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#WOW this on is an absolute beast
ask-a-goldsmith · 1 month
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In writing my last few posts, I have realized that there is quite a lot of basic(to me) knowledge required to understand most of this stuff. I've done my best to explain as I go, but I think this deserves its own post. So, here we go!
Junior Gemology 101
This post is mostly about diamonds! I am well aware it's called Junior Gemology, but 90% of what I deal with on a day-to-day basis is diamonds. Also, a lot of this applies to coloured stones too, so no need to repeat myself.
What is a diamond, actually?
Diamonds are carbon! That's all there is! Except for inclusions. And coloured diamonds. Those have little bits of other materials in them. And are also a topic for later. I digress. Like always.
Specifically, diamonds are carbon atoms bonded together covalently in a tetrahedral shape. Confusing enough yet? This means that each carbon atom is bonded to 4 other carbon atoms. It's ok if you don't get it, I spent about 3 hours trying to understand diamond structure before things started to make sense. This website has a 3D model of the tetrahedral structure seen in diamonds and is what I used to finally wrap my head around it. The important part is: diamonds are made of carbon atoms connected in a pattern. If the pattern was different, It wouldn't be a diamond! If the carbon was bonded in hexagonal rings, it would be graphite! Same atoms, veeeerrrryyy different result.
What makes diamonds so darn special?
I've told you what a diamond is - so why do people care about this very specific pattern of carbon? The answer is(mostly) that humanity LOVES shiny things, and diamonds are great at being shiny. Why have diamonds become THE shiny thing to have? A combination of some REALLY successful marketing campaigns and some of diamond's unique characteristics. These characteristics include things such as their hardness, brilliance, and fire. I went deeper into these characteristics and what they mean in terms of telling diamonds from other stones in this post, but I'll give you a quick run-down here.
Diamonds are very(and famously) hard. They're a 10 on the Mohs scale, and almost nothing is harder than them. This doesn't mean diamonds are impervious to damage - while they are very hard, diamonds can also be brittle, and a hard smack in the wrong place can chip, crack, or even shatter a diamond. Trust me, I know. I've broken a few by accident.
Brilliance and fire are what give diamonds their characteristic bling. Though they are classified as different things - brilliance being the bright white reflections of light and fire being the rainbow reflections - they're both caused by diamond's Refractive Index. Refractive index(RI) is the measurement of the speed at which light travels through different materials - for our purposes though, think of it as how much a ray of light bends when it moves from one material to another. Diamonds have an RI of 2.42, which causes high brilliance and a medium amount of fire. RI isn't super important for most people to know - it really only comes into the conversation when comparing diamonds to simulant materials.
What are the 4 Cs?
The 4 Cs are the meat and potatoes of diamond basics - Carat weight, Colour, Clarity, and Cut. These four terms are used to describe diamonds worldwide, each describing a different part of a diamond's look.
Carat weight is the weight of a diamond. Pretty self-explanatory. What's not clear is what a carat actually is - no, not a carrot. A carat. A carat is 0.2 grams. Therefore, a 5 carat diamond(good lord) would weigh 1 gram. With me? Why do we weigh diamonds in carats instead of grams like sane people? Because way back yonder, carob seeds were used as a counterweight to weigh diamonds, and language did what language does.
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Image from loosegrowndiamond.com
Colour refers to - you guessed it - the colour of the diamond. There are two basic systems that GIA(The Gemological Institute Of America, and the accepted authority of these things in North America) use; the normal colour range and the coloured or fancy diamond range. The normal colour range is used for stones that are colourless, light yellow, or light brown. These are the most common colours of diamond, thus the "normal" colour range. These stones are graded alphabetically D-Z, with D being colourless and Z being quite noticeably yellow or brown. Normal range colour grades are sorted into 5 groups based on the general amount of colour; colourless(DEF), nearly colourless(GHIJ), Faint(KLM), Very Light(N-R), and light(S-Z).
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Image from GIA article 4Cs Color
Stones that fall outside this range (stones that are too yellow or brown for the scale or show any colour other than yellow and brown) are graded using the fancy colour grades. Fancy colour grades are an entire thing, but generally pretty self-explanatory. The grade will include 1 or two colours(the more dominant of which goes last) and an intensity descriptor such as light, intense, fancy deep, etc. For example, a stone may be graded as a fancy greyish blue - this means that the stone has a middling amount of colour and is blue with a hint of grey. Easy peasy.
Clarity is how many inclusions are in a stone. Well, technically it's more complicated than that, accounting for placement and contrast and type of inclusion etc etc etc. Really, clarity is how many inclusions you see in a stone. Inclusions are things in the diamond that are not diamond, such as included crystals, or imperfections in the diamond itself, such as cracks(called feathers) or chips.
Clarity grades are, frankly, confusing as fuck. There are 11 grades, broken down into 6 grade groups. From highest to lowest, they are; Flawless, Internally Flawless, Very Very Slightly Included(VVS), Very Slightly Included(VS), Slightly Included(SI), and Included(I). VVS, VS, and SI are each broken into 2 grades - 1 and 2. I is broken down into 3 grades - 1, 2, and 3. The lower the number within a grade, the better the grade - a VS1 stone would be less visibly included than a VS2. You know what'll help? Visuals!!
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Images from GIA D&DG Chapter 11. Credit to John Koivula/GIA
The diamond on the left is graded as a VVS2 - the red arrow points to the inclusion that gave it this grade. The diamond on the right is graded as an I2. No red arrows are required - this stone has many highly visible inclusions. If you want a little more info (and examples) of clarity grades, GIA has a lovely little tool that explains it quite well.
Cut refers to the shape of a diamond - specifically, the combination of shape(face-up outline) and cutting style(the arrangement of the facets). A classic round brilliant is what most people think of when they think of a diamond, but there are dozens of different cuts. When talking about cut grade, cut refers to how well executed the cut is. Are the proportions ideal? Is everything symmetrical? Is the polish well done? These determine the cut grade of the stone. Cut grades are as follows, best to worst; Excellent, Very Good, Good, Fair, and Poor.
What are the parts of a cut diamond?
Specifically, the parts of a round brilliant diamond. Round brilliant is the name of the most common cut of diamond. Think of a diamond. Is it round? That's almost definitely a round brilliant. Think I've said round brilliant enough? Round brilliant. Whew. Done with that now. This is best explained with diagrams.
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The parts we're most interested in are the table, crown, girdle, and pavilion. The way those 3 parts are shaped and proportioned has a huge effect on the looks and value of a diamond.
Knowledge Check
Let's say you're looking at a 1.01 carat round brilliant diamond - it has a colour grade of F, a clarity grade of SI1, and an excellent cut grade. So, what does this mean to you?
Round brilliant is the cut of the diamond. It has a round outline and a brilliant cutting style. 1.01ct is a fairly large diamond - this one in particular is 6.42 mm in diameter (that's a quarter inch!). This stone is colourless - F is the lowest colour grade in the colourless range, but it is still classified as colourless. The diamond will either have one large or several small inclusions that are easy to see under 10x magnification, but hard or impossible to see while looking through the table of a stone with the naked eye(they may be visible through the pavilion with the naked eye). The diamond will be very well cut - the best cut grade possible, in fact! There will be no visible variation in the girdle outline, and all the facets will be well-placed and symmetrical.
It's up to you to decide if this stone matches your criteria - is SI1 a good enough cut grade for you? Is 1.01ct the right size? How "good" a stone is depends on what you want - there will always be bigger, clearer, more colourless diamonds on the market. What makes a stone "good" is if it's the right fit for you. Another stone may be better quality, but if it's out of your price range, then it's not a good stone for you.
In Conclusion
So, you made it this far! Congrats! Hopefully, I haven't bored you too much. We've really just scratched the surface - this was enough information to give you a good idea of what's going on and allow you to navigate the mysticisms of those strange numbers and letters you see associated with diamonds. All information was taken from the GIA Diamond Essentials 130 and Diamonds and Diamond Grading 230 courses and my 6ish years in the jewelry industry. If you have questions about specific pieces of information or want more resources, send me an ask! I will be delighted to answer.
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seawitchkaraoke · 1 year
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this week’s episode of Leverage Redemption was absolutely amazing, no notes, loved it, loved everything about it, it was fresh it was new, it was really fucking fun, it’s the best episode of season 2 and probably season 1 too, absolutely loved it, more like that please!
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cinnamon-flame · 45 minutes
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A rendering practice that got a little bit out of hand. I feel like Meow Wow would have the texture of a balloon filled with water and would wrinkle a bit when picked up - that was the feel I was aiming for at least
A bonus meow wow that I drew when I was trying to figure out what's going on with their anatomy:
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rifter-pride · 8 months
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one thing i've learned since cheevos came out is that i really just absolutely loathe mistral mahjong
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feeling like a crazy person bc for some reason instead of focusing on making a jinchuriki oc for what i think would be the most obvious for me (the fuckin fire cat) i am over here thinking about one for fucking ISOBU. the TURTLE. ???????????????????????
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meggettes · 6 months
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continuing my Halloween monster movie marathon with Frankenstein (1931)! commentary in the tags 🧟‍♂️
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freedomfireflies · 5 months
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hi baby! Could you possibly recommend some good Harry reads, both series and one shots! Sorry I'm in a bit of a reading slump and you're my fave writer so would love to see what you read :)
Omg of course!! I already know I’m not gonna remember everything but I will add on as I go!!
Anything by @moonchildstyles, @jawllines, @harryforvogue, and @songbirdstyles! Absolute legends and I cannot believe we get to read their works 😭💞💞
@gurugirl, @cherryjuiceblues, @fkinavocado, @0nlythrowharrybeaux, and @1800titz have some ADDICTIVE series that I eat up like a rabid animal AKSKAS
@cupid-styles, @justlemmeadoreyou, and @wrongplacerighttime have just started a few new stories that I can already tell are going to be BEASTS!!!
@1d1195 is just 🥹 wow!! I cannot say enough amazing things about Sam! She’s got SOOO many incredible stories to go through and each one has such a unique but sweet hook! A beautiful new take on a trope you might already know but will re-fall in love with!!
And of course @lukesaprince and @jarofstyles are ICONS!! They’ve got such extensive lists and it literally feels like Christmas morning to go on their page because I find something new every time and it’s AMAZING!!
I’m about to start going through @watermelonlovershigh, @justmystyles, and @justmeinatree lists and I’m SOOO excited! I kind of want to start a book club HAHA
I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU SPECIFIC STORIES but truly, I cannot pick just a few to recommend when they’re all SOO good?? So absolutely check them out and then we can fangirl over them together HAHAH 😭💞💞💞
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mxtxfanatic · 2 months
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Just posting some svsss quotes from the extras:
After Luo Binghe finished reading, he said, “As for this disciple, he never could have forced you like this. If Shizun merely furrowed his brow, this disciple wouldn’t have been able to continue. How could I let Shizun sob like this yet still not stop? The depiction here is a bit unrealistic.”
Not only was it unrealistic... It was OOC. Completely OOC— OOC all the way off the map!
—Chapt. 29: Regret of Chunshan and Song of Bingqiu
Just for funsies:
“Luo Binghe, even though this master has allowed you to... I never allowed you all this variety,” Shen Qingqiu said in a warning tone.
Luo Binghe started. “Oh. This disciple understands.”
He looked a bit disappointed, but he didn’t push the issue. Now Shen Qingqiu was the one feeling uneasy.
Luo Binghe had never made any requests of him when it came to these matters. Because of his lackluster skill, he was always cautious in the extreme, and he even somewhat capitulated to Shen Qingqiu. Now he had finally acquired some instructional materials and found a bit of self-confidence, hoping to try them out together, only for Shen Qingqiu to toss a basin of cold water over his head...
Shen Qingqiu squirmed in his seat. After a while, he finally picked up his fan to cover his face and said with some reserve, “How do you want to do it?”
—Chapt. 29: Regret of Chunshan and Song of Bingqiu
And wow, would you look at that:
Their limbs were intertwined, both of them sticky with hot sweat. Luo Binghe’s waist and back shone with moisture, and Shen Qingqiu nearly couldn’t hold on with his legs alone, so he hooked his arms around Luo Binghe’s neck to stop himself from sliding down. This drew them even closer, until the space between them was practically nonexistent, and he left a smattering of passionate kisses on Luo Binghe’s face in encouragement.
—Chapt. 32: Wedding
It’s almost as if… Shen Qingqiu is an active participant in wholly consensual sex with his partner. As if… Luo Binghe isn’t coercing him into sex.
When he woke up the next morning, Shen Qingqiu’s first thought was that he wanted to smash himself to death against that extremely well-developed short-haired beast on Qing Jing Peak.
He swore up and down that he’d lost his entire life’s worth of face last night. He absolutely couldn’t suffer another moment more embarrassing than that!
—Chapt. 32: Wedding
It’s almost as if Shen Qingqiu’s only issue is that he thinks the loss of control he experiences as a result of his passion for his husband (!!!) is embarrassing—but an embarrassment he’s willing to live with in exchange for unconditional love.
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scoonsalicious · 1 month
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Chapter 6, Unattached - Pt. 1
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, angst (Bring on the Pain!), alcohol usage, dumbass Bucky, noncon kissing that becomes con kissing, so..., arguing, jealous!Pocket, posessive!Bucky.
Word Count: 5.4k
Previously On...: After Bucky left you alone in your room, not wanting people to get 'the wrong idea' about the two of you, you came to the horrible conclusion that you were in love with your best friend. What the hell are you going to do about that?
A/N: Wow, okay! So, first off, Chapter 6 is long, and it only has the one part, so don't worry if you go looking for more and the next thing you find is Chapter 7! Second, there's a lot of progress and updates on Unwanted I wanted to share! I am already well into writing Chapter 14, and have planned out the rest of the story. We'll have a total of 25 chapters, plus an epilogue (unless something strikes me creatively that throws the entire thing for a loop, then all bets are off). This beast, as it currently sits, is already 208 Google Docs pages long and just shy of 80k words, so final product is probably going to be novel-length, which just blows my mind. I want to give a special shout out to @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for being my beta and my sounding board; your help and support has been immeasurable!
Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917
Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief
You stood in front of the doors to the common room, the low thrum of conversation and music filtering out from inside. Taking a deep breath, you tried for the umpteenth time to calm your nerves following your unsettling realization.
You had no idea how to approach this, how to approach Bucky. Do you tell him how you felt, in the hope that he felt the same way? But what if he didn't? Could you risk losing him all together? Or do you just keep on like nothing's changed, happy with what you have together? Would that be enough for you? Could you even be happy in a real relationship?
Why couldn't your mother have just been a decent human being and let you go to school like a normal child so you could have worked through all your awkward issues at the appropriate time, instead of saddling you with years of trauma and isolation that left you an emotionally stunted adult? God, you needed a strong drink and to talk to Nat, preferably in that order. Pushing open the common room door, you stepped inside, surveying the room with one eye out for Bucky, the other out for your friend.
It should have been of no surprise, then, that instead of either, you first spotted Jade Carthage. She was situated on a couch in the center of the room, like a queen on her throne before her court, and nearly every Avenger and agent with a penis was surrounding her, jockeying for her attention, even Clint who, you knew for a fact, loved his wife Laura more than life itself.
Your stomach dropped when, after one of the agents in front of the couch shifted slightly, you saw Bucky sitting immediately to Jade's left. And while it seemed like everyone else was clamoring for Jade to pay attention to them, she only had eyes for him. Jealousy coursed through you as she leaned in close, whispering something into his ear that had him throwing his head back in laughter. It was an entirely unpleasant sensation that you would be happy to never feel again. Especially because you knew you had no real right to feel it in the first place. You may have just realized you were in love with him, but he had made no similar declaration to you.
"Careful, you glare any harder, you're liable to bore a hole straight through him," Natasha said, coming up alongside of you.
"What if I aim for her, instead?" you asked, reaching for the tumbler of alcohol she offered you and taking a sip to distract yourself. It was like she could read your mind.
Nat shrugged. "So long as I'm not the one cleaning up the mess, I say have fun. But what happened to no-strings-attached, friends who happen to fuck?" Nat asked with a smirk. "Don't tell me you've grown strings, Pocket."
You looked away from the scene in front of you. "There might be some growing of string, in theory," you mumbled to her. Nat was the only person you had confided in regarding your arrangement with Bucky. Of course, your friend had been thrilled that there had been something going on between the two of you, but she'd been more concerned about protecting your heart-- was this the safest thing for you to do? You assured her at the time you'd be fine, but now...?
Nat's eyes widened as a grin took over her face. "Honey, that's fantastic!" She leaned in to give you a hug. "I'm so happy for you!" Taking in your forlorn expression, she quickly lost her good humor. "Why do you look like you're about to throw up?"
You cast another glance over at the couch. Jade was tracing her fingers along the golden veins of Bucky's vibranium arm and you felt like snakes were crawling through your stomach. "Because I don't know what the fuck to do about it, Natty," you told her with a sigh. "I've never felt like this before in my entire life and it's fucking terrifying; what if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he does and I mess everything up because I'm so fucking damaged inside?"
Natasha looped her arm through yours, leaning into you. "Honey, first of all, you are not damaged. You've been through hell and it left its mark on you, that's true, but you've been so strong. We're House Martell, remember?"
You sniggered, remembering how, when the entire Tower was obsessed with watching Game of Thrones together and picking what houses you'd each belong to, you and Nat had been drawn to the words of the ruling house of Dorne. And also, Pedro Pascal, obviously.
"Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken," you recited from memory, a reminder that despite the obstacles life had thrown at you, you remained standing, stronger for what you had endured.
"Atta girl," Nat nudged you with her elbow. "And second of all, you don't need to worry about Bucky's feelings. Boy's obviously mad for you. Everyone can see it."
You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. "I don't know, Nat. He's been acting strange lately. I tried to give him head earlier and he flat out rejected it." Come to think of it, that was exceptionally weird since, in your text exchange, he'd explicitly told you he'd been waiting in your room specifically for the purpose of getting off.
"Huh. That's... not like him." Nat tilted her head and looked over at Bucky, expression curious. "Did he say why?"
"He was real eager to come up here and get in the middle of that, apparently." You waved a hand in the general direction of the couch where Jade's little reverse-harem was still going strong. "I was getting on my knees and everything."
Nat raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
"And then he made a really big deal about us coming up here separately. Said he didn't want people getting 'the wrong idea' about us if we arrived together."
Letting go of your arm, Natasha spun to face you, her face a mask of anger. "He said what now?!" she practically shouted, temporarily drawing everyone's attention to you. You looked around sheepishly as you tried to dismiss their stares.
"Nat," you begged in a whisper, "keep it down."
"Okay, okay, sorry." Natasha lowered her voice to a level only you could hear. "I'm sorry, but that's just complete and utter bullshit. Look, I know you guys think you've been in super secret stealth mode about hiding it, but pretty much everyone on the team knows you've been sleeping together. Hell, most of us placed bets on it." You opened your mouth in order to protest but she cut you off.
"If anything, it's weirder if the two of you don't show up to something together, so I don't know what the hell he's thinking."
"I do," you said morosely. "He doesn't want her getting the wrong idea about us."
"Pocket, don't even let your mind go there," Nat said.
"Think about it, Nat; I've been standing here for what, fifteen minutes now? And he hasn't even looked at me. When's the last time that happened?"
Nat's brows creased, her expression clouding over into something immensely sad for you, and you knew she was realizing what you'd already seen. In the last year, you and Bucky had been attached at the hip, nearly physically joined to one another, and if you were apart, your eyes were always scanning the room in search of the other's presence, seeking them out. The fact that he hadn't even looked for you, let alone come to you since you walked in, was telling in its own heartbreaking way.
Nat let out a heavy sigh. "Oh Pocket. Honey, I'm so sorry."
You shook your head, trying to dispel the tears that were threatening to fall from your eyes if you kept down this path. "Don't Natty, please. I can't fall apart, not here."
"Yeah, okay-- you're right. Now is not the time. Come on." Linking her arm through yours once again, she directed you toward the bar where Tony was standing, whiskey in hand. "If anyone can talk you to distraction," she murmured as you approached him, "it's Stark."
You let out a startled laugh and let her guide you toward the man who had already saved you more times than you could count.
"Hey, kiddo; Romanoff." Tony saluted you with his glass and you did your best to smile back at him as you stuffed your emotions down as far as they would go. "What do you think of our new recruit?" he asked Nat.
"I think 'Weasel' would be a better fitting code name for her than 'Vixen,'" Nat replied with a sly smile as she took a sip of wine.
"Ah, saw the security feed, did you?" Tony asked her. Nat nodded.
"Watched it live as it happened. Wasn't going to leave my bestie without eyes on her six." She gave your arm an affectionate squeeze.
Tony hummed and glanced over to the couch. "Wish Cap had been as discerning as you. He refused to watch the feed; said it made him uncomfortable to spy on someone when they didn't know they were being recorded." Natasha rolled her eyes.
"Always the fucking Boy Scout," she murmured.
"So, how did the interview itself go?" you asked Tony, not really sure you wanted to know the answer, but feeling the need to punish yourself with the details, anyway.
Tony leaned back against the bar, resting his elbows on the polished wooden surface. "If it were up to me, we wouldn't even be playing this charade right now," he said, motioning with his chin to indicate the meet and greet. "Girl's a first-class bullshitter."
"Talent recognizing talent?" you asked with a wry smile that almost felt genuine.
He pointed a finger and winked at you. "Exactly. She talked a good talk, but it doesn't take much to see she's suffering from Big Fish, Small Pond Syndrome. She's in for a rude awakening if she thinks she's ready to swim in the ocean with the whales and the sharks."
"So, you're not going to offer her the probationary position?" you asked, hope rising pathetically in your chest. As if you could un-ring the bell.
"Oh, I didn't say that," Tony said as you deflated. "It's not all up to me. Though, given the fact that I personally fund this entire operation, you'd think it really should be, right?" At the look on your face he moved on. "Apologies, I digress. Anyway, Cap thinks it's only fair we offer it to her, seeing as how we don't have a ton of other options knocking on our door, and Fury's not going to get off my ass until we find someone." He sighed. "I think this entire exercise is a waste of time, and we should be kicking her out on her ass for how she treated you earlier, Pocket, but I'm outvoted."
"Thanks, Boss," you said softly, grateful at least that Tony could see through Jade's facade and took how she treated you seriously. Too bad your best friend couldn't offer you the same courtesy.
The timer on Tony's watch went off. "And that's the dinner bell," he said, putting down his glass. Clapping his hands, he called out to the rest of the room. "Attention Avengers, SHIELD Agents, and... whoever else managed to sneak in off the street! Dinner is served, so if we could all head to the dining room before the food gets cold and Raul quits on me, I'd appreciate it very much."
You held back as the crowd of people noisily moved to the dining room, hoping to catch Bucky's eye, but he remained steadfastly absorbed in his conversation with Jade.
"Come on, honey," Nat said as she took your elbow. "You can talk to him during dinner. You nodded and allowed her to lead you into the dining room. You and Bucky had sat next to one another, without fail, for every meal for the last year, the only exception being when one of you was away on a mission. You'd have plenty of opportunities to talk to him while you ate.
Normally, you all ate at one large table, but since this was a special occasion that required the attendance of a lot more than just the regular 13 members of your family (14, if Parker was around), Tony had the dining room arranged more like a restaurant, with a series of smaller tables spread out throughout the space.
You and Nat followed Bucky and Jade to a six-top where Steve and Sam were already getting ready to sit down, but you froze in your tracks when Bucky pulled back a chair for Jade, pushing it in behind her as she sat down before taking the seat next to her.
The air seemed to grow heavy, as though it weighed too much for you to draw it into your lungs and your chest began to hurt. How could such a simple action be causing you so much physical pain?
Steve, who had already been sitting at Bucky's other side at the head of the table, caught your eye and moved to get up to offer you his chair, instead, as though that could make up for Bucky's dismissal of you.
You subtly shook your head, not wanting to draw attention to the awkward situation you found yourself in. Instead, you made your way over to the only two remaining seats at the table: the one next to Sam that was directly across from Jade and Bucky or the one next to Jade at the opposite end of the table from Steve. Deciding it was better to be sitting across from Steve than either of the other two, you opted for the chair at the end, and Nat slid in next to Sam.
You cast a quick glance in Jade's direction and had to stifle a sick laugh-- she was physically coming between you and Bucky, quite literally.
Jade reached a hand out to Nat across the table. "Wow! Black Widow! It is so great to meet you! My name's Vixen; I'm a huge fan! I'm so excited for us to be working together!"
Bless Nat, she just stared at the girl with arms crossed across her chest, impassive and judging, until Jade slowly and awkwardly pulled her hand back.
"I take it, then, that you've deemed the Avengers good enough to be your backup team?" Nat asked without expression.
You did your best to cover the laughter that escaped from you with a fake cough, but you didn't try very hard to be convincing.
"What's this about, now?" Steve asked, leaning forward.
"Little Vixen over here," Nat began, leaning back in her chair until she was perched on the two rear legs, "was live-streaming this morning to her social media followers. Told them it wasn't so much that the Avengers were interviewing her to see if she'd be good for the team, but she was interviewing us to see if we'd be good back up for her."
Jade had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment before she turned to face you for the first time, anger taking over her features. "So, what? Didn't much take you for a tattler. You that intimidated by me?"
You opened your mouth to defend yourself but were interrupted by the sound of the legs of Nat's chair slamming back against the floor. "Pocket didn't tell me shit. I heard it straight from your mouth on the security feed. That and a lot of other interesting things."
"You're spying on her, Nat? Really?" Bucky spoke up. "She's our guest and she deserves a modicum of privacy, don't you think?" You stared at him, open mouthed, but he didn't spare you a glance.
"It was a part of her interview, Barnes," Nat spat. "Maybe if you---"
"Okay, Nat, Bucky," Steve said, using his official Captain America voice, "let's table this conversation for later and just enjoy our meal. Raul worked really hard on tonight's menu, so let's not spoil it for him, alright?"
Both Nat and Bucky grumbled their agreement as the catering staff brought out the first course and placed them on each of your plates. Normally, you loved when Raul, Tony's personal chef, cooked meals for the team; he always made sure to throw in something with lemon in it, knowing how much you loved the flavor; but tonight, your appetite was failing you and you ended up pushing more food around on your plate than you put in your mouth.
You couldn't help but steal glances over at Bucky, who continued to be wrapped in conversation with Jade. You tried to keep up with what the others were saying, occasionally nodding your head in agreement to something, but you weren't able to pay any real attention; your mind was elsewhere until you noticed Jade looking at you.
"You know, I have to say I'm surprised to see so many non-Avengers here. I got the impression that this group was... I dunno, elite? But it seems like you just let anyone in."
Steve laughed from the other end of the table. "Being an Avenger is a team effort, Vixen. Everyone plays their part. And besides, Pocket here's just as much an Avenger as I am." The comment took you by surprise, and you gave Steve a warm, appreciative smile.
"Thanks, Cap," you said, truly touched by his words.
"Well, she's more like Avenger-adjacent," Bucky amended, and all the warmth you'd felt at Steve's compliment vanished in an instant, leaving you feeling cold and hollow. The words shouldn't have stung-- it was how you had referred to yourself hundreds of times, but you tended to reserve it for your low moments, when you were feeling unequal to Earth's mightiest heroes. Hearing the words come out of Bucky's mouth, as if he, too, shared in your belief that you were inferior to the rest of them... well, that fucking hurt.
Steve let out a surprised laugh and clapped Bucky on the shoulder. "Pocket may not have enhanced physical abilities or powers or what have you, but she's got a brilliant mind. She's got a PhD in Mechanical Engineering and Computation from MIT, three Master's degrees, she speaks seven languages, she's got a black belt in Krav Maga, and she was the youngest Chief Technology Officer in Stark Industries history; all without ever having formally graduating high school. It's no exaggeration for me to say that I'd be dead a couple of dozen times over if I hadn't had her at my six. If anything, I think it makes her even more important than the rest of us. We're here because of the physical things we can do– primarily because of things that happened to us by accident; Pocket's essential to the team because of how she thinks, and the strength and quality of the work she’s willing to put in. We're replaceable, Pocket's one-of-a-kind."
You looked at Steve as if seeing him for the very first time. You had no idea he thought so highly of you, and his praise warmed you. You offered him a soft smile, your throat tightening with emotion and leaving you unable to express your gratitude. You mouthed a silent thank you instead, hoping that conveyed how much his words meant to you. He winked back at you in acknowledgement.
Bucky glanced back and forth between the two of you, as if analyzing your silent exchange. He coughed awkwardly. "I just meant that we try to keep Pocket away from the really dangerous stuff," he backpedaled, poorly, in your opinion. "Can't risk her getting hurt." He smiled at you, but you just stared back, expression blank, until he looked away in embarrassment. Good. Let him feel an ounce of the discomfort you’d been feeling this entire time.
Small talk resumed around the table, with Sam telling Steve about some new modification he was making to Redwing, and Bucky and Jade back to being locked in their own bubble. You did your best to ignore the little glances and gestures that Jade directed to Bucky, but it felt like your eyes were drawn to them like a magnet every time she touched him. Which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. You couldn't help but notice the way he leaned toward her when she spoke. Did he ever do that when he was talking with you?
"So, Bucky," Jade said eventually, her voice low and flirty as the caterers took away the main course, "handsome super hero like you, you seeing anyone?" Your eyes snapped up to Bucky's face, watching him. Surely he was going to look to you, make eye contact, something to acknowledge what was between you, to make you feel like you were in the same room, hell, on the same fucking planet as him. But he didn't.
"Nope," he said, running his hand over the back of his neck like he always did when he was feeling self conscious or nervous. "Not seeing anyone, though I'm not opposed to the idea." You had been stabbed in the abdomen on a mission once, and that had hurt less than hearing the words that had just come out of Bucky's mouth. It took everything in you to resist getting up from the table and leaving the room at that moment.
"Really, man?" Sam asked from where he sat on the other side of Natasha, his voice hard in disbelief. The atmosphere at your table had shifted. Natasha, Steve, and Sam all stared at Bucky with looks ranging from incredulity to flat out disgust. Bucky either was oblivious to the stares or was doing a great job patently ignoring them.
You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him anymore. It felt like a betrayal, the way his eyes had met Jade's and not yours. How could he sit there and just completely deny you like that? Had you been deluding yourself? Had you just been some kind of fuck toy this entire time?
The caterers brought the next course, a cold raspberry soup. You sat there, staring into space as you mechanically spooned the soup into your mouth, trying your hardest to appreciate the taste, but everything seemed bitter in light of Bucky's attitude, actions, and words.
"Could you hand me the water carafe?" Bucky asked. You looked up to watch Jade hand him the bottle of water. "Thanks, doll," he said, smiling at her.
You dropped your spoon, letting it fall into your nearly empty bowl with a reverberating clang. Your companions at the table stared, eyes wide as their gazes traveled between you and Bucky. In his entire time at the tower, he had never once called another woman 'doll.' It was a moniker he'd specifically reserved for you.
Or, it used to be.
You could tell the exact moment when Bucky realized he'd fucked up. His eyes locked on yours, the color draining from his face. He opened his mouth as if he was going to speak to you, but you'd had enough. Without a word, you pushed back your chair with enough force that it practically tipped over and exited the dining room.
You made it all the way to the elevator before you heard him calling for you.
"Doll! Doll, where are you?" You stabbed repeatedly at the call button, as if it would bring the car to you faster. You could hear his footsteps drawing closer, and you really didn't want to talk to him right now.
Finally, the elevator doors opened and you slid inside, turning to press the 'Close Door' button just as you saw Bucky turn the corner to the elevator bay. You were ready to breathe a sigh of relief at evading him until Bucky's metal hand shot in the diminishing space between the closing doors. You were trapped.
"Doll, didn't you hear me callin' to you?" he asked as he slid into the car with you.
You looked around, as if searching for another person in the car. "I'm sorry, were you talking to me? Should probably be more specific with your pet names, then. A girl’s liable to get confused." You were impressed that the words came out as hard and bitter as you felt inside.
Bucky flinched. "I deserved that."
You leaned forward to press the button for your floor before crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You fucking think?"
"Look, it just slipped out, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. It's not a big thing you needed to storm out over." You rolled your eyes at him, disgusted that that was the only thing he seemed to realize he'd done to offend you all evening. "Pocket, can we just talk about this?"
"Oh, now you want to talk to me?" you asked, jutting out your hip in annoyance. "Seemed like earlier today, you couldn't wait to not be seen with me, or do you no longer care if people get the wrong idea?"
"Alright," Bucky said, slamming his fist against the elevator's emergency stop button. You stumbled as the car came to a grinding halt. Bucky tried to put his hands on you to steady you, but you pushed him away. "What is going on with you today, Pocket?"
"What's going on with me?" you asked him, incredulous. "What's going on with you? You've been an ass to me all night, that is when you weren't acting like I didn't exist."
"How am I being an ass?" he asked, voice rising. "You're the one who couldn't even hold a civil conversation with our guest! It was embarrassing!" You recoiled as if he'd slapped you, backing away from him until your back hit the elevator wall.
"Wow. Okay then." You blinked heavily, telling yourself not to cry. You'd be damned if you showed weakness in front of him now. Bury the emotions, encase them in ice. "Sorry I'm such a fucking embarrassment to you, Sergeant Barnes. Now that I know how you feel, I'll make sure to stay out of your way so you don't have to put up with me." You moved to press the button to restart the elevator, but Bucky grabbed your wrist.
"Don't do this," he growled at you. "Don't hide behind snappy quips so you can shut down and avoid having a real conversation with me." You stared between his eyes and where he held your wrist in his metal grip. It wasn't tight enough to hurt, but it was tight enough to keep you from breaking free.
His gaze softened as he watched you. "I never said I was embarrassed of you, Pocket. I just don't know why you had to be so rude to Jade at dinner tonight."
"Name one thing I did that was rude to her," you challenged.
"Okay," Bucky stuck out a finger as though he were about to count off all your grievous errors. "Let's see... You said... No, that was Nat... You were... okay, Steve said that... You said... No, that was Nat again." He looked up at you sheepishly. "So, maybe you actually didn't say anything during dinner, but not talking to her was still rude."
You scoffed. "You want to talk rude and embarrassing, Bucky? Do you know how embarrassing it was to have everyone staring at me when you pulled out my chair for Jade, or when my own best friend didn't defend me when she had the audacity to call me a fucking tattler? Like I’m some kind of fucking child?" Your voice was rising and you could feel yourself getting swept up in your anger. "How about the pity looks I got when everyone heard you lie about not seeing anyone, or when you called her 'doll'? Or when you told her I was 'Avengers-adjacent'? You think I'm the embarrassing one? You made me feel like an insignificant piece of shit tonight, Barnes. God, if it hadn't been for Steve saying what he said, you would have driven me to tears."
Bucky had been staring down at his boots as you'd been speaking, as though your accusations were too much for him to face head-on, but at the mention of Steve's name, his head snapped up, blue eyes like ice on your face. "Well, if Steve's such a hero, why aren't you fucking him, then?" he asked, voice clipped and bitter.
You yanked your wrist free from his grasp. "Maybe I should start!" you shouted. "At least he's not embarrassed of me and doesn't forget I exist when another pair of tits shows up!"
Bucky's gaze darkened and in an instant, he was on you, caging your body against the elevator wall, a hand on either side of your head. "Don't you even fucking joke about that," he snarled.
You jutted out your chin, refusing to show any sign of weakness, though his actions were beginning to frighten you. "Who says I'm joking? Sounds like a good idea to me; thanks for suggesting it." You moved to duck under his arm, but he grabbed you by the shoulders, pinning you in place.
His breaths were coming hard and fast now, as though he'd just run a marathon. His gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, as though trying to make up his mind about something. In the next instant, his mouth was crashing down on yours, his tongue demanding entry.
You gasped at the sudden intrusion and Bucky took that as his invitation, deepening the kiss with a primal fervor. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him. For a moment, you were stunned, unsure of what was happening. But then instincts took over – he was kissing you, really kissing you. Your stomach fluttered and your heart hammered in your chest.
One of your hands ran through his hair, while the other gripped his shoulder for support. His hands had somehow migrated beneath your shirt, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin at your sides. You returned his kiss with as much intensity as he gave. But then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, you remembered why you were angry with him. You pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.
You were both panting, and despite your attempt to put distance between your bodies, Bucky leaned down, resting his forehead against yours as he fought to catch his breath. "Don't," he whispered hoarsely, his voice heavy with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "Don't sleep with Steve."
"You realize how incredibly infuriating you're being right now, don't you?" you asked. "You can't just treat me like that, ignore me all night in favor of someone else, then kiss me and try to tell me who I can or can't sleep with."
"I know, Sweetheart," he said, nuzzling your nose with his, "I know and I'm sorry, but please, promise me: no matter how angry you are with me, don't sleep with Steve. You wanna fuck someone else to piss me off? Go fuck Sam, Thor, Rhodes, hell, even Parker. I'll hate it, but if it's Steve, it'll fucking kill me."
"Your signals are all over the place tonight, Buck," you sighed, letting out an involuntary moan as his lips found the sweet spot on your neck and sucked at your skin. You had to pull away before he turned you into a babbling mess. "If you think you can just kiss me into oblivion and I'll forgive you for everything you've said and done tonight, you better think again, because that's not happening."
Bucky ran both his hands through his hair, sending it pointing every which way. Then he pressed the emergency stop button again, letting the elevator resume its journey. "I know I owe you an explanation, Pocket," he said. "So, can we go to your room and talk? No interruptions, no one else, just you and me, okay?"
You studied him, considering. A part of you was still so angry at him that you didn't want to hear him out, but the part of you that loved him hated the idea of leaving things in a bad place. In your line of work, you never knew when your next goodbye might be your last goodbye.
"Fine," you said, dropping your shoulders with a sigh. "We can talk, I'll hear you out, but I'm not promising forgiveness."
He smiled, his eyes bright once again. "That's all I ask, Sweets. That's all I ask."
<- Previous Chapter / Next Chapter ->
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bapple117 · 1 month
Text
Velvette Slang Masterlist: for the fandom
A gift from a humble Brit to anyone (not from the UK) wanting to write Velv convincingly ~
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Hello you wayward sinner!
Are you looking to write Velvette into a fan fiction, comic, roleplay or something else? Would you like to make her sound legit but you have no idea about British (or indeed, South London) slang? FEAR NOT! I, Bapple, am here to hold your hand and guide you through the wonderful world of British slang so you can have fun making Velv sound legit. Let's proceed!
Not all of this will be limited to the UK, of course, and it's not an exhaustive list of ALL British slang either - it's just the kind of things Velv WOULD say as someone from South London.
Insults
For men: bastard, prick, wanker, knob, dickhead, wankstain, bellend, git, tosser, sod, cock, pillock, numpty, codger (means old man)
For women: bint, bitch, slag, wench, slut, tart, trollop, scrub
For anyone: arsehole, arse, twat, sket, muppet, minger (means ugly), bugger, gobshite, cretin
The absolute worst thing you can call someone else is cunt - this is very strong and isn't used in casual conversation, unless you are in VERY informal company, in which case it's thrown around like it's nothing at all. (Come here you cheeky cunt - playful)
Terms of Endearment
Babes, hun, luv, darlin', sweetheart, mate, sweetie, mucker, pal, blud, fam, dear, dearie, honey
Eg: "Alright babes? How's it going darlin?'"
British people often use insults affectionately, too, especially with close friends as a way to tease / banter. (You silly sod, you useless prick, you cheeky git, you daft muppet, etc)
Slang Words
Drunk: trollied, smashed, pissed, wasted, legless, hammered, sloshed, battered, bladdered, merry, shitfaced, arseholed, plastered, lashed
Good: banging, well good, mint, the dogs bollocks, ace, blinding, cracking, brill, fab, neat, beast, fresh, hench, jokes (that's jokes innit), lush, peng (good looking), sick, wicked, peak, wavy
Bad: grim, naff, shite, shit, crap, tat (useless old tat), minging, rank, dry, nasty, humming (means gross)
Pleased: chuffed, buzzing, tickled pink, sorted (I'm sorted mate)
Annoyed: gutted, miffed, pissed off, fucked off, fuming, raging, ticked off, well annoyed, bovvered (used more sarcastically eg: I aint bovvered), vexed
Curses
Bollocks, fucking hell, bloody hell, bugger, piss off, any of the insults used above
Other random words
Bare = a lot of (eg bare money)
Chirpsing, grafting = flirting
Garms = clothes
Lips = kiss (are you tryna lips me?)
Peng ting = good looking person / high quality thing
Standard = of course, yeah no duh (Yeah that's standard mate.)
Tight = cheapskate (Don't be so bloody tight!)
Yard = your house (Come over to my yard)
Banter = conversation that's funny, casual, playful (S'just banter innit)
Convo, chinwag, chat = conversation
Defo = short for definite (Oh he's defo up to something)
Other random phrases
Are you taking the mick? = are you mocking me?
Stop faffing around = be serious and stop messing about
That's mad = wow, I can't believe what you just said or that's amazing
Allow it = just leave it, it's no big deal (Whatever mate, allow it)
Other helpful pointers
When British people (who talk like Velv) swear angrily we do so many times in a whole sentence and add a lot of qualifiers, eg:
"Fuck off you fucking prick, you absolute fucking useless arsehole!"
"Don't piss me off babes or I'll fucking end your shitty little life!"
Making a crude observation about something nearly always a curse in-front of it, eg:
"That's fucking rank."
"It was fucking buzzing mate!"
The Magical Use of Innit:
Innit is a wonderful word that can be used everywhere, especially for someone from South London. It basically means "isn't it?" but it has MANY uses. It can be used to mean an agreement, like "I know right?"
"That was well good innit"
"He's a right twat" - response: "INNIT!"
"It's fuckin grim in here" - "Innit mate"
Adding "well" to words
That was well good - that was well bad - that was well grim
(You get the idea)
That's about it for now!
If I think of anything else I will edit this masterlist and if anyone has any questions please feel free to pop them in my inbox. Happy writing!
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midnightmah07 · 2 months
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Happy birthday to my oc: Perse Achillea!!
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"As a lover of art myself I am very much looking forward to this museum's centenary... Come. I'm sure there's a bunch of stuff to see."
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"It's foolish to try and open yourself to someone like that, poor girl's gonna get her heart broken... Not that I care. It's her fault anyway."
Happy birthday to my baby, Perse<33 I didn't write any vignettes because I didn't feel like writing BUT I made voice lines and a duo magic dialogue between her and Cater<33
Voice lines:
🪻: I wasn't prepared for just how absolutely grand and majestic this place is... Wow.
🪻: wha- hey, stop tugging on my sleeve, I don't want you getting my jacket all wrinkled, 'kay?
🪻: goodness me... Wait here, I think Mimosa (Cater -> mimosa is a type of flower that means "I hide my feelings") forgot his phone's flash on.
🪻: the King of The Underworld is so similar yet so different from Idia... Heh. I assume he was probably way more pleasurable to be around though (laughs).
🪻: imagine falling for a 'hero' whose only quality was his strength, talk about poor taste in men... The King of the Underworld's assistant should've been ashamed. But then again, I don't think I have the right to talk.
🪻: is that...? (Sighs) please don't tell me Aster (Kalim -> aster is a flower, its white version means "I love you more than you love me!") is trying to convince Ortho to drag us to another party after this... I cannot eat nearly anything because I'm vegan...
🪻: have you seen Dahlia (Vil -> dahlias are a type of flower that symbolize perseverance and determination) around? I want to take a picture of him and the Fairest Queen's portrait. It'll be my most prized possession.
🪻: this outfit is so absolutely stunning! I really do hope they let us keep it, I would love to wear it once again.
🪻: hm? You saw a painting of hyenas overpowering The King of Beasts...? (Smirks) oh, please do show, I would just love to share such image with Calendula (Leona -> calendulas are a type of flower that symbolizes insecurity, jealousy and anxiety).
🪻: Mimosa got me these really cute stickers of The Great Seven. I wonder where I should put them...
🪻: oops, sorry 'bout that. Weak ankles and stuff.
🪻: all these paintings are so detailed... What? You're curious about my art abilities? Nah, most I can do is a stick figure, my strength is in acting.
DUO:
Perse: let's go, Mimosa!
Cater: at your service, Persie!
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feyhunter78 · 3 months
Note
Hi!! I’ve been thinking about that one scene in 10 Things I Hate About You, when Patrick walks Kat to the swings when she’s drunk and he says “Leave it to you to use big words when you're shitfaced.” Except! Kat is Nerd Miguel who somehow ended up drunk at some frat party or something, and Patrick is reader who has to deal with his antics. I imagine him spewing random scientific words/facts that reader tries her best to understand. All while she’s just trying to sober him up a bit. This lil scenario has been running through my head, and who best to share with than you!
(The chokehold you’re Miguel, specifically nerd Miguel, has on me is insane! It’s a great distraction while at work! <3)
I love that scene so much!!!! I made this a bit different, but I think I still hit the mark for ya anon <3 (Also this is a normal house party bc guys that are not in a frat are not allowed to attend frat events just like with sororities!)
House Parties
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Art cred: Treelover_5
Nerd!Miguel masterlist
You weave through Brett’s parents’ guest house on the edge of town, downing your drink as you search for Miguel. It was really nice of Brett to invite you and Miguel to his pre-winter break bash. You know Miguel doesn’t party much, and Brett has been trying to encourage him to come out of his shell, so this was the perfect opportunity.
The sound of chanting draws your attention, and you see Miguel surrounded by a few other friends of Brett’s. Brett seems to be explaining something to him, car keys in hand. You drove here, so you know the keys aren’t Miguel’s, which makes you feel a bit better.
“Chug, chug, chug.” They chant, and you watch as Brett and Miguel simultaneously shotgun their beers, the foam dripping down Miguel’s tan skin.
Smash. You think instantly, your brain supplying you with images of what Miguel might look like as he comes up from between your legs, his lips, and chin slick with your arousal.
Then Miguel throws the beer down and throws his arms up victoriously.
Brett finishes, then throws his beer down as well and hooks an arm around Miguel’s neck, bringing him down to his level. “My boy Miguel has done it again! Absolute beast of a man!”
The other guys cheer, and you see Miguel smile shyly.
He’s been gaining in popularity, not that he really cares, nor do you, but it makes you happy that he’s made some new friends. Even if those friends challenge him to shotgun races.
Miguel spots you before you can even breach the circle and latches onto you. “Y/N, I won, did you see?”
Brett gives you a look that means dude should probably get some air, and you nod in response.
“Yeah I did, hey Miguel, you wanna step outside with me?”
“Yes, always.” He says instantly, his lips far too close to your neck for you to feel normal about.
You guide him through the crowd and out the door, his arm slung over your shoulders. He’s so heavy, all those stupid hot muscles making him dead weight as he mumbles to himself incoherently.
“What was that sweet boy?” You ask, when you hear something that sounds like your name.
“Did you know that the hydrochloric acid in the human stomach is so strong it can dissolve metal? Thin metal, mind you, but still, metal.” Miguel says, his cheeks red, his glasses perched precariously on the edge of his nose, and a goofy smile on his face.
“Wow, that’s crazy.” You say, struggling under the weight of him as you try to lug him over to a nearby porch swing, the neatly trimmed grass around you littered with solo cups and soaked with various spilled drinks.
“And beer—beer is twice as fizzy as champagne. I know this for a fact, I had four or so beers? They taste bad, did you know that?”
“Yeah, house parties usually have pretty cheap beer.” You laugh, swaying a little when Miguel leans on you.
“And cheetahs, super inbreed, ten thousand years ago, taboos were broken, and now they’re all…ya know, the way they are.” He continues on, letting out a surprise oof, when you slide him onto the white porch swing, the weathered green cushions not doing much to break his fall.
“Very cool, so now can you tell me what the hell you were drinking in the twenty minutes I left you alone? Besides beer? Because Miguel, you are so fucked up.” You ask, sitting next to him, your legs tucked beside you as you turn to face him, an affectionate smile on your face.
He drags a hand down his face, and his glasses fall into his lap. He pouts at them, a small aw leaving his lips.
You pick them up and hand them back to him, and he clumsily puts them back on.
“Brett suggested we do shots before the races, he passed his midterm, we were celebrating with him.”
Fucking Brett. You loved the guy, he was nice, nonthreatening, watched out for you when you were in the Sig Epp house, but he also was a menace, who wanted everyone to be as drunk as he was.
“Miguel, you’re a big guy, but you don’t have Brett’s tolerance.” You pat his chest consolingly.
Miguel looks at you, eyes a little hazy, his shirt unbuttoned far more than it normally would be, his hair ruffled. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” He leans his head back against the swing, staring up at the stars. “You know a cloud can weigh around a million pounds?”
“I did not know that.” You respond, trying to see if you can check his pupils without him noticing.
He notices and rolls his head to face you. “Everyone blames women when they don’t have sons, but it’s actually male genes that decide it.”
“I did know that one, actually.” You say, as you run your hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face.
He smiles, and you swear it’s brighter than any star in the sky. “You’re so smart, y/n.”
You’re taken aback for a second, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”
“So smart and so, so pretty. I know I said it’s on me, but will you give me a girl y/n? I want a daughter with you, my brains, your everything else, she’d be unstoppable.” He says, his words slurring together. Then he falls forward with a yelp, hands, and elbows hitting the dirt.
You sit frozen in shock, staring down at Miguel, before you snap out of it and scramble to help him. “Shit, Miguel, are you okay?”
He holds up his right hand, it’s bleeding. “Just put some sugar on it, it’ll heal faster.”
“Full of fun facts, aren’t you?” It’s another trip back inside to find a sink and a band-aid, his words still bouncing around in your head.
I want a daughter with you.
Fuck, he’s going to kill you one day, and you’ll let him.
Not me doing a little callback to what Miguel thinks at the end of his encounter with drunk y/n hehe
TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows
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sibsteria · 2 years
Note
hello, can you do headcanons of klaus mikaelson being a simp for you? 💘
yes of course, lovely!
Warnings: large fluff, a bit smutty, soft!klaus, protective!Mikaelsons
Summary: Klaus Mikaelson is the malewife simp of the century(ies)
not proofread, don’t kill me 😭🫶
the first time he met you, he studied you, up and down, I feel as if it would be at a Mikaelson ball, or maybe the Mystic Grill
I mean, eyes roaming
so our man just felt he had to introduce himself
he presents his hand out for you to shake
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before, I know I would have remember a face like yours.”
“Oh, wow, you’re charming.”
He gives an amused smile, a soft chuckle
“I prefer the name Klaus Mikaelson, please tell me what name could possibly match such a person of beauty?”
I feel as if he wouldn’t assert his name as Niklaus right off the bat ygm besties
he is leaving you blushing though
you’re probably a vamp so congrats, he’s got eternal dibs!
definitely lays a gentle kiss to your hand when you tell him your name
“I suppose I’ll be seeing you.” he lingers in your presence before slowly walking away
you’re just- astounded, who gave him the right to be so alluring?
I ain’t gonna lie to you, he went home that night and stalked for your information
he knows where you live, your next of kin, the bar you frequent
so an accidental bumpings into are already in his workings
“Ah, hello love, what a surprise!”
he’d buy you all your drinks, making sure to keep any eye on them if you left the bar for a moment if you’re human (you probs aren’t)
you would spend the whole night together
just chatting and swapping anecdotes
flirting
he charms you with poems, jewellery and just spending time getting to know you as if he didn’t know everything already
he will flaunt his money around
“I should take you to dinner, tell me love, do you enjoy pasta?”
if your answer is yes then well than enjoy your authentic italian dish! the flight wasn’t even too long
you had both fallen off the cliff, smitten for one another
when you’re dating he absolutely follows wherever you go
accidentally
but you know better
and you don’t mind, he’s always looking out for you
long parting kisses
I’m talking tongue, with his hand tangled in your hair
ass slaps as you walk away, making you present a shy smile
when your more comfortable around each other, you don’t hesitate to do it back
a faux shock face from the hybrid
“well, love, I never listed you as the kinky type. I do say, I’m quite impressed.”
get ready for marks
he litters you in hickeys, even if they might fade by the end of the day
he’s going to try
if you’re human he’ll have you wear a vial of his blood around your neck
for emergencies
and a fun conversation for anyone who comes on to you
if he’s in a heated argument discussion with someone, his face will immediately soften when you walk through the door
“hello, love.” a passion induced coma hoods his eyes
will try to protect you from violence and danger but he does know you can handle yourself
“Klaus, I can snap a neck like a motherfucker-”
“I know, darling, but why do that when I can do it for you?”
hours of cuddles
hours
just you in his arms, with his nose nuzzled into you
he’s a softy, really
you get along with his family, it’s a given
Rebekah is literally you’re sister from another mister
shopping sprees with her unlimited credit card
knowing each other’s styles
“How did you know?” She pouts as you hand her a pair of heels that she had been eying up
she’s just overjoyed she actually had a true friend that she can trust
someone she can rely on
you are inseparable
and Klaus is absolutely jealous
“may I please have my girlfriend back, dear sister?” an edge to his tone
“if you must, you annoying rat bastard.”
but you love them
Elijah is eternally grateful for your calmness
and your ability to tame the beast
“I must say, you impress me, Miss L/n.”
you’re utterly baffled
Elijah is not an easy man to impress
but your besties anyway, now 🙄🤚
you often pick up ties that you think would suit him
he smiles and shakes his head
“I do hope you insist on keeping her around, Niklaus.” he uses a low whisper to his brother.
“I don’t assume I’m ever letting her go.”
whilst you have managed to wrap him around your little finger
he won’t hesitate to rip someone’s throat out for touching you
say you’re at a bar
he left for a moment to answer a call, his mistake
he comes back, you’re face filled with discomfort and annoyance as this poor man would not stop verbally harassing you
but that was not enough of an action for you to snap his neck yourself
but as he’s walking towards the bar, he watches as the stranger lets his hand trail down your back until he reaches your-
Klaus has already sped towards him
grabbing his hair and tearing out his throat
his chin, neck and chest are dripping with blood
your surprised at the lack of screams around you, coming to the conclusion that he must have compelled the drinkers to not bat an eye at supernatural goings-on
“are you kidding-”
“sweetheart, don’t get angry-”
“I just got blood stains from last week out of that shirt!”
he pauses his spiel, a blushing smile across his face
you weren’t repulsed by the violent display he’d put on
“have I ever told you how much I love you?”
“on occasion.” you roll your eyes, pulling him in for kiss
the blood coats around your lips but you don’t mind
“I love you too, Nik.”
that was the first time you used such an intimate nickname
and he loved it
hearing such words fall from your mouth
you both get blood drunk nightly
but refusing to feed on kids, because you have some morals
and you push Klaus to erase after eating because why draw attention to himself, he already has a healthy crowd of enemies
and that is where Elijah expresses gratitude
if you ever get kidnapped on that one occasion you were caught off guard
be ready, the cavalry are coming
a crowd of angry originals, breaking down walls and tearing out hearts
“shit! I didn’t know she had all of ‘em at her beck and call-” one of your kidnappers scream, as he watches his cronies drop to the floor
“mate, I advice you shut your mouth, in fact- I’ll do it for you-” queue Kol punching his head from his shoulders, it rolls nicely onto the floor in a pool of blood
they had you on a vervain drip
“oh, love, I’m so sorry.” Klaus is by your side, ripping out the tubes, hugging you close
Kol is your annoying little brother, but mostly a sweetheart to you
you two tend to sneak out together, infiltrating house parties
“if Nik finds us, he’ll kill you!” you scream over the music
“he can try, darling!” he howls with laughter, a bottle of his chosen alcohol spilling down his throat
he does find you
“why in the world, did you think I wouldn’t notice you leaving my side?” he caresses your cheek
“don’t torture him, we just wanted a bit of fun.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth
“I suppose you’re right, I have faith in his protection, he loves you like family.” begrudgingly letting Kol off the hook
he has fucked you on every surface in his home
“not on the dinner table, Nik-” Beks
“I eat off that counter, pests.” Kol
“Is it a rule that you have to infect every piece of furniture in our home?” Elijah
*noises of disgust* Finn
*eye roll* Freya
still counting how many public displays he can get away with
he has tied your ex to a chair and made him watch as he gave you orgasm after orgasm
I mean, he murdered him afterwards, so-
“was there any need?”
“yes.”
in his mind, you’re already together forever
he lets you be in possession of one of his daggers, just in case his family give you any problems
“you know I won’t need to use it-”
“just humour me, keep it safe.”
it’s never boring
y’all he’s in love 😻
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Text
fever pitch (b.b.) - part one
previous part | series masterlist | next part
soundtrack: bewitched - laufeypairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!readersynopsis: you and Bradley find a secret garden and get acquainted... or maybe you already have?warnings: language, tension, fluff, angst but hypothetical?? idk, bradley is a dreamboat but what else is newnotes: the saga continues! i had a whole outline planned out, but then as i wrote it, it turned into a beast of its own and honestly, im just an employee here 🤷‍♀️ happy reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks! i would love love loveeee to hear it from you &lt;3
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“Are we even allowed in here?” 
You and Bradley turn a corner from the club area into a narrow hallway. There’s a door that leads outside, thanks to the little glass pane, you can see a little terrace situation outside. Bradley tries the doorknob… and it opens.
“I mean, there’s no sign that says we can’t…” Bradley shrugs, offering his hand to guide you in.
Like Alice in Wonderland, you step into a formal English garden in the heart of this complex of townhouses-turned-clubhouse. In the middle of the bricks and noises of the city, there are beds of roses and manicured hedges and ravines over a stone arch. It’s small, but very intentional even with the mosses growing on the edges of the fountain in the middle. A Dionysus statue sits atop the fountain, as if pouring wine instead of water. A nice touch to celebrate festivities.
“Wow. This is straight out of the old movies we talked about.” You marvel at your surroundings. “Like… The Sound of Music or something.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, exactly.”
Bradley starts humming My Favorite Things as you stroll your separate ways around the garden, marveling at the evergreen shrubs and colorful perennials. You eventually meet each other again right in front of the Dionysus statue. It feels like a sign from the universe for him, so he asks,
“May I have this dance?"
He can't be real, can he? "Like a 'dance' dance?"
"Absolutely." He says it with such conviction that it's easy to forget that the deafening, thumping electronic music from the club is completely shut out from your little pocket of a park. And the only semblance of music you can hear is the rustling of leaves, the trickling of water, and the fluttering memories of Bradley's velvety tone.
So you take his hand. He pulls you in and leads you into a slow dance. You were expecting to just sway, this is surreal enough as it is, but as you dance around the fountain, you slowly notice… the slow and simple rhythm, the unmistakable one-two-three, one-two-three count… This is a waltz step.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“I try my best.” In a swift movement, he twirls you away and reels you back in with a spin. He just prays to God or whoever is listening that you can’t actually feel his racing heart as he holds your back flush against his chest.
(You can’t. You’re too busy calming your own.)
“So… you and your friends celebrating the success at Wembley?”
His voice tickles the back of your neck, and this sudden closeness is too much for you to bear. You strategically turn around so you’re facing him again. “Oh, no. This is just my night off. I still have… three shows left here.”
“So how long will you be in town for?”
“Another week.”
“And after that…?”
“Paris.”
“Right…” he nods. “And home is in… Los Angeles?”
The question catches you off-guard for some reason. You know he’s probably just asking where you live, but something about the way he asks it makes it sound like he’s asking about… ‘home’ home. “Technically, yes.”
He makes a face. That’s a strange answer… “What do you mean, technically? I’m sure you must have at least one home base somewhere, right?”
“I do, yeah.” You smile sheepishly.  “LA is my home base. But… it’s not like I have any emotional attachment to the city or anything.”
“Where’s that, then, if not LA?”
You give it a good thought… but you got nothing. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.” Maybe it’s the romance of the setting—although his warm hazel eyes play a crucial role too— it makes you feel more inclined to be more honest than you usually do.
Bradley smiles. He’s so fascinated by you, but at the same time, he has an inkling that he might need to solve a few puzzles himself before you let him in. And he would gladly take his time to get there.
At the same time, slow-dancing to a hummed classic with this man away from a modern-day nightclub… It makes you wonder what kind of person he is. “And you? You’re an American in London. Where’s home for you?”
“Well, I think Virginia will always be home, but this place has really grown on me. I’ve been here for most of my adult life, and this city, the team, the people… I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Virginia, huh?” you smirk—imagining him growing up near the water, a sunkissed teenage boy shooting the shit with his friends.
“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”
It’s only at this moment that Bradley is so much like this garden. Seemingly out of place, frozen in time while the world moves all too fast around it. But at the same time, perfectly placed, a calm in the eye of the storm. Just for this little pocket of a park.
Just for you.
“Are you normally this… Southern gentlemanly? With the suit and the sweet disposition and the waltz…”
“Honestly? Not really.” He admits bashfully. “But, I don’t know. I feel like I’m in another era with you right now.”
“Oh?”
Bradley doesn’t elaborate right away. Instead, he asks you, "Do you believe in past lives?"
Your face lights up, and he knows he just asked the right question. "I don’t know. Do you?”
"A little…" he nods, thoughtful. "Maybe not in a religious sense where you die, you get judged, and then come back as a... worm or whatever. But.. I kinda like the idea that... no one is ever really a stranger, you know? That our paths have crossed at some point."
"And you're saying we've met before?"
"Oh, yeah." Again with the conviction, this motherfucker. 
“Really?” You step away from him, entering a more cerebral dance than the one that you just swayed into. Your fingers barely touch the surface of the water on the fountain, and ripples it over as you walk by. "Where do you suppose we have met before?" 
He looks up at the sky, moving clouds and all, pondering his answer. "I was thinking the 40’s and 50's—you know, the Golden Age. But I think it's a little earlier than that, don't you think?" 
"Like... the Roaring Twenties?"
“Yes!”
His enthusiasm amuses and fascinates you endlessly, and you never needed much to fuel your active imagination anyway. "I like that. I can see you as... a former pilot who fought in World War I. And then went on to become a poet. Or a pianist."
"I think I'm better off as a pianist.” He’s not very good with words—he’s much better plunking the ivories to get the party going.
"Fair, fair. A jazz… pianist, maybe?"
"Ooh, interesting." Bradley smiles, picturing it in his head. "And what would you be?”
"I don't know. You tell me." You lean back against the stone arch, looking at him expectantly. His answer will determine how he sees you and thus, how you feel about him. And you want him desperately to have a good answer.
"I wanna say... the starlet, or the mysterious singer—" 
"Oh, come on. Even in my past life, I'm still a singer? Can't I be something else?” You groan in protest.
He chuckles, settling right across from you. "Okay, okay..." he looks at you deeply, pensively for a moment. "You're one of those socialites, who drank martinis and danced the Charleston until morning."
"Makes sense. I do love martini... and the Charleston." 
"Right? You'd be one of those girls who rebelled against daddy dearest and partied all night, maybe broke a few hearts along the way."
"Including yours?"
“I don't know. You tell me."
Now it's your turn to pause and take a good look at him. You try to picture it; how boisterous and bright he must be, getting the party going by playing ragtime or samba. And you try to picture toying with his feelings; those irresistible hazel eyes watching you longingly across the room as you give some random man time of day for no other reason but to spark his jealousy... 
"Nah. I think yours is the only one I didn't break. Not on purpose, at least,” you conclude definitively. The thought of leaning over the piano, sipping on cocktails while he croons out some love ditty—or sitting on his lap while he teaches you a Christmas tune at a holiday party seems way more appealing.
"What do you mean?”
"Well, you said so yourself about daddy dearest. He wanted me to marry one of his business associates, an heir to a shipping company or something.” You cheekily stroll past him, down the little path towards the fountain again.
Bradley smiles knowingly, just a step behind you. "Ah. And I'm just a lowly little pianist. What chance did we have, huh?"
You halt your steps and turn around to face him, a mischievous smirk on your face. "Would you have fought for me?"
To your surprise, he meets your gaze with a soft, unwavering look. "Without a doubt. I would have stood up to your father and told him that we were meant to be together, come hell or high water."
The phrase echoes in your head. Come hell or high water. It’s so loud, it sends you reeling and you had to sit down on the edge of the fountain. Suddenly the image of a screaming match flashes so clearly in your mind. Bradley's hand gripping years for dear life. The shallow sobs under the suffocating constrict of your dress. The tears blurring the sight of him leaving…
“But it didn't work, did it…”
He doesn't hear a question in your words —it sounds like a statement. And Bradley, ever the hopeless romantic, wants to say no. Of course it worked out, it had to. Maybe you ran away with him and lived a life of simple means. But it wouldn't have mattered, because it would've been full of music and dancing and love.
But the heartbreak in your eyes is so palpable, so...real. For a moment, it felt like the two of you actually lived it. You were just retracing the forgotten steps now. 
"No.” He shakes his head softly, sitting next to you. "We tried. We fought, but... we lost.” 
You know that, but it hurts to hear it anyway. Still, you can't help but continue the story. "I think I ended up marrying the businessman, do the right thing for my family. And let you go... play your music in Paris or something. Chase your dreams."
The life he imagined. Of simple means and abundant music... just no you. "I would have written so many songs about you..." he chuckles wistfully. As painful as it would've been to keep picking at old wounds, at least he would still have you in his life.
"I think I would've found your record eventually,” You pipe up, partly in self-consolation. Sure, it might be a stretch, but you're way beyond caring. You needed a piece of him, too. "And I would put it on every time I missed you. Which was every night."
The night is so still, even the leaves seem to give you a moment of privacy. Your little fingers barely touch on the edge of the bench as you sit and grieve for a tragic love story that never happened. 
Eventually, though, you take a deep breath and break the silence. "Fuck. I could write a whole album based on that."
Bradley laughs at your sudden interruption, glad that you snapped him out of his reverie and brought him back to reality. "Yeah? I would be happy to help you brainstorm." 
You throw him a look. It feels weird to return to this point of acquaintance after feeling like you’ve gone through lifetimes with him. But you’re glad to start anew in this life. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you wanna keep seeing me?"
"Maybe. Is it working?"
"I don't know. I don’t do maybe’s. You should ask me for real.”
Holy fuck. He closes his eyes for a moment as his heart skips. You always seem to keep him on his toes, do you? "Alright. Can I see you again? Maybe take you out to dinner?" 
"I would like that. Does tomorrow night work for you?" 
"Perfect." he beams at you. Fuck playing it cool, he just won himself a date with you.
"We should swap numbers so we can figure out the details.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone. And then, something dawns on you, making you smirk devilishly at him, "You wanna put your number in, or would you rather give me that friendship bracelet I heard you made for me?"
Bradley stops dead in his tracks. Of course that public declaration was gonna bite him in the ass. He was doing so well, dancing and talking and making an actual connection with you...gosh, he must've looked stupid right now. "You knew about that?" He grimaces.
"Of course. I have eyes and ears everywhere, " you sling coyly, letting him punch his numbers into your phone with great embarrassment. "That, and Natasha might have sent me a post on Instagram.” 
He sighs in defeat as he hands your phone back. "Goddamn it, Natasha…"
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ROUND 5 MATCH 8
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Karlach propaganda:
“Sweetest girl ever. She could throw you across a room. She can burn down a house. But she just wants a hug and to be cared about and to live her life.” 
“Definitively overused phrase but she's a golden retriever she's so cute!”
“She's the perfect woman!!! She's so nice and cute and silly and strong and wow I love girls”
"Karlach is the champion slave of one of the Devils in a layer of hell, and was sold to her by someone she trusted, and on TOP of that she is an experiment with an engine for a heart and she knows she’s going to die and is in fairly constant pain but DESPITE that she is relentlessly positive and outgoing and silly because her spirit cannot be fucking crushed no matter WHAT"
Muriel propaganda:
"HE IS VERY CUTE AND GOOD
HE IS A TEXTBOOK GENTLE GIANT
NO REALLY HE IS SUCH A SWEETIE HE JUST CAN’T DO SOCIALIZATION
HIS FAMILIAR IS BIG OUPPY. SHE’S BIG FUCKING OUPPY!!!
CHICKENS LOVE HIM
ACTUALLY FUCK THAT. ALL ANIMALS LOVE HIM. HES LIKE IF SNOW WHITE WAS HUGE AND JACKED
HE LIKES TINY FLOWERS
HE WHITTLES TINY WOODEN CREATURES TO DECORATE HIS HOUSE AND GIVE TO HIS FRIENDS
HE’S LITERALLY JUST THE PERFECT MAN LIKE WHAT THE FUCK LOOK AT HIM???"
"my boy muriel deserves all the love. he is so gentle, and so very kind.
literally the first day you meet you get a scene where he’s wounded and afraid of being touched by you and you get to gently persuade him to let you clean his wounds. it’s like beauty and the beast but he never once lashes out at you.
you wake up and he feeds you eggs— HIS portion of his eggs!! he feeds you and gives you everything and treats you so kindly before he even begins to truly trust you.
he’s a former (unwilling) gladiator and absolutely hates violence and fighting. he is gentle on purpose and is so touch starved but also afraid of being touched because he’s both afraid of being hurt by you and afraid of hurting you. but he never does, not even once. he refuses to spar with you at first he doesn’t want to hurt you so much.
he is so shy and easily flustered and even basic kindness confuses him. i just want to shower him in all the love and support i can give him.
he is a kind, gentle giant who wants to protect you and also be protected by you. he wants you both to protect each other."
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blindmagdalena · 4 months
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Do you think Homelander would be a dog or cat person? And his reaction to his S/O giving him a puppy or kitten
broadly speaking, Homelander's not an animal person period. he doesn't hold any particular affection for animals, and in general he's pretty dismissive of them. his reaction to being given either would be... confusion. but let's say it was a kitten because i think a cat would be a good fit for Homelander.
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His brows shoot up to his hairline and he laughs, the orange kitten dangling in his hands, held out from his body. "Wow! Look at that. That's... What is this?"
"It's a kitten," you say coyly.
"Yes, I see that," he says tersely, shooting you a look. "Why's it here?"
"Because it's your kitten," you say, pushing his hands to his chest so that he can cradle the little beast properly.
He grimaces at the sound of the kittens claws catching on his suit as it adjusts itself. He looks at you quizzically. "What the hell possessed you to get me a kitten?"
"You should name him," you deflect, petting the kitten's head. He looks down, listening to the fervent way it begins to purr. It's little paws knead at the patting of his suit. "Aww, look. He already likes you."
He pointedly does not name the little beast. He more or less tolerates the presence of it from that day forward, relenting on keeping it in the house because it makes you happier than it annoys him.
Though, the first time it attacks his cape and scales all the way up his back, he does consider putting the thing in a cardboard box and flying it to a shelter several states away.
Luckily for the kitten, you're already much too attached for him to follow through with it.
Despite all of his stubbornness, the cat does like him. No matter how he verbally refutes it, all it seems to care is that he's talking to it. It curls up against his thigh and purrs incessantly. It rolls its paws through the air, staring at him all the while. When he makes eye contact, it even murrs.
"Fine, fine," he relents, reaching out to ruffle its belly.
Immediately the kitten seizes him, clawing and biting into the soft leather of his glove. "You little shit," he says with a laugh, using both hands to gently rattle the creature, spurring on another round of playful bites and swipes.
While he never formally names the cat, 'little beast' becomes recurrent enough that you both start calling him Beast. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. Beast graduates from a pest to a companion, and frequently can be found curled around the back of Homelander's neck or nestled happily in his lap.
While you don't much care for how much Beast loves to play by biting the absolute shit out of your hand, Homelander is delighted by it. He can often be heard growling out encouragements as the two roughhouse, Beast's razor sharp claws and teeth no match for his invulnerable skin.
By far, your favorite moments are the quiet ones. The moments where you can watch Homelander absently petting his new friend, reflecting on what life was versus what it is now. He admits to you one night that when he was a child, he had desperately wanted a pet.
"By the time I could have one, it felt like I shouldn't," he says, smoothing Beast's fur down in gentle swipes while the cat sleeps. "Like I couldn't. They were just a stupid thing for kids."
"It's okay to want the same things you wanted when you were little, the things you were denied," you say gently, your fingers interlaced with his other hand. "It doesn't make you any lesser."
He looks at you, eyes glassy and wounded. He squeezes your hand. Tightly, he whispers, "Thanks."
You squeeze his hand and lean in to kiss his cheek, settling closer against him, the two of you soothed by Beast's persistent little purrs.
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