kind of trick or treating he knew he’d be getting he’d have been onboard with the holiday a lot sooner.

His mouth tugs into a smile but he stops himself, instead tutting and shaking his head.

“Unlike someone, I’m keeping my word.” He rolls his eyes. “After all that hounding you come out in this? So much for dressing up, Mrs Halloween spirit.” He makes a mocking gesture with his hands, waving dramatically over your Halloween costume, if one could call it that.

“And sweetheart, although you look stunning, your little cat ears definitely don’t count as a costume.” Homelander relishes in the way you swoon under his compliments and attention.

At least someone here understands how valuable it is to have his attention.

Homelander waves over a waiter, plucking a flute glass off the tray, passing it to you. This breaks you out of your trance and you finally get your words straight.

“Sorry, that’s why I’m late. I had a costume, I swear! Then Ashley needed help with something and then on my way here someone spilled red wine all over my costume, so I had to change. I know it’s not impressive but this was last minute!”

“Oh, it’s very impressive. Just not very festive of you.” He quotes what you said earlier that evening about his reluctance to wear the stupid Dracula costume you prepared for him.

“If you wanted to come as Catwoman you could’ve worn some swanky latex at least.”

“Oh no thank you. You’d be peeling me out of that at the end of the night.” And you look cute when you shake your head with that displeased look on your face.

“Who said I won’t be peeling you out of this?” He places his hand on your waist, his glove sliding across the silk of the dress.

“I’m hoping that’s gonna look a little more elegant than the latex suit would.” You lean in, whispering this little secret as if it was just the two of you in the room. You do always make him feel like he’s the only one in the room. Finally, he’s getting the respect he deserves.

“One way to find out.” He graces you with a show of his sharp fangs as he whips out another wide grin.

It almost wins you over.

But you’re not that easily swayed. And you came here to celebrate Halloween with him. Clearly, he’s not gonna be able to use you as an excuse to leave just yet.

You say just that.

“You can’t leave yet!” You cover your flustered cheeks with a laugh.

Homelander doesn’t give up without a fight, but more importantly there’s nothing he loves more than having an upper hand. “Then why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

He’s close to leaning you against the wall and boxing you in so you don’t have a chance to get away but he does have appearances to uphold.

“I—um, I thought I’d keep you motivated to keep your energy up throughout the night.” You’re no stranger to keeping things exciting. Flirting with him is a must and comes naturally. Unless it’s outside the comfort of your home. Then you get all flustered and embarrassed. It’s cute, really.

“You’re motivating me to leave.” He grumbles and dips his eyes back down your body, making it terribly obvious that he’s not just admiring your dress.

On the other hand, he’s a better flirt in a crowd. He knows the power that comes with being surrounded by people that adore him and while it’s the comfort in between the two of you that allows that, he takes advantage of being the one who’s seemingly in control.

“I've barely just arrived!”

“That's your problem not mine, be punctual next time.”

“Come on, just another hour. You can manage.”

He rolls his eyes, already beyond fed up with the party. However, he still has a job to do and you take the chance to make your way around the room to make your presence known to other attendees.

As the time goes on, Homelander catches you looking around for him like a sixth sense tickling the back of his neck and everytime he meets your wandering eyes, giving you a dazzling smile showing off those fake fangs he still puts up with just for you. And each time you look away flustered and move out of his line of sight.

While everyone else is here to kick back, he’s still on duty, actively greasing deals, soft-launching Madelyn’s messaging and repeating the corporate-glazed talking points just to plant the seeds of Vought’s future plans in unsuspecting and mildly inebriated victims.

The promised excruciating hour later he finally makes his way around the room back to you, pulling you out of the conversation with his media smile aimed at the group. “Sorry folks, you’ll need to excuse my date.” With a hand settling on your lower back, he takes you away into a quieter corner, plucking the empty glass out of your fingers, placing it at a nearby catering table.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not! I just know how busy you are.”

“Right.” He spreads his lips into a wicked smile and he watches as your eyes quickly dart from his eyes to his teeth, not quickly enough for him to miss it. Neither does he miss the way your heart skips a beat.

It’s then he puts his hands on his hips shaking his head with a laugh. “I knew it, you’re into this.” He lifts one hand to wave a gloved finger in your face as if you’ve done something naughty.

“I’m not!” You’re a terrible liar. Homelander just places his hand on your chin as he uses it to tilt your head to one side.

While ignoring your protest he continues. “Is this some sort of Twilight fantasy you’ve got? Want me to bite you here?”

“What—no!”

He raises his eyebrows, parting his lips as he glides his gloved fingers down your neck with his other hand. As if you were in a secluded bubble he has his eyes firmly set on you, focusing on the hurried beat of your heart.

Unlike him you fluster. Unable to tune out the sound of the party and the presence of a crowd.

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me!” You squeak out like a little mouse, though your hushed voice makes no difference to Homelander’s keen ears.

While he doesn’t let the topic go, he does let go of your chin, allowing you to straighten up.

“While I love you very much, I’m not covering myself with glitter.” He chuckles to himself, terribly amused at having found one of your guilty pleasures. “But I can be your super strong and fast vampire if you’d like that.” It’s his turn to turn all hushed and whispered. He talks in a way that he usually indulges in between the sheets yet he can’t resist to see your reaction.

Homelander doesn’t miss the way you shudder at his proposition. He almost melts away your stubborn exterior, but you snap out of the dazed vision and blink your fantasies away. This is not the place.

“Wait, how do you know so much about it? And no, no, it’s not a Twilight fantasy. It doesn’t matter. Does it really need an explanation?” Still continuing with the hushed outrage you pull him with you, backing out of the party hall.

Homelander grins at you widely, purposefully flashing the fangs while you drag him away from the party. You probably think you’re being subtle, trying to blend your bodies in between the incoming crowds. However, his cape alone is as dead giveaway as any. If anyone cared to get his attention at the party they were now keenly aware that he’s left.

“Nope, not really. I just want to know what’s going on in that fucked up little head of yours.” The lightheartedness that comes with you two prodding one another is not only refreshing; it’s needed. To have someone he can feel like a lovesick teenager with is more important than he expected it to be.

You act as if you were sneaking away from your parents’ house rather than seeking the quiet comfort of your home.

You secretly make your way down hallways, guiding Homelander behind you.

Even with his hand in yours you reluctantly turn around. The Eurydice to your Orpheus where one look would make him disappear forever.

He understands the love shared between the two of you. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming it feels like its own living thing. Ever growing. Spreading like mold. Taking over everything that you both are. Be it good or bad.

When he shuts the door behind the two of you it’s like the rest of the world goes quiet. He can’t stop himself from smiling widely at the sound of your pretty laugh when he spins you in place, clumsily dancing with you across the hardwood floor of his penthouse.

He didn’t get the luxury of dancing with you during the party so he enjoys the feel of you carefree and against him in the comfort of his personal enclosure.

Neither of you need music to feel the intimate rhythm of your bodies. And really, the party has only just started. Each wrong step results in a giggle and another twirl with which Homelander brings you closer.

The warmth and love Homelander can feel from your laugh is so visceral he needs to taste it. He captures your lips. Simply pressing his against yours. Feeling the vibrations of your giggles against his pursed lips.

Just as he’s parting his lips to deepen the kiss you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. You don’t put any effort into pushing him off, it would be fruitless should you try anyway.

“Take them out, they’ll get in the way.” You refer to the fangs you’ve been downright drooling over the whole night. Finally. Homelander takes out the prop fangs and tosses them to the side.

With no barriers in the way he devours your lips like he’s been starved for the taste of you all night. He’s drunk on the ease with which you let him take what he wants from you.

He’s pulling out his best moves tonight. He’s always eager to impress, but tonight especially so. It’s not everyday he finds out about yet another depraved fantasy you’ve been keeping away from him. That alone is a reason to celebrate and pull out all the stops. So if a little innocent vampire roleplay is what you want, a vampire roleplay is what you’ll get.

Nipping at your lips earns him a moan. His hands gliding up your body cause a shudder. He continues teasing you little by little until your body is begging him to take it further. Your tongue licks over the naturally pointy ends of his canines. His grin stretches wide, dissolving the haze of lust and instead reminding him of what he’s here to do.

He walks you back to the sofa, all the way until your calves hit the upholstering and your knees give in. With a gleeful giggle you fall onto the cushioning. Homelander follows after you, sprawling across your body, still kissing you.

"I can hear your pulse racing..." Homelander breathes out when he pulls away. His eyebrows pinched tight together, acting as if any second away from you causes him pain.

It doesn’t. But being away from you might as well feel like he’s drowning.

“All that blood rushing…” In a breathy tone he continues. His hands push the straps of your dress over your shoulders. His hands tremble. Wanting to grip and squeeze and push and pull. But the power he’s capable of is always kept tightly locked up. But the desire and the pool of need inside him just begs for him to be inside you, feeling your supple warmth all around him.

But he wants to fulfill your fantasy. He wants to be good for you.

With a moan he drags his tongue starting from your collarbone up the line of your neck. Hungry for the faint taste of you he licks at the tender skin, sucking marks where you won’t be able to conceal them.

He laps his tongue over the junction of your neck and shoulder with the same eagerness he usually devours your cunt with. Now he’s preparing the soft delicate skin of your neck, akin to a surgeon before a procedure. Equally diligent in prepping your skin ready for the incision. Except Homelander wants you to feel the sharpness and warmth of his canines and incisors rather than the cold steel of a surgical scalpel. Your blood rushes to the surface where he’s sucked hickies all over your skin. The temptation to break skin and feel the warmth of your blood is tempting. But alas, he wants you lightheaded with pleasure, not blood loss.

He’s too sucked into his own world. Your blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He doesn’t even manage to slip out another zinger before sinking his teeth into your neck with a needy moan.

Should someone stumble upon you two, it wouldn’t be clear who asked for this roleplay in the first place.

Homelander’s careful with the pressure he puts into the bite. Even without his super strength he could easily break through your fragile skin. Instead he’s leaving indents and bite marks over your neck that have you whimpering right into each lap of his tongue over the wounded skin.

Attuned to your body’s responses he can feel the way you’re getting off on the contrast of the sharp bites and the dull ache of his languid tongue.

When he’s done with your neck, Homelander pulls away. Eyes hazy with lust. Hands trembling. His heartbeat is so loud it overpowers yours. He slides his tongue over his teeth as if he was licking off your blood. He looks up to meet your eyes and if the sight of you isn’t something out of a dream.

Just as hazed with the thick lust in the air. The smattering of bites is exquisite on a canvas as perfect as you. Your body rises and collapses with each shuddered breath and Homelander wants nothing more than to finish painting your body with his love.

And he does. Tearing and sliding the silk fabric off your body he leaves you bare in front of him. Your choice to omit your underwear gets you rewarded faster. He’s already sucking and biting all over your chest. Swapping for soft kisses anytime you yelp out of painful sensitivity.

Homelander bites wherever his teeth allow to sink into your flesh. Giving them the same soothing treatment with his tongue like he’s done on your neck.

The bites he descends upon your sides make you burst into giggles, temporarily breaking the bubble of the heated tension. With a smile he nuzzles his head into your belly, kissing you with affection all over the exposed skin. While the love he exudes is just as intoxicating, you push his head further down.

“Greedy.” He teases, but he happily slides off the couch, kneeling on the ground right in front of your gloriously spread legs. “Want me to bite you here too?” He easily slides back into his breathy tone as his mouth waters at the smell of your arousal.

After all this time he’s spent getting you worked up with bites and kisses you’re leaking over the couch.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, if you were coherent enough to give it anyway, and instead he licks up your inner thigh. Narrowly avoiding your sopping wet cunt. And while the hypnotizing rhythm of your throbbing clit nearly sucks him in, there’s still plenty of supple flesh he’s yet to sink his teeth into.

Homelander treats your inner thighs with the same respect he’s given your neck. Even though you wiggle underneath his tongue he holds you down. His arm easily pinning your middle down, while his shoulders keep your legs open enough for him to continue.

Here the sensation makes you both whimper from the stinging bites and giggle from the tickling motions of his tongue. Your body continues to serve as a canvas as he litters marks in between your thighs. He lets a few bruises join the mix as he grips your thighs with too much enthusiasm when he dips his head lower to bite another mark higher up the sensitive skin.

You don’t shy away from the pain either. The contrasting shades of pain he paints across your skin just make your breath stutter, your heart race and your core ache for more.

Homelander is just as strung out. His cock is heavy and aching uncomfortably in the tight confines of his pants but he’s not about to relieve himself. Not when you’re served in front of him like a meal.

Finally he buries his head into your lap. He licks up a line from your weeping hole to your clit, slurping up as much slick as his tongue can gather. He goes through expressions of content, where he’s eagerly sucking on your clit, and need, where he pinches his eyebrows together, whimpering into your cunt at the feeling of you quivering around his tongue.

And really, he could spend hours in between your legs. Getting handfuls of your ass he pulls you even closer, his tongue now closely and precisely rolling around your clit in a rhythm that has your toes curling and heart pounding. He’s come to know your body as intimately as it gets. The changes in pace are part of his plan. The slow teasing to a fast build-up, letting the feeling of your encroaching orgasm climb up and up your spine until he slows down, dropping the meter down again, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

With the occasional pull to the side where he nips more bites into your inner thighs he has you strung tight, and he’s playing you like a violin. When your moans turn into near sobs at the constant edge he keeps you balanced on, Homelander takes pity on you.

Gathering the slick and saliva, he pushes two thick gloved fingers into you. The drag of the leather glove is not familiar enough to you and you whine at the contact, clenching down on his fingers. Tight enough to nearly stop the glide.

With soft kisses he descends upon your clit, he lets you relax. When your cunt is no longer squeezing his fingers for dear life he drags them in and out while amping up the pressure. The obscene display of you bare to the world and him still dressed in his uniform has you both vocal and shameless.

While he’s already done a fantastic job of licking you open and needy, making you into an even bigger mess than you were before; he’s now fucking you wide open, preparing you for what’s inevitably going to be his cock in a round or two filling out all the space his fingers can’t reach.

“C’mon, keep fucking me. Harder. Harder. Ye-yes. Yes!” You groan out, your voice all cracked and strained from moaning for so long.

You grind yourself down on his fingers as much as the space allows. Your fingers pull at his hair while you ride both his face and his fingers to completion. It’s a hard finish, with downright growled words of praise as you chase the high he’s providing you with.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. Fffuuck. Such a good boy, letting me ride your face like that.” You pant in between words, just as eager to give out praise as he is to receive it.

With an obscene squelch, Homelander pulls his fingers out of you, sucking the leather clean, adding to the already rich taste of you on his tongue. You slide down the couch and lean down to kiss him, and he indulges you in letting you taste yourself on his lips.

Pulling away, you only allow the minimum space apart in between each other. Just like him, you act as if being apart caused you harm.

“Take me to bed. I want to ride your cock next. Aaand maybe bite you myself.” With a giggle you wrap your hands around his neck.

“You know you can’t bite me.” With a tilt of his head he kisses the bite marks he’s left behind. Each kiss brings back a little spark of pain making you twitch.

“I love a challenge.”

“Well I’d certainly love to see you try.” He effortlessly lifts you up from the couch, already carrying you over to the bedroom.

After all the treating he’s done, he’s definitely excited to see some tricks.

So maybe the Halloween celebrations are not so stupid after all.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

#this was meant for both halloween AND kinktober but I'm terribly late #SORRYYYY #idk how I managed to get up to 4.5k words and not get past oral but oh well #also I've been battling with this for ages so excuse the poor dialogue #not well edited and I've read it too many times so if there are mistakes SO BE IT #cozy corner kinktober 2024 #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

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jackmanwife · 22 hours ago

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Professor!Logan has always been professional, but you can’t ignore the way he looks at you during his lectures anymore. It’s subtle— a look that lingers on for far too long when you raise your hand or a small smile when you answer a question correctly— but it’s enough to make your cheeks grow hot. He leaves you little notes on the papers he turns back to you, too, and you save every last one of them. Study material. “You're smarter than most of my other students,” he praises, but you just giggle out a small "Thank you."

Professor!Logan is starting to catch on. Sitting in the front row, you're doing all sorts of things to catch his attention. Twirling your hair around your finger a little, biting the tip of your pen, crossing and uncrossing your legs. When he looks your way, you make sure to hold his stare, letting your eyes drop to his lips before flashing a small smile. After class, he orders you to stay behind, but you know this isn’t about the paper you turned in. “You’re not just interested in the material, are you, sweetheart?” When he walks around his desk, he doesn’t sit. Instead, he stands in front of you, towering, and you look up at him, keeping your eyes on his. “You’ve been distractin’ me for a while,” He steps closer, and your back presses against his desk, “You want me to show you what happens when I stop holdin’ back, darlin’?” His hand slides up your thigh, fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt, teasingly close to where you’ve been needing him all this time.

Professor!Logan knows you're back for more. He’s got his reading glasses perched on his nose, running his hands through the stack of papers in front of him, “This couldn’t wait until office hours?” he asks, not looking up as he marks a paper and flips to the next one. You take a slow step forward, shrugging, “No, I…” He looks up now, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I wanted some extra help.” Logan’s eyes narrow slightly. You swallowed, “I just need to understand the material you taught today better,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your voice wavered. Logan chuckles softly, lips curling into a smirk, “Is that so, darlin’? Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you’ve got a…” His eyes take you in, looking you up and down, “different kind of help in mind.”

Professor!Logan is usually calling you back to his office after a long lecture. You’re sitting on his desk, legs dangling over the edge as he stands between them, his hands running up your thighs. “You sure you understood everything, sweets?” His lips brush against your ear before he presses a kiss onto it. One of his large hands slips around your waist, his fingers pressed firmly on your back, pulling you closer to him. You nod, leaning into his touch. “That’s good,” his thumb brushes gently over your cheek as he tilts your face up to his, “Been thinking about you all day, you know that?” He murmurs. You nod again, barely able to find your voice as his thumb brushes over your lip, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s just started.

Professor!Logan likes to keep you around now. You walk down the hallway to his office, a hot cup of coffee in your hand. You noticed the light still on under his door and couldn’t help but think about him working alone, grading papers into the early hours. Knocking softly, you step inside when you hear his short “Come in.” When you do, Logan looks up from his laptop, brows raised in surprise before they rest as he smiles. “What’re you doin’ here this late, darlin’?” He sounded so tired. You hold out the cup, and he takes it from you, his hand lingering on yours. “Thought you could use this,” you murmur, watching as he takes a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. He sets the cup down on his desk and shakes his head, “Always lookin’ out for me, huh? Come here,” he pats his open lap, “Keep me company for a while.”

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serendipitous-girl · 3 days ago

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𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍

⊱✿⊰ summary: headcanons with bakugo and a black cat girl

⊱✿⊰ warnings: swearing, suggestive comments, fighting ig, idrk

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have had this request for like fifteen months lol but im finally doing it for my pookie's bday. Happy birthday ml 🫶 im posting it now so i dont forget lol

❀ he hates you at first sorry not sorry. bakugo just sees you as yet another one of those extras who happen to have an annoying tendency to fight with him. i feel like he might respect your tenacity but barely and he still hates your guts whoops

❀ on the topic of hatred, your other classmates half are jokingly shipping you and the other half are just wishing you two would stop fighting. mina is at the head of the shipping bandwagon especially after she read a book with rivals to lovers. todoroki might say he ships you guys only because he thinks it means he wants you two to get along lol

❀ your arguments would mostly be stupid shit like who rescued who, who did better on the assignment. you guys are rivals who also get into fistfights because why not.

❀ bakugo doesn't think much of your swearing problem because he's used to it by his mom. you're just another annoying person who happens to like using some naughty words all the time (him in girl form)

❀ i feel like the way you two get closer is kinda sad but also drama yay. basically mineta was being an S-class pervert and he was literally harassing you.

❀ and it made you uncomfortable so you started to fight back. bakugo doesn't find you until the aftermath, huddled in the corner of the dorm while trying to hide your tears

❀ he didn't know seeing someone cry could make his heart clench like that. But for some reason, seeing you all teary eyed and sad made him want to punch the living daylights out of whoever made you like that

❀ as awkwardly as he can, he tries to comfort you. His large hand patting your back, not saying anything since words have never been his forte. He was used to using anger to battle his sadness, he didn't know how to help someone succumb to it.

❀ you guys sit there in comfortable silence until you explain to bakugo what happened. he'd always hated the little brat but now he was wishing he had uraraka's powers so he could throw mineta into space. how was the creep still in the hero course?

❀ lets just say the nice day mineta looked more like a cranberry than a grape

❀ you guys aren't particularly close after that but he does tend to notice you more which means his respect for you goes up. you're in combat training and you beat deku? fuck yeah he likes you now. even if you don't hate deku like he does he still thought it was awesome seeing you beat the daylights out of him.

❀ the moment he realized he liked you was when he almost lost you. by now hanging out was pretty regular for the two of you, even if bakugo would rather die than admit that he sees you as a friend. and since you guys spent time together he was around for whenever you got crushes...and told him about it.

❀ most of the time he would shrug it off, especially since half of your crushes were fictional and why would he care? he's not jealous! however you started falling for a boy in class 2b which (for some reason) was a major no go for bakugo. why would you want to date a stupid extra when he was right in front of you

❀ despite what everyone says he isn't the most emotionally constipated. it takes awhile yeah but i imagine he started going to therapy during the course of the show so he started to understand what feelings went where and etc

and one thing was for certain: this feeling was love.

❀ he started being a massive asshole after that. he went right back to always arguing with you or ignoring you completely. he might understand his feelings but that doesn't mean he knows how to handle them

❀ he was so wrapped up in his angry emoness that he didn't know you had stopped talking to the boy from class 2b, forgetting him entirely. he also failed to notice the hurt looks you'd give bakugo before you snapped right back into your harsh comebacks.

❀ the reason you guys even talk it out is during a simulation where the both of you get stuck inside rubble. you were both exhausted, dehydrated, and heartbroken.

❀ you just couldn't help but ask, "why do you hate me?" which basically broke his heart into a million little pieces. he couldn't help the way he admitted to his feelings, the way he handed you his heart in hopes you'd keep it safe...and safe you did.

❀ if you two as rivals were bad you two dating is even worse. you guys are the ultimate power couple, able to tear anybody down with a few well placed sneers and snorts.

❀ everybody either loves or hates you guys. mina obviously loves you guys even if you two are constantly arguing still plus with the added of you two tag teaming one person. she loves when she manifests things.

❀ you guys still have that silly banter and with your tempers. but now you guys made up your arguments with kisses and cuddles

❀ you guys aren't allowed to get paired together for assignments because you are either bickering or making out. and aizawa is too tired to try to stop it.

#❀ lori writes #my love skye #mha #mha x reader #mha bakugou #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero acedamia #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #kacchan #x reader

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cuubism · 2 days ago

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Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.

#short little prompt fics today #dreamling #my writing #thief hob #ask #silverdrip

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seancurry1 · 2 days ago

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Remember, Thou Art Barnacle

A serenity prayer for election day.

Originally posted on my website.

The Ann Selzer Iowa poll, regarded as the gold standard in all of political polling, shows Harris is up +3 in a state that Trump won by +8 in 2016 and by +9 in 2020.

And you are a barnacle.

The election better markets have Trump up by +19 (as of noon EST, 11/5/24), and bettors don’t care if people are ashamed to admit who they’re voting for—they’re in it for the money and only the money.

And you are a barnacle.

Mainstream pollsters have admitted to weighting their polls heavily in favor of Trump, to ensure they don’t end up with egg on their face like they did in 2016 and 2020 again. International whales are taking out huge bets in favor of Trump, swinging the markets, and right wing think tanks are flooding the zone with bullshit polls to artificially inflate Trump’s odds in the aggregate. And even if the popular vote is overwhelmingly for Harris, Trump’s team is already laying the narrative groundwork to support a Stop the Steal campaign that, by the time you read this, will likely already have started.

All of that is true.

And you are still a barnacle.

You are not piloting the ship. You are not the captain of the ship. You are not laying out the potential courses the ship could take, you are not deciding which course the ship will take, you are not scouting ahead.

You aren’t even a paying, ticket-holding passenger on the ship. You are a barnacle on the hull, deep underwater, and unfortunately, there isn’t really anything you can individually do to affect where this ship goes. Sorry!

This isn’t an invitation to check out, or become apathetic, or (heaven forbid) embrace doomerism. Quite the opposite: this is a reminder of who you actually are in this entire scenario, of the power you do not have, and of the power you definitely do.

After the 2016 election, some small part of myself was convinced I could change the outcome if I just posted hard enough. If I fought enough of my friends on Facebook, texted angrily, and tweeted from enough protests and rallies, somehow Trump would no longer be President-elect.

All it did was, literally, give me a rash. I got so angry for so long that my skin started to break out in hives. A doctor friend more-than-half seriously prescribed that I “get the fuck off Facebook” until my skin returned to normal. Trump was still President-elect, the next 8 years happened the way they did, and here we are today.

You’re going to hear a lot today: polls are tightening! Votes still aren’t in from this critical precinct! If these trends hold, then we can expect to know something by such-and-such a time! The race is as tight as can be! White supremacists are threatening violence to avenge a dead squirrel!

(The squirrel thing is 100% real, and my god, I really wish I was joking.)

Remember, through all of it, that you are not the captain of the ship. You are a barnacle on its hull, and there is very little you can personally do to change it at this point. You’ve already done all you can do—or maybe you haven’t, but even then, you’ve already done all you’re going to do.

And as you stress, and consider how inebriated you’re going to get, and decide on which web pages you’ll be refreshing every thirty seconds, and stress out some more, remember too that Donald Trump hasn’t ever won the popular vote in his entire miserable life. He only won the electoral college, a racist system explicitly designed to empower slaveholders in southern states, one time, and ever since then, he has lost every election he’s declared for.

More people did vote for the woman candidate the last time one ran for President, and more people have voted for the candidate of color than their opponent every single time a person of color has run for President on a major party ticket.

And women have already made up a larger share of early voting than men in this, the first general election post-Dobbs, than ever before in American history. (53% women to 44% men.)

So as you stress and consider your inebriates and say to yourself, “How can it possibly be this close?!” for the umpteenth time today, remember too that Donald Trump is a fascistic, deeply unpopular person (let alone President) backed by an even more deeply weird party, and that almost the entirety of your experience of this election is being filtered through the lens of a national, for-profit media that doesn’t care who wins, so long as you keep watching.

Remember, you are not the captain of the ship, you are not the helmsman, you are not the map-maker.

You are a barnacle.

Vote for Harris, vote Democrat in your local and state races, and trust your other barnacles.

If you like this, consider signing up for my newsletter to get more writing from me right in your inbox the second it posts: sean-curry.com/signup

#writing #election 2024 #kamala harris #serenity prayer #politics

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somestarsburntoobrightly · 2 days ago

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I love when this post comes around again.

Also, I visit Quebec often and my french is ABYSMAL. I can read it fine, and kinda understand others a bit if they talk slow enough, but actually saying the words? Forget it.

Still some people are aholes about it but a lot of people will do their best to try to work with you. Or better yet: teach you. So when I say I died laughing at the 'un sac' story it's because it is one of the only things in french that I will always know how to say and never forget the meaning of because that many cashiers have explained it to me.

Also one time I was trying to find ice and I went around the grocery at least 5 times trying to find it. No dice. So, I approached an employee. First one french only, second one french only and I don't know why I didn't just pull out my phone and show them the french word, but they knew I needed help so they went and got a third employee...also no english so idk what any of us were thinking that day. At this point though, I'm desperate and my Spanish is miles better then my french so I say "¿Hablas Español?".

Ladies and gentleman, he was so excited I'd asked. I was so excited this was going to work out. Neither of us were fluent but I was confident we'd do okay.

He says "¿Que estás buscando?" I say "Estoy buscando-" and I could not for the life of me remember the word for ice. I know I know this word for absolute certain but cannot for the life of me remember it. So I said "lo siento... no recuerdo la palabra...uhhhhhh. Oh! Helado sin leche"(Ice cream no milk).

Blank stare, because yeah that was not the most clear. So I tried again "uhhhh...agua está frio. muy, muy, muy frio."

He says "¿Quieres hielo?"

I goddamn facepalmed.

Thanks to his impressive comprehension, he goes into the back and brings me my bag of ice. I thank him profusely, he thanks me for practicing. And now I will never forget that word again.

for chinese new year they get all these famous actors and comedians together and they do a lil show and one of the comedians was like “i was in a hotel in america once and there was a mouse in my room so i called reception except i forgot the english word for mouse so instead i said ‘you know tom and jerry? jerry is here’

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senmiyaazx · 3 days ago

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SPOILERS FOR TKATB UPDATE (day one)

it's only been day one and yet SO MANY CROWE SCENES?????? gosh I'm foamig at the mouth I didn't know fantasia was cooking THIS hard behind the scenes

only got to day one for now cuz I'm pretty dizzy n there's things to do but gosh there's so many new content added. old day one was good but now it's even BETTER (no wonder it took so long tbh it was worth the wait)

everyone's been given so much personality omg. fantasia probably initially didn't expect the game to be so popular so the old version felt a bit monotonous imo but it was still really good and lots of lore hidden in just one day!

back to Crowe... Crowe... crowe...crwocrowwcoroccrowcrorohehehejejejej.e,....,..

FLIRTY/TEASING CROWE IS REAL MY FICS ARE ACCURATE I'M SO JUMPING AROUND THE WALLS

gah this new Crowe is so.. cute?! back then it felt like he was kind of distant in a way? like there's some sort of longing from mc while Crowe is just kind of oblivious to it. or maybe that's how I've always seen their relationship. but now, so many things have changed and i loveit so much omgomgomg

this new change emphasized their relationship further and portrayed how close they really were being the MC's only close friend in the entire college. he's the only one noticed the mc and actually tried to get to know them. he's the one who saw the color in mc when they thought they blended into the colorless crowd okay fine I'll write a fic soon

he's so endearing and only shit did i mention the stargazing scene

(sorry if it looks weird i play tkatb on an emulator)

HE'S SO PRETTY WHAT???

fantasia. how could you make us hover on top of him. no one's getting ME off of Crowe now. you'd have to tie me to a truck and drag me at full speed.

and finally, the kiss. myfuckinggod the kiss (although this will probably cost me huge consequences later)

no words

THE FUCKING HEART EYES??? careful Crowe you're gonna give someone heart diseases one day (aka me and crowe fans)

okay that's it

extra notes cause i cant stop yapping about how much i loved this

the reveal about crowe being a puppy following mc around even if mc ignored him was so cute lmao him defending mc was so heartwarming too I couldn't stop giggling (also shorter haired Crowe?? wowow)

as for mc, i really liked the slight changes to their personality. it added more depth and made them feel so much more relatable. i won't be going deep into myself but them being a 'side character' or an outcast was just so relatable.

as for sol, i haven't seen much yet:( but the scene in the clinic had some changes and sol made much more impact than he did originally. when he looked back at mc before he left i actually felt a little nervous lol.

even in the classroom meeting he mumbled "It's you...." which was super cute tbh why is everyone so cute? the drawing scene didn't change much but it was after it that was my favorite. when mc asked him to be their friend it was such a cute interaction, and later when the game showed Sol's reaction blushing. he's so cute<3

for the other characters I don't have much to say. Brittney is still hot as fuck, Jess is cute, Geo is scary, and Darryl is more endearing than before. Hyugo I haven't met yet:(

edit:

so um. finished part 2

hehehe. what is this. hehehehe. are you trying to kill me. hehehehe

#yapping #tkatb spoiler #tkatb_spoiler #is it obvious i love crowe too much #im goinginsaneimgoinginsaneimgoinginsaneimgoinginsane #the kid at the back vn #tkatb x reader #male yandere #tkatb sol #solivan brugmansia #tkatb crowe x reader #crowe tkatb #jericho crowe ichabod

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hvnyrt · 22 hours ago

Note

Request/idea: Jason pining for reader, although he’ll never admit it

Voice in the Wind

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for submitting a request! Luckily for you I have no class or work today and was able to get this out same-day for you. :) I went angsty for this request, I hope it's to your liking!

SUMMARY: You have been in love with Jason Todd for a while now, and he had been too, yet he was too trapped in his mind to even take your relationship into consideration.

WARNINGS: Angst, non happy ending :(

WC: 1.9k

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You.

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction."

Except you werent. He knew it.

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating.

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?"

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost.

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively.

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel.

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending.

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness.

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead.

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended.

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything.

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear.

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Because when you let someone in, you gave them the power to break you. And Jason was already broken. He couldn’t let anyone else be hurt because of him. Not again.

Without another word, he jumped off the rooftop, vanishing into the night, leaving only the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cold air.

You stood there for a long time, staring into the empty space he had left behind. Your heart felt like it had been crushed under the weight of everything unsaid, everything unacknowledged.

You weren't stupid. You knew what had happened.

Jason had chosen the darkness. He’d chosen it over you. Over them.

And the worst part was, you didn’t know if you could ever change his mind.

But one thing was certain: you weren't going to forget him. Not now. Not ever.

Jason thinks people who reblog/like the fics they enjoy deserve a good time :)

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