#3-inch wedding heel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosyblooom · 1 month

Text

a in anniversary is for apple pie! | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: charles and y/n return from their wedding anniversary dinner to find their daughter still awake and adamant about wanting the apple pie she was promised tonight! A/N: tysm for 500 followers🥹 pls accept this entirely sweet & happy fic as a token of my appreciation🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading <3

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 901,885 others

charles_leclerc Happy wedding anniversary to my beautiful wife, Y/N. You hold my heart in the palm of your hands, but I couldn't imagine it safer anywhere else. I'm excited for more, mon cœur 🙏❤️

vie all 7,264 comments

username wake up babe new photos of charles and y/n's secret wedding just dropped

username these crumbs are actually such nasty work smh😩 they're sick! username can't wait to see to finally see the whole wedding in 60 years🥲

username IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR OMFG

yourusername iIy baby🥰🥰

charles_leclerc ❤️ username y'all are too cute 🤧 username I LOVE YOU GUYS SM!!!!

username still can't believe charles has a wife and it isn't me😭

username oh to be called mon cœur by charles leclerc...

username if you zoom in on the 3rd pic you'll see me face down in the ocean😔

username omg that makes two of us !! TWINNING😜

charles_leclerc posted to his story!

[ caption: Wow. ]

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption: mon amour ❤️ ]

[ tagged: charles_leclerc ]

Fumbling, you struggle to insert the key into the lock, a task made unexpectedly difficult by your husband's impatience. His gentle kisses land on the nape of your neck, his soft whispers proving to be an unwelcome distraction. "Stop it! Can't you wait until we're inside?" you scold, attempting to maintain focus. But his arms remain securely wrapped around your waist, his affectionate gestures relentless. "Remember, we have to face the babysitter the moment we open the door."

"Mhm," Charles hums against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine and a suppressed smile to your lips. You curse silently at the six-inch heels you foolishly chose, your knees growing weaker with each passing second, the shoes only exacerbating the situation.

With a soft click, the door swings open, a rush of relief flooding through you as you silently thank your lucky stars. But before you can fully absorb the scene, the familiar sound of footsteps, accompanied by a beloved voice, reaches your ears.

"Maman!" Your daughter's enthusiastic embrace threatens to topple you as her tiny arms envelop your thighs. The warmth of Charles beside you momentarily dissipates as he steps back, a look of surprise crossing his features.

Running a hand through his beard, he gently tousles D/N's hair as he asks, "What are you doing up so late, love?"

Annie, your babysitter, interjects with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry, I tried to get her to bed, but she insisted you guys were making apple pie tonight." She scratches the back of her neck, shrugging apologetically. "I did my best, but this little one is quite determined, as I've come to learn. Right, D/N?" Annie redirects her attention downward, addressing your daughter.

“You promised me apple pie, Maman!” D/N's insistent plea rings out, her small fingers grasping the fabric of your dress. “And I want it now! I want it now! I want it now!”

Kneeling down to her level, you gently place a finger to your lips. “Alright, D/N, I can hear you, but not so loud. Remember, at night-time, we use our inside voice, okay?” Tenderly, you intertwine your hands with hers, tracing comforting circles on the back of her hands.

D/N nods solemnly and whispers, “You promised me you’d make apple pie, and I want it now. Papa,” she turns her pleading gaze to Charles, releasing herself from your grasp and wrapping her arms around him. “I’ve been waiting all day for this, please, Papa.”

Motioning for you to handle the situation with Annie, Charles scoops D/N up, settling her on his hip before disappearing down the hallway and into the kitchen.

You straighten up, offering Annie an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about that,” you say, reaching into your bag and retrieving an envelope labelled ‘Annie’s pay’. With a gentle gesture, you extend your arm, offering it to her. “This covers today, plus a tip, of course.”

Annie shakes her head, pushing the envelope back towards you. “I can’t accept this. I mean, I failed at getting her to sleep.”

“What?” You try to keep your voice steady, but frustration seeps through. “No, absolutely not.” Determinedly, you grasp her hand, pressing the envelope into her palm before folding it closed. “This is your money; you showed up today and did amazing, as usual. I promised D/N something, so that’s on me, really.”

She tilts her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “Are you sure, Mrs. Leclerc?”

You let out a hum. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just Y/N. None of that Mrs. stuff in this house, please,” you chuckle, “you're making me feel old.”

“Right, sorry, Y/N,” Annie quickly corrects herself.

Satisfied, you nod. “We’re getting there… But yes, I am absolutely sure. You deserve every single cent. Seriously,” you emphasise, “you’re a huge help to my family.”

"Alright, thank you, Y/N," Annie retrieves her bag from the hook on the wall and opens the door. "Have a good night."

"You too, Annie. Thanks again."

With a sudden slam, the door startles you for a moment before you release a long breath. You kick off your heels, relieved to be free of the "death traps" as you call them. As your feet meet the cool marble floor, a wave of calm washes over you, releasing the tension from your shoulders. It's exactly what you needed. Feeling much better, you slip off your coat and hang it beside the door before making your way into the kitchen.

A short while later…

"Alright," you lean over the counter, your forearms resting on the cool top, a warmth spreading through your heart as you watch Charles holding D/N in his arms, gently swaying side to side as they dance.

"That's what your mum and I were doing after we finished eating," he whispers.

D/N's high-pitched giggles fill the room, her tiny hand gripping a couple of Charles' fingers. "I want to come next time," she says, turning her head towards you. "Please, please, can I come next time, Maman?"

"Yes," you smile, "of course. Next time, you'll join us for our little anniversary date, okay?"

"Yay!" your daughter raises her hands in excitement, her face beaming.

Recalling the original plan, you clap your hands together. "Alright, D/N, are you still sure you want apple pie tonight? Not tomorrow or the day af—?"

"No, no, no!" she interrupts. "I want apple pie now!"

"Okay, okay… Time to wash your hands then, honey."

D/N squirms in Charles' grip, and when he finally releases her, she races for the sink in the corner of the room, immediately flicking the tap on.

Charles chuckles at the sight before turning his attention to you, stepping closer. You straighten up from the counter just in time as his hands envelop you, trapping you between the counter and his body.

"Looks like our plans will have to wait until later, huh?" you whisper, your voice taking on a sultry tone as your fingers trail up his broad chest, halting on his black tie, starting to unravel it.

Charles leans down, his warm breath slipping into the gap between your parted lips, the sweet tinge of red wine coating your tongue. "Looks like it… But I can wait, mon cœur," his voice resonates breathily as he closes the remaining distance between your faces, his soft lips meeting yours, hungry yet gentle. The kiss is brief, barely lasting long enough for you to savour the moment, though he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it slightly before releasing his hold and pulling away.

Remembering your husband’s earlier impatience when you were struggling to open the front door, you fold his tie and set it aside before raising a single brow, asking, “Oh, can you now?”

Charles nods with a sly smile, but before he can respond, D/N beats him to it, diverting your attention as she waltzes towards you.

“Hands are washed!” she exclaims, shaking her hands dry.

"Good job, darling." You slip from Charles’ embrace, grabbing the kitchen roll off the counter and passing it to D/N. "Here."

Once you and Charles have washed your hands, you begin assigning roles. "Baby," you address your husband, pointing, "You’ll chop up the apples, and D/N…" You tilt your head down at your daughter standing in the middle of the kitchen, her smile brimming with excitement. "Do you want to make the shortcrust pastry with me, honey?"

To your surprise, D/N shakes her head and rushes to Charles’ side, her cheek pressed against him. "I want to do what Papa is doing. I don’t want to work with you, Maman."

The admission elicits laughter from you and Charles, his chuckles resonating loudly through the room as D/N pulls open a few drawers and retrieves a butter knife and a chopping board before settling down at the dining table, her back turned to you.

As you turn around, you feel Charles’ strong arms enclose around your waist, his warm hands settling onto your stomach as he whispers into your ear, "You heard the little lady. Everything's just so much more fun with her dad, you know?"

“Shut the fuck up” you quip, jabbing him with your elbow.

“I heard that!”

D/N's words cause you to pivot, fixing your gaze on the back of her head. “I’m sorry, D/N, I shouldn’t have said that,” you concede, shooting a discreet glance at Charles. “It’s just that your father has a knack for being an annoying sh—” You cut yourself off before the insult fully forms, forcing a tight-lipped smile as Charles's laughter reverberates. “Let’s just say, he can be an annoying husband sometimes, you know?”

“No! Papa is never annoying, you’re wrong,” she counters, shooting you a reproachful look before redirecting her attention to Charles, waving. “Come on, Papa, I really want apple pie. Hurry up, I’ve already started!”

“Coming, my love,” Charles murmurs softly, turning back to you and lifting your chin with a gentle touch. He places a tender kiss on your lips, then rests his forehead against yours. “So, I’m an annoying husband, huh?”

You smile and give a nonchalant shrug. “I could've said worse, trust me.”

“Papa!” D/N's voice rings out.

Charles barely flinches at your daughter's outburst, only chuckling softly and shaking his head as he moves toward the dining table, grabbing a cutting board and a knife along the way.

“Guys, we only need about eight to ten apples!” you call out from across the kitchen.

Charles winks at you. “Perfect, we have nine.”

Without further delay, you gather the ingredients for a shortcrust pastry and begin to mix them together.

Some time later…

As you finish rolling out the second dough, D/N rushes over, balancing a large bowl of sliced apples in her arms, and exclaims, “Here, Maman! We finished!”

"Thank you so much, my love," you reply, guiding her to settle the bowl onto the counter before heading towards the oven to turn it on.

Charles lifts D/N onto the counter, and you reach into the cupboard to retrieve the cinnamon, salt, flour, and sugar, handing them to your daughter. With a few instructions, she sprinkles the ingredients into the bowl of apples and begins stirring eagerly.

As D/N continues, you feel Charles' arms wrap around you, and he mischievously pinches the side of your waist, prompting you to shriek and swat his hand away, shooting him a playful glare. "Stop that!"

Once everything's mixed together, D/N eagerly assists you in assembling the pie while Charles holds open the oven door for you to slide it in.

"Perfect," you exclaim, clapping your hands together. "We did really well."

D/N squeals with excitement, jumping up and down before extending her hand towards you, palm facing up. "High-five, Maman!"

You promptly oblige, meeting her hand with yours before she moves on to Charles.

Two hours later…

"Two scoops of vanilla ice cream on your slice?" you inquire, arching an eyebrow at your daughter, who struggles to keep her head up, her eyes fluttering closed momentarily before snapping back open.

"Huh?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes. "Yes, I'm starving, Maman."

You share a knowing glance with Charles, his dimples appearing as he smiles.

With a nod of understanding, you heap two scoops of ice cream onto her slice of golden apple pie, pushing the plate towards D/N.

Both you and Charles observe quietly as she struggles to eat even a single forkful before conceding defeat with a sigh.

Looking up from her plate, D/N's eyes flit between you and Charles, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Actually... I'm not hungry anymore." Before you can respond, she hops up from her seat, declaring, "I'm tired. I’m going to bed now."

She gives Charles a goodnight hug, then comes to you, avoiding eye contact as she quickly embraces you. "Good night, Maman."

In the blink of an eye, she vanishes from the kitchen, her footsteps on the marble floor echoing faintly as she races down the corridor, until they're drowned out by the resounding slam of her bedroom door.

You and Charles share a glance, both of you unable to contain your laughter.

After the laughter subsides, you stand up, holding D/N’s plate, and remark, “I’ll pop this in the freezer.”

As you finish storing everything away, Charles rinses the final plate and settles it onto the drying rack. Patting his hands on a paper towel, he fixes you with a tender gaze.

Though you know it's irrational, a wave of insecurity washes over you, making you acutely aware of all your perceived flaws.

"I love you. Happy wedding anniversary to us, mon cœur," Charles' sweet words halt your anxious thoughts as he closes the distance between you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath catches as his tongue traces patterns across your collarbone, his teeth gently nibbling at your flesh.

It takes considerable effort to suppress a moan, but you manage to respond, "I love you, baby. Here's to at least eighty more."

You feel Charles' smile against your skin before he raises his head, eliciting a whimper as the cool air grazes your now raw neck. Before the sound can fully escape, Charles silences it by pressing his lips firmly against yours. The tension that had built up earlier floods over you like a tsunami, his hands exploring your body as your tongues dance, vying for dominance, until he breaks away abruptly.

Both of you are left breathless.

Once he catches his breath, Charles extends his hand to you, which you grasp eagerly—you need all the support you can get to avoid collapsing onto the floor; your legs feel like jelly.

Noticing your predicament, Charles' lips curl into a proud smile, prompting an eye roll from you as he effortlessly scoops you into his arms, bridal style, and plants a tender kiss on your cheek.

"I think we should continue this in the bedroom, mon cœur," he whispers, carrying you down the hallway, anticipation making your teeth capture your bottom lip.

yourusername

liked by iamrebbecad, charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 599,042 others

yourusername I've loved you three six summers now, honey, but I want 'em all... 💕

view all 4,007 comments

username not taylor's 'lover' omg stoppp😭😭😭

username aww there's something so special about seeing childhood friends turn into lovers🥹🫶

username dear lord... i see what you've done for others🧎‍♀️

username lool🤣

charles_leclerc Sounds like a beautiful plan ❤️

(liked by author)

username alright that's enough internet for today🤧

username AHHH THE 3RD PIC WITH D/N??? I'M CRYING

username if they ever break up, I'll stop believing in love cause wdym

username girl don't speak that shit into existence !! username wait you're right SRY I TAKE IT BACK PLSS

1:11 ───ㅇ───────── 3:25

1K notes · View notes

httpdollie · 9 months

Text

DRUNK WALK HOME

content warning: infidelity, angst, established relationship, man whore! gojo, ooc gojo, caught in the act, next part will be a good for them genre. reader is implied to wear fem clothes but gn! reader. i didn’t proofread :0

taglist and requests are open!

you told him to be ready by 6. it was now 7:15 and you just got out of your cab, asking the driver to stay to stay there. running through the rain into the lobby, you quickly pressing the button to the elevator leg anxiously bouncing, making your wet shoe squeak. you try calling him once more, the elevator door opening as you get sent to voicemail.

panic runs through your body as you start to run through the potential scenarios your fiancé could be in. the elevator dings, you bolt out the doors and down the hallways, frantically typing in the code to his apartment. you frantically making your way through the apartment, turning the corner from the living room. inching closer and closer to the room. as you walk your eyes follow the floor, and you instantly felt tears prick your eyes when you see his pants thrown on the floor with red bottom heels and a red dress. Your stomach dropped with each step you took, hands shaking as you opened the door; praying you wouldn’t be met with the scene you think you’re gonna get.

But why should your life be easy?

that’s right. gojo satoru was a casanova. he will forever be a casanova, and you should’ve known that before you started dating him.

there he was. balls fucking deep in the secretary he told you has a crush on him and “not to worry about it, he’ll handle it.” and now you’re here watching him fuck another person, 2 months away from your wedding.

you watched him from the doorway, locking on the door, quickly getting his attention. there he was staring at you blankly as you did him. His initial look of shock turned to one of annoyance as the girl under earth him started scrambling to get under the bed sheets, covering herself. You wanted to yell but all you could do was bit your lip, trying not to cry in front of them.

“nice to know what you’re up to when we’re supposed to be meeting my fucking parents ‘toru.” You said with contempt, taking a deep breath in before turning, leaving as quickly as you came. you ignore him calling your name out, slamming the door behind you as you leave.

grabbing his sweatpants off the floor, pulling them not before he slammed the bedroom door, telling her not to leave. gojo nearly trips over his rug coming after you.

“y/n! please baby, please! i’m sorry!” gojo tried pleading with you, grabbing your wrist trying to pull you into a hug for you to quickly pull it out of his grasp.

“don’t fucking touch me!” you spit at him with venom in your voice. you forcefully push away from him forcing more distance between you. he tries talking a step forward to watch you take one back before he threw the hand that was stressfully running through his hair now land by his side.

“she didn-“

“she what? didn’t mean anything? miss me with that bullshit satoru, you knew exactly what you were fucking doing.” you said angrily, quickly wiping away the tears as the tried rolling down your cheek. you had been dating for 3 years, engaged for one; he had only seen you cry 3 times in front of him. four years of love, four years of memories, now just amount for four years you wasted. 4 years of pain.

but today he was finally the cause of those tears and it was killing him.

“please— let’s just work this out” he pleaded taking another step towards you. “please baby… i only love you.”

“you love me? you love me?! well of course i’ll take you back, you fucking the girl you told me not to worry about; who happens to still be in your room, didn’t mean anything! of course i’ll take you back!” you retorted with a smile on your face. “fuck you, satoru. fuck you and fuck your little homewrecker. if she was worth fucking and ruining our relationship then own up to it!.” you pulled the ring off your finger and threw it at him. “your new little girlfriend can keep my shit, since she wants to be me so bad.” you breathed out slowly, trying to keep yourself calm. you quickly turn heel and walk away, not looking back at him. this time you opted for the stairs ignoring him as he followed you pleaded all the way to the lobby. You push the lobby doors open and spot your cab, you speed walk to it, opening the door to your cab before turning around and glaring at him.

“y/n, please don’t do this.” he begged again, making you scoff at his teary eyes face while the rain poured on the two of you.

“you’re fucking dead to me gojo.”

part 2

#— dolly writes #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jjk drabbles #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru imagine

612 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

16K notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 10 months

Text

Facts to Know About Our Boy Series

Important and just for fun because why not

Warnings: ANGST, FLUFF, SURGERY, ALMOST DYING

Elijah has blue eyes and pure blonde hair (this is actually important)

Cecile is the only one who calls Elijah, Eli

When the kids are in their teens, Lando drives for Mercedes

Charles is driving for Red Bull after winning 3 WDC with Ferrari

Cecile dyes her hair blonde from the ages of 13-16 so no one makes comments about how Elijah and Cecile don't look alike

Cecile knows who her real father is, but doesn't care. Charles and Lando are both her fathers

Elijah does meet his birth father again

Reader does hide who Elijah's birth father is from Charles and Lando and this almost causes them to divorce

Cecile goes to university to become a PH.D in mechanical engineering

Elijah doesn't go to university, choosing to follow his father's footsteps, currently killing it in F2 at the age of 18

Reader, Lando, and Charles do have a third child

The family lives in Monaco, but spends time in London more

Charles gives the reader and Lando wedding rings

aren't "officially" married just a small service with family and friends

Cecile is her parents worst nightmare as she loves parting and a total femme fatale who can kick ass in 6 inch heels

Elijah and Cecile are very close sometimes they don't even notice they're leaving out their youngest sibling

the age gap between Elijah and Cecile is 4 years almost 5, the age gap between Cecile and their baby sibling is 13 years

Lando and Cecile are very close while Elijah is closer to Charles

Elijah and his birth father have become close, but will never truly see him as his father

Cecile once ran away from home at the age of 15

Charles and Lando once got in a horrible argument that Charles told Lando he wished he never married him

Reader sleeps in-between the boys but that does change with the boys curled up together

Lando almost died once during a race and Elijah was on the radio with him when it happened

Reader had to get major surgery while pregnant with the 3rd baby

the 3rd baby is a boy

Lewis and Lando's friendship was never the same after Lewis helped the reader hide the identity of Elijah's father

Cecile still sleeps with the stuffed animal Charles gave her for her first birthday

Elijah keeps a picture of his family in his helmet

Elijah crashed once at Spa during the rain and Charles and Lando both refused to race getting the track banned

Max is Cecile's favorite driver but she refuses to admits it

theres more but that's all I got right now peace

#our boy series #lando norris #charles leclerc #charles x reader x lando #norrisleclercf1 talks

334 notes · View notes

abiiors · 11 months

Text

haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night.

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face.

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years.

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going.

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes.

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her.

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle.

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later.

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia.

besides, there’s her to think about.

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning.

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while.

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat.

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun.

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it.

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late.

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view.

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night.

but back to now. back to here.

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily.

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here.

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves.

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.”

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely.

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles.

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage.

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression.

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second.

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it.

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat.

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter.

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention.

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you.

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem.

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her.

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry.

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family.

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl.

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however.

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry.

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting.

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink.

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience.

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy.

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks.

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him.

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore.

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths.

jarringly still, you smile back.

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

282 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 8 months

Text

and america likes me (politician!matty x reader smut)

i don't even know what to say about this. it's 3.5k words of matty if he was US president, and it's so filthy i feel like the shame nun from game of thrones is going to start following me around. like... there's butt stuff in here lmfao. that said, there's also fluff. idk. blame lana del rey for this, and enjoy <3

"matty, slow down, for fuck's sake, these heels are too high for me to run in!"

your husband scoffs and comes to an abrupt halt, releasing your hand from his own. before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms and keeps moving down the marble-floored corridor, albeit more slowly than before, kissing you quickly to muffle the involuntary shriek you let out as you're flung into the air. "honestly, baby, i don't even know why you persist in wearing heels to these events - it's kinda inevitable that we'll run off somewhere we won't be interrupted, yeah?"

he's right. the two of you have been sneaking out of dinners and dances and drinks receptions together for the better part of twenty years, in search of lockable rooms where dresses can be hoisted up and underwear yanked down with nobody else finding out. but this isn't a university ball. it isn't a charity gala. it isn't a congressional dinner. christ, it isn't even your wedding.

you press a gentle kiss to the underside of matty's jaw, savouring his little hum of contentment that follows. "well, i thought my husband being sworn in as president was an event that deserved six inches of stiletto."

"i can think of something else that deserves six in-"

"i swear to god, matthew, if you finish that sentence i'm turning around and going back to the party without you."

matty laughs and kisses your nose. "we both know you're not going to do that, sweetheart."

"oh, do we, now?" you ask, raising a brow. "and what evidence do we have of that, mr. president?"

a smirk, the same one that's weakened any and all resolve of yours since you were eighteen. "because i'm ridiculously hot, that's why."

you roll your eyes as matty laughs, but - once again - he's right. he is ridiculously hot, especially in this moment: the moonlight streaming through the big windows catches the grey hairs threaded through his dark curls, his slightly stubbled jaw and cheekbones sharpened by the shadows it casts. the tie he was wearing earlier got lost somewhere between your first official dance as president and first lady and now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt coming undone in solidarity with it. speaking of the shirt - despite its expensive price, the white fabric is still sheer enough for the black ink on matty's sternum to be visible. although, you wonder, the transparency of the shirt might have less to do with fabric thickness and more to do with the fact it's being slightly stretched over your husband's muscle-wrapped chest, and the strong arms currently tucked under your legs. either way, it's really working for him. and you, as a result.

"mmm, i concur," you smile. "i think the evidence is quite satisfactory."

matty's turn to raise a brow. "quite?"

"well," you say, trailing a manicured nail down his neck and chest, stopping as you reach the first closed button. "i've only had a partial look. i think you need to be a bit more… uncovered."

"oh, believe me, sweetheart, that'll be happening. for both of us, actually," matty grins. "as much as i love this dress on you, i do in fact need to get you out of it as soon as possible."

"i'm cool with that."

"excellent. in that case, hang on tight."

you do as asked, and matty runs down the rest of the corridor, stopping when he reaches an imposing oak door. he gently puts you back on the ground, giggling with you and holding your hand as you readjust to standing on stilettos; he brings it to his lips quickly, before pushing open the door and beckoning you to step inside.

as you enter the warmly-lit entryway, a young man dressed in black leaps up from his seat behind a desk. "evening, ma'am, mr. president, sir."

matty gestures for the man to sit down. "evening, sam. i take it they radioed to tell you we were coming down here for a bit of peace and quiet?"

"yes, sir."

you squint at him. "you look pale, sam. have you had any dinner? or any sort of break, at all?"

"well… no, ma'am," sam replies, hesitantly. "i've been here since noon."

"almost twelve hours? that won't do at all," you gasp. "i really think you should get something to eat. and some coffee. the sooner, the better, because you look dead on your feet. no offence."

"none taken, ma'am. but i can't leave the vicinity of the office here until the shift change at 2."

"you don't have to," matty pipes up. "there's cake and coffee in the chief of staff's kitchen. and chairs that are much more comfortable than the one you have here - i'll sort that out for you tomorrow, actually. go, have a bit of a rest for an hour or so."

sam still looks hesitant. "are you sure, sir?"

matty nods, smiling. "that's a direct order. we'll ring you if we need anything."

"thank you, sir. oh, and speaking of the chief of staff," sam replies, pulling out a bottle of champagne from under his desk. "he left this for the two of you."

"ah, adam. always so kind," you grin, taking the bottle. "thank you, sam. have a good night."

"thank you," sam nods, making his way to a plain side door as you and matty make yours towards another imposing one in the opposite direction. "and you too, ma'am, mr. president. congratulations again."

"much appreciated, sam, thanks. see you tomorrow," matty waves, before gently pulling you through the second door and closing it behind you. "finally. alone at last."

you lay the champagne on a nearby sideboard and pull your husband into a tight hug. his arms find home around your waist, while your head buries itself in the crook of his neck. "alone at last, in the oval office. which i am very excited about decorating, by the way. this room is going to look beautiful once i'm through with it."

matty laughs, pulling back to look at you and caressing your face softly with his thumb. "it already looks more beautiful with you standing in it, darling, in your pretty dress and all your jewels."

as he speaks, he lightly brushes his fingers over said jewels adorning your hair and earlobes and neck and wrists and fingers. you smirk, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "you forgot one."

matty's head drops onto your shoulder, and he trails kisses along into your neck. one of his hands begins to knead your asscheek, while the other slips down the small of your back and past your tailbone and presses - gently, but still enough to send a rush of heat to your core. "i can assure you i did not, dirty girl."

"your dirty girl," you say, pulling matty in for a kiss. he eagerly accepts, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth; matty always kisses like he's trying to completely consume you. as if he hasn't already - your heart, your thoughts, your dreams… they're all devoted to him. and you want to demonstrate that devotion now. "who's about to get on her knees for you in the middle of the oval office."

matty moans into your mouth, but shakes his head. "nah," he says, pulling back, breathless and wild-eyed. "s'not what i want right now."

you pout. your husband laughs. "later, sweetheart, i promise. but for now - will you go and sit behind the desk for me?"

a rush of excitement passes through you. unlike matty, a political career has never been your dream, but the thought of getting to sit at the presidential desk in the oval office and experience the illusion of having that much power is undeniably thrilling. so you oblige, looking up at a smiling matty from your place on the butter-soft leather. "what exactly are you planning on doing, baby?"

another kiss, then matty speaks against your lips. "pledging my allegiance."

before you have time to react, matty's on his knees in front of you, unclasping your heels and carefully lifting your feet from them. then, sliding a hand up the expanse of your leg visible through the slit in your skirt, he gently lifts the top section of fabric away and spreads your legs as much as the dress allows. his pretty eyes light up at the sight of your lacy white panties; you whimper as he runs a finger down them, to which he responds with a "so responsive for me, fuck".

"take them off," you whine. "please, need you."

"and you'll get me, darling, whatever you want," matty coos. he slides the damp lace down your legs and places it on the desk - a disgustingly erotic sight, it has to be said - before placing a thigh on each of his shoulders and leaning in.

with a flat tongue, and with those dark eyes locked on your own, matty slowly licks upwards from your entrance; you moan in relief as he meets the wetness he coaxed out of your body by nothing more than just being. but relief is short-lived - his tongue points and swirls as it meets your clit for the briefest of moments, before matty takes the sensitive bud between his lips and just sucks.

pleasure shoots through your nervous system, releasing a wail from your throat, sending your hand straight into matty's hair, and forcing your hips to jerk upward. matty tries to stop the latter by pressing a hand on your stomach; combined with the way he's practically making out with your cunt and the way he moans into it when your fingers wrap themselves around his curls, though, it has the opposite effect.

but your husband doesn't seem to mind your hips writhing, your stomach clenching under his hand, your cunt grinding against his face. in fact, he seems to fucking love it - the way he's palming himself through his dress trousers with his free hand certainly corroborates that. when the realisation of what his arm movement is breaks through your sex-addled brain, a heady mixture of pride and more pleasure courses through your body. one of the most powerful men in the world is on his knees before you, as you're perched on the literal seat of his power, eating you out like a man starved and enjoying himself so much he can't help but get off to it like a horny teenage boy.

the thought alone would be enough to make you cum. and in conjunction with the actual feeling of matty fervently mouthing at your cunt, you're imminently heading that way. "matty, i'm - oh, fuck, that feels good - m'gonna cum, baby. please, please, make me cum, fuck, oh my god."

matty's eyes roll back in his head at your words. he abandons his self-pleasuring to wrap both arms around your thighs and tug you even closer to his mouth; you don't quite understand how that's possible, given how enthusiastically he's been tongue-fucking you for god knows how long, but, somehow, he manages it, burying the deft muscle up to the hilt inside you and bringing a calloused thumb to your clit. you let out a choked sob, digging your nails into the arms of your/his/the federal government's chair as your hips continue jerking and the elastic band of ecstasy grows ever more taut in the pit of your stomach. with a final suck of your clit, it snaps, spilling whines of your husband's name from your lips and warm liquid from your core onto his waiting face and tongue. he gently laps it up so it doesn't spill onto your pretty dress, cooing praises and reassurances in the moments in between when he comes up to catch his breath.

once he's satisfied with how clean you are, matty releases his vice grip on your thighs and rests his head on the left one. he's just as breathless as you, and probably just as fucked-out-looking, but you've never found him more beautiful, all messy and bright-eyed and covered in you. smiling, you run a shaky hand through his curls and watch him close his eyes in contentment; when he reopens them, he presses a kiss on your inner thigh and looks up at you. "hi."

"hi," you reply, smiling sweetly. "i love you."

"i love you too."

you grin cheekily. "the way you just went down on me suggested that, yes."

matty laughs. "honestly, baby, i think that was the most fun i'm ever going to have in this office."

"nah," you say, sitting up and leaning down to kiss him. the tang of yourself on his tongue sends another burst of heat between your legs. "i'm about to return the favour."

"jesus christ," matty groans, squishing his face into your thigh. he inhales, then looks back up at you apologetically. "as much as i'd love that, sweetheart - and i really, really would - i think if i'm not inside you in the next two minutes i might actually pass out."

you giggle, stroking his cheek. "noted. can i ride you, then? at least for a little bit, and then you can take me however you'd like."

"fuck, yeah. but i need to get you out of that dress first, need to see your tits. that alright with you?"

"mhmm," you nod. "can i get you naked, too, baby?"

"'course," matty smiles, pulling himself up to stand and helping you up onto your shaky legs. "turn around for me, gorgeous."

when you obey, he presses little kisses across the back of your bare shoulders, while simultaneously working on undoing the little buttons lining your spine. your dress falls to the ground once the final button is undone, leaving you bare save the jewels dotted around your body; swearing under his breath, matty brushes the one only he and you know about. "some day, i'm going to fuck you there, in this room."

gleeful, you spin around to face him, shoving his suit jacket off and beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt. "that better be a promise."

"oh, you beautiful, filthy girl," matty coos. he takes your face in his hands and kisses you, as your fingers move to unfastening his trousers. breaking the kiss, matty kicks his shoes off as you rid him of his shirt and attach your lips to the tattoo of your first initial on his ribs. "of course it's a promise. but first, i need to fuck that tight little pussy of yours, alright?"

"i can see that," you tease, as you yank down matty's trousers and boxers in one fell swoop and see his presumably achingly hard dick for the first time that evening. "take a seat, mr. president. let me make you feel good."

matty does as you ask, settling down in the chair and holding his hands out to help you climb on too. it's a big chair, the seat wide enough for you to comfortably kneel on either side of his hips, but matty doesn't look small in it by any means; he's assured, powerful, imposing… and sexy. you tell him as much, and his cheeks go pink as he shakes his head. "enough flattery, more fucking, please, sweetheart."

you smirk. "whatever you want, sir." with that, you slowly sink down onto matty's dick, both of your jaws dropping in tandem as more and more of him slides inside you. as he bottoms out, you blink dazedly, already slightly overwhelmed from how full you feel.

matty notices, and brings a hand to cup your jaw. "you alright, darling?"

"yeah, just full," you reply breathily, smiling sweetly at your husband. "feels good."

a smile in return. "feels amazing, baby. d'you want a hand moving?"

in response, you rise up on your knees and sink slowly back down, eliciting a moan from matty and a grin from yourself. "i've got it."

matty watches as you continue to bounce on him, your pace increasing with every meeting of your bodies. as you speed up, your tits begin their own bouncing; with a groan of your name, your husband takes one in each hand and squeezes gently, making you whine when he rolls your nipples between finger and thumb. "too fucking right you've got it, babe."

the praise shoots straight to your head, egging you on enough that you speed up your bouncing even more, as best you can. matty can't tear his hooded-with-pleasure eyes away from your tits, but even in his fucked-out haze he still manages to bring his thumb to your clit and lightly circle it; you whine and clench around him as soon as he makes contact, which rips a throaty groan from his lips. "shit, baby, just like that. so fucking tight around me, so fucking perfect, christ, feels like you were fucking made for me."

"love the way you feel inside me," you whine. "want you - fuck - everywhere."

matty closes his eyes for a second as if to compose himself - when they reopen, the beautiful brown is almost completely gone, replaced by the dilated black of lust. the hand not already preoccupied with your clit sneaks across your hip, deft fingers quickly meeting the jewel decorating your peachy ass. "oh, baby, i want that too. can't tonight, though, because we don't have everything we need. but we can still play a little bit…"

keeping his eyes on your face the whole time, matty slowly starts to pull the jewel out of you, just enough that the ring of muscle is stretched ever so slightly by the thickest part of the glass, before working it back in and repeating the motion. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling, the third level of simultaneous stimulation driving you deeper into your already sex-addled state, and your voice shakes as you whimper. "oh my fucking god."

despite being just as sex-addled as you, matty's cheeks lift into the most smug, most shit-eating grin you've ever seen him wear. "you like that, baby?"

you can't answer, your brain too hazy to send the signals for speech to your voicebox. but it's alright - matty's doing one of his telltale rhetorical 'orgasm is imminent' monologues: "yeah, i know you fuckin' do, shit, clenching around me like that. fucking love it when you do that, fucking love you, my girl, my favourite girl. such a good girl for me, fuck, just so perfect. you're getting close again, aren't you, sweetheart?"

still riding, despite your burning thighs, you nod. the elastic in your stomach is tightening again, far quicker than it did before your previous orgasm; your ability to talk hasn't quite returned, so you settle for burying your head into the crook of matty's neck and digging your nails into his back, tethering yourself to him in a wordless attempt to tell him you're about to cum.

luckily, your husband knows you and your body so well that he understands instantly, shuffling underneath you so he can fuck up into you and get you both off. "need you to cum for me, darling," matty murmurs into your hair. "need to feel you cum all over me. please, sweetheart."

it's the plea that does it. on top of the clitoral stimulation, and the attention on both holes, and the dirty talk, and the previous orgasm, and the sheer fact that it's matty underneath and inside you… it's his desperation that knocks you off the precipice. the elastic band doesn't so much snap as it completely shatters, sending a wave of total pleasure throughout your body that's so strong you actually black out for a second, after managing to finally croak out your husband's name.

you're brought back to earth by said husband whining directly into your ear. "oh fuck, babe, m'so close, m'so fucking close - shit, where do you want me to cum?"

"inside me, please," you reply, still panting from the aftershocks of orgasm.

"fuck, you want me to fill you up? i'll fucking do it, sweetheart," matty groans, hips beginning to stutter as he nears his climax. his speech, though, still flows out unencumbered. "might even put a baby in you, if we're lucky. you like that idea, darling, a picture-perfect little presidential family?"

you hum contentedly, too tired to do anything but nod into matty's neck. against your temple, you feel him smile. "then i'll fucking give it to you - shit, m'gonna cum. gonna fuckin' fill you up, give you what you want. give you anything you want, whenever you want it, my wife, my perfect girl - oh, fuck, i'm there. fuuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

matty wraps his arms around your waist and pushes down slightly with his shoulders, keeping your bodies flush as he pulses heat into you. he keeps his arms there even after orgasm wears off, and yours stay loosely wrapped around his neck; for a few minutes, you stay just like that, the room silent aside from the tandem heavy breathing. you're first to break it, pulling back from matty's neck to look at him. "hi."

"hi," matty giggles, leaning up to give you a peck on your pouty lips. "so… we just absolutely desecrated the oval office."

you giggle too. "indeed we did. worth it, though."

"absolutely," matty brushes a stray strand of hair - still miraculously mostly intact, despite it all - from your forehead. "you feeling alright, baby? you need anything?"

"honestly? a drink would be nice."

matty throws his head back against the leather and laughs, before looking back at you and stroking your cheek. "give me a minute to recover, sweetheart, and then we can crack open that champagne from adam and toast the incredible sex we just had, yeah?"

"absolutely, mr. president."

#mads muses #mads does writing #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty x reader #politician matty

309 notes · View notes

roguehongsami · 6 months

Text

Velvet Crowbar | Pt. 3

pairing/s: rockstar!wooyoung x fem!couturier

genre/s: smut, fluff, au

synopsis: 1995. it's been 12 years since you left kialecombe. wooyoung tracks you down, desperate to get you back before your wedding.

content: cheating, unprotected sex (condomize), fingering, oral sex, creampie, (sprinkled)nostalgia.

word count: 3.5k

navigation: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

masterlist here

"Hey, we're Bloodhound and you're not." the man spoke arrogantly, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Y/N switched off the television. Her focus was on the rough sketch she had been working on for a week. The deadline was approaching and she couldn't afford to miss it. It was slowly coming together but still didn't feel right. She let out an exasperated sigh and dropped her pencil on the table. She pushed away from the desk and spun around in her chair, taking in the view of the city skyline. She needed inspiration.

And inspiration she was going to get.

[ . . . ]

"These are the newest addition to the brand." the saleswoman gestured enthusiastically with her hands as she held the shoe. "A suede finish with the brand initials in gold as the heels. It comes in five different colours. What makes this heel special, is that it is the first shoe the CEO has ever designed in her entire career. She primarily focuses on clothing."

Yeosang nodded, having found the perfect gift for his wife. "I'd like them in a size four."

The saleswoman smiled. She instructed Yeosang to wait by the counter, as she went into the storage room to get a box of size four's. She returned with a black box, gold 'Archibald Scott' lettering on top.

Yeosang turned around and called. "Wooyoung, come on."

Wooyoung, who sat on the couch while Yeosang was shopping, walked over and stood beside him. His eye caught the miniature display on the counter. The woman in the picture posing with a bottle of perfume. Her face painted with a nude makeup look, and her nails manicured and decorated with red nail polish. He took the display into his hand, studying the woman's face.

It was now or never.

[ . . . ]

Y/N stepped out of the elevator, heels clinking against the floor tiles as she descended down the steps and marched to her office. No inspiration acquired but only a handbag in hand. Eyes focused on the door that created a buffer between her and the employees, behind came her assistant trying to match her pace.

"There's someone in your office. I told them you're not to be disturbed but they wouldn't–"

Y/N interrupted Cassidy. "That's okay, Cass. You can take the rest of the day off, I think I'm gonna clock off early."

Cassidy stopped in her tracks and returned to her desk. Y/N stood in front of her office door, opening it as her feet led her in. Behind her desk stood a man with black hair, held back by sunglasses. He sported a black leather jacket, black denim jeans and Nike Jordan's. Hands pocketed in his jacket. As she was about to speak, closing the door behind her, he turned around.

The air in the room suddenly became thin, almost losing her breath. "Woo?"

Wooyoung gave her a meek smile. "You are not the same girl I met in '83." he chuckled to himself. "Got time to catch up?"

She stood silently in the middle of the room, unable to move. Unable to find the words to speak. Something in her head suddenly clicked, as if she found the answer to a big question she had been asking herself. Wooyoung moved away from the desk and inched closer to her. As she came out of her trance, she instructed him to sit.

"How have you been doing? It's been a while."

"Twelve years." she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. "I've been doing okay. Just working. What about you? I see things worked out after Velvet Crowbar."

He bowed his head. "I went over to your house after I woke up from my OD. Nurses told me you were the one who found me. When I got there, your mom said you left Kialecombe for good. No matter how much I begged her to, she wouldn't tell me where you moved to. I just wanted to thank you." he looked her in eye. "You gave me a second chance."

"I'm sure anybody would've done the same if they found you." she spoke modestly.

"Yeah, I had nobody after I got kicked out of VC." he let out a shaky breath. "A second too late, I would've died in that room."

She dropped her head, a frown materializing across her face. The image of his unconscious body was still fresh in her memory. The relief she felt when her mother notified her of his condition. Since then, she had solely focused on school and work. Over the years, she saw him on TV. She knew their separation was for the best, she just needed the reassurance that he was doing fine.

He lifted her chin up. "I'm here now, thanks to you." he smiled boyishly. "I couldn't see myself stuck in Kialecombe forever, so I got clean and stayed clean. You remember Yeosang?"

"Dude with the lisp? Always bothered me how he'd say my surname." her eyebrows creased. "He plays drums in your band, right?"

"Yeah, he dropped his nine-to-five when the band finally took off. How'd you know that?"

She gave him a small smile. "I saw you on Headbangers Ball and Unplugged. Bloodhound really gives a good show."

"You listen to my band?" with genuine surprise in his tone.

She playfully shoved his shoulder. "Shut up, Woo. You always knew I was your biggest fan. How'd you even find me?"

"We came to Blue Coast for a break before we resume our tour. I was at one of your stores with a friend– I don't get why you didn't name the brand after yourself." he arched his eyebrows.

"My dad's name has an old money flair to it." she shrugged.

"I found the headquarters' number in the yellow pages, they told me where the big boss can be found."

The tension in the atmosphere eased. His eye caught the white diamond ring on her finger. His heart sank, afraid that he had actually lost her for good. All the work he had put into bettering himself was partially for his own benefit, but mostly so he could be the man Y/N deserved.

He pointed at the rock. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

She looked at the ring and as she was about to speak, her door opened. Her attention now directed to the man entering her office. Wooyoung turned his head, and the look on the man's face replaced with a distasteful one. Wooyoung and Y/N both stood from the couch. Instead of jealousy, Wooyoung was confused. It seems his words never stuck with Y/N as much as he thought they would.

"Wooyoung?" he spoke with an exasperated tone.

"Bradford." Wooyoung deigned, visibly unimpressed.

Y/N walked over to Brady's side and held onto his arm. "Brady and I are getting married in three weeks." she spoke hesitantly.

“I see…” Wooyoung sighed as he shook his head disapprovingly. “It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I’ll make sure to say goodbye before going back on tour. Also, congratulations.”

Wooyoung strutted past Brady, bumping into his shoulder. He exited the office and once out of earshot, Brady casted Y/N a cold look. She merely rolled her eyes, aware of exactly what he was thinking. Her hands fell from his arm as she walked to her desk. She packed her designs into a cylindrical drawing holder. Handbag in hand and drawing holder nestled under her arm, she beelined to the door.

Brady blocked her path and looked down on her. “What was he doing here?”

“He found my office. Apparently, he was at one of my stores.” she pointed at the door. “Can we go home?”

He made way for her and as she continued her path, he reached for her wrist. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her eyes glanced at his hand then his face. “There’s nothing going on between me and Woo.”

Another late night spent in the office. Lights at every floor were off. From the street, the only lights that shone were on her floor. Office quiet as a grave, all that could be heard was the sound of birds squawking and the occasional helicopter making its nightly rounds around the city.

Slumped back in her chair, head rested against the back and arms laid on the armrest, she felt defeated. Her deadline was fast–approaching and she still had no designs to submit for the next season's line. The sound of nothing was slowly driving her mad. Her frustration worsening, wondering why she did not stick with handling office affairs.

A knock on the door startled her. She sat upright, waiting to hear if there would be another. A slightly more forceful knock followed. She got up from her desk and as she approached the door, she took the baseball bat by the couch. Another knock. As she unlocked the door, turning the knob, she brought the bat over her shoulder.

When she opened the door, there stood Wooyoung holding a paper bag full of takeaways. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I got everything..." he said with bewilderment written all over his face.

Y/N sighed a breath of relief as she stepped away from the door.

"Were you gonna use that on me?" he asked.

She locked the door and followed him to her desk. "You said you had late rehearsals."

He sat in her chair, setting aside her drawings and unpacking the food. "I finished at seven and came by. Saw your lights were on, so I left to go get food." he shrugged. "You had dinner yet?"

She tossed the bat on the couch and sat on the desk, beside Wooyoung. "I haven't eaten since morning."

After getting cornered by Brady, Wooyoung knew he could not see Y/N without her fiancé intercepting every meeting. He acquired her personal number from Cassidy, the assistant. It took a lot of convincing before she gave in. Since then, they had been meeting only when she worked late nights. Brady was completely in the dark.

Oblivious, Y/N was under the impression that he just wanted to catch up. They only had regular conversations about normal things, with Wooyoung occasionally asking about her future with Brady. An unintentional slip of the tongue informed Wooyoung that her relationship wasn't as exciting as it was in the beginning, and that she hoped that getting married would liven things up.

Her mishap was his ticket back in.

"Any luck with your designs?" he said, rubbing her bare knee.

She shook her head.

He planted his hands on her thighs, his head bowed down. "Most people revisit their past when they need inspiration."

He looked up to meet her eyes. She took in a deep breath and released a shaky one. Something about that statement did not sit well with her. It wasn't the literal sentence, but its insinuation. He inched closer to her face, standing between her legs. She leaned back a bit to create distance. His hands on her lower back, he reeled her back in.

Trailing kisses along her jaw to her neck, her body stiffened. Too conflicted to make a decision. What she wants or what she deserves? He was pushing her to choose the former. Slow steady breaths to calm her nerves. She needed to bring herself back down to earth and buck up. She grabbed his arms and as she began pushing him, his grip around her waist tightened.

He leaned into her ear and chimed, "When was the last time you and Brady had sex?" he pulled back to see her face. "Don't be shy, tell me."

Flustered, her hands fell to the table. In a whisper, she said, "Two months ago."

It wasn't the wedding planning. It wasn't her job. She had not been in the mood for a while. Aphrodisia was second nature to her and its absence was dispiriting. Unable to pinpoint the source of her sexual stupor, she just chalked it up to age. She just didn't have it like she used to, maybe.

He glanced down at her engagement ring. His hand stroked her arm, eventually sliding the ring off and tucking it away in her desk drawer. Lips locked with one another and inhibitions cast away, she gave in. She knew it was wrong but it's easier to beg for forgiveness than to actually dig for the actual problem and abate it. His hands slid under her skirt and tugged at the hems of her underwear.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "You know I still-"

"Don't." she cut him off. "I'm getting married in two weeks, don't make this any more complicated than it already is."

Reluctantly, he obliged, seizing the conversation. He pulled off her underwear. Separating her folds, he slid one finger in. Thrusting in and out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back. He went down on his knees, her legs thrown over his shoulders and hands gripping her thighs, he lapped her up and tickled her bud with his tongue. A breathy moan filled the room.

As his pace increased, he stretched her out to get her ready. Three fingers and ten minutes later, the sound of Wooyoung slurping and Y/N cursing between moans was all that could be heard. He stood up and brought her into a kiss. Her hands were fumbling with his belt but she eventually undid it. He unbuttoned her blouse and unclasped the front of her bra, freeing her breasts.

She pulled his jacket and shirt off, throwing them on the ground. Her lips left trails of wet kisses all over his chest, suckling and nibbling at the skin on his neck. Rouge materialising. He dropped his pants as they pooled around his legs. She went in for a kiss. As he slid into her, she moaned into his mouth. A proud grin forming on his lips. He started with soft, slow thrusts. Easing her into the moment. As he picked up speed and force, he laid her on her back.

His fingers toying with her bud, her brain was fogging. She could not recall the last time she enjoyed sex this much. It had become a chore. Her hands toyed with her breasts, Wooyoung removing her hands from her chest.

"Let me watch..." he spoke, breathlesly.

Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, a combination of their bodies radiating and the raised summer temperatures. One leg over his shoulder and another around his waist, he reached in to grab the back of her neck.

"He doesn't fuck you this good, does he?" he grunted, smacking the side of her thigh.

"Brady could never." she lambasted in a moan.

Wooyoung suddenly stopped. He brought her to her feet then bent her over the desk. With one leg on the desk, he went back in. At this angle, silence was not a given. Moans mixed with cries, and grunts mixed with groans. They could only wish for this to go on forever. Consistent with the pace, he pulled off her blouse and bra. Her hands pressed firm against the desk surface for balance, he toyed with her nipples as he nipped the skin on her shoulder.

She clamped around him, feeling pressure build up in her stomach. How she missed that knotting sensation. He felt the squeeze of his cock, making him move erratically inside her. The warmth and friction of it all drove him to unadulterated insanity. He held her bare back flush against his chest, needing every bit of skin contact he could acquire.

"Woo, faster." she moaned, one hand on the desk and the other holding on to his neck.

Not a second later, he was thrusting as fast as he could. They braced themselves for a simultaneous release, it was fast-approaching. Both came undone. Wooyoung was thrusting all the discharge deep inside her until he stilled. His head rested on her shoulder, catching a breath, and her head hung. He slowly pulled out of her, bits of cum sliding down her thigh. He grabbed a tissue from her desk, and wiped her down.

They got dressed in silence. Not an awkward one. They were reflecting on where their relationship went wrong, and how they got to that point. The chemistry was still there, but so were obstacles. Y/N felt as if she had a promise to fulfill with her engagement. She couldn't turn back now. And Wooyoung, nothing he could say would change her mind. She was determined to walk down that aisle.

What she deserved outweighed what she desired.

Yet she expressed no remorse for what she had just done.

"Just think about what I said, okay?" he pecked her on the lips. "Revisit the past."

[ . . . ]

After spending the whole night in the office, no ideas coming to light, she stepped into her penthouse. She put her handbag down on the kitchen island. Brady's gym bag was still in the kitchen. She went on a path to her bedroom. In her walk-in closet, she found an old miniature chest with memorabilia. She sat on the bed as she went through some of the artifacts.

Her late father's watch.

Her mother's locket, which was passed down to her by her mother, Mrs. Rhodes.

Polaroids of her adolescent days. At the country club with her parents. Making clothes in the atelier. Moments of her dancing on tables and headbanging. Sitting on the roof of an abandoned bus with Murphy and Seonghwa. Her and Wooyoung wearing battle vests and matching Judas Priest tees at a show, their first date. She took a few more moments looking.

Truly the happiest time of her life.

She left the open chest and polaroids on the bed, stepping into the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, Brady came in and took note of the items on the bed. He picked up the polaroids and studied the one with Wooyoung. Aggravated that she would keep it, he counted to a hundred in his head to calm himself.

Freshly cleaned, she returned and saw Brady holding her belongings. "Morning sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

He mustered up a halfhearted smile. "Just fine but the bed felt empty without you." he leaned in for a kiss. "What are these?"

"Stuff from high school. I think I know what my next line is gonna be."

She went to bed after chitchatting with Brady, getting some shut-eye before resuming her work. She spent the day at home, drawing multiple designs. They all came so easy. Late afternoon and already down to seven designs. She stopped once she felt she had enough ideas and packed her drawings into the holder.

At any moment, Brady was going to step into their home. Dinner was prepared and the table was set. She changed into a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants. Watching the television, the elevator announced Brady's arrival as he stepped out. Sauntering to the couch and pecking her on the forehead, he greeted her and went off to change.

At the dinner table, Brady put forward, "So, where's your ring?"

Y/N choked on her broth. "Oh..." she wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked down at her hand. "It kept getting caught in my blouse so I put it in my drawer." she looked him in the eye. "It's at work."

Her heart was thumping violently against her chest. A momentary lapsus memoriae, nearly outing her. She was lucky to be able to come up with an excuse so fast. The last time she was cornered, the lie got caught in her throat and found herself stuttering a single letter.

Brady nodded and continued eating his food. Eventually, they cleared the dinner table. Cuddled on the couch watching Universal Soldier. Y/N drifted off to sleep on Brady's chest. The phone on the coffee table rang. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Yes?" he spoke.

"Hey Bradford, are you busy, like right now?" the woman on the other end said.

"Hey Pari, what's up?"

"I have something you need to see. Come to my office, immediately." the line died.

Brady was careful not to wake her, laying her down on the couch and propping her head up with pillows. He got dressed and rushed out of the penthouse. His car was parked outside the Blue Coast Times office. He signed in at reception and stood in the elevator, waiting to reach the top floor. He reached Pari's door. A silver plate me this eyes; Pari Yadav – Editor In Chief.

He knocked on the door twice before Pari opened. She instructed him to sit as she sat across from him. On her desk was a brown envelope. She slid it over to him. His eyebrows creased down the middle, glancing at the envelope then at Pari.

"What is this?" he spelled out as he opened the envelope.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. His eyes studied every picture intently, soaking up the events captured. He sighed, disappointed but not surprised. It was the most defeated he had ever felt. Quick to wipe away the tears that had fallen on his cheeks, he put the pictures back in the envelope. He knew if he went ahead with their pending marriage, he'd always be second priority.

Pari leaned forward in her chair. "I won't run the story. Nobody needs to know about this, I'll tell my journalists to back off."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Pari. But I think I have a better idea." he released a deep breath. "What are you doing on the eighteenth?"

taglist (green highlight = can't tag):

@tinybada @yeosangsbbg @staytiny816

PART 4, READ HERE.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #roguehongsami

101 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

16K notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 4 months

Text

In case you need a laugh tonight...

John Travolta is 6'2. Samuel L. Jackson is also 6'2. Here's a picture for comparison. It's from the 2022 Oscars.

Or, at least he was 6'2 when he was dancing with Diana. Look at their eye levels in this picture; there's a difference of about two inches. We know that Diana was 5'10 and she wore a heel of 2", which would put her at 6' tall. This picture confirms there's about a 2-3" difference in height between them.

Now let's look at a few more people.

Prince William is 6'3. Prince Harry is 6'1. In this pair of pre-Meghan photos, you can see their height difference clearly while standing (somewhat) shoulder to shoulder.

Above, from the Heads Together launch in May 2016. Below, from Pippa's wedding in May 2017.

Why specifically use pre-Meghan photos? Because once Meghan moved in and did her Girlfriend Makeover to Harry after the engagement, Harry began wearing lifts in his shoes to look as tall as William. Most famously at this event, the unveiling of Diana's statue in the Kensington Palace Gardens, July 2021.

Okay, so let's recap: Prince William is 6'3. John Travolta is 6'2. Harry is 6'1.

Then how is this possible?

This is easily a 3-4" height difference. The standard men's heel height in a dress shoe is about 1".

But wait, y'all. It gets funnier. Jeff Bezos is 5'7. Lauren Sanchez is 5'3 and she usually in pretty tall high heels, so let's say she's 5'7 in heels.

Now, Bezos looks a little bit taller and Travolta a little bit shorter because of their anges and position - Bezos is closest to the camera, Travolta furthest (note his body turned behind Lauren). But angles, positions, and perspective do not make Harry loom over the three of them like a giant.

So what do you think? Did Harry go to Ron DeSantis's bootmaker or did he borrow Meghan's shoes for the night?

One last question: Has Harry ever looked at Meghan the way he looked at John?

#brf #theories #sussexes

85 notes · View notes

sumaneun-stars · 9 months

Text

'Remember Me Now?'

Pairing. Sunghoon x fem!reader

Genre. Fluff

Warnings. None

Synopsis. It was your sister's wedding- and you expected it to be quite exhausting. Except this certain man made your day better, not realizing he was the boy you spent your childhood with.

So, the day was finally here. The day you were dreading ever since your future brother in law proposed to your sister. Yeah I know it's rude but, it takes a lot of effort to prepare a wedding, right? Your family wasn't the ordinary. Normal families would have have the couple arrange the marriage- well this family makes the couple sit on thrones the entire time while the rest of the members arranged it. I mean- who can go against tradition?

You were the next in line, which meant you were the one to socialize with every aunt and uncle who was present- not even knowing how they were related to you. You asked your mom uncountable times that you'd help her behind the scenes, but she won. Now you have to smile and talk to everyone. You have to be in everyone's display as 'the bride's sister'. I'm telling you it's an introvert's nightmare.

Atleast you won over something- not going to a salon.

Yeah you do not like other people dress you up- and paying for it too? Who does that?

"Momm" you called her as you ran to her room. "Mom zip this for me" you asked.

She did, right after that she turned you around and started ranting about how you should put on some makeup.

"You're the bride's sister! Dress up for once y/n" she said.

"Alright alright" you groaned as you went to your sister's room to take some of hers.

You immediately took a call to your best friend- who is an expert in this stuff.

———————————————————

"Awhh you look so pretty!" Wonyoung said after she instructed you on how to apply it.

You sighed.

"Oh cheer up, I bet boys would be drooling over you bestie- I promise you it'll be fun alright?" She assured you.

"Thanks bae" you said as you started doing your hair. "I'm leaving in 20 minutes so I think I'll have to hang up" you said.

"Mmkay- I love you bye!" She replied.

You took a deep breath as you got out of the car.

'This is it y/n, this is where you die' you thought to yourself. You helped your sister get off the car, then made your way to the hall. You followed your mom everywhere, pretending to be busy as you weren't ready to socialize yet. Your mom then called you to arrange a few things, and you went gladly.

"Hey y/n" she said.

"Hm?"

"Remember Sunghoon?" She asked you.

"As in.. Mrs. Park's son? The ones who's studying in China?"

"Yes. He's arrived in Korea for the holidays, I hope you can speak to him as well"

"Him?? He's way older!"

"Oh he's only two years apart, besides, you used to play with each other all the time"

"That was years ago mom- I don't even remember how he looks"

"Okay okay, now go on and talk" she pushed you into the main hall. You looked back at her, terrified. She gestured you to walk forward.

Not even 2 minutes and you found yourself in a group of three middle aged women.

"Look at you! You've become so pretty!" One of them said, holding your right arm. You smiled. Just like that you had to smile at every person who spoke to you.

———————————————————

After what felt like hours, it was finally dinner time- which meant you could take a break.

You were tired. Exhausted. You went out to the garden to get some fresh air. You already fell in love with the place. It had greenery everywhere you turned, and a fountain in the middle with benches next to it. The area was lit up with dull lights- you finally felt at peace.

You sat on a bench which faced the city. Oh how you loved the sight of the city- especially at night. You removed your 3 inch heels, your feet swollen from all the walking- only to find a scratch on your right ankle.

"Ouch!" You whispered as you tried to move your foot.

"Hi there"

You flinched. You looked up to see a tall man wearing a black suit, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass with grape juice in it.

"H- hi" you said.

"Are you okay?" He kept his drink on the bench as he knelt down to take a look at your wound, his dyed silver hair falling perfectly on his face. He took out a tissue and folded it into four, then placed it on the wound. You furrowed your eyebrows- he chuckled at the sight. He carried your foot and put it back into the shoe.

"Here, it'll make it easier to walk" he said, placing your foot down. He got up and sat next to you.

"Thanks" you said.

He smiled at you. Gosh- why was he so good looking though?

"Uhm- well-"

"Bride's sister huh, must be tough" he said.

"How'd you know?"

"You don't remember me?" He said pretending to be hurt.

"Uhhh"

"I won't tell you"

So, you two spoke for the next 10 minutes- you didn't even know his name yet. You didn't realise how fast time was passing until you heard 'Kataware doki', your favorite piano piece, playing from the hall.

"Oh the dancing" you mumbled. "This song is so pretty, listen"

He stared at you for a moment, then got up and stood in front of you.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, bowing with his hand reaching out.

"Of course" you giggled, taking his hand.

The swelling was long forgotten once he placed his pretty hands on your waist and shoulder.

"I'm not the best at this" you said chuckling.

"You'll get the hang of it, just follow my lead" he said, raising your chin up with his left hand.

Soon, you were twirling in his hold, and you didn't want it to end. Except it did. You locked eyes with him, his hand still on your waist, and faces just inches apart. His eyes were now on your lips, you observed how his eyelashes fluttered as he looked back and forth at your eyes and lips. Your eyes couldn't keep still either, and they did the same. You two got closer by the minute, it was like you were in a daze. Your noses were brushing on each other, his lips now parted.

'Just kiss me already' you said in your mind.

The next song started playing, which made the both of you come back to your senses. You took a step behind, looking down as you played with your fingers.

"I- I need to go" you said, avoiding eye contact.

He took a step forward, taking your hands in his.

You let go, giving him a soft smile. You made your way back to the hall, where your work awaited you.

As you opened the glass doors, the sound of people's chattering instantly filled your ears. It was as though you had woken up from the most beautiful dream, and now having to face reality. You let out a deep sigh as you had to put on that fake smile again.

After half an hour of socializing, you saw your mom calling you from a distance, a familiar woman by her side.

"Y/n, remember Mrs. Park?" Your mother said, introducing you to her.

"Oh hello!" You bowed at her.

"Oh my gosh y/n! Look at you- you've grown so much! You're so pretty now!" She said, pulling you in for a hug.

"Awh Mrs. Park how've you been!" You asked her, still in her hold.

"I've been great!" She replied, parting the hug. "Have you met Sunghoon yet? I hope you still remember him" she laughed.

"Of course I do!" You told her, chuckling.

She then gestured someone behind you to come.

"Here he is!" You turned to look at him.

'What. The. Hell.'

The guy you danced with- WHAT?

Your eyes widened. You shook his hand, your mouth slightly parted out of shock.

"Remember me now?" He said, leaning in with a small smirk on his face.

End.

#enha scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen oneshots #oneshot #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon #hoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen jay #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x y/n

133 notes · View notes

myrtlefics · 4 months

Text

A Statement from the Readers of Witch Weekly, Upon the Occasion of the Potter-Malfoy Wedding

We knew the first time we saw them together in public, of course! Well. Some of us knew. Some of us were still insisting the poor boy was straight, which anyone with a Witch Weekly subscription should have known was nonsense. Take that photograph on page two, November 3, 2001. We can remember it like it was yesterday, the way he was looking at Charlie Weasley on the dancefloor! His eyes were hotter than all those laser lights bouncing around! Well, and who wouldn’t look at Charlie Weasley like that? “Because he was reminded of Ginevra,” our broomsticks!

Excuse us. Some of us are a little excitable, due to the occasion.

We were saying: it was clear as a sunny day in January, those boys were head over heels on their first re-encounter. We saw all we needed to, there on page one! Among the dozen pictures from the opening of the new hospital wing, the way their gazes caught and clashed! The way their eyes kept dropping to each other's lips! And then— heads together, tilted close to hear amid what surely was a din of conversation, as if they were the only two in the world. Now that is romance, right there on the glossy page for anyone to see. And what could be more interesting than that?

So it was hardly surprising, to us, of course, when we saw them together again three issues later. We had debated it hotly in the meantime: where would they go? A formal date, a paparazzi shot of one leaving the other’s home in the early hours? A casual encounter easily explained? When we tell you, not a one of us could have predicted— except yes, fine, except Amelia, but her sight isn’t strong enough to see the biscuits in the tin half the time, so none of us listen to Amelia— well. Who, now honestly who, (besides Amelia) could have predicted the Scene at the Harpies Match?

And what a scene! Many of us screamed when we saw it! Four dozen of us dropped our tea cups and had to wait for our hands to stop shaking before we cast Reparo. Others bit our own hands nearly hard enough to draw blood, and Cuthbert fainted dead away onto a blessedly convenient chaise. That first image, the quick glances when they thought no one was looking, just missing each other's eyes over and over! The way the wind ruffled their hair, and that extra inch of throat from an open collar. That would have been enough to keep us going for another week, surely! But there was more.

Angry faces, flushed cheeks, and then! The way he stood up so quickly and strode out (on those legs, Merlin keep us), and the way he jumped up to follow! And of course. The pièce de résistance, which of course you would have seen: the confrontation against the wall of the stadium, braced against each other, furious, and— excuse us while we sigh— the Kiss.

After that it was full speed ahead, wasn’t it? We were witnessing a love story for the ages.

#drarry #my writing #witch weekly #fanfic #fourth person pov #frotcot bingo

43 notes · View notes

callsigndragon · 1 year

Text

Desperate times, desperate measures | Ch. 3: Mr. & Mrs. Seresin

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!writer!reader (Most of the times, she will be called Page)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of death, bureaucracy stuff, idiots being idiots, EMMA'S FIRST (and short) APPEARANCE, jake mentions sex once? This is a biiiiiiiig slow burn, man.

A/N: i posted this, but I'm not here lol. small chapter, but at least we have a chapter.

It's okay if you like it and all, but please... a comment is also welcomed and if you reblog it? I'll kiss you on the forehead.

Masterlist

“So you got married recently?” The lady at CPS says, while typing away on the computer.

You clear your throat, looking at Jake before answering. “Yeah, we were planning on getting married in a few months, and our friends were going to help us organize the wedding, but... They’re not here anymore.”

The lady, who you think is called Sandy, looks at you with a sorrowful expression. You want to roll your eyes. How can Jake’s plan be working? When discussing how to approach CPS about your rushed wedding, he said to pull the "our friends died" card. And it’s working.

“I’m so sorry that you had to rush your wedding… I’m sure it was going to be a wonderful event.” She says, turning the chair around once the printer starts buzzing. Once those documents are signed, Emma will be yours. And parenthood will begin as soon as Emma is in your arms.

“We were going to get married at the beach. It was a beautiful place.” Jake replies, placing his hand on your leg, just inches away from your knee. The contact burns your skin, and not in a romantic way.

“Oh my god, a beach wedding? It would have been absolutely beautiful, Mr. Seresin.” The woman says, writing a few things on the document before giving it to you. She’s literally swooning over Jake right now.

Pretty much like all the women you have seen in the parking lot before entering the building.

“I’m just sad that my pretty…girl didn’t get to have the wedding of her dreams.” Jake continues with his lies and his intentions of fooling the CPS worker as much as possible. You’ve noticed the small pause, doubting about the next unsaid word. It feels like pronouncing the words "his" and "wife" in the same sentence was as hard as taking down an enemy aircraft.

“I’m sure you’ll get a chance in the future.” She hands you the papers and two shiny blue pens, pointing to the blank spaces where you two have to sign.

You grab the pen, feeling its weight, twirling it around your fingers, trying to find the perfect position to write with it. It feels uncomfortable, no matter how much you try it. But it’s not the pen that feels wrong.

It’s you, signing a paper where it says that Mr. and Mrs. Seresin are now legal guardians of Emma Hawkins, who doesn’t feel comfortable. Because once this process is over, Emma Hawkins will cease to exist. She’ll be Emma Seresin.

That’s all that's left of them. Their surname. And it will be gone.

Just like they are.

“Well, give me a second, and I’ll bring you your daughter.” Sandy announces with a smile, saving all the files into the folder that is soon stored in a drawer. After that, she leaves the room, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway.

“My daughter.”

You turn your head slowly in his direction, feeling Jake’s words as your own. “It’s our daughter now.”

“She’s not. She’s my dead friend’s daughter. Not mine.” He clenches his jaw, bouncing his leg up and down, and you wonder if this situation isn’t too much for you too. Maybe they shouldn’t have named you two Emma’s legal guardians.

“Sorry to break it to you, pal. But once the process is over, she’ll have your name. She’ll be your daughter.”

“Where the fuck did I get myself into?” He mutters, covering his face with his hands.

“It was your idea,” you remind him, noticing that you still have the pen in your hand. You leave it on the desk, watching all around the room. They may look after children here, but this is the most boring place you've ever visited. Not even a child-related thing hangs on the walls; there’s only framed certificates and a clock. “I was ready to do this on my own.”

Jake lets out an airy chuckle, getting up from his chair and pacing around the room. “They wouldn’t let you, you know it.”

“I could’ve tried. But now I’m married to you for a fucking year.”

He points a finger at you, leaning a bit over your seated figure. "I will not allow strangers to look after my goddaughter."

You slap his hand away, standing up to look him in the eye. “It’s your daughter, now.”

“You’re fucking annoying,” he mumbles, stepping even closer and not even once darting his eyes away from yours.

“You’re a hypocrite. You don’t want her to be adopted by someone else, but you refuse the idea of calling her daughter.”

Jake clenches his jaw, talking through his teeth. “I’m not a father.”

You pat his chest, whispering slowly your next words. “You’re a husband and a father now, Jake Seresin. Don’t think you can go around and live your life the way you’ve been doing it until now.”

He’s so close now that you can smell his perfume. It smells good. It's strange how his entire being makes you want to vomit, but his essence is pleasant. “So what, you want us to play the loving family, invite our friends for dinner, and when they leave, we end up fucking on every surface of the house?”

You scoff, wondering what the fuck he's on. "Do you intend to do that with your future wife?"

“I don’t know if I’ll have a wife after this horrible experience.”

“You better not. My heartfelt sympathies go out to the poor woman who has to deal with your sorry ass."

“You little–”

Jake's words are cut short when the CPS worker opens the door. You were so engrossed in your conversation that you forgot where you were and why you came here. Did she hear something? Did she hear you say all those things, and she knows that you have lied to her in her face? What are you going to do?

Your body acts on its own, taking advantage of the close distance you two are at, and you grab Jake by the neck, pulling him down so you can kiss him. Two newlyweds kissing? Yeah, nobody will be surprised by that.

As if he knew the intentions behind your actions, his hands move to your waist, pulling you close. Playing the part, like he has been doing all day.

“Oops, looks like mom and dad are having fun!” Sandy says, opening the door entirely with Emma in her arms.

You can see in her little face that, even if she can’t comprehend what has happened, she knows that something terrible has occurred and that her life is not the same. She seems to have been crying, and her cheeks are still wet.

“Oh my god, Emma!” You rush to her, grabbing her in your arms and securing her from the rest of the world. She hangs to you, her tiny fists clenching into your clothes.

It's like she’s trying to hold on and not lose any other member of her family.

“Hey, baby girl.” Jake walks to you, and Emma’s face lights up, emitting gleeful sounds of pure happiness. Jake might be a player and an idiot, but he loves this little girl more than anyone else in the world. “Oh yeah, I missed you too.”

“You can take her home now. I wish you the best for your marriage. I know you’ll last. I can see how much you love each other.”

Jake and you look at each other, raising an eyebrow.

Maybe you should stop writing and start an acting career.

Once you leave the building, you go back home. Well, what now is your home. Anne and Luke’s will said that you had to live in their house. Gabs is there, waiting for you two. She has offered to take care of her all afternoon while you two go to your houses and get all the necessary things.

“How are we doing this?” Jake asks, driving all the way to your house. “We can’t pack everything today.”

You sigh, leaning your head against the window. “I know. And their house doesn’t have room for all my books.”

“How many books do you have?”

“More than I can read,” you confess, earning a snort from the man. “Do you read?”

“When I have time. I don’t read your chick lit romance stuff, so don’t ask me about it,” he says, driving slowly once he enters the street you live on.

“I wasn’t counting on it.”

He parks in front of your house, a place that has been a refuge, and now you have to leave. “You want help?”

You tear your eyes away from the main entrance and look at him. “You offering?”

“I guess if I help you here, and you help me in my house, we’ll be faster. You know Gabby has stuff to do.”

You nod, knowing that he’s right. “Yeah, sure. Come in.”

He turns off the engine, grabs two boxes from the back of his truck, and walks behind you until you reach your doorstep. He chuckles when you open your bag to look for the keys. You turn to look at him, frowning. “What’s so funny?”

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d let me in your house,” he responds, scratching his eyebrow. “Not after that date, at least.”

“It wasn’t even a date. We never got to the restaurant,” you recall, shaking your head at the thought of that horrifying night.

“You didn’t want to go out with me, Page.”

You open the door, enter your house, and turn on the lights. “Actually, I did.”

“You did?”

Why does he sound surprised? “Yeah. Luke said so many good things about you. I was interested in getting to know you better.”

“Miss Page had a little crush on the fighter pilot, huh?” Jake teases, and you grab a pillow and throw it at his head.

“No. And all the chances of me having a crush on said fighter pilot died when he made a booty call while we were still in the car,” you move around the living room, collecting your laptop and charger and some other things you might need.

“I must confess, that was a dick move.” He admits, opening the boxes and leaving them on the sofa. “I’ll go get the edibles from the fridge.”

You watch him walk away, feeling bad for him. You two are acting like idiots one second and being civil the next. You've had too many emotions in the last few days. “Jake?”

He turns around, looking at you. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being mean to you. You’re having a hard time, like me. And... I'm sorry you’ve lost your best friend.”

Jake’s eyes shine a bit more than usual, the result of the unshed tears that threaten to fall. “Thank you, Page. I’m sorry for saying all those things back in the office. It’s…this isn’t how I wanted to marry, you know?”

You nod. Of course you know. “I write romance novels, Jake. I crave the romanticism and the slow burn and falling in love and…” you sit down, letting out an air you’ve been holding since who knows when. “I won’t have that anymore.”

“In a year, you’ll be free, Page.” He reminds you, leaning over the threshold, arms crossed across his chest, tightening the t-shirt around his muscular biceps. “Just a year.”

“It’s easy for you to say, but… I’ll be a divorced mom in a year. Who wants to marry a divorced mom?”

Jake wants to say something that’ll make you have more confidence in yourself and maybe have hopes for the future, but he knows that there are a lot of men that will run away at the thought of you having a baby. It’s not going to be impossible for you, but it would be complicated.

“You’ll find someone, Page. I’m sure of it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“We’ll think about it in a year, okay? Now pack your things, we still have to go to my house.”

You put all the things you’ve found around the living room in one of the boxes and move upstairs, followed by an uneasy feeling. Maybe you have to enjoy this year. It might be the only opportunity in married life you’ll ever get.

BONUS: Luke and Anne's (Now Jake and Page's) house:

@halibshepherd

@mygyn

@the-romanian-is-bae

@justanothermagicalsara

@drakelover78

@celestialeviereads

@averyhotchner

@ravenhood2792

@potato-girl99981

@callsign-sunshine

@purplevortexx

@shrimping-for-all

@luvrrish

@footprintsinthesxnd

@nikfigueiredo

@allivingstone01

@violyn20

@lunamoonbby

@dempy

@hangmandruigandmav

@shanimallina87

@tomanybandstolove

@inesdiary96

@phoenix1388

@jynxmirage

@crthurston

@fandom-life-12

@atarmychick007

@emorychase

@twsssmlmaa

@meigalibrary

@eugene-emt-roe

@startrekfangirl2233

@topgunslut

@clancycucumber230

@books-are-escapes

@alldaysdreamers

@mavrellover91

@soulmates8

#top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #top gun #jake hangman fic #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x you #top gun hangman #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman fluff #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun

159 notes · View notes

wordgirlexploration · 2 months

Text

Now that we have two new ref line ups, allow me to share with y'all some headcanons for some of them!

Rex/Kid Math

Most of our Kid Math takes are based off of FountainPenguin's two Kid Math fics: Factor It In and AlgoRythym. We just love those fics <3

Last name is Pemdas.

Non-binary. Really I just imagine most of the aliens in the show are some flavor of non-binary and Kid Math is no exception.

Autistic and has synesthesia. Same as Becky :) Comes with the territory of being from a subject obsessed planet and gaining superpowers on another world that overstimulates the senses.

His birthday (equivalent on Earth) is Pi day

He is so, so small. 3'7" (or exactly 110 centimeters!) tall. He looks more like he should be in Kindergarten/1st grade than 3rd grade.

More of a Hexagon headcanon than a Kid Math specific one: Hexagon is a very logical planet and as a result, when they do superhero work it's always 1) track down villain 2) get rid of villain 3) day is saved! Wordgirl's way of being a superhero would baffle ANYONE from Hexagon. Kid Math is just a product of his environment.

Mr Big + Leslie

Mr Big is trans.

His orientation is queer because we can't quite pin down what it is but he's definitely not straight.

Stands at 6'5". He's not called "Mr Big " for nothing!

Sees Dr Two-Brains on the weekends ever since their team up in Invasion of the Bunny Lovers. >:3

Leslie is a lesbian. We think she and the Mayor's assistant should kiss but not sure if it's canon to Exploration.

She's only 5'5" but wears 2 inch heels so you can't immediately tell.

Leslie's last name is Little. She's Leslie Little.

Both are in their early/mid 30's. Mr Big is only a couple years older than Leslie.

Granny May

She's been a villain the longest. Being a petty pickpocket since her late teens. Her "career" as a supervillian really took off though when she met her future husband.

Her husband was a man named Walter, who she met after charming her way into some fancy event. She stole his heart and his wallet that night <3

Walter made most of her gadgets that she uses today. Her suit of armor was his wedding present to her.

They got married later than most people from their time. Granny May was very hesitant about marriage at first. Worried it would affect her crime career since she relied mostly on her charm, which works better on suckers men when they think you're single.

Note: I really could go on and on about Granny's past but I'll leave off here because we have a whole episode planned for exploring her past ;)

Granny May has always been very small. In her prime she only stood at 5'1". In her old age she's now only 4'11".

Victoria Best

Dyes her hair. She's a natural brunette but since the rest of her family is blonde it's for the best (heh) that she match her family.

Her eyes are naturally blue but have an unusual red tint to the pupils and iris.

As of Exploration, she's currently taller than Becky at 4'9".

On the aroace spectrum but hasn't figured it out yet. She's the best at ignoring her feelings <3

We have big plans for her :)

Beatrice Bixby/Lady Redundant Woman

In her mid 30's.

Beatrice herself is aroace. Her clones are not. It drives her insane when one of them develops a crush because she doesn't get it.

Her clones are not perfect copies of her. She's had to recall one or two because they refuse to help in her crime sprees.

All her clones are effectively vegetarian because they can only consume ink. Ever since she became Lady Redundant Woman, Beatrice has had to supplement her own diet with ink every now and then. She can just change out her ink cartridge, but it's surprisingly cheaper to just eat ink. Also less of a hassle.

Lady Redundant Woman herself might also just be vegetarian. We haven't figured that out yet.

Tall woman. She stands at 6'1" plus her boots make her appear a couple inches taller. She looks shorter as Beatrice because of her Customer Service Slouch(TM).

She's ambidextrous.

Todd "Scoops" Ming

Hitting him with the trans beam. Came about because of that one episode where, aside from Bob, he was the only boy in the scouts group. We think he joined before he transitioned, and then when he did come out as trans the group wanted him to stay <3 Now he's one of the exceptions because it'd be rude to kick him and also all the other scouts will defend his place with their dying breaths.

Aside from Eugene May (because no one is gonna catch up with him), he's the tallest kid in 7th grade right now at 4'11".

While currently dating Violet, Scoops is bi and has had a couple crushes before Violet. His type seems to be blondes with weird eyes...

ale: we gave him ugly shoes because his top half is the only thing that needs to look presentable.

we obviously also fixed his skintone and haircut. we love you wordgirl, you did this kid so incredibly dirty.

we made his shirt blue because he's a little older now and Raven thought he deserved to have a different shirt.

Violet Heaslip

Her eyes are an unusual pinkish-purple color. Becky and Scoops think it's really cool.

She's currently the same height as Victoria.

Back in 4th grade/beginning of 5th grade she had a crush on Becky. She outgrew it halfway through the school year.

ale: we really just gave her an all-new detailed outfit because, as we realized after we finished her, her outfit is so.... plain for an art kid!

her pockets full of flowers are inspired by a piece of fanart showing the worg kids as elementary schoolers. the doodles on her skirt are inspired by a Dear Evan Hansen lyric.

gets a beret because she's an artist <3

i gave her warmly rainbow socks because i thought they'd look like something i'd see in a Justice as a kid.

TJ Botsford

"TJ" is short for Tim Jr.

His birthday is May 4th.

He's gay but hasn't figured it out yet. Got more important things to worry about such as how to grow the WordGirl Fan Club.

ale: made his skin darker to match with his parents, and his hair darker to match with his skin. and gave him a fade because, like. look at him. he would.

Tim and Sally Botsford (Do not separate <3)

Both are in their late 30's but Sally is older by a couple years.

Tim is just a little taller than average at 5'10", while Sally is close to average height at 5'4", but wears 3 inch heels to give herself that extra height. Makes her a little more intimidating at her job.

They met in college at the ice cream parlor from Whammer Anniversary <3 it was for some get together/study group and the two just clicked.

Their wedding anniversary is October 13th.

Tim is pan.

Tim's family specifically is of Ethiopian descent. It's why his spicier meals pack such a punch.

We mostly just like Sally the way she is <3

As we've mentioned before, Sally is Afro-Latina.

Shown in the episode That's Entertainment, Sally's hair actually becomes poofy and curly when not "blow-dried." Her hair is still like this (it's what inspired us to make her Afro-Latina), but we've decided that her hair becomes straightened through normal straightening means.

ale: made Tim's hair more afro-textured for obvious reasons. also it's canon that it used to look like that. also, he's graying more.

made Tim more brown because we couldn't live with keeping him orange.

i INSISTED that he keep his horrible outfit. everyone watching me draw him hated it, however, he is my "horrible fashion sense" king.

we mostly kept Sally the same, just made her skin more skin-tone like. also, we turned that weird line in her hair into a gray streak, because she's a little older now, and we couldn't figure out why it was there.

#wordgirl #raven rambles #ale announces #kid math #mr big #leslie #granny may #walter may #victoria best #lady redundant woman #todd scoops ming #violet heaslip #tj botsford #tim botsford #sally botsford

12 notes · View notes

starbuck09256 · 8 months

Text

I have a partner..

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023

Sorry xf fam, been a bit busy.

Fictober Day 9!

Set during Chimera Season 7

What if Mulder answered Ellen's question about his significant other in a different more truthful way?

Ellen’s POV

I look at Agent Mulder, and he seems surprised that I ironed his shirt, and made a big breakfast for Phil. I feel Agent Mulder doesn’t have someone who takes care of him like I do with Phil. Once when I was younger I thought about being a therapist I had always been fascinated by people's relationships. Agent Mulder is handsome and good at his job. It makes me curious as he doesn’t wear a wedding band. I sit down across from him.

I look over at him in curiosity “I get the feeling you are not used to having anyone take care of you?” I say trying to open the door without appearing too eager to know why he doesn’t wear a wedding ring.

He gives a rough chuckle and states “Well that has a vaguely pathetic ring to it.”

Not my intention of course. I clarify “No, I just mean I didn’t notice a wedding band.” I state.

He replies “Oh,”

I get the feeling I can roll straight ahead. “Do you have a significant other?” I ask.

He stops and takes a second, which is quite unusual. He smiles and bites his lip. “Um,” he takes a second and I see him trying to formulate the words as I tilt my head in interest.

“I uh..” he chuckles. “I have a partner,” he says.

I’m a bit taken aback as he didn’t strike me as gay, which is fine of course but now he is looking at me and his eyebrows crink.

“Not umm.” he pauses again and sighs. “Her name is Dana.” he smiles at the end of his statement.

I see him take a moment as if he is thinking of her. I lean in a bit, I want to know more about why she is a partner and not more. Given his smile and the way he said her name, it seems like she matters a great deal to him. “Can you tell me about her?” I ask.

When Phil and I were younger I heard through a friend that he thought I was pretty, and that was the moment I decided to pursue him. How someone talks about their spouse has always taught me more about the person and less about the person they are speaking about.

Mulder chuckles his eyes shining at me. “She’s umm.. Brillant, truly the smart person I’ve ever met,” and he takes a second. “She’s umm loyal, courageous, kind, she has a sort of deadpan dry sense of humor, a little sarcastic too.” he smiles again. “She’s a medical doctor but uh is pretty upset with me since I left her working in not the greatest conditions.” he chuckles again.

He didn’t mention pretty which is odd.

“Do you have a picture of her?” I make Phil carry a picture of us in his wallet. To show people that he has a family that loves him at home.

Mulder reaches into his back pocket fiddling with his wallet. He hands me a photo of the two of them looking at some crime scene it looks like, she must also be in the FBI given that they are both wearing FBI jackets.

“She’s pretty” I state. Wondering why he overlooked it.

He looks at the picture and smiles.

“She’s breathtaking,” he mutters.

The way he says almost takes my breath away, he is looking at the picture as if just seeing it again for the first time, and his smile is stretched across his face.

“She also looks very short,” I say moving the picture back to him.

He laughs still looking at the photo of this Dana.

“It’s weird because she seems to take up so much space in my mind sometimes, that I forget how tiny she is. She’s incredibly headstrong and stubborn it’s hard to remember she is only like 5’2.”

“5 '2” I say, because she looks taller than that.

He laughs again. “She wears the most ridiculous heels, they are like 3 inches, and she can run in them, which is nuts I know. I’m always amazed that she doesn’t break her neck sometimes.” his light chuckle is full of a deep fondness.

I wonder if Phil has anywhere near the same level of fondness when talking about me. “

I bet you would catch her if she ever happened to trip though,” I smile at him.

He looks up at me.

“I would do anything for her, she is .. umm my partner. Certainly the better half of our partnership, that is. To some, she might not seem like she is the “significant other” in normal terms, but she is the most significant relationship I’ve ever had in my life.” His voice tapers off a bit at the end.

I have the feeling the relationship he just described is much deeper than anything I’ve ever seen or experienced. Agent Mulder might not wear a ring or have someone who makes him breakfast, but he might have something much much better. He might have someone who has captured his soul.

“Well,” I say standing up, if I didn’t feel like I was in control before I certainly don’t feel in control now. Something about knowing that there are relationships that don’t rely on what you are doing for the other person, cooking, cleaning, and showing you care by taking care of them in various ways.

I wonder what a relationship would look like if it was just based on how you felt about the person. If you just appreciated them for existing. I think that Agent Mulder is much luckier than I have been, and it makes me question again why I forced Phil to stay married to me. I wonder if maybe I should let him go and try to find my own Agent Mulder. Maybe there is more than just pretending that everything is fine. Maybe I could have a life that didn’t make me feel the need to try and fit this perfect model that I always seem to fail at…

#mulder and scully #msr #myfic #xfiles #fluff #season 7 #chimera #Mulder's significant other

22 notes · View notes

uhhnothanku · 5 months

Text

Y/N slander, pt 3

Alphs Mafia Jungkook x Y/N pt 2

Your blue orbs widen, "w-what..." you stutter. "You don't have a choice...you will...be my alpha..." He says with a smirk that stretched all the way back to Korea. "You see i.... Am a bad...bad boy.." his looks at you..almost like how a predator looks at it's prey. His smirk widens all the way to Uranus. "J-j-j-j-j-j-Jungkook.." You blush while his predatory stare grows stronger. He giggles seductively...... "Ehe!~♡" his menacing giggle sends shivers...down your frail petite spine. He starts growling and howls "YOU BELONG TO ME." he snarls, his brown orbs turning red. Everyone starts butter creaming their pants from the sight of that gorgeous gyatt of his that is growing at a rapid rate. His gyatt grows all the way to Bangkok. You cant help but say "...sticking out your gyatt..for the rizzler.." he smirks and grabs your 1 cm width wrist and growls. You fucking fall asleep. Bitch. (im lazy🥰)

You wake up...your mind foggy and your tinieeee tinyyyy legs weak. You look up and see alpha jungkook staring down at you with a soft smile. "Now... Now that i have you...you're all mine... We are to be wedded." he says and walks away, his 8 inch heels, clicking on the floor. You stand up and tuck your messy hair behind your ear and go out to the balcony. You look out at the moon...it was almost full. But what would he do if he knew you were an omega? You let your emotions out...and start singing not knowing he's right behind you. "I wear a mask..with a smile for hours at a time... Stare at the ceiling as i hold back...my tears tonight.." (wait is dream going copyright me💀) "That's what the Mask is..!" Jungkook chimes in behind you and walks up to the balcony. "That's what the poiiiint of the mask is...." you sing and blush softly. You turn to him and blush softly...but suddenly... the moon goes full.. Your blue orbs turn yelllow and your fursona shines bright... Oh no... "You're...AN OMEGA?!" Jungkook roars.

...to be continued..

#alpha beta omega #alphaverse #omegaverse #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #mafia #mafia au #bts jungkook #bts army #bts #dream #That's what the mask is #cringecore #Cringe #y/n #cursed #kookie

8 notes · View notes

joemerl · 9 months

Text

Writer's Month 2023, Day 22: "Human/Non-Human AU" and Bruce Wayne Week 2023, Day 3: "Bruce in Smallville"

Fandom: DC Comics (Batman and Superman) Status/Word count: Something to add to my "Could Be a 100,000+ Word Fic If I Had the Time and Motivation" List. 502 words. Author's notes: I honestly didn't intend to do more than one entry for BWW, but these prompts go together surprisingly well.

Clark froze in the doorway to the barn.

The other boy was tall, roughly his age, with gelled black hair combed neatly back on his head. He was wearing a suit, which seemed very out of place. Clark owned an old hand-me-down suit that he wore to weddings and funerals. This suit was pristine and, he guessed, probably worth more than his father made in a month.

More important than the suit was the fact that the mysterious burglar had one hand hovering over Clark's spaceship.

And it was glowing.

The boy turned. His expression was impossible to read, and his blue eyes were piercing.

"Is this yours?"

Clark sucked in a breath, muscles going tense and his hands balling into fists. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Technically, I'm in your barn."

Clark glared. He could feel his eyes heating up, and struggled to keep the energy from spilling out. His fingers twitched as he imagined this turning into a fight—all the practice he and his dad had done to help him control his strength. He had managed to stop breaking doorknobs, but had yet to test himself against another person.

His eyes wandered to the spaceship. How had this kid found it? Why was it glowing? It had never done that, except that first time when Clark had touched it. Ma and Pa had had it for ten years and never figured out how to turn it on.

The boy followed Clark's gaze to the ship. "I've heard some strange things about this town. Like that school bus that almost sank into the river. Do you know anything about that?"

"Who are you?"

Clark tried to keep his voice even, but the growl underneath seemed to startle the intruder.

"This probably looks bad, doesn't it?" he asked, as if that had just occurred to him. "I didn't come here to fight. I just needed to find—"

"Who are you?"

"Bruce Wayne." He paused, and asked, with a tone of genuine curiosity, "Have you heard of me?"

"Should I have?"

He shrugged. "No, but everyone in Gotham City has. My parents were pretty famous."

"For what?"

"Most recently, being the victims of a high-profile murder case."

Clark blinked, while Bruce's face remained like stone.

"After they died...I started wondering about what other family I might have. I was adopted," he added. "Like you."

Against his will, Clark's gaze was drawn back to the glowing spaceship.

"Probably not exactly like me," he murmured, so quietly that Bruce shouldn't have been able to hear.

"Exactly like you."

Bruce stood up on tiptoes. Or...that's what Clark thought, until he glanced down at his feet. The heels of Bruce's polished dress shoes had lifted up, followed by the toes, until both feet were floating three inches off the ground.

Clark stumbled back. His face was pale when he met Bruce's impassive gaze again.

"I've decoded most of the data on my ship, and...I think you and I are brothers, Clark."

#WritersMonth2023 #BruceWayneWeek2023 #Clark Kent #Bruce Wayne

14 notes · View notes

divinekangaroo · 8 months

Note

in your latest fic, tommy and lizzie have an exchange after he falls deliberately into the bath about the clothes he’ll wear home, and he mentions a specific outfit of hers. Now i know people had fewer clothes back then, but he had to have been paying attention to notice even the color of the shoes she wore. What’s your reasoning, for this, considering he was married and obvi into Grace at the time? Or even just your opinion on Tommy and Graves relationship and how lizzie fits into that?

I was wondering how people would read that line! Long post warning!

I wrote it in to convey an amalgam of the following:

Tommy is highly observant of small details when they're important to him and for reasons below, Lizzie's appearance is important to him

Tommy likes looking at pretty women who dress well irrespective of his marriage

Tommy pays intimate attention to fashion because appearance is how to craft the first layer of illusion as to who you are - Tommy likes to think he is all across impression management. (He also pays attention to Ada's lipstick and what it means. And he bought Polly lipstick in New York, suggesting his combination of detail orientation, observation of women and fashion awareness, he can even pick the right tone of lipstick. (I also headcanon he planned and organised the entire wedding, because Grace only ever talks about the Institute - that wedding in my mind was 100% Tommy going full dictator mode over ever micro detail)

Lizzie's slowly increasing confidence and glow-up over time in his office has been giving him the warm fuzzies to know 1) she's becoming the woman he always saw in her somewhat gauche youthfulness, and 2) he enabled her glow up/confidence and therefore he owns it/her/another beautiful, valuable thing, and 3) her looks reflect on him and his rank/status when other men interact with her in her role as his secretary, where she might be the first impression someone has of Tommy Shelby Managing Director. In combination these three mean he pays attention to Lizzie's appearance as representative of *him*, irrespective of any sexual attraction/his marriage vows.

Tommy is comfortable expressing criticism (don't like the burgundy) but is very uncomfortable with giving complements (i do like it when you wear the green). These throwaway lines are Tommy using subtext to give complements - Lizzie looks great in green and he remembers that. Lizzie is usually oblivious to subtext.

Tommy is unconcerned that Lizzie might be one to two inches taller than him in normal heels but PARTICULARLY does not like the burgundy because they make her four inches taller than him, so he notices them as he would a nemesis walking into his office, eyes narrowed and glaring at them as they go past. Also, in Ch 3 of the melting point of gold, I wrote a reminiscence of her wearing them while they were having sex over his desk in the old days, and they put her too high for him to penetrate at the right angle. So he remembers them for all the wrong reasons. XD

So what does this mean that all of the above observations happened during a time he was married to Grace? I feel that being married and in love and him choosing to behave monogamously doesn't turn off all the thinking and feeling that might occur around other women. Given he would have been around Lizzie at least 5 days a week, all of this is like a background process in his mind. He doesn't act on it while he's with Grace. But now that she's passed away and thanks to Tatiana, he knows he can't do what he wants to do (be abstinent in grief similar to fasting in grief), so that background process throws all that recorded data up into the foreground.

While Grace was alive, I don't think Grace would have picked up on anything overly heated between Tommy and Lizzie, in part because both Tommy and Lizzie turned off any sexual part of their relationship well before Epsom, but also because of how rigorously Tommy would have divided his lives and functions and kept Grace separate; the suggestion that he'd probably encouraged Grace's 'obsession' with the Institute project and all its little details so she didn't have the time to focus on his. Grace did start to break down those walls at their wedding but that didn't have time to unravel before her death.

Lizzie and Grace probably would have spoken together in Tommy's office or over the phone whilst arranging/coordinating matters around Tommy's schedule, but Grace would have treated Lizzie sort of like Mary ('staff'). Lizzie would have been professional about it as best she could -- noting that given most of Tommy's business structure is family, there's that very strong layer of unprofessionalism and also clique-formation/status jockeying that would have had Lizzie set her mental hierarchy as Tommy at the top, Polly next, then Ada, then Arthur, then John, and only then Grace, Linda and Esme. Plus the complexity that if one of them is given a specific order or a specific remit by Tommy, then in that field only do they speak 'as' Tommy and leap up the hierarchy. But any slighting of or friction with Grace wouldn't have been because of past sex with Tommy, it would be because of family hierarchy and the fluidity of how that might flex in response to Tommy's delegation of authority within limited spheres to those family members. Like, I can see a very specific scenario where Tommy disappears into the night to do something highly illegal and Grace is trying to insist Lizzie gives her information on where Tommy is, and Lizzie protects Tommy and frustrates Grace.

Lizzie also wouldn't have acted to try to start something with Tommy either. I have very strong headcanons on Lizzie's fetishising of marriage as a fallen woman very much unlikely to ever marry, and Tommy and Grace were like a sweeping textbook fairy tale; as much as Lizzie wishes it were her, she and Tommy never quite fit into the fairy tale. Lizzie quietly and secretly idolises Grace x Tommy *together* as creating this untouchable romantic story. Lizzie also knows what's said about the kind of woman who breaks up those kinds of marriages in both stories and real life, and she's not going there again on top of her prostitution history. (Lizzie's jealousy of May is something entirely different at a different stage of life/relationship.)

If Grace had lived, I do think Tommy would have eventually been adulterous but without any particular intimacy, and because of that he probably never would have gone back to Lizzie for sex as his conscious effort at risk management, because of their working intimacy and past history. However, he would have merrily continued entertaining himself with maybe-libidinous-but-definitely-possessive thoughts of Lizzie which would have come out in non-sexual ways, similar to the rest of his immediate family.

#my writing #tommy x lizzie #tommy x grace #also lizzie never really fantasised about her and tommy getting married because she knows he's fucked up #even in 'last night i dreamt that somebody loved me' a good chunk of lizzie's rage/tears at finding the wedding rings #is knowing she can't say no but it'll be a descent into hell #the other chunk of her tears is because she desperately wants it #and wants it to be all right too

10 notes · View notes