#you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me

[dissapointu]

hi!! i love your writing! i was wondering if you could do how arcane characters would react to their partner looking really good??

OMG YES, LET’S GO. You’re serving looks, and these characters are LOSING it.

Jinx

Jinx is walking into the room, probably rambling about some crazy plan she has to blow something up, but then she sees you. Full stop. Like, rewind sound effects stop. Her jaw drops, her eyes go wide, and she’s just standing there with a completely dumbfounded look on her face.

“WHO LET YOU LOOK LIKE THAT?!” she yells, pointing at you like it’s your fault. And then, without waiting for an answer, she’s giggling and spinning around you like a little tornado, tugging at your outfit and gushing about how good you look. But it’s Jinx, so she’ll probably throw in something like:

“I could never wear that—I’d blow it up in five minutes. BUT YOU?! You’re, like, my shiny bombshell baby now!”

Vi

Okay, so Vi acts all tough and cool, right? But when she sees you? Girl is GONE. She leans back in her chair, smirks, and tries to play it cool.

“Damn, babe, where’s the fire? Oh wait—it’s YOU.”

She totally thinks she’s being smooth, but her ears are turning red, and she cannot stop staring. She’ll make some excuse to touch you, too, like fixing a stray hair or adjusting your jacket, just so she can get a closer look.

“You’re killin’ me here,” she mutters under her breath, and yeah, she’s absolutely whipped.

Sevika

You walk into the bar looking too good, and Sevika’s mid-drink when she sees you. She chokes. Like, literally sputters into her glass because she was NOT READY. She tries to recover, clears her throat, and narrows her eyes at you like you did this on purpose.

“Alright, who are you trying to impress?” she teases, but her voice is all low and growly, and she’s totally jealous of anyone else who gets to see you looking like this.

If you’re lucky, she’ll slide an arm around your waist and pull you close, her mechanical arm whirring a little as she leans in to murmur, “You keep lookin’ like that, I’m gonna have to start a fight just to keep people’s eyes off you.”

Silco

Silco’s usually composed, right? All cold, calculating power. But when he sees you, he goes silent. Like, dead silent. His heterochromatic eyes narrow just slightly, and you can tell he’s looking you over, taking in everything.

“Impressive,” he finally says, his voice smooth but with just enough edge to send a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t say more because he knows you know exactly what he’s thinking, but the way his hand lingers on your arm when he passes you? Yeah, you’ve officially ruined his ability to focus for the rest of the day.

Vander

Vander is polishing a glass behind the bar when you walk in, and the man literally freezes. The glass slips from his hand, clattering onto the counter, and for a moment, he’s just staring at you with this big, goofy grin on his face.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice all warm and soft, like he can’t believe his luck. He’s not one to gush, but you’ll catch him sneaking glances at you all night, shaking his head like, How did I get so lucky?

And when you catch him staring, he’ll just laugh and say, “Can you blame me?”

Ekko

Ekko’s mid-sentence when you walk in, and he just stops talking. Like, whatever he was saying? Gone. Deleted. Replaced by you.

“Uh…damn.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to do with himself, because holy crap, you’re stunning. “Okay, but why are you trying to flex on me like this?”

He’ll pretend to pout for like two seconds before breaking into this huge grin and pulling you into a quick spin. “You look incredible. Seriously. You’re making it really hard for me to focus.”

Jayce

Jayce is a talker, so the moment he sees you, he’s throwing out compliments like confetti.

“Wow. Just…wow. Is this legal? You’re stunning. Gorgeous. Breathtaking. Should I keep going? Because I could keep going.”

He’s like a golden retriever, so excited and genuinely in awe, and he’ll definitely try to take like 50 pictures of you, “for science,” but really just because he can’t get over how good you look.

Viktor

Oh, Viktor is a mess. Like, full-on short-circuiting. He notices you immediately, but he’s so shy about it, he pretends to be focused on his work, even though the pen in his hand is hovering three inches above the page.

“You, uh…you look very nice,” he finally mumbles, his face going completely red. But when you catch him staring (because he’s DEFINITELY staring), he’ll push up his glasses and awkwardly add, “I mean, you always do, but tonight, especially…uh…”

Just kiss him already. The poor man can’t handle it.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s the type to notice right away but say nothing—at first. She’ll just smile, that soft little oh, you’ve outdone yourself this time smile, and let you catch her admiring you.

“You look incredible,” she says, her voice calm but with just enough warmth to make your cheeks burn. She’ll offer you her arm, all proper and elegant, and lead you into whatever event you’re attending, acting like it’s your moment to shine.

But don’t let her fool you. Inside, she’s absolutely glowing.

Mel Medarda

Mel is a queen, and she acts like one. So when she sees you, she doesn’t react immediately. No, she takes her time looking you over, a sly smile playing on her lips.

“You’re stunning,” she purrs, her voice dripping with admiration. “But then, I’d expect nothing less from you.”

She’s totally the type to dress even better next time just so you two can be the most powerful, glamorous couple in the room.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa doesn’t do subtle. The moment she sees you, she lets out this low, appreciative hum, her eyes gleaming with approval.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” she says, stepping closer, her presence almost overwhelming. “It’s…intoxicating.”

She’ll rest a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but affectionate, and you can feel the pride radiating off her. She knows everyone else is looking at you, and she loves it.

Heimerdinger

“Oh, my stars! My dear, you look absolutely radiant!”

Heimerdinger’s ears perk up, and his little mustache twitches with excitement. He’ll walk around you in circles, marveling at your outfit and making a bunch of overly enthusiastic comments about the “design work” and “craftsmanship,” even if it’s just a plain dress.

“You must let me take a closer look at this fabric—it’s magnificent!”

It’s adorable, really.

Salo

Salo’s not one to gush, but he’ll give you this small, approving nod when he sees you.

“You clean up well,” he says, his tone casual but with just enough edge to let you know he’s impressed.

If you’re lucky, you might catch him stealing a glance at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Scar

Scar sees you and immediately whistles low under his breath.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, his grin all crooked and playful. “What’s the occasion, doll?”

He’ll definitely tease you, but you can tell he’s really into it by the way he keeps sneaking closer, like he just can’t help himself.

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is blunt, so when she sees you, she just blurts it out:

“Damn, you look good.”

She doesn’t sugarcoat it, doesn’t make it a big thing. But the way her gaze lingers a little too long? Yeah, she’s head over heels.

Lest

Lest is normally composed, but the moment she sees you, she falters.

“You look…” she pauses, searching for the right word, and then just gives up with a little smile. “Amazing.”

It’s simple, but the way she looks at you? Like you’ve hung the moon? That says it all.

[merajsblog]

rin never had time for anyone else besides soccer. he was always busy either with school, or more importantly, practicing for soccer.

he never expected to find you on one random friday night. it was well after his practice, and his mom dragging him and his family to the mall to do some last minute shopping for a family party. he was beyond unhappy to be dragged along doing such “NPC” activities on a friday night, as if he was going to go out or something…

“Rin come look at this and tell me if it looks okay!” his mom calls out. he turns the corner, sulking as he heads over to check it out. she’s holding a black velvet dress with a rather large bow on it. she’s holding it up against herself, beaming at him. he’s opening his mouth to say something bland, before you come around from behind her, hands full with clothing.

you’ve got the cutest smile he’s ever seen. your eye contact is sharp, and it feels as though you’ve pierced through him. you give him a soft smile and he is even more lost for words.

“i found these dresses too! i think they’d look wonderful on you!” you beam at his mom. you clearly worked here, the walkie on your belt and badge told him that. he pays close attention now, watching you sway around her, helping her button up her shirts, and conversing about what looked best.

rin honestly had no words. there was something entrancing about you, and he felt as though he needed to analyze everything about you and your actions. he took note of how you’d bite your lip when thinking, when you placed your hands on your hips, how your head turned to the side when considering.

“Please, I insist!” he hears his mom say. it snaps him out of it. he’s engaged in the conversation now, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“When is it?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. rins mom looks at him, and before he even thinks, he’s blurting out the exact date and time. “November 30th, 8pm!” he says, wide eyed. his mom chuckles a little before trying more to persuade you to come.

“Rin, help me persuade her! I want to thank her for her amazing help! I found the perfect dress!” She says, eyes brimming like stars.

he was lost on what to say. no words came to mind.

“yes.” was all he could mutter out while maintaining the most intense eye contact ever. it made you swallow whole.

“Rin, give her your number and send our adress, i will see you there!” she squabbles, while hustling to the check out. you walk over, smile on your face and hand reaching out. rin almost forgets what is happening, this looks like a scene out of an angel movie or something. he only watched horror.

“let me put my number in your phone!” you said, hand extended. he fumbles his hands, trying to pull it out.

“yea hold on..um it’s..wait.” and he pulls his phone out. you quickly type it in, and hand it back, tucking hair behind your ears. he’s never been this starstruck before. he’s stumbling over his words, eye contact faltering. if anyone in blue lock saw him now, they wouldn’t even recognize him.

it’s safe to say he cannot wait until the party.

“i hope to see you then..or i mean my mom is excited to see you..” he mutters, starting to back away. you let out a giggle and he’s lost again, mouth slightly open.

“i’ll see you guys soon then.” you say curtly, before another customer comes hustling in asking for help. he’s almost upset, and wants to tell them to fuck off. though, he thinks you would hate him if he did that. so he doesn’t.

[shouyuus]

for reasons unknown even to myself I'm having a lot of thoughts about popstar!reader x vi like. idk IDK imagine vi gets pulled into being security to one of ur concerts and she's rly never been one for pop music but hey a job is a job and this beats slamming ppl in the interrogation room for info (although she does also love that) but like. JUST. she's so startled by how pretty you are on stage how you literally have this glow about you and yeah like she's heard OF you ur piltovers darling ur face plastered on every single ad from endorsing everything from shipping companies to like idk skincare but she's never paid much attention to that till she's standing in front of the pit, right under the stage where you're prancing around in this darling little magenta number the exact color of her hair with glitter on ur cheeks and later she's SHOCKED to see you in one of her normal watering holes in zaun cause??? what r you DOING here you look so out of place and she can tell you're a lil uncomfy but you're just wide eyed and curious and laughing at something someone is saying, and before she knows it she's pushing thru to get closer to you, overhears someone asking you if you've ever been underside before, to which you give some flirty cryptic answer but vi catches the pause in your voice that tells her there's more to the story.

when she finally managed to wedge herself into the slip of space that's opened up next to you at the bar she's figured out that one of your groupies was the one who dragged u down here w the promise of a good time, but she's off making out w some rando and you're trying ur best to not stick out too much, and she's about to shoot her shot when someone jostles you so you're toppling into her and she catches you so naturally catches a whiff of your rosewater perfume, barely has time to register how soft you are in her arms before your pulling back trying to apologize but ur palms are splayed against her sternum and one of her hands has somehow ended up on the bend of your hip and she truly cannot help but notice how your breath hitches as your eyes meet for the first time, so she tries not to look too smitten, pulls a signature smirk and says --

"hey princess, aren't you a little far from home?"

shed expected you to blush and stutter or try to pull away, but what she DOESNT expect is for you to smile right back, sweet and without a HINT of uncertainty --

"if i tell you im lost... will you take me to yours?"

[holylulusworld]

Indifferent (6)

Summary: Your father wanted a bond between you and the Barnes Empire. No matter what.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Characters: Captain Syverson

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, arguments, mafia au, strong reader, jealousy, language, mentions of domestic violence/slight violence against Bucky  

Catch up here: Indifferent (5)

Indifferent Masterlist

He drags you along the hallways, growling insults at Thor, who has already left the mansion. Bucky is seething and cannot contain his anger any longer.

Bringing a man to his home was a mistake you won’t make again. You crossed a line, and fear, Thor, will pay the price one day.

“I swear, if you do not let go of me, I’ll call my father. I’ll file for divorce and tell everyone that the reason was domestic violence.” You kick Bucky and slap him to break out of his iron grip. “They all were right. The worst thing you can do is to stay married to the wrong person!”

“You are the wrong person, not me,” Bucky yells and pushes you inside the bedroom you used to share. “Maybe you enchanted my mother, but I can see right through you. You’re nothing but a slut whoring her way around town while pretending to be underfucked.”

“You fucking asshole!” You slap his face hard. Gasping, you look at the angry handprint you left on his cheek. He doesn’t seem to mind. Bucky guides you toward the bed, smirking when you start to squirm harder in his hold. “Let me go!”

“From now on, you’ll sleep here. You won’t leave the house without me, and you won’t talk to my mother unless I’m around.”

You purse your lips and hold his gaze. “Make me, Barnes. Come on. Hurt me, leave bruises or a split lip. Do you think getting slapped by your mother and me hurts? Do you want my father to get his hands on you?”

Bucky leans closer to brush his nose over your cheek. He chuckles before whispering in your ear, “Your father permitted me to bend you to my will. I told him about your mishap with your masseur and that you refuse to give me an heir.”

You narrow your eyes. “Wow, you stooped so low? Really?” You shake your head. “Whenever I believe you could be a better man than you’d like to admit, you prove me wrong.” You chuckle humorlessly. “Did you tell Daddy that you refused to consummate our marriage? Did you tell him that you despise the thought of touching me?”

“I hate everything about you.” You flinch at his words. Even though you wanted to ignore his hurtful words, you felt an aching in your chest. You swallow thickly but stubbornly hold his gaze.

“Good,” you reply. “Then there will be no misunderstandings. I hate you too. There’s nothing lovable about you, either.”

“You’ll play by my rules from now on—no more meeting up with my mother. No more Thor putting his hands on my wife. No more talking back.”

You smirk darkly. “If you and Daddy get along so well, why don’t you both fuck yourselves, or each other?” Remembering the moves your bodyguard taught you, you jump into action.

The last thing Bucky expects is that you headbutt him. He drops his hands from your arms and back paddles.

“Fuck you!” He blocks your punch but doesn’t see the kick to his balls coming.

Bucky doesn’t know what hits him until he holds, once again, his crotch. He whines and watches you sidestep him. You spit onto the ground, next to him, openly disrespecting him.

“As long as you do not respect me,” you growl, “you won’t get shit in return. Go and make more plans with my father. You are both dead to me.”

You walk away with your head held high. Bucky Barnes won’t break you, and neither will your father. If they both want to fuck you over, you’ll pay them the hard way.

The next morning, your plan stands. This is your life, and you won’t waste more time on a man hurting and ignoring you all the time.

No more trying to get along with your husband.

No more playing the obedient daughter.

Your father wants to side with your husband, so be it. You’re not going to take shit from them any longer.

If you are going to go down, you will go down swinging.

Your bags are already packed, and your former bodyguard helped you carry them out of the mansion. He won’t leave your side and make sure you’re safe.

“You sure about this, sugar?” He dips his head to glance at you standing next to him. Sy is still a giant next to you. “I can still shoot his brain out.”

“My father would kill you,” you softly reply.

“I’m a freelancer now.” He shrugs. “And I’m not afraid of your old man, sugar. Tell me to break that bastard’s neck, and he’s gone. I know how to let a man disappear.”

You chuckle. Sy always had the power to make you laugh when you want to cry. “No. I only wanted someone around to keep him from stopping me from leaving.”

“If he dares to put his hands on you, I’ll break his neck.” Sy puts his hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing.

“Let’s just go. I placed the signed divorce papers on his desk. There’s nothing left to say but… fuck you…”

While Sy guides you out of the mansion, looking left and right at Bucky’s men, you feel hope for the first time since you married Bucky.

Tags in reblog.

[nemesyaaa]

idkkk if it's because i'm sick but it was really comforting for me to read this. or maybe i love fucked up angry rafe so much !! this was literally so fucking great, i cannot tell how much ! but i love how bold are your readers and didnt stand for rafe's shit. you're always doing such a nice job at this. and tysm for taking the time to writing this, and congrats again for your 5k !!! 💓 You're too good !!!

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second. — i'm sorry but seeing him like that ?? i really need to fuck with him so badly

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.” — anyways, he's so mean before all 😭😭 but damn its just turns me on AT this point

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?” — love when you dirty talk, but also love when you mad talking babe

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.” — that's m'y crazy boyfriend and i'm his biggest apologist 🫶🏿

okok hot cocoa and a movie w rafe and his gf on a late night drive maybe after a fight?????? 🤗🤗🤗 u can make it smutty or angsty or fluffy

i’m honestly thinking all three, angsty smutty fluff😏🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! bf!rafe, gf!reader, strong language, slight angst, piv sex, car sex, semi public sex, fluffy ending w soft!rafe<3

join the 5k celly here!

you lean your head against the window of your boyfriends truck, nothing but the low hum of the radio filling the tense silence that surrounds the two of you.

the night was going well, until it wasn’t. you and rafe argued a lot, but it had never reached the point it did tonight. the thoughts of all the harsh things you both spewed at one other makes your chest tighten.

you slowly lift your head from the window, chancing a glance at rafe. his body is tense, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white. you don’t miss the slight tick in his jaw, watching as he clenches and unclenches it, nostrils flaring as his eyes remain on the road, not bothering to even look your way for a second.

“rafe…” you whisper, shifting in your seat so you’re facing him completely.

his hard blue eyes glance at you for a second, quickly placing them back on the road before he speaks.

“what, y/n… i’m really not in the fucking mood to talk to you right now.”

you breathe out a sigh, rolling your eyes. “then why the fuck did we go on a drive, huh? if you can’t even fucking talk to me, what was the fucking point in this?”

his hands tighten around the steering wheel once more, a heavy sigh pushing from his chest.

“i needed to fucking clear my head, after you…” he pauses, trying to calm himself before continuing, “fuck, after you said some of the shit you did, throwing low blows about my relationship with my dad my way, telling me that i’m a fuck up, i needed to fucking get out of that house… you are the one who asked to come with me, i would’ve much preferred you stayed home.”

his words hit you hard, slapping you in the face and twisting tightly around your stomach. your face drops, a slight frown on your lips as tears begin to fill your eyes. you know you shouldn’t have thrown his strained relationship with his father in his face, using it as ammo in your ploy to hurt him, and you definitely shouldn’t have called him a fuck up, knowing full well he hears that enough from his father and a few others.

rafe wasn’t a fuck up— far from it actually— you were just so angry, the words spilled from your lips before you could even give them a second thought.

“rafe, i-” you begin, but his loud, booming voice rings through the air, cutting you off.

“just stop fucking talking! can you fucking do that, for once? just stop. fucking. talking,” he pauses, letting out a rough laugh, “i’m just gonna take you home, i can’t stand the sight of you right now, can’t stand your irritating fucking voice.”

you gasp, his words slicing right through your heart.

“fuck you, rafe! god, i’m trying to make things better, but you’re being a fucking dick! and you wonder why i said the shit i said earlier, it’s because you act like this! you’re a fucking child! learn to grow up and communicate.”

rafe slams on the breaks so hard you jolt forward, your palms slapping against the dash of the truck. you push back, eyes narrowed on him. “what the fuck, rafe! are you fucking crazy? fucking drive the truck, now!” you shout, hands shaking and breathing choppy.

he ignores you, simply pressing his foot on the gas and speeding down the road, his tires slightly screeching as he does. you press your back firmly against the seat, arms crossed over your chest as you watch dim street lights and dark outlines of the trees fly by.

rafe makes a sharp right turn, pulling his truck into an empty, dark parking lot. he places the truck in park, quickly killing the engine and tossing the keys to the floorboard. you run a hand down your face, a scoff leaving your lips.

“why the fuck are we here? take me the fuck home.”

he doesn’t answer, his silence slowly grating on your nerves.

“rafe! are you gonna say anythin-”

he cuts off your words, his hand reaching out and wrapping tightly around your throat. you wrap a hand around his wrist, trying to pry him off, but it’s no use. his fingers tighten around the expanse of your neck, pressing firmly into your pulse point. he gives a low hum, leaning his face in close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“god you’re fucking infuriating, such a fucking bitch sometimes,” he stops, his eyes flitting down to your lips, reveling in the way they’re slightly parted, loving the way your pulse beats rapidly against his fingers. his lips slightly brush against yours and you squeeze your thighs together. you need him, and you need him now. “what am i gonna do about that little fucking attitude of yours, hmm?”

your eyes find his, the normally bright and shining blue now dark. you inch your face closer to his the best you can, and it’s just enough to press your lips against his. rafe groans, releasing your throat, his hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you further into him. his tongue shoves its way past the seam of your lips, tangling with yours perfectly.

you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at the soft fabric of his shirt and pushing him back. both of your heavy breathing fills the cramped space of his truck, your eyes darting across his face, “rafe…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you say another word.

he fumbles with his belt, pulling it free from his jeans before popping the button and slowly guiding the zipper down. he removes the rough denim from his lower body, his boxers going with them. your mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock, his tip swollen and already dripping with his arousal. he reaches over the center console, hands gripping your hips tightly and yanking you into his lap.

a low groan escapes him when your covered core rubs across his length, making him twitch beneath you. his hands pull at the waistband of your cotton shorts and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down your legs. he tosses them into the passenger seat, one hand firmly gripping at your hip while the other fists his cock, jerking himself as he keeps eye contact with you.

“fuck me, rafe. please?”

the words barely leave your lips before he’s pushing the head into your drenched hole, bottoming out in seconds. you both groan in unison, the feel of his large cock stretching you and the way your pussy tightly grips his dick making all the anger from moments ago wash away.

rafe presses his lips against yours, his mouth devouring you as he holds onto your hips, keeping you still as he pounds himself inside you from below. the head of his cock repeatedly hits at that sweet spot inside you, your body shaking in his hold and sweet moans of pleasure falling past your lips.

“r-rafe.. oh, god.” you mumble against his lips.

he pulls back, hard blue eyes on yours as he continues to brutally fuck himself into you. your pussy pulsates around him, your clit throbbing. you remove his hands from your hips, running them up your sides and placing them up your shirt. he cups your breasts, squeezing at them harshly. you begin lifting your hips, slamming yourself back down on him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“fuck, baby. ‘m so sorry, ‘m so fuckin’ sorry.”

you press your forehead against his, your lips beginning to slowly trail across his jaw and down to his neck. your teeth lightly nip at his sweat slick skin, loving the reaction it pulls from him.

“‘m sorry, too, rafe. i love you. fuuuck, i love you.”

your body trembles beneath his hold, rafe’s hands slowly and softly roaming your body, drinking in every bit of you with his hands. “i love you, too.”

the band snaps, your pussy clenching tightly around rafe’s cock, your orgasm rushing through you with a call of his name. rafe isn’t too far behind you, his dick twitching inside you. he shoves himself deep inside you, a raspy moan falling from him as he paints your inner walls white with his seed.

his body falls limp beneath you, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lie your head on his chest. his fingers begin to trace lazy shapes on your back, lips kissing softly at the space between your neck and shoulder.

you break the silence first, “i’m really sorry… i- i didn’t mean anything i said, i just-”

he lifts his head, cupping your face in his hands as he forces your eyes on his. “i know. i’m sorry too, i love you, y/n. i really fucking do.”

you smile down at him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. he pulls his hands from your face, allowing you to rest your head on his chest again. you find comfort in the silence this time, the strong beat of his heart against your face making your insides warm.

tagging a few moots: @starkeysprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesangelita @rafeyscurtainbangs @drewsarms @drewsephrry @bloodibambiidoll @babygorewhore @nemesyaaa @httpsdrewstarkey @redhead1180 @rafeinterlude

[cheer-nympho]

Steve had been conned into chaperoning the kids to a ren faire.

Admittedly with very little resistance, but he was keeping that to himself. Once there and with their bags packed away into some apparently theme appropriate tents he had shrugged on some medieval casual clothes and…immediately lost track of all of them,

But a figure he did spot was a long haired Jester entertaining a small entourage with juggling,

Steve finds himself laughing slightly condescendingly at the jingling man. Why do people find juggling so impressive?

He picked it up straight away with some hackey sacks while bored between practices. He’s just good with his hands.

When he looks back up to get another glance in however, the jester isn’t perched on top of his little rock anymore and the crowd has merged with the other dweebs.

Steve stares at the empty space for a moment before a jingle right by his ear spooks him into turning around.

“Art thou not impressed by my amazing skills, your lordship?” The jester asks, swaying on his feet and causing the bells all over him to ping, grin wide and mocking.

And up close Steve notices one very important, very dangerous thing.

This court jester is really fucking hot.

He looks like an idiot, a nerd, a dweeb. Its hard not to in a pointy hat. But he also wore it too well, looked too perfect like that.

Steve notices the…is that..? Yes, the corset wrapping tightly around the mans waist, red and black diamonds decorating the sides and leading to small puffy shorts. His legs are covered in tight black leggings which should look ridiculous. It should.

An obnoxious cough and head tilt-jingle make Steve aware that he has been staring at the mans waist for way longer than was ‘bro code permitted’

He looks up with a wince, expecting a look of disgust ranging from mild embarrassment to punch-your-lights-out.

He was, instead, greeted by a smug and knowing smile. The red and black triangles painted over the mans eyes warped where the grin reached them. “Or maybe thou art impressed, but skills are not what draw thine eyes.”

Shit. Fuck. The stupid hot nerd is using stupid nerd speak on him. And Steves stupid nerd, apparently ‘very accurate’ pants are getting tighter. He needs to say something. Anything.

“You’ve got…bells.” Okay, maybe not anything. He used to be better at this shit.

He is rewarded with a wild, joyous laugh as the jester throws his head from side to side. “I do! Isn’t it amazing?The staff insisted on it so they could hear me coming.”

“It certainly makes an impression-“

“Eddie, names Eddie. And what does my lordship go by?”

“Steve is fine.”

“That he is…” The comment was punctuated by a less than subtle glance, almost a leer. “However, Fine Steve seems unimpressed with my merrymaking. As the official court jester, I cannot let that stand.” He stamps his foot, causing another cacophony of jingles.” “Therefore…”

“…Pick a card any card!” A pack of standard cards was presented to him with a flourish, but all he could do was roll his eyes.

“Come on, really? This shit is basic. All I have to do it watch your hands. You’ll swipe my card out and put it back in later, or mark it somehow.”

“Ooo his highness has it all figured out doesn’t he. Well then, princess, you have nothing to lose by picking a card, do you?” And that was…true. Plus he could maybe try to fix his previous fumble and try to claw a number out of this disaster.

So with another bitchy roll of his eyes, Steve plucks a card from the deck and hides it behind his palm. Two of Hearts.

Then out of nowhere… “You know, Stevie, if you think I’m pretty you can just tell me. I know the kingdom would approve not of a noble like yourself marrying a commoner like me, but they need know little of how we…” He begins to reshuffle the cards, motioning for Steve to place his chosen one back in before making some very obvious, very crude movements with his fingers. “…get to know each other in the meantime.”

He was going to die. In the middle of a nerd fest.

“Well, my lord…” Eddie continues, circling him while dragging a finger across his arms and shoulder blades before coming to a stop in front of him. A very bold hand takes Steves jaw and forces his head up, pretending to inspect something on his costume for any bystanders.

“If you would like some more…close up demonstrations…” He leans in tightly, still holding Steve’s jaw in a tight grip. “You can pay me a visit in staff cabin 23 tonight.” He strokes a piece of hair gently behind Steve’s ear before pulling out a card, as if from said ear.

Steve was glad that Eddie took the initiative to carefully pull his hand up and place the card into his palm, because currently Steve was too preoccupied with staring like a fish out of water into Eddies eyes. Everything about him was just so captivating, so alive.

Maybe that’s why he did little more than step forward aimlessly, with small grabby hands when Eddie pulled away. Before Steve could even process it, the bells and jingles had mingled back into the crowd. But that was…that was okay. Cause he could go to the…cabin?

But how was he supposed to- Oh. He looks down. On the card was a loosely clipped room key with a ‘23’ crudely engraved into the edge as if by a pocket knife.

The card itself, to his horror, was the Two of Hearts.

Shit.

He forgot to watch the fucking hands.

[hedwig221b]

Witch or magical Stiles recs..?

Hi! I did magical!Stiles fic recs here! This time, let's focus on witch!Stiles (my beloved)

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles' skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he's even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There's something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can't help wondering if magic might be involved.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.” “Back.” “From the dead.” “Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.” Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You by literaryoblivion

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.

The Ink Under My Skin by rainsoakedshoes

Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. “I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Destiny is the Rising Sun by asswords

Stiles and Derek are best at keeping secrets – the biggest one being the fact that they knew each other long before Scott had to go and become a werewolf. (The second biggest secret belongs to Stiles, something about how he’s not allowed to tell Derek he’s the trusted advisor and kind of a witch.)

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

These Scars Tell A Story (But It’s Not Mine) by HappyJuicyfruit

Derek’s eyes widened in confusion as Stiles babbled at him. “I know it’s not up to you, but you’re like, my guard, right? You’ve been keeping an eye on me? Tell your mom I wouldn’t lie about this, my dad deserves to stay here. He’s happy here, please let him stay!” Guard? Keeping an eye on him? “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles face crumpled, his hands clung to Derek’s shirt tighter as tears and snot dripped off his chin. Derek frantically tries to think of the right thing to say. “You think- you think I’m your guard? That I’ve been watching you to, what, make sure you don’t do any magic? Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Beacon Hills is a sanctuary for supernaturals. We allow people to use their magic. I was just trying to be your friend.” Stiles breath hitched. “My friend?”

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[miaountainmama]

sharp

characters: boothill, gn!reader contains: little angst that's resolved by the end. boothill is terrified of love

wc: 1148

a/n: i love boothill so much that i needed to write something with thought and emotion and not just smut. i have 3 other boothill fics in the works because i keep getting ideas. girl help

You have always loved softly. You know this, have embraced it, giving your soft touches and quiet words freely. Boothill has forgotten how to love. It has been so long since he loved that his love has turned sharp, pierces through his heart and wounds him so deeply he can’t stand it. He cannot recall how to love like you do anymore— he can only scream the depths of his affection from the rooftops, harsh and loud, and hold you so tightly he swears you’ll break. He has become so sharp he’s afraid, afraid he’ll puncture your soft skin, afraid the razor edge of his smile will leave you bleeding.

Fear doesn’t suit Boothill, but you see it in every glance he gives you. It drives you insane, the way his expression sobers when he’s around you. That near-constant smile of his drops clean from his face, turning into the gentle slope of a frown that just doesn’t look right on him. Existing in the same room as him has become suffocating, the sheer longing in his being crashing from his body in waves so strong they’re capable of sending you to your knees. Still, he withdraws-- his touches have become few and far between, and when you tell him you love him, that look of anguish he gives you nearly breaks you.

“I’m not fragile, you know. You’re not going to snap me in half,” you tell him, stepping closer to him, and it doesn’t escape you the way that he leans back slightly, that all familiar expression bubbling up in his eyes.

“I… I can’t, darlin’,” he says in return, voice laced with yearning that he refuses to address, and your own eyes turn desperate, though you know you can’t force anything. You want to reach out and grab him so badly, to press yourself against him and thread your hands through his hair and tell him it’s okay, that you know he would never hurt you on purpose, that anything he does you can take-- but you know it’ll make it worse. You know it’ll drive the knife in his heart a thousand times deeper.

Instead, you reach out your hand.

He looks at it questioningly, lips slightly parted in a question, and you just gesture until he gets the memo-- you would almost think his mechanics were malfunctioning, the way his hand stutters on the way to yours, and when his fingers brush against yours ever so lightly you smile at him, a smile so soft and patient he feels like a wounded animal before you. Gently, you lead him to the couch, sitting down and motioning for him to sit beside you. He does, taking a seat right in the middle of the late afternoon sun filtering through the blinds, and it lights his hair up golden.

“Do you love me, Boothill?” you start simply, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that this man was head over heels for you. He nods, not a sliver of hesitation running through his veins.

“More than life itself,” he says, and you hum in acknowledgement. You run your thumb over his knuckles, and that everlasting ache in his eyes intensifies.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you ask, and he goes silent. His head dips, and you can feel him struggle, at war with his own thoughts.

“I ain’t too good with words, darlin’,”, he admits, and you don’t miss that little undercurrent of shame in his tone. You tilt your head slightly, leaning back slightly to make yourself just a bit more comfortable in the cushions.

“Think about it. I can wait as long as you need,” you say, and his gaze flickers up to meet yours for a moment before it goes back to your hands resting softly on each other. He takes a minute or so, refusing to make eye contact for its entirety and then some.

“You don’t deserve a man like me,” he starts, and you huff, rolling your eyes. Of course he would land on a reason so basic and absurd. No, you needed him to unpack that a little more, dive a bit deeper.

“Why?” you probe further, and he takes another pause.

“I ain’t fit for much but shootin’ these days, darlin’. Haven’t loved anything in so long I think I’ve forgotten how.” He’s still looking at anything but your face, and it’s almost boyish, the way he’s near hiding. You reply as easily as breathing.

“You can always relearn,” you say, and his eyes finally snap to yours.

“What if I mess up? What if I hurt you?” he says, urgent, and your voice is ever calm in contrast. You send him another small smile.

“Oh, you will,” you say with finality, and his face scrunches up-- he moves to pull away his hand, but you’ve suddenly tightened your grip, and he gives up and leaves it there without too much resistance. You’re too calm about this, too willing.

“Then why would I-”

“Boothill,” you interrupt, and he shuts up the moment the words leave your mouth. “Did you make mistakes when you became a parent?”

Understanding the point you’re getting at, he frowns. “Of course I did, but-”

“Do you regret it then? Being her dad?”

That stops him in his tracks.

“Of course not. I… she was my little girl, darlin’, my pride and joy,” he says, and you can hear the hurt in his voice, the wistfulness as he’s taken many years into the past. Part of you regrets bringing her up, but you know he needs a personal analogy to get out of the headspace he’s in and she’s the only example you can think of.

“Then do you regret loving me?” you ask quietly.

“There is not a single damn reality where I regret loving you, darlin’,” he answers you, face dead serious, and it soothes your heart. That’s all the answer you need from him and he knows it-- you just look at him, face softening as you wait for him to connect the dots and piece together what you’re implying.

That it’s worth it. That a life in which you have loved and experienced pain is worth more than a thousand lifetimes without loving. That mistakes are inevitable and a part of anything. That you know all this and have accepted it wholly-- have accepted him wholly, him in all his imperfections. 

He looks back at you. He looks back at you and swears he sees the whole world-- you in the sunlight, infinitely forgiving and merciful, and he nearly renounces his faith then and there. Forget the Hunt-- forget Lan, forget any Aeon and the paths they have built. Compared to the divinity before him, they are nothing, and he knows his heart must answer in kind.

He reaches out tentatively to touch your face, and you swear you melt.

[angelltheninth]

Gentle Prince

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cuddlefucking, aftercare, cockwarming, breeding kink, marks, creampie, caring!Daemon, husband!Daemon

Word count: 0.6k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: It's gonna be nothing but smut these next few days I'm afraid.

His breath is still hot against your ear, his grunts sending more tingles down your spine as his hands finally loosen their hold on your hips. He pulls away, his forehead briefly leaning against yours, "I'm afraid I got a little carried away with you darling. How do you feel?" His eyes are still almost entirely backed out, his lips grazing your own, almost making you want more.

You would take more if you could. "Tired." You breathe out a sigh, "I think we both got carried away. I can't even move. My body feels so heavy. But it's a good kind." Daemon huffs out a lough as he leans down a kisses your cheek.

You feel him shifting on top of you and instinctively wrap your legs around him. The fact that you did it so easily, without him even asking just goes to show how used you are to doing so.

"It's alright sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here. Inside you where I belong." He jolts his hips into you, making you gasp from how overstimulated you are, "Where my cum belongs."

You tighten around him, just thinking about feeling so full for the rest of the night makes your head spin and your body light up from the inside all over again. "Then maybe you should stay put, my prince."

"I plan to. But that doesn't mean my hands or mouth have to be. I have much to make up for. All these bruises and marks on you, someone has to kiss them better. It's my job as your husband to take care of you after all." He leans down and kisses the bite mark on your neck as his hands smooth over your bruised hips, down to massage your tense thighs, "To worship you."

For a few minutes you allow your body to relax, to enjoy the soft kisses and touches. The way he touches you now is so different from before. He was almost feral, rutting into you, telling you how good you look underneath him, full of his cock, how well he did to chose you, how good you are at taking his seed, how pretty you'll look when you're properly breed by him, cum spilling out everywhere between your trembling legs.

He treated you like he wanted to break you in half. And now he's being so gentle, the only evidence of the wild lovemaking being the marks he left, the warm cum filling up your pussy hole and the messy sheets and pillows.

"Darling... hm... you're going to get me hard again if you keep fluttering around me like that. Are you that insatiable?" You can hear the strain, as well as the slight anticipation in Daemon's voice. And if the slight throb of his dick is anything to go by he wouldn't mind going again either.

"Me? I was not the one who fucked the other back into consciousness. Do you have any idea what that feels like? How long was I out for anyways?" Daemon tilts his head a little, his damp hair falling over his forehead before you run your fingers through it.

"Thank you love." He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of your touch, "To answer your questions, you were out for a very short time. I barely had the time to get myself hard again. And no, I cannot say I've ever been fucked back into consciousness. Perhaps we should try it sometime, if you think you think you can make me black out that is."

You smirk and run your hands down his back, making him his as you press the pads of your fingers across the scratch marks you made there, "I'm always up for a challenge."

Daemon smiles, not grins but smiles, so soft and bright that one would not think him capable of it just going off rumors of him. You certainly didn't see him capable of such soft gestured when you first met. You've very glad that you decided to stick around to find out about them.

[joocomics]

ಬ be quiet (or not)

pairing: non-idol!ten x fem!reader

genre: smut — mdni! wc: 953

contains: university au, sub!reader, usage of toys (vibrator), exhibitionism kink, dirty talk, light humiliation kink

[ wayv masterlist | general masterlist ]

“I will move my hand now,” Ten warns you, but his low voice with an evident sneering tone makes it sound more like a command than anything else; a command he knows you’d suck at following.

It sounds like I want to see you try and fail.

His bold eyes peer into yours in attempt to read your answer in the way they are glazed over with arousal. It’s a small plaything that’s working between your legs, but with a strong impact on your whole body, causing your gaze to be constantly refocusing on the view in front of you, more specifically on him from different angles as you’re locked inside the bathroom.

“You probably know how to keep quiet since you brought this little thing with you.” Ten’s hand retrieves and he cannot help but grin when he catches you desperately tucking your lip between your teeth to avoid making a sound the second he uncovers your mouth. “C’mon, tell me… Why do you have this in your bag anyway?”

The same warmth that overflowed your body when you ran into him on the stairs earlier spreads beneath your skin once again. How come you forget to zip up your bag once and out of all things you keep inside your vibrator is what falls out of it? And out of all people in this building he’s the one to witness it?

However, the feeling of indignity you suffered from in that particular situation which led to this present moment lingers differently now… and you’re enjoying it rather than wanting to escape from it.

“It’s just…” you speak up quietly, “I’ve been feeling stressed out lately.”

“So you hide and touch yourself in public?” His eyes widen with a sparkling glow, the same way they did when he picked up your toy to observe it up close. It’s a discreet size, but there was no way he could ignore it while helping you gather your stuff.

“I—“ you gulp after an unsuccessful attempt to respond. The effects of the vibrations are causing moans to rise into your throat. “I’ve never done it h-here. Just in my car.”

You look at Ten with more concentration after his finger lifts your chin higher. He’s attractive, he really is. Especially when he’s smirking at you condescendingly like that and you can’t do anything except anticipate his next move or his next teasing question.

The son of the dean of this university… If you could turn back time to tell your past self that one day you’re going to find yourself hidden in the campus bathroom with him while everyone else is in class you wouldn’t believe yourself.

“No, I get it, baby,” Ten nods as a gesture of rapport. “It’s exam season, that’s always stressful, isn’t it?” The artificial concern drips from his voice, erotic and tempting in a way you cannot describe.

The small space of the cubicle is making you both feel hotter and you can sense sweat growing on your neck as the buzzing sensation starts to burn in your core.

You move the vibrating head in a slow circle, doubling the pressure on your clit by pressing harder.

“I’m close—“ You whisper the same moment Ten leans in with a hand against the wall behind you where your figure is quivering from the approaching high.

His gaze lowers all the way down to your panties stretched from your ankles. They have a dark spot, a result from the few minutes you spent making out before he turned on your personal toy.

“I think I’m gonna keep those.” He says as you pant into his face; his expression changes into something completely new once your free hand grasps on his hoodie. He swallows the reckless urge forming inside him at the same pace as his erection throbs - stimulated even further from the pretty way you’re breaking down for his eyes only. “I want to make sure that you’re really gonna come over at my place tonight.”

A high pitched sound echoes throughout the tiled walls, but there was no time to prevent it as Ten’s fingers slip inside you without a warning, eager to speed up the process of reaching your climax, but also unable to stop wondering how you feel down there.

“Fuck—“ he mutters in one breath, guiding his lips against yours, but without actually touching them, “you’re perfect for my cock, pretty.”

“I will—“ you mewl in a delayed response while quickening the circles on your sensitive point. Your eyes are squeezed shut as your tummy tightens from the gliding movements that excite your walls with each rub.

“Good.” Ten chuckles amused by your reactions, by your neediness, before his voice turns firm again. “I’m gonna teach you how to actually keep quiet. A perverted girl like you needs a lesson or two.”

You’re unsure if it was just a coincidence or if his words were what pushed you over the edge, but seconds later, you cum around his curled fingers, making him snicker again; this time with your efforts to endure the sensation as calmly as possible which were quite pathetic.

“Tsk, almost got us caught.” He grabs your face with a quick domineering grip almost as if he wants to look at you carefully one more time so he can make sure he has all its details memorised.

Fortunately, the rush washed over you just in time for him to go.

In eight minutes lectures will start coming to an end, and as the son of the dean, he wants to save himself the trouble of being seen leaving the women’s bathroom with a boner and a pair of panties in the back pocket of his jeans.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[aurumacadicus]

Remember this post? Anyway I finished binging Miss Fisher again again.

—

Steve had thought that he’d touch base with the event planner once they got Tony’s reluctant permission to run their counter-operation. Instead, he got called into the conference room with Peggy and Natasha, where they sat in various levels of impatience and confusion for twenty minutes before Coulson opened the door and dipped himself into a slight bow. “This way, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re cute when you have to treat me with respect,” Tony purred, tipping his head to give Coulson a wink. “Might have to snatch you from that cellist in Portland.”

Coulson looked simultaneously exhausted and amused. “If you meant that, I’d run screaming for the hills.”

“Rude!” Tony scoffed, but he didn’t look put out. He turned his attention to the conference room, mouth spreading into a wide, bright smile. “Oh! You actually came.”

“You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, Tony,” Peggy said sharply.

Tony shrugged, not looking scared at all as he strutted further into the room and slammed the thick binder he was carrying on the table. Steve stared at it, for some reason feeling daunted. It hadn’t been slammed because Tony was angry. It had been slammed because it was heavy. He feared his next few nights would be spent cramming whatever information Tony had brought into his memory.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Tony answered when Peggy began tapping her heel impatiently. His welcoming smile was gone, replaced with an unimpressed, flat line. “And let’s be clear, here, Ms. Carter: If you expect to be able to attend my charity gala, you have to play ball with me.”

“Tony,” Peggy began, though Steve couldn’t tell if she was angry about the threat or being called ‘Ms. Carter.’

“I think you misunderstand how much power you have here,” Tony cut in, brows furrowing down into a scowl. “It’s my mother’s gala, and I’m in charge. I could have any SHIELD agent you send barred from entering. There is nothing you can do to force your way in. I have been coordinating this gala for seven months, four under my mother’s careful eye, and I think I should be clear about this, too: My mother is angry at you, too.”

Peggy gaped at him for a moment, and only after he opened his thick binder and began looking through papers did she manage to bark out, “WHY?!”

Tony slanted a glance up at her, then looked back down at his papers. “Do you think I invited you to anything of importance without my mother’s permission? You didn’t even send your regrets for missing my coming out party.” He looked back up at her, cheek twitching against the urge to smile. “She could forgive all the other invitations, they were informal, but to not even RSVP to her only son’s coming out party was a step too far.”

“I can’t stand it,” Peggy hissed, but she did look slightly regretful.

Tony shrugged, unperturbed. “Maybe you’re lucky it’s me. I think Mom would have taken your head clean off your shoulders if she saw you in her house. Here it is!” He smiled smugly and pulled a paper from a plastic sleeve, slapping it onto the table between all of them. “You’ll need this when you go get your clothes.”

“SHIELD has perfectly adequate facilities for making sure our agents fit in undercover,” Peggy began.

Tony rolled his eyes, hard. “Oh my god, Aunt Peggy, you cannot show up to a gala in government-salary clothes when the going rate is ten thousand dollars a plate.”

Against his will, Steve let out a sound as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He felt like he had. He was well aware of the fact that inflation was a thing. He’d been about knocked on his ass when he’d finally been allowed to go grocery shopping and found a carton of milk was almost four dollars. He knew he had a knee-jerk reaction based on his forties sensibilities, but ten thousand dollars still seemed like an awful fucking lot. He glanced at Peggy and Natasha. Natasha didn’t look shocked, but Peggy’s face twitched minutely before relaxing back into an impassive mask. She might have known it would cost, but not that much.

“That’s part of the reason I’m late,” Tony continued, mercifully only sparing him a slightly-disgusted look before he turned his attention back to flipping through his binder. “This close to the gala, all of the tailors you can afford are packed. But I have a friend willing to fit you in as a favor to me. She can make your agents look bespoke while still leaving room for your weapons. She thinks it will be a fun challenge.” He made a face at one of the papers, then flipped the page with a snap that seemed offended, somehow. “Unfortunately, because you left your request so late, she’s only able to fit in two suits and one dress. She could perhaps squeeze in a third suit, but you didn’t hear that from me. Just make sure to flatter her a lot and she’ll probably do it.”

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha finally said.

Tony paused, slanting his gaze in her direction. When she didn’t continue, he added, “Yesss?”

“When you said you’d have any SHIELD agent barred, how could you be so sure?” she asked after a small pause.

Tony blinked at her, confused, before answering, “Oh, I hacked into SHIELD years ago.”

Peggy immediately swiveled her gaze toward him, aghast. The shock quickly gave way to anger, though, and she began, “Anthony Edward Stark—”

Tony scowled back. “I fixed the holes in your security once I was in, I don’t see what the problem is. Maybe if you came to one of my dissertations, you would have known it was in cyber security.”

Peggy stared at him, apparently too shocked and appalled to even speak.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “Cyber security? That’s… neat. I’m sure that’s why Stark Industries’ firewall is so. Robust?”

Tony turned to blink at him, ire giving way to confusion. “Did you just call a firewall robust?”

“I’m not a tech guy,” Steve grumbled immediately.

“Anyway yes. It is,” Tony said, dismissing him as quickly as he’d paid attention to him. “Don’t send Roger. The debutantes will eat him alive.”

Steve wondered if leaving people speechless and whiplashed was an omega thing or just something entirely unique to the Stark family. He was offended, but he also never would have imagined what to say.

Natasha’s lips spread into a smug grin. “Oh, but Mr. Stark. Surely you’re still looking for a date.”

Tony turned his attention to her, finally looking at least slightly wrong-footed and somewhat offended. “Why would you assume that about me?”

“You’ve been working tirelessly for seven months to set up this gala to make your mother proud,” she continued, ignoring his question expertly. “You haven’t had time to do the requisite song and dance expected from people of your… tax bracket.” She glanced at Steve, looking like the cat who got the cream, and he felt a terror fill him that he couldn’t quite understand. “But if you arrive with Roger, it’ll explain why you haven’t looked for a date. You’re unmarried, Mr. Stark. Surely by showing up stag to the event you planned, unmated alphas will be champing at the bit to be able to be your dance partner for the night. You wouldn’t be able to do any investigative work because you’d be getting your toes stomped on the dance floor the entire night. And Roger might insult one of your wealthy omega friends accidentally. He’s not good at flirting on a good day, and with high society omegas, he’d absolutely tank the donations you would receive, because how could you let such a buffoon into your event?”

“Buffoon,” Steve repeated, offended, but she just shrugged in a ‘but am I wrong?’ kind of way.

Tony was slowly beginning to lose his cool, Steve noticed when he turned to tell him he wasn’t actually hopeless at glad-handing and his ‘aw shucks’ vibe actually seemed to delight most omegas. His knuckles had gone white with how tightly he’d gripped them into fists, and his cheeks had flushed the tiniest shade of pink. He couldn’t keep a smug or even blasé look on his face, and reluctantly, he turned his gaze on Steve. Finally, he ground out, “If Jan says it’s okay,” then slammed the binder shut and shoved it across the table to Peggy. “Make your agents study that like it’s the bible,” he added sharply. “If even one complaint gets to me about how they’ve insulted someone, I’ll tank your entire system, including backups.”

“Tony,” Peggy tried, but he was already up out of his seat and storming out the door. Even Coulson looked startled when the door banged off of the wall with the force of him opening it.

Steve got the sinking feeling that Tony really didn’t like to lose and he was going to make them pay dearly for being right about his dates.

“Howard and Maria are going to be so furious when they see your pictures in the paper, Steve,” Peggy said, anger giving way to despair, and Steve had no idea why she was so worried about that when she should be worried about Tony stabbing him at the gala.

[lov3notts]

where do i begin!!! first thank you for writing it better than i could imagined!!!! it made my heart ache so much🥹(in the best way possible)

"You moved on pretty fucking quick, considering my head was between your legs just last night."

shit is about to go downnn

"Don't," he bit out, his voice tight with pain and anger. "Just…don't."

i feel so bad 😔😔

"Why do you always have to ruin everything?"

oh god that was harsh

His eyes widened slightly. "What?" he asked, his voice cracking.

AHHH MY HEART CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE

"Hate me, hurt me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Just... don't leave me."

THE LINESSSSS, BABE MY HEART

"Tell me how much you want it."

love how you broke my heart then served smut🤌🏻

"I want to look you in the eyes when I make you cum. You know why? Because this means you're fucking choosing me."

idk about y’all but something is purring…& i don’t have a pet cat

But a loud, abrupt knock at the door shattered the stillness.

NOOOOOO!!!! please not enzo ,please

"It was never going to be me, was it?"

babe why 😔😔😔poor enzo

ᯓᡣ𐭩 babe i cannot express how much your good your writing is☹️ i know this was supposed to be a drabble so thank you for taking the time on making it a masterpiece 🙂‍↕️ sending lots of hugs & kisses🥹💋

1k celebration navigation

based on this request from @lov3notts — enjoy bb 💋 it got pretty long but… what can i say? the request was too good!

disclaimer: not all works for my 1k celebration request will be this long, this one was just special <3

18+ warnings ; angst , smut , oral (f receiving) , unprotected piv , fingering

FAULT LINE… book browsing

THEODORE NOTT. LORENZO BERKSHIRE.

You didn’t know how you got here. One moment, you’d been exchanging sharp words with Theodore Nott, and the next, your back hit the sheets of his bed, his hands grasping your hips with a quiet desperation he’d never admit aloud.

All you could focus on was the heady pull of his mouth, the damp trail of sloppy, bruising kisses he was leaving along the sensitive skin of your thighs. He’d barely given you a second to think, to breathe, before he’d dipped down, fingers splaying possessively against your skin, his face between your legs like it was the only place he wanted to be. The world shrank down to the muffled sound of your own moans, of Theo’s name falling from your lips in a mess of breaths you couldn’t seem to steady. It felt dangerous, maybe because this was already the fifth time this month.

“God, you’re loud today,” he mumbled against you, though the way he held you in place made it clear he wouldn’t have it any other way. There was an edge of something heated in his voice, a spark of unspoken emotion that made you wonder if you were losing your mind, or if he felt it too.

And yet, Theo would never admit anything. To him, this was casual, a dangerous game you both pretended to play out of boredom or maybe lust, like it was just one of those strange things that happened between people who didn’t like each other. And it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, right?

You weren’t supposed to find yourself wishing he’d keep his hands on you just a moment longer. But as he glanced up with that familiar cocky smirk and an unreadable glint in his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you asked for more.

Only, you already knew the answer—he’d laugh, probably say something mocking, and pull away.

Or worse, he wouldn’t.

"Shut up," you hissed back, your voice strained with pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging roughly. "You love it when I'm loud."

It was true, and you both knew it. Every time you did this, every filthy word and wanton moan, it only seemed to fuel his hunger. You could see it in the way he devoured you, like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satiate him.

But that was impossible. This was just sex, nothing more. A way to pass the time, to blow off steam. You fucking hated each other, after all. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourselves.

When the haze faded and reality settled in, you felt that familiar pang of regret creeping in. This arrangement with Theo always left you feeling raw, shaky. And while you tried to ignore it, the constant sneaking around and the secrecy wore on you more than you’d ever let him know.

“Alright, I should go,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze as you pushed yourself up, gathering your scattered clothes from around the room.

“Leaving already?” Theo’s voice had that casual, mocking lilt, but there was something colder beneath it. He propped himself up on one elbow, watching you with a look that felt a little too intent. “Got somewhere more important to be?”

“Yes,” you replied, fastening your shirt with sharp, decisive movements. “Actually, I do.” The answer was a little too defensive, a little too true, and you knew he’d pick up on it.

Theo’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned back with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I see. Out to meet your precious Enzo, I’m guessing?”

The way he said Lorenzo’s name—Enzo, like it was laced with poison—made you bristle. You finished buttoning up your shirt, feeling your stomach twist with anger you didn’t want to admit to. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you replied, keeping your tone cool and detached. “But yes, actually. He’s my best friend, Theo. Not that you’d know what that’s like.”

Theo’s face darkened, though he hid it behind a lazy laugh. “Of course. How convenient for him. Guess he’ll never know how often you come running here before you run to him, will he?”

The accusation in his voice cut deep, and before you could stop yourself, you snapped, “Believe me, you’re the last person I’d brag about.”

Theo’s jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to hurt. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but then he just shrugged, the motion stiff and forced. “Right. Well, thanks for reminding me of my place.”

His voice was cold, bitter, and it stung more than you wanted to admit. Theo stood, grabbing his own clothes and starting to dress without looking at you. “Don’t let me keep you, then.”

He turned away from you, reaching for his cigarettes on the nightstand. You watched him light one up, taking a long drag before he spoke again, his voice carefully neutral. “See you around.”

The tension was thick enough to choke on, and for a moment, you thought about staying, about explaining something even you didn’t fully understand. But you forced yourself to look away, heading toward the door before he could see the uncertainty in your expression.

Out in the corridor, the cool air stung, clearing the last remnants of Theo’s touch from your skin. But you hadn’t taken more than a few steps before you froze, your heart stuttering in your chest.

Standing a few feet away, arms crossed and brows raised, was Lorenzo.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low, his usual warmth replaced with confusion. “What the hell were you doing in there?”

Panic flared in your chest as you struggled to keep your face calm, fumbling for something—anything—to explain. “Oh, um…” You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded more natural than it felt. “Just, uh, tutoring Theo.”

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, unconvinced. “At eleven o’clock at night?” His tone was skeptical, and he studied your face with a concern that only deepened when he noticed you wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You were tutoring the guy you say you can’t stand?”

Heat crept up your neck as you tried to keep your voice even. “It’s just… well, he needed some help with Charms,” you stammered, giving a weak shrug. “You know how he struggles with it.”

“Since when do you care about his grades?” Lorenzo pressed, eyes narrowing. “Or about anything Nott needs?”

A wave of guilt crashed over you, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze, giving him what you hoped was an exasperated eye-roll. “Lorenzo, it’s not that deep,” you lied, pushing your hands into your pockets to keep them from fidgeting. “He asked for help, and I’m just trying to be… nice.”

Lorenzo stepped closer, his brow furrowed with suspicion. "Come on, don't play dumb with me," he said softly, his tone less accusatory now, but still stern. "I'm not an idiot, Y/N. I know you too well. There's clearly something going on."

He reached out, gently grasping your chin and tilting your face up to force eye contact. "Tell me the truth," he urged, his brown eyes searching yours intensely. "Is there... something between you and him?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the question, and for a moment, you simply stared at him, mouth agape. "What? No!" you finally managed to splutter out, pulling away from his touch. "Absolutely not! I still hate him, alright? I was just doing him a favor. That's all."

But the denial rang hollow, even to your own ears.

Lorenzo held your gaze for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, but there was a tightness around his eyes that betrayed his skepticism. "Right. Of course. I won't make you talk about it if you don't want to, Y/N," he said quietly. "But I'm not stupid, and I know you better than anyone. So if there's something going on..." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. "Just... remember who your real friends are, okay?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, tossing your hands up in exasperation. "Look, Enzo, nothing's going on with Theo, alright? It really was just tutoring." You crossed your arms tightly, your jaw set stubbornly. "Can we please just drop it and go to your dorm?”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and started walking down the corridor, your shoes snapping sharply against the stone floor. You could feel Lorenzo's eyes boring into your back, could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to puzzle out the truth.

Lorenzo watched you walk away for a long moment, conflict evident on his features. Finally, he sighed heavily and fell into step beside you, his longer strides easily matching your pace. "Fine," he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "We'll drop it. For now."

The following day passed in a blur, your thoughts clouded with the tension from the night before. Lorenzo’s suspicion lingered in the back of your mind, a constant, nagging weight. You’d brushed it off as best you could, but you knew him too well to think he’d let it go for good.

The party was already in full swing by the time you and Lorenzo arrived, the Slytherin common room buzzing with energy. Music pulsed through the air, mingling with laughter and the faint scent of firewhiskey.

You and Lorenzo found yourselves in a corner of the room, tucked away from the loudest part of the crowd. He had stuck close to your side all evening, his arm brushing against yours occasionally as you moved through the crowd together. 

You were leaning in, listening intently as Lorenzo spun a tale of all the things that went wrong during his Quidditch practice the other day, when it suddenly hit you—the way his breath warmed your ear, the subtle scent of his cologne, the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours. He was so fucking close.

A shiver ran down your spine, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else—the music, the noise, the presence of others nearby.

Lorenzo smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corners. He took a sip from his cup before he set it down on the edge of the table.

“You know, you’ve been different lately,” he said suddenly, his tone softer, quieter, cutting through the noise around you. His words made you freeze, the playful grin slipping from your face.

“What do you mean?” 

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your temple as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear.  “I mean… you’ve seemed distant,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours, his voice barely above the hum of the music. “Like there’s something you’re not telling me. But I don’t care, Y/N. Whatever it is… I don’t care. I just want you to know I’m here.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in the pit of your stomach, and you blinked up at him, completely caught off guard. Your brain scrambled for something to say, anything to break the tension that had suddenly thickened between you. “Uh, Lorenzo, what—”

But before you could finish, his hands cupped your face, his touch firm but gentle as he leaned in. His lips captured yours in a kiss so sudden and so passionate, it stole the breath from your lungs. His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer as his other hand slipped to your waist, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You froze for a moment, your mind racing, unable to comprehend what was happening. Lorenzo. Your best friend. Kissing you.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, and you felt yourself melting into the heat of him despite the alarm bells ringing in your head.

But the way he kissed you—the way his thumb brushed against your cheek, the heat in his touch—it was impossible to think about anything else. For a split second, you leaned into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if to steady yourself.

Lorenzo broke the kiss abruptly, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable. For a long, tense moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, he whispered, his voice rough with barely contained need, "God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He rested his forehead against yours. “Tell me you don't feel this too, Y/N."

His gaze burned into yours, pleading and desperate, and you could see the fear lurking beneath the surface—that you might reject him, that he'd lose you forever. In that instant, you understood the depth of his feelings for you, the years of pent-up longing that had finally spilled over the edge. 

You stared at him, wide-eyed and utterly speechless, your thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and guilt and something else you didn’t dare name. 

What the hell was happening?

Lorenzo's expression faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he read your stunned silence. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, taking a step back as if physically recoiling from the rejection.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, a low, mocking voice cut through the charged silence like a blade.

“Well, Y/N,” Theo drawled, stepping between you and Lorenzo with an expression that could only be described as murderous. “You moved on pretty fucking quick, considering my head was between your legs just last night.”

The words hit like a slap, shattering the fragile bubble that had formed between you and Lorenzo.

Lorenzo stiffened beside you, his gaze snapping to Theo with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization. “What?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. Then, softer, almost to himself, “I knew it. You weren’t just tutoring him.”

“Enzo—” you started, but Theo cut you off, his lips curling into a cruel smirk as he stepped closer, his sharp jawline tight with barely concealed fury.

“Tutoring?” Theo echoed mockingly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that what you told him, sweetheart? That’s cute. Really cute.”

You felt like the ground was falling away beneath you. “Theo, stop—”

“No,” Theo snapped, taking another step forward as his eyes flickered to Lorenzo. “No, I’ll tell him the truth since you seem so set on lying. I’ve been fucking her. That’s what we’ve been doing. Not tutoring. Not studying. Fucking.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he turned to you. “Is that true?” he demanded. “Is he telling the truth, Y/N?”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. The words lodged in your throat, choking you.

“Don’t bother answering,” Theo sneered. “She’s not going to deny it. She can’t.”

And that was it. The dam broke. Lorenzo lunged forward, grabbing Theo by the collar of his shirt and yanking him close. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that?” he snarled, his voice low and venomous.

Theo didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk widened, infuriatingly smug. “Takes one to know one,” he shot back, his tone almost taunting.

“Stop!” you yelled, stepping forward and trying to wedge yourself between them, but neither boy paid you any mind.

“You’re such a goddamn prick,” Enzo spat, stepping closer until the two boys were nearly nose to nose. “You think this is a joke? You think her feelings are something you can just fuck with?”

“Oh, spare me the self-righteous act,” Theo shot back, his voice venomous. “You’re not exactly subtle, Berkshire. You’ve been panting after her for years, but guess what? She came to me. Not you.”

“She’s not yours,” Lorenzo barked, his voice rising as his grip on Theo’s collar twisted tighter.

“And she’s not yours either,” Theo snapped back, his voice equally loud and filled with venom. “But that didn’t stop you from shoving your tongue down her throat just now, did it?”

“Nott, you should fuckin’ shut your mouth before I make you,” Lorenzo snapped, shoving Theo backward.

Theo stumbled but recovered quickly, his eyes flashing with rage as he stepped closer, his hands curling into fists. “You want to hit me? Go ahead,” he taunted, his voice deadly calm. “But it won’t change the fact that I’ve had her in ways you never will.”

“That’s enough!” you shouted, stepping between them, your hands pressed against Lorenzo’s chest to keep him from lunging at Theo again. “Both of you, stop it! You’re both being ridiculous!”

Lorenzo’s eyes softened slightly as they flickered to you, but his jaw remained clenched, his breathing heavy. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and strained, “tell me the truth. Is he lying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as the weight of their gazes bore down on you.

“Y/N,” Theo said, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Just tell him. Stop hiding it.”

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt around you. Everything was spiraling out of control, the tension between the three of you threatening to snap like a frayed rope.

“I…” you began, but the words stuck in your throat.

Lorenzo shook his head, his expression twisting with hurt. “I knew it,” he whispered, stepping back. “I fucking knew it.”

“Enzo, wait! I—It’s complicated," you called out, reaching for his arm as he turned to walk away, but he shrugged off your touch.

“Don't," he bit out, his voice tight with pain and anger. "Just...don't."

Lorenzo didn’t look back. His broad shoulders were tense as he stormed away, leaving you rooted to the spot. Your hand fell limply to your side, the sting of his departure cutting deeper than you expected. The noise of the party seemed muted now, distorted, like you were hearing it underwater. The laughter, the music, the chatter—it all felt too far away, irrelevant against the confusion swirling around your head.

In the span of five fucking minutes, your best friend had kissed you, confessed feelings you never saw coming, and then walked away shattered by a truth you hadn’t been ready to admit. The guilt churned in your stomach, thick and nauseating. 

You barely had time to process when Theo’s low, sarcastic voice broke the suffocating silence. “Well, that went well.”

You stood frozen, staring at the floor, your chest heaving as you struggled to process what had just happened—the way Lorenzo’s lips had felt on yours, the raw confession in his eyes, and then the brutal crash as Theo ripped it all apart.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Y/N?” Theo’s voice broke the haze again, low and gravelly, laced with something that almost sounded like regret.

Your head snapped up, and without thinking, you turned to him, your emotions boiling over. You shoved at his chest with both hands, hard enough to make him take a step back. “Why?” you hissed, your voice trembling with anger and something dangerously close to tears. “Why do you always have to ruin everything?” You shoved him again, harder this time, though it still felt useless against his solid frame. 

Theo caught your wrist as you went to push him again, his grip firm but not harsh. His gray eyes locked onto yours, glinting with something unreadable in the dim light of the room. “Ruin?” he repeated, his voice incredulous. “You think I ruined this? Don’t pin this on me, Y/N. You’re the one playing two sides.”

“I wasn’t playing anything!” you snapped, yanking your arm free and stepping back. The distance felt safer, less suffocating. “I didn’t ask for this—any of it. But you—” You pointed at him, your chest heaving as you fought to steady your voice. “You always have to push and push until everything falls apart!”

His jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes—anger, maybe, or hurt. “Falls apart?” he echoed, his voice rising. “You’re the one who came to me, sweetheart. Remember that? You’re the one who wanted this.”

“I wanted simple!” you shot back, your voice cracking under the weight of your frustration. “I wanted no strings, no feelings, no drama! And now look at us! Look at this mess!”

He scoffed, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stepped closer. “Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this,” he bit out, his voice sharp. “You wanted no strings, but you kept coming back. Over and over. You wanted me, Y/N. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

You shook your head, turning on your heel and pushing your way out of the crowded party. The air in the corridor was cooler, quieter, but your thoughts were anything but calm. Theo’s footsteps followed close behind, the sound of his shoes echoing against the stone walls.

“I’m not letting you walk away like this,” he said, grabbing your arm just gently enough to stop you without forcing you.

You wrenched your arm free, spinning around to face him, your eyes blazing. “Why not? That’s all we’ve ever been good at—walking away from each other.”

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and something deeper, something raw. “That’s not true and you know it,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re just angry.”

“Of course I’m angry!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. “I just watched my best friend walk away, probably forever, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut! And for what, Theo? For what?”

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, he stared at you, his usually sharp eyes clouded with something uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“You know what?” you continued, your voice trembling as tears pricked your eyes. “I’m done. I’m done with this. With you.”

His eyes widened slightly. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I’m done, Theo,” you said again. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t mean something when it clearly does. And I can’t keep lying to Lorenzo—to myself. So, congratulations, you win. You’ve ruined everything. I hope it was worth it.”

His face fell, the usual sharpness in his expression softening into something almost childlike. “Y/N,” he said, stepping closer, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do,” you insisted, your voice firmer this time. “I can’t do this anymore. You and me—it’s toxic, Theo. It’s ruining everything.”

You turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing yours. The desperation in his touch made you freeze. For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then, he spoke, his voice raw and aching. “Please.” The word came out so quiet it was almost drowned out by the distant hum of the party. “Hate me, hurt me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Just… don’t leave me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. His words hung heavy in the air, raw and pleading. This wasn’t the Theo you were used to—the cocky, self-assured boy who always had a cutting remark at the ready. This was someone stripped bare, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

“Theo…” you started, but your voice faltered.

“I know we said no strings,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away. “I know that. But I can’t do it. I can’t watch you walk away and choose him—not when I…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching as he fought to find the words.

You turned fully to face him, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. “Not when you what?” you whispered.

His eyes burned into yours, and for a moment, he looked like he might bolt. But then, with a shaky breath, he stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. “Not when I feel like this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

You stared at him, your mind reeling. And then he kissed you.

But it wasn’t like the other times—the hurried, rough kisses that left you breathless and wanting more. This kiss was soft, tentative, like he was afraid you might break. His lips moved against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back, hand shaking like they didn’t know what to do.

The world fell away, the distant music and voices fading until there was nothing but the warmth of him, the way his thumb brushed against your cheek, the quiet, desperate sound he made as he pulled you closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know how to untangle the knot of feelings in your chest. So you just stood there, letting his touch ground you, wondering how the hell you’d gotten here.

But as you stood there, pressed against Theo's warm, solid body, one thought crystallized above the rest: you needed him.

Now.

"Theo," you murmured. Your eyes locked onto his, searching, pleading. There were no words for what you felt, but you hoped he could read it in your gaze—the hunger, the need, the desperate craving for him.

Theo’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as they flicked down to your lips and back up again. He could see it—you knew he could. The unspoken need that lingered in the space between you, a silent plea written in the way your fingers trembled against his chest, in the way your breath mingled with his as you leaned closer.  

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough, uncertain. It wasn’t a question, not quite, but there was hesitation there, as though he was afraid this would break you both even further.  

You shook your head, barely, just enough to quiet whatever doubt he was wrestling with. “Please,” you whispered, the single word carrying all the weight of everything you couldn’t say. “I need you, Theo.”  

His hands slid down from your face to your waist, his fingers brushing over the curve of your hips as though committing the moment to memory. “Are you sure?” he asked.  

In answer, you tugged at his shirt, your hands fisting the fabric as you leaned up to kiss him again. This time, it wasn’t soft—it was deliberate, intentional, your lips pressing firmly against his as you tried to pour everything you felt into that single moment.  

The kiss deepened slowly, Theo’s hands tightening on your waist as he guided you backward, pressing you against the cool stone wall of the corridor. You broke the kiss, your forehead falling against his as you tried to catch your breath. “Not here,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.  

Theo nodded, his chest rising and falling with yours as he tried to calm himself. Without a word, he took your hand, his grip steady and warm as he led you through the dim corridor and up the winding staircase to your dorm.  

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the window. The moment the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. It wasn’t rushed this time, wasn’t driven by the usual frenzied passion that had defined so much of your time together. It was slower, heavier, as though you were both unearthing something you hadn’t realized was buried.  

Theo turned to face you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But you stepped closer, your hands sliding up his chest and around his neck as you kissed him again, softer this time, but no less urgent.  

He kissed you back with a quiet intensity, his hands settling on your hips as he walked you backward toward the bed. When the backs of your knees hit the edge, he paused, pulling back just enough to look at you.  

“You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice a rasp of barely contained emotion.  

You nodded, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him down to you on the bed. “I’m sure,” you said, your voice steady now, laced with a conviction that left no room for doubt.  

Theo followed you down, his weight pressing into you as he kissed you again, and for the first time, it wasn’t about dominance or control. It wasn’t about proving a point or drowning in the fire of your so-called hatred.  

It was about feeling—truly feeling.  

You let out a soft gasp as his hands explored your skin, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing under your flesh. Your own hands roamed over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles beneath his clothes. You wanted to peel away every layer until you were bare against him, skin to skin, hearts beating as one.

As if reading your mind, Theo reached for the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach as he lifted it over your head. You arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips as he tossed the garment aside and leaned in to nuzzle the swell of your tits, his hot breath sending tingles across your nipples.

Theo's mouth hovered over your nipple, his tongue darting out to tease the hardened peak before he closed his lips around it, suckling gently. A low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating against your skin and making your toes curl.

His hands continued their exploration, sliding down to unfasten your jeans, his fingers brushing against the heat of your core as he pushed the denim and lace down your thighs. You kicked off the pooled fabric, leaving you naked and vulnerable beneath him.

He leaned in to press a tender kiss to your collarbone, then trailed his lips down your sternum, pausing to worship each breast with the same reverence he'd shown earlier.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with emotion.

Your breath caught in your throat at the words, at the raw sincerity in his tone. No one had ever looked at you like that before—like you were a work of art, precious and coveted.

"Theo..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please..."

He understood without further prompting, his fingers tracing a path down your stomach and dipping lower to find the slick heat of your arousal. He groaned softly at the feel of you, his thumb circling your clit as his middle finger delved inside, seeking out that sweet spot that made you quiver.

"God, you're soaked," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as he pumped his finger slowly, deliberately, his gaze locked on yours. "Tell me how much you want it."

His other hand cupped your breast, rolling the pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Your hips bucked involuntarily as his finger found that perfect spot inside you, stroking along the sensitive wall in a way that made stars burst behind your eyelids. "Oh god, yes," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ground against his hand.

"I want it so badly," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've never wanted anything more," you begged, your breath coming in short gasps. "I need you inside me."

With a low growl, Theo added a second finger, scissoring them inside you to loosen your tightness. He watched your face intently, drinking in every expression of pleasure, every gasp and moan that fell from your lips.

"Not yet," he said, his voice rough with restraint. "I want to make sure you're ready for me."

He curled his fingers just right, rubbing that magic spot within you, and you came undone, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of it, your inner walls clenching around his fingers.

Through it all, Theo held you close, his lips pressed to your temple, his breath hot against your skin. "That's it," he cooed, "let go for me, baby. I've got you."

Shudders wracked your body as the aftershocks of your climax rippled through you, leaving you limp and spent. But Theo wasn't done with you yet. He withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching for more.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was moving, shrugging off his shirt to reveal the toned expanse of his chest. Your gaze drifted over the defined muscles, feeling a wave of desire surge through you.

Not waiting for permission, he quickly shed his pants, kicking them aside carelessly. And then he was looming over you, his eyes blazing with hunger. “Wrap those pretty legs around me.”

Without hesitation, you complied, hooking your ankles together and lifting your hips to meet him. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasingly slow, as if savoring the moment before finally sinking home in one smooth thrust.

A guttural moan tore from his throat at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping him, and he stilled for a moment, reveling in the sensation. Then, with a roll of his hips, he began to move, setting a sweet pace that had your eyes rolling back.

It was a slow, unhurried rhythm, unlike all the times before. This time, it wasn’t about the heat or the hunger—it was about the connection, the way his name fell from your lips like a prayer, the way he whispered yours back like a promise.  

Time seemed to blur, the lines between where you ended and he began dissolving until there was nothing left but the two of you, tangled together in the quiet of the night as he devoured  your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue claiming you as thoroughly as his cock did your pussy.

Theo broke the kiss to gaze down at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that seared right through to your soul. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick with emotion. "I want to look you in the eyes when I make you cum. You know why? Because this means you’re fucking choosing me.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair as you met his stare, the connection between you electrifying. With a final, powerful thrust, he pushed you over the edge, and you shattered, crying out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

When it was over, Theo stayed close, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. He didn’t say anything—neither of you did. Words felt unnecessary, almost intrusive in the fragile intimacy that had settled over you both.  

But as his hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin, you felt the truth of it in the way he looked at you. Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t hatred. It never had been.  

And that realization scared you more than anything.  

But a loud, abrupt knock at the door shattered the stillness.  

You shot up, your heart pounding as reality came crashing back in. “Shit,” you whispered, scrambling to pull on your clothes. Theo sat up too, his brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t move to stop you. Instead, he leaned back on his elbows, watching silently as you tugged a large sweater over your head, your hair still a mess from his hands.  

The knock came again, more insistent this time. “Y/N?” Lorenzo’s voice called through the door, muffled but unmistakable.  

Your stomach dropped.  

Theo’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he realized who it was. “You don’t have to answer,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm.  

But you did. You had to.  

Without another word, you crossed the room, your heart racing as you opened the door just enough to step out, closing it quickly behind you. Lorenzo stood there, his face a storm of emotions—regret, frustration, and something achingly close to hope.  

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before you could speak, his words tumbling over themselves in his rush to get them out. “I shouldn’t have walked away like that. I should’ve let you explain, I should’ve stayed.”  

“Enzo—” you started, but he cut you off.  

“No, let me finish,” he said, taking a step closer. “I blamed you, and I shouldn’t have. I was just... I don’t know. I was hurt, okay? And I know that’s not fair to you. You’ve always been honest with me, and I—I just...” He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration with himself evident.  

You stood frozen, your back pressed against the door, every word he said digging deeper into your chest.  

“And I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell you how I feel. Merlin, Y/N, I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even admit to myself. And I know it’s a mess now, but I could’ve… should’ve told you sooner.” His voice cracked, his usual smooth confidence faltering as his eyes searched yours.

Your throat tightened as you opened your mouth to try and speak, but he kept going, his words spilling out faster now, desperate to fill the silence.

“I should be the one you’re with. I should’ve been braver, I should’ve fought for you. But I didn’t, and I—I just... I want to be with you,” he continued, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I know we’re friends, but we could be so much more, Y/N. I know we could.”  

The silence that followed felt deafening.  

It was only then that Lorenzo seemed to really see you—the disheveled sweater pulled hastily over your bare skin, your hair still tangled, your lips swollen. His eyes widened, the realization crashing over him like a wave.  

“Y/N...” he said slowly, his voice filled with dawning heartbreak. “Is someone... Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but he didn’t have to.  

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, either.  

His face crumpled, and he let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “It’s him, isn’t it? Theo.”  

“Enzo, I’m—”  

“No,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Just don’t say anything.” His voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked like he might break completely. But then he straightened, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “It was never going to be me, was it?”  

“Lorenzo—” You tried to reach for him but he just flinched, shaking his head.

“Stop,” he said sharply, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. He looked away, blinking rapidly, as though trying to compose himself. “I get it now. I was always the safe option. The one who’d never hurt you. But I was never the one you wanted.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re my best friend, Enzo. I love you, I do, but…”

“Not like that,” he finished for you, his tone sharp with bitter acceptance. “You don’t love me like that.”  

You reached for him again, but he stepped back, out of reach. “Stop,” he said again, his voice soft now, almost broken. “I’ll just... I’ll see you around, Y/N.”  

The silence that followed was unbearable, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You wanted to say something, anything, to fix the fissure cracking between you, but no words came.

He nodded, his jaw tightening as he forced a bitter smile. “I hope he’s worth it,” he said quietly, turning on his heel before you could stop him.

You watched him go, your chest aching as his figure disappeared down the hall. The sting of his words lingered, cutting deeper than you’d anticipated. 

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Y/N?”

Theo’s voice, soft and uncertain, pulled you from your thoughts. He was sitting up now, the sheet draped low over his waist as he watched you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

You crossed the room, collapsing onto the bed beside him. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shook your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t be. I chose this. I chose you.”

And despite the heartbreak, the guilt, the mess of emotions swirling inside you, you knew it was true. Lorenzo had your friendship, your loyalty, your love in ways you couldn’t deny—but Theo? Theo had your heart.

And no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

(apologies to my enzo lovers <3)

[letmerideitchris]

𐬺𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𐬺

summary: Chris matt and nick get a new videographer, she is funny, smart and pretty, basically everything Chris could ever want in a girl. Chris finds it impossible to not fall for her…

Warnings: angst, yelling, cursing, mentions of killing (in a joking way)

Wc: 1009

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

“Chris would you like to tell us what the fuck we just walked in on?” matt says sternly

Y/n had previously left the house out of embarrassment to what nick and matt had walked into.

“does anyone know where some bleach is? My eyes need some” nick says looking around

“guys you're being dramatic, I'm sorry i couldn’t resist, she’s everything i have ever wanted” chris says as he looks down at the floor

“that is the least of our problems right now, shes meant to be coming over tomorrow to film a vlog for us, that is going to be so awkward thanks to you dick face” nick says hitting chris’ shoulder

“yeah chris, you need to sort it out and apologize because you are runing it for us”

“but I'm not sorry and i am quite looking forward to seeing her tomorrow even though it will be awkward…” Chris says slightly smiling at the thought of her

“im not sure if shes looking forward to seeing you, she just ran away” matt says looking at the open front door y/n previously left through.

“chris you make me want to kill you, is it hard being this dumb?”

“guys can you show some sort of sympathy? Like imagine the girl of your dreams is actually interested in you and then your brothers walk in on you fucking and she runs out of embarrassment?” chris says

“No i actually cannot imagine that i am gay if you forgot dumb shit” nick says in a duh tone

“you guys are ridiculous” chris mumbles annoyed as he makes his way downstairs to his bedroom.

The next morning chris is laying in bed half asleep, wishing she was beside him. But hes quickly taken out of his trance when he hears the doorbell, the sound he was dreading yesterday but wishing upon now.

“i’ll get it!” matt yells from upstairs

But when he turns to the door chris is already unlocking it

Nick is sitting on the couch with an unamused face, when matt looks over at him “look at this desperate dickhead”

“hes never gonna learn, fuck sake” nick eyerolls

When chris opens the door, y/n is taken aback by his face. y/n looks down at the floor and says quietly “oh… hi chris”

chris’ smile quickly fades as he hears her tone and realizes his excitement isn't mutual.

“hi y/n, come upstairs, can I get you a water or?-”

“uh no i should be good..thanks..”

Chris takes a seat on the couch wondering why y/n is acting so weird towards him. What did he do wrong? Did he say something bad?

The boys all give y/n a hug greeting her, besides chris.

“matt would you mind getting me some water? I’m really thirsty?” y/n says looking at matt

Chris looks over at her with a confused look across his face

“yeah of course, nick can you come with me, i think these two need to talk it out..” matt lowers his tone at the end so only nick can hear his last comment

Chris and y/n are both sitting on opposite sides of the couch looking at each other waiting for one to speak up.

“y/n, whats wrong?” chris speaks up

“have a think chris, have a think.”

Chris is using all of his brain and is trying to peice together what could be wrong. And then something clicks in his mind and realizes what has happened. He looks up with a concerned look on his face

“is this about yesterday, y/n? If it is im really sor-”

y/n cuts him off “chris do you not realize what we did and how this will affect our relationship and my job”

Chris is shocked by what she said “wait so your saying you regret what we did? I-I really thought we had something, something that would last, something you would care about” he says as he raises his voice and stands up angrily from the couch.

“no i don't regret it, that's not what I'm saying. I just think we should've been more careful or waited a bit longer” y/n says avoiding eye contact

“so you do regret it huh?” he starts to walk off then she grabs him by the arm

“no, chris just calm down i am not done-”

“well i sure am, get out of my house please”

y/n opens her purse quxckly, chris is standing there waiting for something that could save this relationship but instead it is something that will change their lives forever.

y/n slides a positive pregnancy test along the coffee table.

“as i was saying, we should've been more careful, should've waited longer, not saying i regret it.” she says shaking with tears forming on her waterline

She closes her purse, gets up, looks into the kitchen to see matt and nick both staring in such a state of shock. Tears start rolling down her face as she looks back at chris’ guilty and worried face. She wipes her tears and continues to leave.

The door slams

“i could choke you to death right now chris, not much is stopping me” nick says furiously as he follows y/n out of the house

Chris is still standing there in disbelief staring at that positive test.

“chris, ill get you some water, all you can do right now is sit down and try and relax yourself. Don't text anyone and don't listen to what nick is saying even though he is right, i know you would be really stressed right now and nothing he has to say will help.” matt says patting chris on the back gently

chris sits down on the couch shaking with tears falling down his face onto his pants, he can't seem to look away from the test. Regret and guilt clouds his mind and all he is thinking about is y/n.

“m-matt” chris stutters, matt turns back around to face chris, you can tell even matt is stressed out

“i, i am going to be a d - dad”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @riggysworld @chrissturnsss @sophand4n4

@chrispycremedonut

[holylulusworld]

Election Time (2)

Summary: You thought he was your forever.

Pairing: Senator!Tony Stark x Wife!Reader, Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, language, wish for a child, betrayal, failed marriage, soft Bucky, pining

Election Time (1)

Election Time masterlist

Bucky’s apartment is far away from your home—or now former home. It looks like he leads a spartan life, with very few comforts and luxuries.

Still, it looks inviting and comfortable to you. There’s almost no decoration but a framed picture of you and him on the artificial fireplace, the “best bodyguard in the universe” trophy, and a plushie you won for him at a fair in his first year of duty.

“I remember that day,” he chuckles. “You didn’t want Tony or me to win a prize for you. He was shocked seeing you rock that water gun.”

“I didn’t think you’d keep it,” you say, and carefully touch the plushie sitting next to the picture frame. You still got the trophy too.”

“It was a gift from you.” Bucky shrugs. “’Cause I kept it. Why would I throw it away?” He stands next to you, dipping his head to watch you play with the diamond ring on your finger. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I—” you fail to answer him. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say. For the longest time, I felt like I was alone in this marriage. Tony was long gone; I just didn’t want to admit he didn’t want to be with me any longer.”

Bucky runs his hand up and down your back, careful to not touch your shoulder. He offers comfort without saying a word.

“What hurts is the fact that he stayed married to me for his career. Bucky conspired with my doctor to make sure I cannot get pregnant.” You sniffle. “I feel so violated. That’s… bodily harm. They robbed me of my baby…”

“Y/N,” he murmurs your name. “Please don’t be mad at me, but—” Bucky bites his tongue. He’s unsure about the question swirling in his mind. “What if you got pregnant and heard all this? Would you still want to have a baby with a man like him?”

You drop your gaze and choke out a sob. No. Tony would make an awful father. All he cares about are his reputation and career. He gives a shit on you, and it would’ve been the same with a child. Maybe the baby would’ve been useful in public, but nothing else.

“No.”

“Let’s not do this right now.” Bucky gives you a cracked smile. “You need a rest, and I need to inform Steve that we didn’t get kidnapped or worse.”

“He will tell Tony.” You grasp for Bucky’s hand. “Please don’t tell him. I can’t face him yet. I don’t want to either. If I had a choice, I’d run to the end of the world and never see him again.”

“Steve won’t tell your husband shit. I’m going to explain the situation.” Bucky softly replies. “I swear, not a single word will leave his lips.”

“What if he’s loyal to Tony, not me or you?” You sniffle. “What will happen?”

Bucky gently takes your hands in his. “Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks.

You look Bucky in the eyes and nod. “I trust you with my life, Bucky.” He holds your gaze and squeezes your hands. “Only you.”

“Good,” he whispers your name and hums. “I trust Steve with my life too. If I tell him to not say a word, he’ll do it without asking questions. All he needs to know is that you’re safe with me.”

“Can I stay the night? I need to think about a few things before facing my husband.” You wipe your wet eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky murmurs when you start to cry again. He wraps you in his arms and allows himself for the first time to hold you for a different reason than protecting you. “You can stay as long as you want to. My place is not as nice as your home, but it’s safe, and I got plums.”

You choke out a laugh. “If you got plumps, everything is good. Without them, we wouldn’t have made it.”

Bucky reluctantly lets go of you. He nods at you before saying, “I’ll call Steve now. You should get settled in. I changed the sheets, and there’s a clean flannel and sweatpants on the bed. If you want to stay here for longer, I’ll ask Steve to sneak some of your clothes out of your house.”

“Steve, we got a problem,” Bucky inhales deeply before he tells his best friend since childhood what happened this afternoon. “She cannot go home at the moment. We need to cover her tracks and come up with an excuse.”

Steve immediately reminds Bucky of his duty. He won’t rat you and his friend out, but the head of security can’t do much to cover your disappearance. People will start asking questions soon—especially your husband.

“You are telling me no one knows about my wife’s whereabouts?” Tony yells at the head of security. Steve doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He keeps a straight face, even though he knows exactly what happened this afternoon.

“Sir, the last we know was that you left her behind after the interview. Most of the security followed you, not your wife. Your orders.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Tony. “Maybe she wanted to visit a friend, or the car broke down. It looks like her phone died. A dead battery is no reason to call the police.”

“The cops?” Tony snorts. “You think I want to call the cops only because my wife decided to skip the event? What do you think will happen if I report my wife missing? I can forget about the election!”

“I’m happy to hear that you’re worried about your wife,” Steve coolly replies. “I’ll call Barnes, ask him if he knows something. You should get some rest, Senator. I’ve got this.”

Tony watches the head of security walk out of his office. He squares his jaw. It’s the first time you didn’t accompany him. Something must be wrong, and he fears it could cost him the election.

“Steve got this,” Bucky softly says as if speaking to a scared animal. “He will keep the bloodhounds off our backs for a while. This gives you a little time to think about your next steps.”

You give him a sad smile. While Bucky was talking to Steve and went out for a late-night shopping trip, you already made up your mind. You must face Tony and confront him sooner rather than later.

You just don’t know when you’ll find the strength to look your husband in the eyes and tell him that you know…everything.

“Doll, you got to eat something,” Bucky says. He points at the plate he placed on the coffee table. “I know this is a lot to stomach.”

You look at the plate, smiling because Bucky made you smiley pancakes and cut a plum for you. “You cut a plum for me.”

“Uh—sure.” Bucky looks at the food he made for you. He knows about your habit of eating pancakes whenever you are sad. “I removed the stone and thought it’s better to cut it for you too. You know, because it looks better on the plate.”

“You’re a good cook.” You grin at Bucky. “Thank you. For everything.”

“At your service, doll…” He winks at you. “That’s my job…”

Tags in reblog.

[altraviolet]

Oh! I just remembered something about your story I’ve been meaning to ask. I noticed maybe.. 3 times that some bots beginning to explain something to soundwave, and then instead say something like “Ah, you don’t care anyways.” Soundwave always responds in his mind “You don’t know how I feel.” I could be wrong but I don’t think that was ever fully addressed in your story. Like, soundwave just lets it slide. Why exactly? Also even after some people get to know him somewhat they still assume that?

ahhh the "you don't know what i care about" line. one of my favorite recurring threads throughout the fic :D

it's not so much "soundwave just lets it slide," it's that Soundwave Cares About Rodimus, and the three times that line is used, he cannot/will not expose this secret of his to the person he's talking to.

First time:

[Rodimus] “Can I come in?” Soundwave stepped aside. Rodimus slouched on his bed. He looked up at Soundwave. He glanced at the poster of them on Enceladia. His spoiler went down. “You don't care about anything, right?” ?? you don't know what i care about “Well?” “Incorrect. Several... things are important to me.”

Here Soundwave is talking with Rodimus, so he's obviously not going to say anything. It's far too early in the fic for that. The phrase combined with "several things are important to me" is a signal to the reader that Soundwave cares about Rodimus.

Second time:

“That's what I felt during the gray years,” said Drift. He reset his vocalizer. “That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it. He tried so hard to make me happy again. He was so happy when we- I mean, he and I-” Drift's eyes flashed. “Never mind. You wouldn't care.” you don't know what i care about, thought Soundwave as Drift hurried away. His processor chewed on Drift's words, repeating them over and over. “That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it. That's why Rodimus couldn't fix it.”

Here Soundwave is talking to Drift, and he's extremely not going to tell Drift what he cares about.

Side note: these paragraphs tie up the gray years from Soundwave's point of view. The reason Rodimus couldn't fix Drift's hurt is because Drift didn't love him the way he loved Ratchet. The only thing that would've made Drift feel better is Ratchet.

Third time:

Swerve held up the data pad and whistled. “Wow, there's a lot of really specific requests on here. Things I haven't served since...” His gaze moved to a model replica of the Lost Light behind the bar, surrounded by a few dusty, empty bottles. “Since... never mind. You won't care.” you don't know what i care about

Here Soundwave is talking to 0001 Swerve back in the 0001 dimension. He wouldn't waste his time correcting Swerve's assertion. Swerve assumes Soundwave wouldn't care about the Lost Light. He does, but he can't say why without having to answer a ton of questions. Also, shortly after he spots 0001 Rodimus. There's no reason to engage in conversation with this Swerve, whom he will never see again.

Another side note: Soundwave stating openly to himself that he cares about something, in defiance of assured statements by other characters, shows how he's changed since the very beginning.

So this isn't an unaddressed, loose thread. It's a deliberate demonstration of Soundwave's character change and a realistic portrayal of how he would react in those situations: he often defaults to silence.

[coriphallus]

DA: The Veilguard Spoiler Review pt3 - Politiks

oh my little void in this world wide web, we are really in it now.

a little PSA before you read this word vomit, i am from westernmost middle east, and that will inform much of what i know about the topics i discuss. i wont know about race politics of america or the intricacies of it beyond what i can see online but as an immigrant i do have some perspective on western experience. so when i talk about heavy topics it will come from a foreign place. i do understand and admit that i cannot ignore that BW is a north american studio and that colours every theme they touch.

so there are two angles to approach this, 1st is to assess DAV on its own and 2nd is to assess it as a part of a whole and continuation of a franchise.

lets get 1st out of the way, its safely uncontroversial beyond taash's story. and eff-plays voiced my feeling verbatim on that subject more succinctly than anything i can possibly write.

2nd is very, very grim.

every DA game that came before had been interlaced with politics of its world so severely that its absence is disorienting. every game you were given the choice to change the political landscape of the countries youre playing in, for better or for worse. even the 2nd game with its vastly smaller scale sees hawke trying to navigate through their life as an immigrant, even at the games climax you are given a choice to drastically alter how this uprising will be remembered and it tells hawke that there are no half measures, they need to pick a side.

"Slavery or no, flesh is always for sale."

in my very first DAV playthrough i picked a shadow dragon elf, i didnt give her any backstory as i though being an elf in minrathous would shape her world view regardless.

first scene i got when organising my room rook pulls out the SHACKLES of a slave shes freed as she reminisces about how much good shes done, and puts them on her bedside. then proceeds to talk to a book and say "everybody looks down on elves but we were here first >:c"

(at this point i rerolled my character so i dont yet know how shadow dragon background plays out.)

at the very beginning of the game we see similar shackles and varric informs us that solas hates slavery, hes been freeing them.

when we make it to minrathous we learn that these people in neves circle have been freeing slaves.

alright so, the heavy handed deliveries aside, what purpose do all these scenes/expositions serve?

well, it makes these people look good. we know theres slavery in this part of thedas and these people are fighting against it not by any elaborate means but dont worry kitten <3.

[i had to look up the english for some of these terms so feel free to correct me if im wrong] patterson describes slavery as "one of the most extreme forms of the relation of domination, approaching the limits of total power from the viewpoint of the master, and of total powerlessness from the viewpoint of the slave". death of the soul, death of what makes one human -and for the purposes of this section- death in the eyes of state. slavery has such a long history that predates early modern colonization of africa by thousands of years. it is a staple of human history and where we have come from shapes what we are now. we can shun it, call it abhorrent but we cant pretend it never happened. theres always been people dead in the eyes of state.

heres the uncomfortable truth, there aint never been enough steel in the world to hold every hittite or mittani slave. to assume slavery is people getting abducted and put to irons is as naïve as human trafficking being a rando ruffying you and hauling you across the sea in a crate. yea, it could happen but 99% of the time its just a waste of time to physically hold someone against their will by force. and this idea makes us think its this far off thing that happened thousands of years ago by bad individuals doing very comically bad things, which is a very deliberate choice, because to depict period accurate slavery would be to portray social and economical classes, and that would be confronting how little we've changed in certain aspects.

people were born into that caste, shaped by it, worn down by it, and abused by it systematically.

in DAI Dorian says something -apparently- very controversial that i dont think this fandom has fully unpacked, and i aint gonna do that here either because im not remotely qualified. he likens the working class of south to slavery of north, theres no way to engage with this argument in any meaningful way, even as an elf, and in general people brush it off as dorians pro-slavery rhetorics.

try as DAV might to disregard, we actually did meet an ex-slave and trafficking victims on three separate occasions, and the games have set a premise already. we got to talk about their unique circumstances, and they were handled with some measure of dept. maybe you liked them, maybe you didnt, but you knew them and that makes a difference. they had agency in their own stories. a far cry from DAVs nameless faceless props for righteous gentiles to circle jerk about.

but, sure, lets tell ourselves showing them would be too gratuitous.

can you imagine how batshit insane it would look if zevran kept the belt her husband used to beat isabela with as a trinket, to display in his tent? that scene with rook disturbed me more than most anything in this entire franchise and coming from an anders supporter, thats saying something.

this is how little the writers were willing to engage with their source material. this is how little they are willing to engage with the world around them.

which makes the next blunder inevitable.

alot has been said about the absurdity of elves feeling responsible for the events of DAV, but maybe this hasnt been said enough; this is a blatant fascist rhetoric.

i will spell it out though, even though i never thought it needed to be said, the social performance of accountability indicates that the party who has done harm has benefited and continues to benefit from that harm, this is why reparations are paid, and thats what "check your priviledge" means. elves in DA have never benefited in any way from the warmongering of evanuris, they were enslaved by them.

to say that these people should feel some sort of responsibility towards what befell dwarves is a fascist rhetoric used irl to offload responsibility and divide and alienate the opposition further from eachother.

i cant tell you if this mouth piece is same everywhere but i know a few people who have clocked it immediately so im gonna assume it was obvious. and truthfully, i wouldnt even be annoyed if i thought it was intentional. genuinely, one of my favourite games is an unapologetic military propaganda whos protagonist would make ayn rand write sonnets about, and the game knows what it is. but no, i fully believe the studio tried to address the criticism they got about their lackluster handling of elves and either completely misunderstood or willfully disregarded the experiences of marginalised peoples that the games drew inspiration from.

the writing is so hollow beyond horrible dialogue that when writing an enby character whos also multicultural they didnt even notice the parallel theyve created. i know this because after an entire plotline about their struggle with binaries their story concludes with a binary decision on their culture. this just confirms to me that any dept this game has is completely accidental.

imma level with yall i dont subscribe to the belief that you need to have some type of experiences to write some type of characters and i find that "ofc a white person wrote it so..." response very tired because yea we should be allowed to expect more from white people. i too had OCs of different cultures that i wasnt very familiar with and handled poorly, but unlike me, a company can afford a consultant.

i played greedfall recently, and sure the maori tattoos were a shit decision, and im disappointed that after all the criticism they still stuck with it, and yes maybe its story was not sensitive enough but you know what? as the person whos recommended it to me said, i rather have a story who boldly engages with its own themes than one whos terrified of them. say what you will about its shortcomings but at least at the end of that game you can have an ending where the colonizers leave for good, and yes their plague is not healed but the narrative doesnt punish the natives for their isolationism. i am glad that the game allows that catharsis to its players.

DAV could have had 300 well thought-out endings and still not please everyone, but the endings they chose to include directly implicates the group theyre trying to appease and its literally just people who either want to punch or kiss solas, thats how fucking deep they think their fanbase it. not the people who wanted to end slavery, or achieve equilibrium with beings no matter how alien they are. or people who wanted to see a culture connect with its roots etc etc.

and maybe they were right, many people have been enjoying this game immensely and i am just, so fucking jealous. i wish i liked this game and enjoyed it and didnt want to tear out my hair every second i spent in treviso. i wish i wasnt seething white knuckling my sink like an insane person when a little kid wrote to crow rook that hes recruiting orphans now. i wish i had any belief in this game to read that as satire.

at least i wish i felt any form of vindication when i immediately realised this game was going to be a soulless cashgrab that unashamedly uses the name of a popular IP to push a sub-par product earlier this year, i just spend 80+ hours watching a company parade the carcass of a franchise i loved and beat it like a pinata as it continuously slapped me on the face with a botched wax figure of it.

i just feel this profound sense of sadness. i wish this game didnt exist. and no i dont feel any kind of brand loyalty, even when i actively enjoyed their work i didnt but i definitely dont now, not after 3 consecutive games that theyve delivered with more or less the same problems. as the company is today, i dont care whether bw survives or not, its been made clear time and again that the bw i liked is long gone and bw today is clearly not interested in making games for me.

even as i write this i dont feel fuelled by my anger for DAV but by the love a have for what came before. i still think the story deserved better, the fans deserved better, the people who contributed into making DA universe what it was before DAV deserved better. and, as rook told harding, our anger is justified.

but, hey. hair looks really good.