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#which comes back to!! when there are no good choices and no way to win and nothing you do will avoid causing more suffering!
lowkeyren · 3 days
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iridescent engravings!
in which — during the annual ball that was held with the sole purpose of finding a suitable candidate to be sunday’s future spouse, you (reluctantly) attended with no intention of winning his heart yet you were the only one he laid his eyes on the whole night.
pairing — sunday x gn!reader
༊*·˚✧.* — wc: 1k, unestablished relationship, love at first sight is real guys, idk why this took so long for me to write but it's finally here!!! likes and reblogs r appreciated, please enjoy <3
elegant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling; with a hesitant sigh, you stepped on the polished marble floors, making your way into the ballroom. having received an invitation from the family around a week ago, and though you had initially baulked at the invitation, the prospect of declining without causing offense had left you with little choice but to attend.
it's just for a few hours, right… i'll be fine.
the sounds of violins accompanied by pianos filled the air as guests engaged in light conversations with each other. there was an obvious crowd surrounding the main star of the night. sunday was dressed in a refined and elegant suit, exuding effortless grace that seemed to radiate from every movement. you glanced at him, poor guy you think, he's surrounded by endless hordes of guests trying to make a good impression, seemingly never getting a moment to himself, he barely even has space to breathe! 
you were too busy staring and you almost dropped your glass of wine as he happened to look over and lock eyes with you. 
those mesmerizing eyes of his.
you quickly regained your composure and took a sip of your wine, silently praying that the night would end quicker. yet throughout the whole night, you couldn't help but feel eyes boring into your back, it felt like someone was watching you, but when you looked around, everyone was minding their own business. perhaps you’re just getting self-conscious here.
you kept to yourself mostly, except for a few occasions where some of your acquaintances had come up to you, you guys chatted for a bit and they left as quickly as they came. but still, you can't shake off that ominous feeling, it felt unsettling. 
as the night wore on, you walked through the crowd, twirling the wine glass in your hands, the liquid swaying around, threatening to spill out. scanning the area, you spotted sunday across the room, seemed like this time you caught him staring instead. though neither of you broke eye contact, the weight of sunday's gaze bore down on you as you navigated through the crowd, the silent exchange of glances speaking volumes without a single word being uttered. 
he thinks you’re lovely, truly. the most gorgeous one he ever laid his eyes on, and frankly, he ever will. he never wants to take his eyes off of you, not even for a moment.
despite the distance between you, the intensity of his stare drew you in like a magnet. the tension in the air seemed to thicken, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves dancing in your stomach, his eyes pierced through the air and stayed firmly locked onto yours. 
with each step he took, the distance between you shrunk, until finally, he stood before you, his sole presence left you breathless. (he is the most handsome man in penacony after all) his voice, smooth and angelic, broke through the silence as he greeted you with a charming smile, his words washed over you like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's night.
you tried your best to maintain your composure, subconsciously smoothing out your attire, you could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks. you could particularly smell the jealousy from the people around you. but none of that mattered. you allowed yourself to be swept away by sunday’s hypnotising eyes and alluring words. 
“may i?”, he extends his hand, and a surge of anticipation courses through you. before you could fully comprehend the implications, your instinctive response slips past your lips.
"of course," the words escaping before your brain could catch up with your heart. you place your hand in his. with a gentle squeeze of your hand, you think he's going to lead you to the dance floor, what you didn't expect was for him to deftly slide a ring onto your index finger. a gasp escapes your lips and many others too. the delicate ring adorns your finger, it seems like it was made just for you, fitting perfectly. 
the soft strains of music enveloping you like a warm embrace as he gently leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss onto your fingers. around you, the murmurs of the other guests fade into the background, leaving only the two of you suspended in time, lost in the moment.
“mr sunday, a moment please… it's urgent!”, the interruption jolts you back to reality, sunday's gaze flickers briefly in the direction of the voice, the servant shrinks in fear as he gives you an apologetic smile. prominent annoyance crossing sunday’s features before he turns his attention back to you, his expression softening once more.
"stay here, wait for me." he whispers, his voice tingling with regret as he reluctantly releases your hand. with one last glance, he stepped away, leaving you standing alone amidst the murmurs of the other guests, the sensation of his touch still raw on your skin.
you touch the ring on your finger, feeling your heart thump loudly. this wasn't how you had envisioned the night unfolding—your intention had never been to win his heart, yet somehow, he had given it to you anyway.
sunday wasn’t paying attention to whatever the servant was saying, his focus was solely fixed on you, admiring you, captivated by how adorable you looked as you inspected the ring with faint blush painting your cheeks. sunday's eyes trace the curve of your lips, with you standing there amidst the grandeur of the ballroom, he thinks you look far more majestic than any shall ever compare.
a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his chest swelling with a warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. an infatuation that seems to grow stronger with each passing heartbeat. and the ring, a promise of something more to come, you just need to wait for him.
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wherewolf · 11 months
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the responses i’ve seen to shiv’s ending seem very quick to write her off as just another sad victim of the cycle, which isn’t without truth BUT!!! that is not even remotely the summation of shiv’s story.
i don’t think she votes yes to “save kendall” or to try to finally set her brothers free. and i don’t think her main concern was that ken was becoming their dad. she absolutely noticed and didn’t love it, but that was not her motivation in betraying him. she was thinking about herself.
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it’s tempting to make a martyr out of her as she is the only female child and we see her suffer the onslaught of misogyny that comes with that. but to make her into a saintlike figure who got beat takes away the power and intelligence behind her decision.
at this point she’s stuck between two non ideal choices, but she recognizes that they have accidentally made her the single most important player in the game. because while she can’t have the outcome she’d prefer, she has the power to decide the fates of everyone else. the written off lone woman now holds in her hands the fate of every man in her life.
so she thinks about the long term benefits of both options and realizes that one side leaves her completely without any leverage.
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her brothers have proven to her multiple times in the last few days alone that they will cut her out and walk all over her the first chance they get. siding with them leaves her nothing to bargain with. she would just have to hope that ken would actually take care of her. and that level of vulnerability is not only unacceptable to her, it’s stupid. and shiv fuckin roy is not stupid.
so she thinks about the other side and about what she actually wants for her life. and against her better judgment, it’s becomes unfortunately clear that she wants tom. the way she wants him is not altogether loving or even good but it is necessary to her. she sees relationships as having winners and losers and she chose this man specifically so that she could be confident in her ability to win. except now he’s grown some balls and made himself unavailable to her.
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she may not like the way her husband is evolving but she already placed her bets on him, so she’s sure as hell not losing to him now. there’s also a part of her that feels intrigued by this new man she’s married to. it’s interesting to have a sparring partner in him instead of having to looking for excitement outside of their marriage.
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so for maybe the first time ever, she processes what tom has said to her and thinks about what he actually wants.
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he needs her to prove that she cares. he needs to know that she is capable of sacrifice. if she can’t find it within herself to do this for him, then she will lose him, and by extension, she will lose.
siding with tom gives her the opportunity to once and for all make a grand-stand gesture of love, but more importantly, it creates leverage for her. never again will he be able to hold the moral high ground over her head. never again can he say she doesn’t love him. never again can he call her selfish or uncaring. above all, he can never betray her again, because she just removed all of his moral justification for turning on her. he doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just taken back all the power in their relationship. just in a more subtle way than she’s used to operating.
and just like that, she has the ceo of a multi billion dollar company in her pocket, while situating herself as the only descendant of logan roy to still be playing the game, having removed her brothers from the equation permanently. she may still be far from the top but she’s creating a path for herself to climb.
so yes, she’ll let tom play king for a day, and she’ll have his baby and say “congratulations,” and play the gracious wife, but tomorrow is a new day with lots of room to maneuver. and when her husband puts out his hand, she’ll place her own on top. but she won’t grasp it because she doesn’t need to.
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luveline · 3 months
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for a heavy request, maybe the marauders after you've been in a car accident, no heavy injuries if you don't want to, but just them worrying? ily <3
love u <;3
“I always thought it would be me,” James says when he sees you, his backpack falling down his shoulder as he rushes to your side. His eyes go glassy when he sees the cut on your cheek. “Oh, no way. Look at your poor cheek. Look at your arm!” He frowns, a deep wrinkle crinkling the skin between his eyebrows. “Sweetheart.” 
You shudder as he takes your face into his hands. “You’re really cold,” you mumble. 
“Are you in pain?” 
“Yeah, Jamie.” You smile as best as you can. He looks so worried. “They pulled a lot of glass out of my arm.” 
He eyes the length of your arm wrapped in white bandages. “Yeah? How many stitches?” 
“Twenty two.” 
“Okay. Twenty two presents, then.” 
James helps you settle into your hospital bed. The crash wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it was still too much to walk off. He fluffs your pillow and helps you lay back, pulls a blanket over your legs, and then tracks down a nurse for another when your shivering doesn’t calm. His hair tickles your arms and your face as he tucks you in, kisses your cheek, the smell of his cologne a nice familiarity to cut the clinical sting of disinfectant. 
He looks like he might cry when he’s staring at you, but he doesn’t crack. “That’s better,” he says, taking your hand as he sits in the vinyl wrapped chair beside you. “They’ll be here with your things any minute now, and we can get you out of your flirty dress.” 
“It’s a hospital gown,” you mumble through a smile. You’d laugh if you had the energy. 
“Yeah, babe. You’re practically naked.” 
“Am not.” 
He kisses your knuckles. “Agree to disagree.” 
Remus and Sirius arrive trying to push through the door at the same time. Sirius wins, willing to roughhouse where Remus isn’t, propelling himself toward your bed in a rush. “What the fuck happened?” he asks. 
“They went through a red light,” you say, relieved to see them both. Sirius shocks you when he goes in for a hug, quick but careful, his hair smushed into your forehead as he covers the back of your head protectively. “I didn’t see them coming. I was just sitting there and they hit me.” 
They drove their car thirty miles per hour into the passenger side, which then pushed you into oncoming traffic. Sudden and then done. You closed your eyes to brave and opened them to find yourself covered in glass and blood with a bruise like a lash down your chest. Explaining it, remembering it again so soon, your eyes fill with tears that you choke around as Remus grabs your leg. 
“You’re okay,” James says, giving your hand a good squeeze. 
“Yeah, you’re okay,” Sirius says, quieter, his lips cold on your face. 
Sirius lets you go after a quick appraisal of your face and lets Remus crowd you. He hugs you for far longer than the other two, not because he likes you more or anything, but because he’s very, very tactile, and because you need it. He sits on the side of the bed and uses his height over you to wrap you up, avoiding your arm but otherwise smothering you in a soft affection. “It’s okay,” he repeats the sentiment of the others, kneading the top of your arm. 
Remus looks pale in the bright white fluorescents, but he doesn’t falter nor shake. He has a remarkable talent for turning everything off when he needs to. You shudder like a kid through tears, your arm a constant pang of pain. The whiplash is suffocating. Each breath you takes doesn’t feel like enough. 
Remus counts you through big breaths. “Just do it with me, hm? Nice slow breaths. You got it.” 
“I’ll get you some water,” James says. 
Sirius opens the bag they’d first ignored to unveil a shoving of things, including a water bottle and a three pack of juice cartons. “We brought choices.” 
He pierces the carton with a straw for you and hands it over. You sip at it feebly through panicked pants, the straw pushed between your teeth. Remus runs your arm with his thumb encouragingly. “Sorry,” you say. 
Three voices chime in at one. “Don’t be sorry!” Remus says, as James and Sirius both say, “No.” 
“It was really scary,” you confess, tears slinking off of your lashes as you blink. 
“I bet it was,” Remus says, “but you’re okay. We’re gonna get you fixed up and back home so quickly, dove, you don’t need to worry.” 
“I’m not worried,” —James winces visibly at your shaky voice and reaches over to rub your thighs— “I just didn’t know what was happening.” 
“It must’ve been so scary,” James sympathises.��
You look for Sirius through their embraces. He’s frowning, nearly glaring, his gaze on your bandaged arm. “We’ll sort everything out,” he promises, raising his head. “Promise.” 
You nod quickly and then slower. “Yeah, I know.” 
You’re bathed in hugs for a while. The nurse comes back to see how you are and giggles at your company. “Such handsome boys,” she says, “who’s the lucky one?” 
To which they all say, “Me.” She declares them the funniest bunch of boys she’s ever met. 
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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months
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King Of My Heart
James Potter x fem!reader
Summary: You and James are friends with benefits until daisies and an incident with one asshole Quidditch player stirs up some hidden (or not-so-hidden) feelings
Genre: Fluffy fluff <3
Warnings: swearing, slut shaming, mentions of sex, pranks
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Since you met him in Charms class your fourth year he'd been a nuisance. In the beginning, you didn't even consider him; he was just some boy who was consistently louder than anyone else in the room and incredibly obnoxious.
Only eventually, it became obvious he'd somehow wormed his way into your heart when in the first month of your seventh year, three drinks in and one drunken kiss later, James Potter had ended up taking more than just your heart.
Your mutually-beneficial-arrangement, which has blossomed since then, is the reason you're now standing in front of the Gryffindor changing room. The boys' changing room.
You and James have this new tradition where, after he wins an important game, you'll meet him in the changing room after his teammates had left and, well, you were his reward.
Slowly, you run a hand through your hair, fixing the barrette you have pinned on one side, and then smooth your hand down your uniform. Hesitantly, you turn the handle.
Once you walk in, it takes approximately less than three seconds for you to realize you made a terrible mistake.
Inside you're met with loud, bustling, chatter as Gryffindor boys you only know by name and Quidditch positions pack their equipment and uniforms into their bags. You freeze.
One of the boys turns around, "What the bloody fuck is a girl doing in here?" He exclaims, sounding truly horrified.
Immediately, you spin around to leave but without warning another boy seemingly materializes next to you and slams his hand into the door. You almost bump into it as it shuts directly in front of you. You swallow nervously as you have no choice but to turn around.
"Y/n?" You hear your name and an immediate sense of relief rushes over you. You watch James walk in. His hair is still damp from a shower and a towel is thrown over his shoulder.
His look of confusion quickly turns into realization when he scans you and sees the small flower in your hand. Usually, when he wins you gift him a daisy and he likes to keep them all in the pocket of his Captain's uniform as good luck charms.
James's eyes then jump to his teammate and when he sees how close his arm is to your head and how close he is to you in general, he frowns, "Hey O'Conner, back it up, buddy." He says, hiding his annoyance behind a joke as he quickly makes his way to you.
O'Conner huffs but listens to James anyway. He sends you a look and then laughs to himself, "Is this your girlfriend, Potter. Seems like she has a little present for you." O'Conner looks at the daisy in your hand and you quickly hide it behind your back, cheeks burning hot.
When James reaches you, he gently holds your shoulder and turns you around. His mouth is pressed near your ear as he whispers, "Come on," and leads you out the door.
Even when James shuts the door behind you, you can still hear mocking and whistles from inside the changing room and you've never been more embarrassed in your life. You're sure James can sense how anxious you've become because he runs his thumb over your knuckles, "It's okay, love. You're just a little early. You can come back in thirty minutes and it will just be just us, like it usually is."
You stare at him and, after a moment, shake your head. You don't have to speak or explain yourself for James to understand as he kisses your forehead, "Ok, I'll see you at Honeydukes in a bit then? Pads and Moony said they invited you already?"
"Yeah." Is all you say.
James gently slides his hand down your cheeks and uses his thumb and index finger to tilt your chin up, "Gimme a smile, love?" He asks seriously.
You look into his eyes, rolling yours, but smile at him anyways. You hear him mumble something and then he swiftly plucks the daisy from your hand and, because he doesn't have any available pockets, puts it behind his ear.
When James sends you his signature smirk, you think you're melting.
"Bye Jamie," You whisper as he turns around to walk into the changing room again. The door opens and you can hear the laughter inside but they don't bother you anymore when you see a glimpse of James giving one of his teammates the middle finger as the daisy stays in his hair.
* * *
Honeydukes is known to be busy after Quidditch matches and it's especially busy when Gryffindor wins. It's a tradition that originated from James, Sirius, and Remus, and now almost everyone just comes along until it's turned into a full party.
James has his arm draped over the booth behind you as he leans against the corner. He laughs as Sirius chugs Butterbeer as quickly as possible. Your nose scrunches in disgust and Remus quickly snatches what was his drink away from Sirius's hands, "You're a pig." Remus reprimands gently and rolls his eyes.
Sirius just winks, licks his lips, and leans in to wipe the side of his mouth on the collar of Remus's sweater, to which the latter smacks him over the head and earns an amused, still muffled, laugh.
You smile. You're lost in thoughts when you suddenly feel James's fingers draw circles and various shapes on your back. It's something he does almost routinely. You turn to him, but he doesn't look back at you as his fingers find your hair and play with the strands. You admire how his hazel eyes dart from Remus to Sirius depending on who's talking. You like the way his messy black hair, now dry, is curling around his forehead and you have to resist pushing up his round glasses, which sit a little low on his nose.
You have completely lost track of their conversation and when you're pulled down to earth by a shout from another drunk student, you avert your gaze from James and instead focus on your nearly finished Butterbeer. A blush of embarrassment heats your cheeks and you slide out of the booth.
"Everything ok?" Sirius asks and the boys look at you.
You smile and lift your glass, "Yeah, I just want another round."
"Alright, love." James says, turning his head a little. You can see the daisy still hiding in his curls and your chest tightens.
You really wish you'd known in fourth year how badly you'd fall for James Potter, because maybe then you could have prevented the pain of how shitty it feels to only admire him from afar.
Pushing past a bunch of students, you go to lean against the bar as you wait your turn to order. You hadn't heard someone come up to you until you feel someone's shoulder close to yours. Because of the intimacy, you think it's one of your friends, "Hey–" You start and look up, only to jump a little as O'Conner grins down at you.
Quintin O'Conner is a rather tall, handsome boy with short, thin, auburn hair. His vibrant green eyes shine as he tips his full glass of beer with an obnoxious smirk, "Hey, stalker."
You frown at the nickname, "Can I help you?" You ask.
"Sure." O'Conner licks his lips, "Potter didn't say you were his girlfriend, so I'm wondering if you're free tomorrow night? If I'm honest, I'd love one of your good luck daisies too." His hand slides over the counter and hesitates at your hand. You shift.
James told his teammates about your daisies? You blush, "Oh um, no, those are for James." You try to explain without sounding creepy and possessive. O'Conner fakes a pout and this time his hand reaches yours and his thumb caresses along your palm.
"Yeah, but like, he's not your boyfriend is he?"
"He's not but,"
"Listen, it's pretty obvious whatever activities you and Potter do in private has caused you to fall in love with him but, clearly, he just doesn't feel the same," O'Conner now grips your hand and leans in way too close, "Y/n, if you were mine I would never take you for granted." He looks you over, his eyes more sinister than his words.
You feel like someone has just choked you. Has James been going around telling people you've been hooking up? You thought you'd agreed you wouldn't even tell Sirius and Remus? You stare at O'Conner, "How do you know that?" You stutter.
"Please," O'Conner rolls his eyes, "It's quite obvious you know? You didn't just walk into the boys changing rooms looking for Potter to have a chat, did you? Plus, anyway, Potter told us the moment you left."
You shake my head automatically as his hand grips yours and somehow leans in even closer. "What's he doing to you that I can't do?" O'Conner's lips are close to your ear now and a shiver runs down your spine. Quickly, you pull your hand away and swoop under and around him.
"Sorry, I have to go." You mumble and start to make your way back to the booth, head spinning.
"Slut," You hear O’Conner shout over the chatter and you wince, closing your eyes.
When you find your way back to Sirius, Remus, and James empty handed, they look at you confused, "What's wrong, love?" James asks, sitting up in his seat. His eyes look you over and you can tell just by his eyebrow scrunch he knows you're upset.
Sirius and Remus look equally concerned and they look towards the bar, only by now O'Conner has probably gone to bother another unsuspecting girl.
When you don't move, James is up on his feet and is making his way towards you. He holds out his arms and tries to wrap them around your shoulders comfortingly but you push your arms outwards and up so he can't touch you. You shake your head. Now, the boys look even more concerned, "Seriously, what happened, Y/n?" James whispers and crosses his arms.
You look at him and the daisy in his hair just pisses you off now, "Did you tell them?" You ask, the butterbeer in your system creating a light buzz, making your head feels fuzzy, "James, did you tell them?"
"What?" James's eyes round.
"You heard me." You hiss. Sirius and Remus look at each other confused.
"Please, just tell me what happened." James pleads in another whisper as he starts to walk towards you again, only this time you move away from him.
"Oi, Potter, next time keep your bitch on a tighter leash. She was all over me a few moments ago." You suddenly hear O'Conner taunt and your head snaps towards the sound. O'Conner's arm is swung around another girl's shoulder as he grins at you.
"What the fuck did you just say, man?" Sirius exclaims as Remus instantly holds his arm back.
You glance at James and you can see his mind racing. He's staring at O'Conner but he hasn't reacted or even moved in any way. Instead, he looks at you, and his eyes soften, "Y/n," He starts but you don't wait for an explanation and just turn around.
You've barely gone out the door when James is behind you again, "Wait, please. Talk to me." He says and his hand skims your arm. Reluctantly, you pause and let out a sigh,
"I'm so fucking mad at you, James." You exclaim.
"Okay," James's voice is calm and he guides you to turn around and look at him, "Why is that, love?" He's eerily calm, especially since he has a few drinks in him, and you're extremely suspicious.
"Why are you so calm?" You ask lightly, only a little hurt he didn't stand up for you in Honeydukes.
James tilts his head, "After what O'Conner said? Sweetheart, I'm fucking furious but that wanker isn't who I care about right now." He takes a breath, "I want to know what happened to make you so mad at me."
You glare at him, "We promised we wouldn't tell anyone about us."
James looks flustered, "Yeah? And I haven't." He defends.
You roll your eyes, "So why did O'Conner come up to me asking me about what you do to me, James?"
James looks like he's seen a ghost. He shakes his head and his hands come up to your shoulders, he’s gentle as he holds you, "Y/n, I never told him anything. Bloody hell, I'd never brag about shagging you to anyone, you deserve so much more than that."
He looks so sincere you sigh, "You think he just figured it out then?" You ask.
James smirks and plucks the daisy from behind his ear. He twirls it in front of you, "I mean this is pretty damning, isn't it?"
Your smile weakens, "Do you not like them?"
James laughs a little and his hand comes up to hold your cheek, "I love them, love." His hand lingers on your cheek and he starts to move his thumb, "Come on, let’s go back in, yeah?”
He starts to turn around but you grab his wrist, "Promise you didn't tell them about us?" You whisper, still feeling insecure.
"I promise." He reassures you. When a small bell chimes, he looks back to the door which swings open and Sirius and Remus come stumbling out.
Remus is holding onto Sirius's collar, helping him stay on his feet, "Mates, let's leave. Pads has had way too much to drink and he almost knocked O'Conner's teeth out in there." He groans. You and James look at each other, laughing.
"I'm seriously debating going back in there and punching that asshole myself." James jokes, swinging his arm around your shoulder and Sirius grins drunkenly.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Prongs?" He asks, staggering on his feet.
"Oh, I sure am." James says, smirking.
* * *
It happened a week later. All week, James had been visibly agitated after his Quidditch practices and he wouldn't tell you why.
It's Saturday morning now. Mail time. You're sitting in your usual seats: James and Sirius on one side, You and Remus on the other. James is directly in front of you and he’s been playing footsies since you all sat down. You can't hide your giggles and he can't hide his smile.
"Hey, hey, the show is starting soon."Sirius leans in after a while and smirks. James looks around excitedly as owls start to swoop in from the sky. You look at them: they look like giddy children that have just been allowed to have candy after 8pm.
"What did you guys do?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.
Remus chuckles from beside you, "You'll see."
You glance at him, surprised, "You're in on it, Moony?"
"Of course he is, this was a group project, doll." Sirius winked and then his eyes follow a brown owl. You recognize it as James's owl, only it isn't flying towards you guys.
"Where is your owl going, Jamie?" You frown
"Somewhere special." James says nonchalantly and turns to watch, his arms crossed as he leans on Sirius: who is leaning forward himself and resting his chin on his hand as he wears a smug grin.
You watch his owl swoop down near where some Gryffindor Quidditch players are eating, O'Conner being one of them. He's laughing obnoxiously and anger bubbles inside you.
Remus leans in to you and whispers, "3…2…1," Pause and then James's owl drops a letter in front of O'Conner. Sirius first pumps the air as James smirks.
"You sent O'Conner a letter?" You ask James, hesitantly.
"Better." He grins. As if in clock work, a loud voice booms over the dinning hall. You recognize it immediately, it's James. Well, it kinda sounds like James only he's making an exaggerated, frankly mocking, Australian accent. Quite like how O'Conner sounds normally.
James is also clearly attempting to sound more feminine and you cover your mouth in shock as James from inside the howler begins to talk, "Quinnie, this is mummy," You look at James and Sirius, who look like they're already pissing their pants with laughter.
"Hi my darling. I'm replying to your earlier letter. Daddy and I think you should get that itchy rash on your penis checked out sooner rather than later, honey. You've been a good boy and used protection, right?"
Remus snorts from next to you as you hear some laughter resound around the room. O'Conner looks absolutely mortified as his friends laugh around him. His misery isn't over as the howler continues, "Try Granny's cream every night, ok? Daddy and I hope you feel better soon, lovie. Kisses, your Mummy dearest." James ends the letter with a loud, slobbery, kiss and then the letter rips.
Sirius has his head in his arms and his shoulders bounce as he hyperventilates quietly while James looks extremely proud. Even Remus is wearing a shit-eating grin. When O'Conner looks at you all, his cheeks dusted pink from embarrassment and anger, James simply blows him a kiss and sends him the middle finger.
You laugh behind my hand, "Why did you guys do that?"
Sirius shrugged, "That bloke has always been an asshole,"
"And he was extremely disrespectful to you yesterday, Y/n/n." Remus points out, to which James nods as he eats a mouthful of scrambled eggs. You scrunch your nose at him and eat your toast. Occasionally, you'll look over at O'Conner, who looks absolutely infuriated as his friends tease him endlessly.
"Seeing his face turn that red was pretty satisfying." You point out.
"Anyways, he should have seen it coming. No one messes with my girl without consequences." He says it without a second thought and he doesn't even look phased. You on the other hand? You're extra aware of the dryness in your throat as you try and process what James so casually said. His girl? You look at Remus and then at Sirius almost for confirmation that he had indeed said it. They look a little unsure but more awkward than confused.
"Okay well, we have Potions. See you later." Sirius stands, looking at Remus and gestures for him to stand too, "Coming, Moons?"
Remus nods quickly and walks out behind him, leaving you and James alone.
You find it incredibly annoying how nonchalant James can be sometimes. "So, your girl, huh?" You ask, hesitantly.
James pauses and looks at you, something sparks in his eyes but it quickly dies as he bends his head and continues to eat, "Mmhm." His foot nudges yours a little, "You're our girl, and we take care of what's ours."
Your heart sinks. You don't want to be their girl. You want to be his girl. Instead of the girl he fucks in secret, you want to be the one he kissed sweetly in the hallway. You want to be more than just friends.
More than just fuck buddies.
"Oh." You say, your disappointment hidden behind a small smile and James perks up.
"Wanna ditch?" He asks with a smirk.
* * *
You and James like to play Wizard's Chess.
He's infamously bad at it which means you win everytime. Still, he always loses graciously and plays whenever you ask him.
You're sitting at the edge of the lake, the warm spring air hitting your skin, and the chess board Remus had gotten you for your sixteenth birthday sits in between you and James.
"Checkmate," You stick your tongue out at him as James groans.
James scrunches his brows and then, quite obviously, uses his knee to knock over the chessboard, "Oops." He laughs. You widen your eyes and try to push him on his shoulder but James just grips your wrist and pulls you into him.
He stumbles backwards until he's laying on the grass and you're hovering over him, sitting on his waist. You look at him, breathing heavily, and he looks at you.
You don't protest when James's hand curls around the back of your neck and he guides you down to kiss him. You melt into his arms. His hand finds your hair as he kisses you more passionately and for a moment you're content until James's other hand starts to tug at the buttons of your chemise. You tense and disconnect your lips, holding his hand away from your body.
"You ok?" He asks, sitting up and helping you sit in between his legs.
You can't look at him without feeling shame and embarrassment. Is this over? All because of your stupid feelings? You turn to him hesitantly and when you look at his lips, your heart hurts. Was this the last time you'll ever kiss him?
"Hey, love, what's wrong?" James asks, holding your cheeks in his hands and gently forcing you to look at him.
You shake your head and push him away, "James, no, you know I don't like it when you do that."
"Sorry," He whispers, his cheeks pink. You feel guilty.
"It's ok, Jamie. It's just," You rub your eyes and run a hand in your hair, probably messing it up, "I- I don't think I want to continue this. Us." You pause, "Not like this." You add in a whisper.
"What? Why?" James sounds confused and a little hurt, "Is it me? Have I not been good enough? I- I can learn, love." He stutters and you can't help but wonder why he's insisting so badly.
"No, you've been more than wonderful, James." You admit and then fiddle with your hands, "It's me,"
"Y/n, you're bloody fantastic." James interrupts, voice croaky.
You lower your eyes and smile softly, "No, it's because I think I've been falling in love with you." You say quietly and shut your eyes. You feel sick to your stomach.
James is not talking, he's not even moving anymore. You feel like you could vomit.
"You've been falling in love with me?" James asks.
Hearing those words, you quickly cover your face with your hands, "I- I'm sorry."
James takes your hands and gently moves them away from your face, "You're sorry?" You nod quickly and your heart pounds. Hope is a dangerous game, but James is smiling so maybe hope is worth the risk.
"Please don't be sorry, my love." James brings your palms to his lips and kisses your hand. His lips are light and shivers run up your arms, "I'm sorry. I have been such a fool." He leans his forehead on yours and suddenly, you feel lightheaded in a completely different way.
"James," You start but he interrupts you with a finger pressed to your lips.
"I didn't think you felt the same way as me," He chuckles, "I mean? Why would someone like you: someone so kind and honest, actually want more with someone like me? So, I was happy with our agreement because I still wanted to have you in any way I could. But, you love me? You really love me?" You nod and James's smile widens until it almost looks like it hurts him, "I've loved you since forever, Y/n/n, you can't even begin to imagine how happy you've made me."
"Really?" You ask.
James rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss you gently. He pulls away and smiles that grin you love so much, "I knew I wasn't as obvious as Remus and Sirius said I was." James teases and your eyes round as you lean away from him a little,
"Remus and Sirius know?"
James touches your cheek and looks at you fondly, "Yeah, about how madly in love with you I am, not our extracurricular activities." He jokes with a wink, "I think if I'd been honest to them about that, they would have warned me how dangerous it'll end up being for me, and in the end they would have been right."
You still feel like you're in a dream when you take his hand in yours and play with his fingers, "How's that, Jamie?" You whisper, simply enjoying the new found warmth in your stomach.
"Because it was absolutely torture to have you so close, and yet, so far away from me all the time." James says and you feel validated in your own feelings.
You nuzzles your head in his chest and wrap your arms around him,
"Well, you have me now." You reassure him. He sighs and holds the back of your head and for the first time, you have everything you want here in your arms. You smile against his chest, "Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend now when someone asks."
James huffs and kisses your head, "You better, love."
"And, am I your girl now?" You ask, more timidly now as you sit up and look him in the eyes. James’s hand runs along the grass as he smirks. You see him pluck a daisy from the ground and, as he places it behind your left ear, you feel your cheeks start to burn.
"You've always been my girl." He whispers and leans in to kiss you once more. You think he mumbles, "mine" against your lips again, but at that point you're too busy being lost in the moment.
And, frankly, you don't want to be found.
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I've seen a couple of comments from someone around paying Tumblr for stuff that I want to address. I'm not going to mention the person who made these comments because I'm not trying to pick a fight, but I think they're worth talking about. The comments in question are: "you think user money is anything compared to advertisers" and in a pinned post they tell people to not give money to Tumblr.
The thing is, user money can definitely be something compared to advertisers. There are multiple ways that an online company (in general, not just Tumblr) can make money, but let's break them down into three categories:
A. From the users - selling merchandise, subscriptions, premium packages, asking for donations, etc.
B. From advertisers - selling views and space on the platform to companies that use it to try and sell stuff to the users
C. From data - selling information about the user base to other companies that might use it in a whole bunch of dodgy and malicious ways, or just try to find better ways to sell stuff to us
All three of these are viable ways for a company to make money, and many companies use some combination of the above. What matters is what the company sees as their PRIMARY method of making money, because that is what drives their corporate decisions.
If none of the methods are making money, the company will shut down, and I don't want Tumblr to shut down - I like this hellsite. If option B is what makes them the most money, then they will make business decisions that make the platform look better to advertisers and this is likely to drive everything in a more algorithm-centric direction and give users fewer options to curate their own experience. If option C is what makes them the most money, then they will focus on features that enable privacy invasion and data harvesting. If option A is what makes them the most money, then they have to think about how to keep the users spending that money. Now, option A doesn't always lead to good outcomes - in mobile/online games it can end up as loot box gambling add-ins and pay-to-win options, but thankfully Tumblr isn't the sort of site where loot box mechanics would make a lot of sense. Which makes it more likely they'll go the other option: delivering the features that users want to keep them coming back and paying for subscriptions. 
I would much rather Tumblr goes for option A than options B or C because it means that Tumblr is more likely to put the user base first when making decisions instead of advertisers. We just need to show them that it's a viable option.
Tumblr is trying what online games have done for years - crabs and checkmarks are the equivalent of horse armour DLCs and cosmetics. They're trying to make the business work through microtransactions. If enough people spend a small amount, it can add up to a large amount of money. The point of crab day is to send a message to Tumblr that option A is viable so that they make the choice to focus on that. If everyone goes, "No, don't spend money on Tumblr, you're nothing compared to advertisers," then it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy and Tumblr will have to go with options B or C if they want to keep making money.
I'm not giving Tumblr money out of naivety or because I think they're somehow deserving - I'm giving them my money because I would much rather they make money directly from me and give them an incentive to provide features I like, than by making the site worse so that they can exploit me.
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draconic-desire · 20 days
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DD’s Yandere Poll Series: Surviving the Yan!Penacony Boys (based on this post)
Rules/warnings: Read the below scenario and pick your answer or comment your own reaction. Dark content ahead!
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Incident #2 — The Wager
Aventurine knows your angry footsteps from a mile away as you shove your way through the Penaconian casino and straight to his table.
He has plenty of time to react, but he sits back in bemused silence as you slap his hand, sending aces and spades flying across the table and fluttering to the floor.
You are livid. Aventurine cannot help but chuckle at your adorable expressions as he begins to concoct a plan. After all, emotional betters tend to be reckless.
“Damn, and that was a good hand, too.”
You grit your teeth at his lackadaisical dismissal. “Screw your game. Are you going to tell me why there were IPC goons posted outside my apartment yet again this morning?”
He folds his hands and tilts his head innocently, a smirk painting his lips. “You assume I had something to do with that?”
“Don’t play dumb!” The rein on your temper is hanging on by a thread. You take a deep breath to reset yourself, then place both palms on the table to brace yourself. “What do you want?”
By this point, the others at the table have enough common sense to flee, leaving the two of you alone. The sounds of the slot machines and cheers of the casino-goers echo through the charged atmosphere between you.
“Darling, I think I’ve made that painstakingly obvious.” Before you can react, he grips one of your wrists and pulls you down so you are leaning across the table, face inches from his own. He runs a gloved finger along your cheek, licking his bottom lip. “Have you finally come to concede?”
You narrow your eyes but do not struggle—yet. “You fucking wish.”
“Such a filthy mouth,” he drawls, much to your chagrin. “If not to acquiesce to my desires, then what brings your lovely presence here? Care to take a seat?” He motions, of course, to his lap.
You inhale sharply and speak before you lose your courage, temper, or both. “I want to make a wager with you.”
His eyes widen ever so slightly; you’ve either surprised or excited him. Neither bode well for you.
“One game. We both know what we want from it.”
“Ah ah, I’ll need some clarification as to what I’m actually betting on,” Aventurine teases as he begins to reassemble the deck of cards, all while maintaining your eye contact.
Aeons, he’s actually going to make you spell it out. “I win, I get my out from you and the IPC. I get to leave Penacony and never look back. If I lose…” Your throat collapses for a moment before you spit out, “You win me.”
Aventurine releases you, leaning back in his chair. He grabs the newly formed deck of cards and begins shuffling. “I accept. But, since I have more to lose here—” You begin to protest, but he quickly tuts you into silence, “I will be the one choosing the game. Deal?” He extends his hand, golden rings glinting. You think you can hear the tick tick tick of his watch, counting down to your end.
You look over his expression, his body language, the smug smile. He’s hiding his ace, you can tell, but what choice do you have?
Slowly, you sink into the seat across from him.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs, reeling his hand in with an exaggerated pout. “In that case, we’ll be playing Maverick.”
Your accelerated heartbeat calms ever so slightly. That’s one game you’ve heard of. A game of pure luck rather than skill. You can work with that.
“The rules are simple.” He lays two cards, face down, in front of you. “Your goal is to guess a number that falls within these two cards. If you’re in the correct range? You walk out of this casino and never see me ever again.”
Your heart soars, but quickly falters when you spot the mischievous glint in his irises. “But, if you’re wrong and your number falls outside…” His thumb and index finger form the shape of a pistol, which he pretends to fire into your heart with a dramatic bang.
“Your heart is mine.”
No backing down.
He gestures between you and the cards, prompting you ahead. That smirk never falters.
Glancing between the two cards, you go with your gut. Defiantly holding his breathtaking blue and pink gaze, you speak aloud your favorite single digit number.
Aventurine hums and flips both cards simultaneously.
Two king of spades stare back at you mockingly.
“Looks like I win.”
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cozymaples · 5 months
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total eclipse (steve harrington x reader)
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a/n: ohhh man. this is a long one, but do i have a treat for you. with the weather getting colder i just...could not contain myself !!! brain go brrrr. literally! | (tags: @madtheivery) warnings: afab!reader, virgin!reader, friends to lovers, oral!f receiving, fingering word count: 3.4k
Steve doesn’t like you.
That’s what he tells himself, anyway. Because if he lies to himself this way, it’s half true. He loves you. He’s not sure which is harder to ignore-the strain of his cock in his jeans whenever he sees you, or the way his heart feels like it’s going to pummel out of his chest when you leave. So now, he’s been at this party for far too long, marinating between a sea of bodies that he can’t seem to push through; only to try and find you. 
You’re making it difficult, though-lodged into the side of your boyfriend. Well, sort-of-boyfriend.
His hand rests firmly on your shoulder, the cheering and hollering of his winning cup in beer pong only tugging you further into him. You smile uncomfortably, jostled around as he earns slaps on the back and high-fives from his teammates. 
Steve can only watch from afar, finally parting through the sea of people. He sighs to himself amongst the ruckus, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing his temples. It’s subtle, but you notice. What’s better-the fact that your boyfriend doesn’t seem to. To ease any suspicions of him checking in on you, he keeps Robin glued to his side at all times. Though, it’s an equal split down the middle of eagerness to accompany the other. The pair hardly went anywhere alone, and you think it’s kind of sweet. Robin clearly needs Steve’s help of being a ‘ladies man’, and Steve clearly needs Robin’s help for the opposite. Which is why she tugs at his sleeve, tsk-ing before sighing loudly. Steve clears his throat, an immediate turn of the heel as he looks at her. He gestures defensively to the scene in front of him, before raking his fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t gonna say anything-” He starts. “Yeah, that’s the problem, Harrington!” Robin whines, verbally smacking the back of his head. “Wake up! You seriously think she looks happy to be with that beast?” Steve averts his gaze from Robin once more, glancing over his shoulder to look at you. He thinks Robin’s choice of word beast is harsh, but as he watches you get tugged around through second-party celebration, he can’t help but agree. 
“No!” He whines, finally succumbing to Robin’s antics. “Okay? No! Of course she’s not!” He sighs with defeat, running his fingers through his hair again, brows scrunched with frustration. Robin chuckles, “Jesus, that hair is like a stress ball for you, huh?” He narrows his gaze, paired with an eye roll as he indulges in her amusement. “Yeah, yeah. Alright. What’s your point?” He asks. But he knows what her point is. Her point is-”That you need to tell her! You could be changing lives, Harrington! Think about it,” She starts, and he groans, accepting the speech that’s about to come. “You could love her, I mean, really cherish her,” She says, and she’s not wrong. Her arm snakes over his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. Her spare hand nurses a red solo cup, the drink sloshing against the sides as she uses her hand to gesture. “I mean, he’s gonna make her a trophy wife. And you know what happens to trophies, Steve?” He’s not sure where she’s going with this, but he humors her anyway. It’s as if she can hear his brows raise with curiosity, immediately continuing. “They get left on shelves, Harrington. Filled with lonesome and littered with dust, too damn useless now to remember what they were good for in the first place!” She finishes. His eyes widen. 
Shit. 
He can’t believe that Robin’s analogy has not only made sense, but now kicked his ass into high gear. A trophy? A trophy? Not on his watch. Not to be collected by dust, or gawked at by others. No. Not you. He decides, not realizing he’s made his way across the room, now standing directly in front of you. Your “boyfriend” has now parted from your side, and your brows raise with curiosity, but also surprise. “Hey..” You say, wondering if Steve even knows where he is, considering you haven’t spoken in two months. “Hey,” He retorts nervously, nodding once. “So, uh..where’s your boyfriend?” He asks. You chuckle at the notion, but you can’t really blame him for wondering. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You say, and Steve gets that look in his eye-the one that only surfaces when he’s genuinely surprised. You hold eye contact for a minute, gazes locked on each other as his features soften. “Oh.” He says, and there’s no snark to it. You can tell he wants further clarification, but minds his manners, which you love about him. 
Unbeknownst to him, the ‘love’ thing going on was definitely a two way street. And now, for the first time, you don’t want him to think it’s a dead end for him. Not a second longer. “He hasn’t been..ever.” You say, and as the words tumble out of your mouth, you hear the truth in them for the first time. They hold weight now, standing in front of Steve, whose eyes haven’t left you for a second. Your back is firm against the wall behind you, the bustling of partygoers that had once swarmed you now sounding like white noise. “We were just..” You shrug, sheepish of the words you want to say. “..Fucking.” You say, quickly clarifying as his eyes widen with despondency. “But not actually-I mean, that’s what he tells people.” You’re fully engrossed in it now, the regret and disgust enveloping you in an embrace that you don’t want. “Never exclusive, considering he was fucking half of the cheerleaders,” You say, knowing that you trust Chrissy as your source. “I just..didn’t wanna go all the way. Not with him.” You decide that’s enough rambling, sparing him the details of what you did to compromise in place of sex. Steve extends his hand, an offering he’s hoping, pleading silently that you’ll take. You know if you take it, this is the end of everything you’ve known, and the start of everything you want. “Come with me,” He asks, voice soft, tender. “Please,”
And that’s how you’ve ended up sitting in the backseat of Steve’s BMW, filling him in on the past two months. “I was just..settling. I knew what I wanted, but..I just didn’t think to take it.” You confess, feeling every thump of your heartbeat ripping through your chest. It aches, yearning for the man in front of you. The silence between sentences is heavy, both of you terrified to spill to the other-terrified that if you speak now, it’ll all be for nothing. That it won’t be the same. “What did you want?” Steve asks, clinging to every word you say as though it’s oxygen itself. You feel a lump rise in your throat, threatening to tear out if you don’t speak now. Steve hasn’t touched you, not laid a hand on you this entire conversation. “You.” You exhale,, the years of everything you could ever want to say to him now fastened into a single word. Your heart rate increases rapidly, and you feel like you’re going to pass out if he doesn’t say something. The bellowing of drunken teenagers belting Total Eclipse of the Heart escapes from the four walls of the house, despite the fact that Steve’s got you parked halfway down the street. “Me?” He asks, hoping, praying that you mean it. You swallow harshly, nodding. “You.” You confirm, terrified that years of friendship on the invisible string you’ve tied between the two of you, sealed by fate itself, will snap. Wondering now more than ever if you’ve somehow misinterpreted every interaction between the two of you; every lingering gaze, every comforting shoulder he gave you cry on. Steve rushes his palm to your cheek, cupping your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s deep, and tender, like you’ve allowed him to finally breathe again, as though he never has before in his entire life. 
“God,” He breathes, murmuring the phrase against your lips. “I love you,” He says, and it punches the air out of your lungs. The teenagers continue their belting. “I love you,” You confess, and it bursts out of you, finally able to say what you’ve been dying to say for years. Your ‘I love you’s’ tumble out of both of you, overlapping between the kisses he’s pressing to you, over and over, and over. The soft giggling that you share between the two of you is innocent, nearly in disbelief that this kind of happiness can possibly be real. Your lips are swollen, cherried red from the amount of kisses he’s graced you with. His hand rakes through your locks, and you lean into the touch, gazing up at him dreamily. 
“Be with me.” He says. You stare back at him. “Be with me,” He repeats, his thumb stroking your cheek. You sit in disbelief. “Yes,” You say, terrified. He can sense your nerves, soothing you with a gentle kiss. “M’not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.” He assures you, gently tilting your head to the side by your jaw. “Now that I’ve got you,” He says, spoken between kisses. They line your jaw, traveling down your neck. “I love you so bad,” He coos, and you sigh with satisfaction. You wish his kisses lingered longer, feeling your stomach flip with lust-but you don’t want to ruin the moment. Don’t want him to think of you the way other guys have. “Always have,” He continues. You try to ignore the warmth in the pit of your stomach, yearning for his touch. It’s as if he reads your mind, continuing to cradle your jaw in his palm as he sucks gentle marks into the flesh of your neck. “Is this okay?” He asks, earning a soft moan from you. “Uh-huh,” You breathe, and he pauses. “Yes,” You assure him, and he continues. 
Steve, too, doesn’t want to treat you like any other man has. He never will. He’ll treat you better. The best. He knows it. Now, all he needs to do is show you. You take his free hand, slowly guiding it to your knee. It’s bare, your skirt hiked up from the way you’re angled in the backseat. He pulls back to look at you, pupils widened, hesitant. “Wanna take it slow,” He says, and you sigh. “Wanna take care of you.” He says, rubbing gentle circles into your knee. You don’t know what to say, or how to say what you want to. But you figure this is your chance to prove to him that you don’t want it to be like every other guy. He’s special. “You know how I told you that..nothing ever happened, between me and him?” He nods, humming softly. “It’s..never happened. Not with anyone.” His thumb halts, the circles he’d been tracing now stopping in their tracks as the silence lingers between you, the hum of the running engine in the background. Steve’s not an asshole-not one of those guys who obsesses over virginity, “deflowering” whoever they get their hands on. But he’s gentle, wanting to handle you with care. Because you’re special to him. Because he loves you. “Oh,” He says, that same look of surprise from the party gracing his features. You can tell he’s not judging you, or surprised that you haven’t done anything. He’s just…surprised. “Yeah..” You trail off, and he grins lightheartedly. “And you want me to..in the back of this shitty car?” You exhale a laugh through your nose, raising you brows for a moment. “No, but..I want to. With you.” 
So, that’s how you end up in Steve’s bed, the clock on his bedside table reading 2:23 a.m. His head is delved between your thighs, working his mouth tantalizingly on your clit. His shoulders shelve your legs, holding you steady under your thighs. “Steve, please-” You writhe, unsure of what you’re even asking for. You just know that you want more. “Soon, baby.” He promises, his voice muffled into the plush of your thighs, pressing kisses along them every time he needs to speak. He’s intentionally taking his time, basking in all the experiences he’s  getting to show you. How good he’s going to get to make you feel. “My pretty baby.” He coos, tongue working against your pussy once more. You throw your head back, tugging at the locks of his hair, gasping and panting as moans spill from your lips. He wants to take his time with you-find out what makes you tick. So far, he’s gathered that marking you and working his lips against your clit makes your head spin. But he wants to know more-wants to know everything. 
“Want you inside-” You beg, finally casting your gaze downward upon him. Before he looks up at you, all you can see is tousled chestnut waves,tightened by your grip, broad shoulders, and large palms. “Can’t take all of me yet, baby,” He says, your pussy clenching at his tone. It’s almost condescending, and your brain goes fuzzy registering all of the experience that he has. “Gotta work you open first.” He pulls his face from between your thighs, pressing his thumb gently to your clit, working delicate circles into it as he looks up at you. “Think you can take my fingers, honey?” He asks. Your brows are furrowed with desperation, soaking up every ounce of pleasure he grants you. You hold onto it, not wanting him to take it away from you. “Yeah,” You urge, nodding. And even if there’s a little dishonesty His gaze harbors caution, not wanting to go too hard on you. He gently slides a finger inside of you, causing you to hiss through your teeth. “Too much?” He quickly asks, and you shake your head. “No, no-just-keep it there for a second,” You urge, the muscles in your stomach tightening with anticipation. It hurts, but only a little. Still, you need to let yourself adjust. You quickly do, the pain subsiding, melting into pleasure as you finally adjust to his size.
 He continues, finally working two fingers into you. He’s been knuckles deep in you for a while now, his mouth sucking gently on your clit to ease any discomfort. Your head feels dizzy, and all you can focus on is the pleasure he’s granting you. No one’s ever taken care of you like this before, and he’s urged you to just feel it. To just feel good, and not focus on anything else; just the sound of his voice. He finally climbs up from between your legs, hovering over you as his forearms rest on the mattress. “I love you.” He says, honestly. You nod in agreement, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. “I love you.” And in this moment, you know it’s forever; that everything you had gone through to get right to this moment was worth it-that it all had a purpose. He slides his cock along your entrance, gliding into you slowly. You hiss between through your teeth, and he quickly reaches for your hand. “You’re okay, baby-right?” He assures you, but he’s also asking. You’ve never seen someone balance the scales so well. “M’okay,” You nod. “Promise.” He continues, “S’the same as my fingers, baby.” He explains; soothes. You can tell by the way his breath shudders; he’s having a hard time keeping it together, that it’s taking everything in his power to not pound into you-to watch your eyes roll back into your head, all because of him. But, he’s a gentleman. “It’ll go away-feel good.” You start to feel yourself adjust, just like how you did his fingers. A moan slips from your mouth, a sign for him to finally move. “Move,” You plead, and his eyes light up. Not because he gets to fuck you, but because you’re okay. “Yeah?” He asks, his breath hitching in his throat.
 He starts slow at first, studying your features, still on that journey to find out what makes you tick. “M’gonna be gentle, honey. ‘Kay?” He nods, and you return the motion. “Wanna see-” He starts, slowly lifting your leg up. His frame leans into yours as he does so, his cock reaching deeper inside of your pussy. “Oh-” You gasp, moaning softly as he hits that spot inside of you. A spot only he could reach, and the only one who ever has. “There.” He notes, chestnut hair falling to frame his face. He can’t help the smug grin that tugs onto his features, tongue-in-cheek as he looks down at you. Your pussy is dripping, and you can’t take it anymore-tortured from the foreplay he’d given you. “Please, God-Steve. Want you to move, please fuck me-please-” You say, nearly babbling. He nods, soothing you as he hushes you. “Shhh, alright. Alright, baby.” He chuckles, and he moves his hips, his broad shoulders shelving your leg that he’s got ahold of. He keeps it steady, wrapping his arm around it as he fucks into you. Harder, and faster. Moans start to pour from your mouth, and you’re unable to contain any sounds that you make because of him. “Yeah, that’s it.” He praises, fucking into you harder. He doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second, reading any and every facial expression that you make. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nod rapidly, feeling his cock slide in and out of you. It’s like nothing you’ve felt before..ever.
”Yes-fuck-” Your brows furrow, scrunching together as you feel a warmth build in the pit of your stomach. He’d denied you an orgasm with his mouth, and his fingers, so you’d be ready to completely unravel for him. Any time you felt like you were getting close, he’d stop. You’d wondered why, until now. “Wanna see you. Wanna see your face when I give you your first.” Your head lulls back as you moan for him, tugging at his biceps, needing him closer. You’re nearly skin to skin, his hair hanging forward as it brushes against your forehead with each thrust.Your leg is still lifted, just bent now, causing your stomach to bunch with rolls as he presses his chest into you. “Come on, honey.” He coos. “Come for me.” It’s the first orgasm you’ve had that wasn’t by your own hand; finally by the hand you’d wanted it to be all along. You pant beneath him, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as you come undone for him. Your cheeks flush pink, rosied and fucked-out as your nails dig into the flesh of his biceps. “Uh-huh, there it is.” He chuckles, feeling his own orgasm approaching. You’d been on birth control for all sorts of reasons that..had nothing to do with sex. Until now. “Come in me,” You say, nodding rapidly. His jaw goes slack, shuddering gently at your words. “Can’t say things like that, baby. Can’t-” “M’on the pill, Steve-please,” You beg, “Promise, I love you.” Something shifts in Steve, and his full weight rests on top of you, pounding relentlessly into your pussy. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, sloppily sucking hickies into the flesh, leaving purple bruises in their wake. “I fuckin’ love you.” He breathes, lips ghosting the shell of your ear. He’s still holding your hand, finally spilling over inside of you. His moans are staggered, jolting out of him as he finally regulates his breathing, rolling over beside you as he pulls himself from you. He immediately pulls you into his side, feeling the fresh linen sheets bunch up beneath you both. Your eyes have adjusted to the moonlit room, studying his features in the dark as he looks at you. He’s lovestricken, doe-eyed with a wide grin on his features. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” He says, and you roll your eyes with sweet embarrassment. “Stop! No you were not-” You tease, laughing softly. “I was-!” He retorts, brushing stray hairs out of your face as he smiles. “Always have been.” You stop your laughter, feeling it melt into a soft grin as you bask in the moment of his confessions. “And so have I.” You say. He pulls your face to him, pressing his lips to your forehead. You sigh with relief into his arms, feeling yourself doze off as he murmurs against your flesh, knowing that forever starts tonight. “Always will be.” 
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teresajoan · 3 months
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Astrology: Uranus in the houses
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Uranus is righteous. Uranus is compelled to uphold values and beliefs for the greater good. Unlike Pluto, which destroys for the purpose of transforming, or Mars that destroys for the purpose of overcoming, Uranus destroys for the sake of what is considered right and fair. It will destroy in the name of truth and equity. It is the ultimate rebel and anti-authoritarion. It causes chaos in the face of resistance.
The house with uranus in it must act righteously, and the desired results must be righteous. Otherwise, volatility occurs.
1st house - You see the world differently and sometimes can't believe that you are forced to live in the constraints of society. Use your presence righteously to help others who are alienated.
2nd house - Spend money unselfishly. What you give to others will come back unexpectedly. Perhaps you don't even "believe in money," and you understand it as a created concept that keeps the poor suffering and the rich richer. You value unusual items and gifts.
3rd house - Others find it difficult to understand you and follow your chain of thoughts. You may get frustrated and exhausted by this, but you try to always speak your truth no matter what. Do this, and those who understand will love you. The ones that do not understand will be left behind. Use your words to advocate for others less fortunate in your community. The more you are involved in sibling drama, the worse it will get.
4th house - It's hard to find solid ground to call your home, but the more you hold onto the past is the more sudden and unexpected shake ups will occur. Practice empathy towards your family, and you will be truly empathetic to yourself.
5th house - Be respectful and kind in love. Do not fuck with others hearts, or it will come back around. Be open about the strangeness and taboos that you seek from the beginning. Sudden wins and loses in gambling. Unexpected accidents with children or pregnancy. Consider revolutionary ideas around these topics and how you can advocate for others in such positions.
6th house - You're compelled to fight authoritarian figures in your day and in your society because you hate being controlled. Step outside of the defensive fight and come up with your own routine and process without expecting others to agree to follow along.
7th house - Approach others with a fair and equal attitude. The more you celebrate the difference in others, the more it will be celebrated in you. You seek unusual partnerships and have open ideas about marriage, however, this must be actioned with consent.
8th house - Respect the property of others and do not fight over inheritance for selfish reasons. Embrace the sudden changes and loss. Fighting against it will cause more chaos.
9th house - Take ownership of your own learning. Your views and beliefs are against the norm and for the bettering of society. Just don't let your ego get so attached to your opinion that you close yourself off to learning. Otherwise, a greater force will have no choice but to continuously shake up your beliefs.
10th house - You are viewed by others as "different" or "strange." You should work to change society's perceptions, not to justify your strangeness, but to free others of stigma and discrimination.
11th house - You are the natural humanitarian. Its easy to get suddenly swept up in revolutionary ideas. Earn your money outside of the norm. Be careful when you dream strange and big for society. It must be with the purpose of benefiting those who need it, not just anarchy for the sake of defiance.
12th house - You have a strong hidden desire to break away and be free. You want to travel and explore alone. However, you can not avoid your generational karma. It follows you everywhere. The more open you are to understanding this, the more pleasant surprises will be delivered to you in unusual ways.
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ode2rin · 10 months
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“you’re cheating.”
you accused firmly, your conviction unwavering. there was not even an ounce of doubt in your judgment. it seemed to be the only logical explanation for what was transpiring right before your eyes.
“i swear, baby, i am not,” reo pleaded, but you were having none of it. you clung to your accusation, refusing to back down.
there was simply no other way to interpret the situation.
unable to contain your incredulity any longer, you pointed directly at the perpetrator of your accusation— an unbelievably unfamiliar word that reo had placed on the scrabble board.
“phpht”, is he fucking serious? how were you supposed to even pronounce that?
scanning the jumble of letters on your own rack, you conceded defeat. “you’re cheating. i'm out,” you declared, playfully rising from your seat as if to emphasize your point.
reo stood up, facing you with protests laced with laughter, vehemently defending his outrageous choice of word. “i’m not cheating! i swear it's a real word. i'm not making it up!”
“who the hell comes up with that? phpht,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and arching an eyebrow. “and did i even pronounce it correctly?”
“google it, it’s a word.”
“sure it is,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m done with this game.”
reo sat and leaned back to his chair, seemingly unfazed by your antics. “may i remind you, love, that this was your idea?” he teased.
the worst idea, apparently. 
if you had known how insufferable your boyfriend could be when it came to board games, you would have scoured every genre available on netflix to find a movie you both could have enjoyed instead of suggesting this battle of wits that you were clearly losing.
“yeah, because i thought it would be fun,” you huffed, “but here you are, taking it so seriously as if we were in a competition for the title of best scrabble player of the year!”
reo let out a laugh at your outburst that turned into a boyish grin adorning his face, “what can i say, baby? i simply have a wide vocabulary,” he playfully boasted, clearly enjoying your annoyance. “besides, you’re into smart men. i like to remind you of that from time to time.” he even had the audacity to wink.
“show off.”
“only to you.”
“i’m still not playing this with you anymore,” you declared, rolling your eyes, yet unable to suppress the tugging smile forming on your lips.
“how about this one then?” reo proposed, placing another board game on the table, his eyes seeking your approval.
oh, hell no. 
approval is the last thing he is going to receive for his choice of game.
playing monopoly with a man who religiously checked the stock market every day at 7 am like clockwork? you weren't crazily in love enough to endure that (you are, just not tonight).
“and have you criticize every property purchase i make? nope, thank you very much.”
a mischievous grin once again danced on reo's lips. “you could just admit and tell me i'm good at everything, baby.”
“good at everything, you say?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice. “i’m pretty sure you suck at hiding your jealousy, especially when—”
“alright, let's play snakes & ladders instead,” reo interrupted, a playful surrender evident in his tone. “i’d even let you win.”
and sure enough, you both played snakes & ladders, in which you miraculously lost twice. perhaps luck had ceased favoring you after you earned yourself a boyfriend like reo. 
you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it, though. you were indeed lucky to have a man like him, even when he’s pulling up words unknown to anyone in a scrabble game.
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note. just a silly drabble because i miss him and i'm having the biggest writer's block rn. also, i swear that's a word don't make me defend myself here╰(‵□′)╯
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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 months
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Could you do an imagine with Steve rogers and yn where he takes her virginity smooth talk to her into it and she comes to shield quarters to drop off some stuff he left over and she over hears him talking to tony,Buck & the avengers a both the bet they made that Steve couldn’t f*ck yn and she gets heartbroken and uses her superpowers to fight against Steve when she barges in. Like throw him into a wall. I hope you get my concept (btw yn has powers also & she’s new to the shield inc as an avenger)
Betrayed
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PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader
WORD COUNT | 2.7K
SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the Avengers, and Steve takes on a bet behind your back that he wouldn't be able to take your virginity. When you find out about the bet a few weeks later, you lose it and your superpowers rise to their full potential.
WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Steve being an asshole, swearing, smut [ loss of virginity, fingering, protected sex, massage turned to sex, light spanking ]
A/N | Hi nonnie, thank you so much for my very first request, I hope this is what you were looking for when you thought of the prompt! After all the love and many people requesting a part 2, I finally caved and you can find that right here! 🖤
Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜
Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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It has been a dream of yours ever since being recruited by SHIELD as an agent, to climb the ranks to becoming part of the Avengers. That dream finally became a reality and you were ecstatic when you found out you were accepted into the Avengers program. Right from the start all of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and you felt at home immediately, maybe a bit too much if you look back at it. During one of Tony's afterparties, you accidentally let it slip that you're still a virgin and that you wish you weren't anymore. There are some strange looks shared between some of the guys at your confession, but you decided to let it go at that time. Right now, however, you wish you hadn't.
After you went to bed that night, some of the guys got into a heated discussion about the fact that you're a virgin, and they all wanted to help you out. You know you're quite attractive - nothing over the top, but you take good care of yourself and it shows - so the fact that they all wanted to sleep with you wasn't much of a surprise. The fact that it was Steve who offered to do it first, did surprise every single one of the guys. ''No way you're taking her virginity, Cap. You have the sex appeal of a piece of grass,'' Clint remarked, which earned him a glare that wasn't all that nice. ''I think we should make a bet,'' Steve said, a mischievous look in his eyes.
''I want to make a bet if I can do it or not. If I win, I won't have to go on missions for a month. If you guys win, I will take one mission of your hands of your choice, each,'' Steve offered and they immediately agreed to these terms. And that is how Steve tried to talk you into his bed, which took more effort than he had anticipated, you weren't as easy as you made yourself sound that night. It took him a little over 5 months, but eventually, his hard work and patience paid off, for him at least.
~ 5 months later ~
You just went on a gruesome mission with all of the Avengers, and it was already late so instead of flying home now, all of you went to a hotel and spend the night. You had been incredibly frustrated for a while, and this mission was too much at this point. The mission ended up being successful, but Steve was being an asshole towards you the entire time, all to get under your skin for his gain, with the bet still in his mind. All the other Avengers quickly teamed up with the rooms, so your only option was to share a room with Steve, and you weren't happy with that. In the slightest.
''Guys, can any one of you please switch with me? I can't look at his face right now and I want to smack that smug grin of his fucking face,'' you say through gritted teeth, but they aren't helping one bit. ''Sorry doll, we always have the same sleeping arrangements and Steve usually sleeps alone, so you don't have a choice,'' Bucky said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ''You guys are unbelievable,'' you said and you opened the door to your shared bedroom, rushing in to get away from all of them.
''Don't mind them,'' Steve said when he followed you and you let yourself fall on your back on the bed. ''Maybe it's a good thing you and I are sharing a bedroom tonight, I had a plan to get both of our frustrations out of our systems,'' Steve said with an innocent look in his eyes. ''You do...?'' you ask him, unsure where he's going with this. ''Yeah, I find that a massage works well, get someone to rub all my frustrations away. I brought some massage oil that I could use on you if you want,'' he offered, and you were thinking about it. ''I'm gonna take a shower first though, I don't want to be disgusting when you massage me,'' you said.
When you were in the shower, Steve texted the guys' group chat that his plan would work, you agreed to a massage and he would most definitely be able to turn it around so he could fuck your brains out later that night. When you came back from your shower, you put your hair in a claw clip so it would be out of the way, and you noticed Steve already prepared his bed to be used as the massage 'table'. ''Please, lay down without the towel so I can reach your entire back with ease,'' he said with a small grin on his face, but you did it. You needed a way to get this frustration out of your body, and it was worth a shot. ''Lay down for me, baby,'' he said and you didn't even think twice about the nickname he gave you.
You did as he said and made yourself comfortable. ''No towel baby, that was it's easier for me to reach everywhere,'' Steve said and because you're lying on your stomach, you can't see the smug look he has on his face. He took the towel away and softly gasped at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than he thought you'd be and he was very happy he got to do this. He put a little bit of the massage oil on your back and his hands before he started, rubbing it all over your shoulders and back first, just grazing your cheeks when he's rubbing it over your lower back, teasing you ever so slightly. After it's nice and spread out he starts putting some pressure and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.
''Mmh Steve, feels good,'' you softly moan and he smiles at the way you praise him, happy he can make you feel that good. ''Are you feeling better yet, baby?'' he asked and you nodded, letting out a content sigh. The fact that you're completely naked is long forgotten, you were very comfortable around Steve now with his hands running over your body like that. ''Got some more pressure points in my lower back you could massage,'' you tell him, it's always been a point that's bothering you and now that he was massaging you, it was the perfect timing to get help. ''Like this?'' he said as he put a bit more pressure on your lower back with his palms, moving from your spine outwards and down to your hips. This makes you groan, and in all honesty, a little turned on too.
When he's taken good care of your shoulders and back, he moves on to your calves and thighs. ''Time for these beautiful legs,'' he says as he silently takes off his shirt and pants, they were getting more and more uncomfortable now that he was getting pretty hard from just massaging you. He was standing in his boxer briefs and you didn't notice, completely taken over by pure bliss. He dripped a little oil on both your legs, stopping right beneath your cheeks and he put it to the side, ready for later. He started massaging at your ankles and slowly work his way up to your thighs, giving special attention to the tops, near your ass. His fingers slowly move up and when he's kneading and rubbing your ass, you let out a gasp which turns into a moan.
''S-Steve...'' you say but he quickly cuts you off, ''Shh, it's okay baby, this is normal,'' he says and he starts kneading more roughly, even going as far as landing a slap on both your cheeks at the same time, watching them ripple under his hands. ''Fuck, doing so good for me, baby,'' Steve praised you and you couldn't help but enjoy it, even though you knew in the back of your head it was still wrong. It was at that moment Steve couldn't take it any longer, and his hand wandered down between your thighs, cupping your dripping pussy. ''Hm, you're already dripping wet baby, 'm gonna take good care of you,'' he says as he slowly slides his fingers through your folds, giving special attention to your clit with his middle finger. You moan loudly at the feeling, your ass automatically lifting in the air at the feeling.
''Such a good girl for me right now, letting me take good care of you,'' he praised you and you started clenching around nothing. ''Steve, please,'' you whimpered, you wanted to feel his fingers inside you by now. ''What is it, baby? What do you need from me? Just say it and I'll do it,'' he says, whispering the words in your ear as he pushes your thighs further apart for better access. ''Need you, need your fingers inside me,'' you said shyly and he happily complied, immediately shoving 2 fingers deep inside your dripping entrance without warning. This makes you gasp loudly and grind your hips against his hand. ''How does it feel baby?'' Steve asks with a huge grin on his face while picking up his pace and curling his fingers so he can continue to stimulate your sweet spot.
''G-good, gonna cum,'' you moan as you keep grinding against his fingers. He uses his other hand to play some more with your clit and before you know it, you feel your orgasm wash over you while you moan out his name loudly. ''Yes, let everyone know who's making you feel this good baby,'' he said, knowing full well all the guys could hear what you were doing through the tins walls of the hotel. ''Fuck, feels so good,'' you say as you come down from your high. Steve pulls his fingers softly out of you before turning you over on your back, so he could massage the front of your body. He started with your legs, giving them the same treatment as when he massaged the back of your legs, but avoiding your sensitive pussy this time.
Next up is your stomach, which he drips some oil onto before massaging it deeply, so you let out soft whimpers, especially when his hands' ghost over the underside of your breasts, which were beautifully exposed for his viewing pleasure, your nipples still hard after your first orgasm. ''Those breasts look delicious baby,'' Steve cooed and it made you giggle a little bit before he softly grabbed them and massaged them, giving extra attention to your sensitive nipples. He noticed every single whine, whimper, and moan coming out of you when he played with them, either by rubbing, tugging, or softly flicking them, and he was reveling in the sounds that left your lips.
He finished with your upper chest and neck before leaning down and softly kissing you, which you have been longing for this entire time. He wasn't your first kiss, but he was by far the best you ever had, and you didn't hesitate when he slipped his soft, warm tongue in your mouth to explore every single inch of it. He sat down on the bed and removed his underwear, exposing his painfully hard cock, which was laying on your thigh as he took his place between your legs. ''Steve, condom please,'' you said. You were on birth control and this was your first time, but you weren't sure where he had been and didn't want to risk either getting pregnant or an STD, but Steve didn't mind, he always used one anyways.
He grabbed one from the nightstand - thank god he came prepared - and ripped open the foil before rolling it onto his hard length. ''Are you ready baby?'' he asked and you said yes, giving him a soft smile too. ''Need you inside me,'' you said and without a second to think about it, Steve was pushing himself into your entrance, the burning sensation quickly subsiding and making way for pleasure. He is very big and a lot to get used to, but in no time he was buried inside you completely, letting you get used to the sensation as he bent over, stealing soft kisses from your lips. ''Steve, please move,'' you beg softly and he does, going slow at first but slowly picking up the pace, making you moan louder every single time.
Sure, he may be doing this for a bet, but he was still mindful of the fact that this is your very first time, and he did want to give you the pleasure you deserve, and not go too rough at first. ''Steve, harder'' you beg, and with that, he quickly picks up the pace as you wrap your legs around his waist, so he can hit the deepest spots inside you. ''F-fuck, Steve, gonna cum-'' you practically yelled when your orgasm washed over you again, making your vision go temporarily black with the intensity of it, Steve followed quickly after with the chant of your name, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills his cum inside of the condom. ''Fuck, feels so good around me baby, such a good girl for me,'' he says before pulling out. The rest of the night is spent lazily making out and cuddling, before falling asleep in each other's arms.
~ 3 weeks after the mission ~
You and Steve talked about what happened that night and both agreed nothing more would come of it, it was just a one-time thing to get both your frustrations out and you would remain friends. He talked to the guys about it and they all heard, clapping him on his back and saying he won the bet fair and square, so they would pick up his missions for the next month. ''How was it?'' Tony asked and he told them all about the massage and how it felt to be buried balls deep inside you. They were still talking about the bet when you happened to walk into the room since you accidentally left some files in the living room you needed to prepare.
''Good job Steve, you won the bet fair and square, I didn't think you would fuck her but you earned it'' Bucky said as he got up, and immediately you realize they're talking about you. ''What bet are you guys talking about?'' you ask, and all the guys' heads snap in your direction. ''Y/N, hey...'' Steve said, his face becoming bright red. ''Did you guys seriously bet on if he was able to fuck me? You guys are fucking unbelievable,'' you snarled at each of them, but you're the most mad at Steve. ''You're such a dick, Steve, you know that?'' you yelled at him and you felt your powers come out, usually you tried to keep them hidden since they could cause quite a lot of destruction. ''Using me for a fucking bet?!'' is the last thing you said before you lifted Steve off his chair with your mind, using your telekinesis.
You slam him into the wall on the other side of the living room with your full force, making him go through it like the wall was made of a thin sheet of paper. ''Don't ever fuck with me like that again, or he won't be the only one on the receiving end of my powers,'' you say to the rest of the guys, and they quickly scramble away. To make Steve hurt even more, you walked over to him and made him squirm by giving him a head-splitting headache with your mind, as he grabbed his head to stop it. ''Y/N PLEASE STOP!'' he begged you, but you didn't. You want him to hurt just as much as you were. ''Oh no Rogers, you don't get to beg now, you earned everything I'm going to do with you,” Your power got out of hand and when Wanda walked into the living room, she managed to snap you out of it at the right time, if she didn't you would've killed him.
And just like that, your dream of becoming an Avenger is completely shattered.
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joeshiestyslover · 3 months
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hotel room
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pairing: cocky!joe burrow x reader
summary: you and joe have been hooking up for the past year, and joe wants to stop, but he just can’t and continues to string you along, so you make the choice for him
warnings: language, angst, slight smut
masterlist
a/n: i’m back???? also this is mad shitty, but it’s been a year, so i’m a bit rusty
the sound of your phone ringing is enough to wake you from your sleep. you roll over to face the nightstand and grab your phone. you check the time and it’s 3:13 am. who the fuck is calling me this late? you think. your question is answered when you check the caller id, joey<3 is in big white letters across the top of your phone screen.
“hello?” you answer. “you busy right now?” joe immediately asks. really? no greeting? “no joe of course i’m not busy at 3:15 in the morning.” “good. come over.” he demands. “didn’t you say the last time we did this that we couldn’t do it again?” you inquire. “i know what i said y/n. just one more time. please. i need you.” joe basically begs you. you sigh. “fine give me fifteen minutes.”
you slowly begin to get up from your bed and head to your bathroom. you brush out your hair and pull a claw clip from your drawer to put into your hair. you walk out of the bathroom and into your closet; you grab a pair of spandex booty shorts and an oversized tshirt. you find some socks and your air forces and slide them on your feet. you take one last look at yourself in the mirror before grabbing your phone, wallet, and keys and heading out the front door.
why do i do this to myself? you ask yourself every single time you leave to meet up with joe. you know how this ends; you hook up, he tells you it’s the last time, then you leave. it’s an endless cycle. he has you under his thumb, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape him.
the drive to joe’s place gives you the time to think about how you wound up here, driving in your car to go hook up with joe burrow.
you met joe at your friend’s bachelorette party which was at her favorite club. that night, joe was there with his teammates celebrating the bengals’ win against the chiefs. the moment he walked into the club his eyes were drawn to you immediately, and yours to his. about thirty minutes went by before he actually approached you.
you could feel the tension lingering in the air just begging to be released. joe asked you to go home with him and how could you say no? looking back on it now, you should have.
your thoughts are cut off by your phone ringing. you look at the caller id, and surprise surprise, it’s joe. “yes?” you answer. “where are you? you told me to give you fifteen minutes and it’s been twenty.” joe asks you. “joe i’m literally pulling up right now, calm down.” before he’s able to respond, you hang up and pull into his driveway.
you get out of your car and walk towards his front door, but before you can knock, the door swings open revealing a shirtless joe standing in front of you. you take a few seconds to admire him before he grabs your hand and pulls you into the house.
before you can even get a word in, he’s kissing you roughly, your tongues and teeth clashing together. “jump.” joe tells you breathlessly. you jump and wrap your legs around his waist, with his hand coming to rest on your ass. he begins to walk to his bedroom that you’ve become way too familiar with. joe kicks open the door and sits down on the bed, so you’re sitting in his lap. you mindlessly start to grind against his clothed cock.
joe breaks the kiss to look into your eyes. “you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he says to you, and you almost believe him. “joe please don’t say that.” “why not?” he asks you, confused. “because when you say things like that you make it so much harder to leave.” joe gives you a look you can’t decipher. “we both know you’re not gonna leave.” he smirks at you. “this is the last time joe i mean it. listen, there’s something i have to tell you.” you can’t look him in the eyes at this point. “what is it baby?” joe brings his hand up to hold your cheek. “i got a job offer in new york. it’s my dream job and it pays well, so i have to take it.”
joe stays silent for a few second before he moves you off of him so he can stand up. “so you’re leaving? just like that? you’re gonna throw everything we have away?” he says while beginning to pace back and forth. “everything we have? joe we’re fuck buddies! that’s all we are and that’s all we’ll ever be!” you raise your voice at him. “if you think we’re just fuck buddies then you’re fucking blind y/n!” “how am i blind joseph? please enlighten me!” you spit at him. “have you not noticed that every time you come over, i try to convince you to stay? i’ve offered to make you dinner, i’ve asked you to be with me on valentine’s day, i’ve tried everything to make you see that i’m in love with you!” the moment those words leave his mouth, you freeze. “you’re what?” “i’m in love with you y/n. i have been since the night i met you. every time you leave, i get this feeling that i hate. i don’t wanna be away from you.” he tries to step closer to you, but you don’t let him. “joe, no. don’t do this. don’t say you love me; we both know you don’t mean it. you’re only saying this because you don’t wanna lose the only girl that will be at your beck and call whenever you please.” you can feel the tears prickling at your eyes.
“what? no y/n. i love you. i really do. please stay in ohio, and let me prove it to you.” he begins to beg. “joe i can’t. we both know that we wouldn’t work. i’m sorry i can’t do this.” you stand up from his bed and walk out of his bedroom. you can hear joe’s footsteps following behind you. “y/n please don’t leave.” you don’t respond and continue walking towards his front door, but before you can open it, joe’s hand is on the doorknob. “don’t do this. don’t take that job. stay here with me, just give this a chance. please.” you find the courage to look up, and you see a tear going down his cheek. “joey listen, if you had told me this a long time ago, i would have given us a chance, and i wouldn’t take the job. it’s too late for us. i’m sorry joe, but i have to go.” he says nothing and lets go of the doorknob. you open the door and begin walking towards your car. the moment you get in and lock your doors, you break down. of course you’re in love with joe, but this is your dream job. you can’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of that, not even joe. you compose yourself and put your car into drive, not looking back. deep down you know you’ve made the right choice, but you can’t help but think about what could’ve been.
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gay-dorito-dust · 15 days
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can i request hcs of gallagher, jing yuan and sunday falling for a criminal? would they try to bring them to the “good” side?
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Sunday: I’m kinda 50/50 on Sunday tbh…
He could persuade/ manipulate you into abandoning your old ways into being with him with promises that he could provide the materials you want/need tenfold.
You had been causing issues for him and the family so why not have you under his roof as his partner? It gets the family off of his back and he gets what he wants.
It was a win-win situation.
You don’t get much of a choice in this situation as Sunday had already put everything in motion long before your fated meeting.
Sunday had kept an eye on you from the moment you started causing problems and ever since then had become a thorn in the family’s side and had grown somewhat of an obsession.
Was it healthy? No but anything Sunday did to earn your eyes on him wasn’t ever healthy, but he likes to believe it was.
While you did get out of a life of crime, was it really better when your new life was spent under constant surveillance from your loving partner and were often refused leave from the house in fear that you were still wanted by the family?
Sunday does love you but it wasn’t a healthy type of love people were tricked into believing…
Gallagher: would have a bit a fun with your little car and mouse game at first.
You being the criminal and him being the one entrusted to put a stop to you schemes.
As long as you weren’t making him work hard nor hurting/killing people and causing mass hysteria then Gallagher was more then willing to let you get away a few times cuz that’s his job
He’d even suggest that you should come to the bar he works on the side in his spare time for a drink and a chat.
You naturally thought this was a rouse and didn’t go but Gallagher was able to persuade you into coming by saying that Gallagher the bloodhound and Gallagher the mixologist were two separate people who ran on two different times.
Needless to say that you began to frequent the bar more often after that and even got to open up to Gallagher about the reasons why you’ve became a criminal.
Gallagher would then help you in getting on the right path by having you bartend with himself and or Siobhan -someone who quickly became one of your closest friends- who knew about Gallagher’s feelings towards you and will occasionally act as his wingman.
After awhile you’ve left the life of crime behind you and become a bartender for the DreamJolt Hostelry in the Reverie.
It wasn’t long before Gallagher asked you out on a date and then later be in a beautiful relationship with you much to everyone in the DreamJolt Hostelry’s relief. They’ve spent long enough not trying to comment on the evident tension between the two of you.
Jing yuan:
He would try to bring you to the good side but not just because he was a crush on you, but more so the fact that you were wasting your time and effort on something that he though was beneath someone of your calibre.
He sees your potential and is impressed but was saddened that your potential was dwindled by the fact that you had resorted to a life of crime.
I mean you must be something if you’ve caught the Generals attention for him to put so much investment in you.
So he would always seemingly be where you are and talks some wisdom into you about how you shouldn’t settle for less just because you thought that was all that your worth. When in actuality you were only relaying on the words other people have used to describe you, rather then let yourself determine your actual worth, which was far greater then the one you’ve given yourself to settle with.
Jing yuan will try to sway you into making the right decision. He firmly believes that you were the only one who should willing make the choice to actively make change to your lifestyle, no one else should have any say in what you do with your life but you.
Whether it’d be good or bad. Life was a lesson that we’re all constantly learning from on a daily basis. We’re not the same person as we were yesterday or the day before and Jing Yuan firmly believed this and was willing to wait as long as it took for you to make the right decision for yourself.
Which you do and from then does Jing Yuan focused on building your relationship in hopes of a potential chance of it becoming romantic.
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a-spes · 4 months
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| THE SHOT YOU MISSED - One shot (3k).
| Summary - you're spending a day at the fair with your girlfriend, the sweetest mob boss that possibly exists and she makes sure that you've a good day.
| Tags & warnings - mob boss!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, just a fluff writing, slight angst (?), beginning of a panic attack, guns, domestic domination (kinda), Natasha is the sweetest in that.
| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST
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You’re taking a deep breath, trying to chase away the tension from your shoulders. There is only one cartridge left in the gun you have been given, so you already know that you won’t have a second chance: if that shot doesn’t hit its target, the mission will be a failure, and it’s not an option. The stakes are too high for you to miss that one. 
You’re doing your best to ignore your surroundings, a difficult thing to do when you’re used to paying attention to everything, especially when being in a crowded place. You could hear the conversations of those around you, the screams and laughs alongside the footsteps of the children running on the asphalt. They were meters away but it was still piercing your eardrums. Even your own breathing started to be unbearable, it was fast and loud because of the anticipation and stress.
The weapon is stable, you’re maintaining it with a firm grip despite the slight trembling of your hands. You have been in this position for several minutes, and your muscles are starting to ache. 
You have to do it, now.
There is nothing left to divert your attention, and you are eventually able to forget about everything else. For a moment, you can’t hear anything, you only see the target that is right in the center of your sights. A pressure from your finger, a clatter that rings in your ears, and just like that the bullet is gone, straight toward your target.
“Fuck!” you screamed, and it takes all the control you possess to not throw the plastic weapon when you see that you missed it. 
You ignore the way the showman glanced at you when you screamed, a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction. You have been here for almost half an hour and you didn’t move an inch, refusing to go back to your girlfriend with empty hands. But sometimes determination isn’t enough, all you’ve managed to do is to pop a balloon or two, but you need more if you want to get that coveted prize.
When your hand reaches into your jacket’s pockets, you’re unpleasantly surprised to find nothing. The desperation with which you are now searching isn’t enough to reveal one last coin and you realize that you’ve spent everything you were given by Natasha, which means the fun is over for tonight.
It is already over and you weren’t even good enough to win a little something.
You had no other choice than going back to your girlfriend with nothing to give her, which you find embarrassing because she will obviously ask what took you so long and you didn’t want to admit your failures, not in front of the woman you love. The second she saw you, she stopped talking with the rest of the group to focus all her attention on you, noticing the way you were avoiding her gaze. As you are trying your best to get over your frustration, she is running her finger over your furrowed brows.
“What's happening, sweetie? You’re tense,” she told you, she knew something was wrong the moment she glanced at you, there is nothing that could escape her gaze.
“I lost, again,” you mumbled, not really wanting to talk more about it, especially because you knew she would react that way: you wanted nothing more than to rip that smirk off her face.
“Oh, baby … come here” she cooed, trying to hide her smile - but she just can’t help it.
She opens her arm and you wait no more than a second before throwing yourself into her embrace. The moment she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug, all your frustration is gone.
She is good when it comes to ease your worries: she spent the next hour dragging you everywhere, and you’re sure you’ve tried every ride at least twice. She even bought you cotton candy despite her strict rules about sweets, just to make sure you smile again.
At some point, you were separated from her, you let go of her hand for one second, just enough time to drink some water, but also for your girlfriend to disappear. She probably told you where she was going, but you hadn’t heard because of the screams and those missed words are the reason you’re now panicking.
You are turning around again, and again, and again, but it’s useless, you are lost without her at your side. Every time you think you spotted her red hair in the crowd, it turns out that it isn’t her and the minutes start to feel like hours.
You're being manhandled by the crowd, trying to sort out your thoughts until a hand comes to rest on your shoulder and pulls you out of your torment. You turn sharply, but fear is replaced by relief when you realise it's only her. 
She doesn’t like to see you like this, with tears in the corner of your eyes, and she hates it even more knowing that she caused this. She wasn't expecting you to react that way, as she only left for a few minutes and this view almost makes her feel bad. Almost, because she knows that what she has brought you will make up for her mistake.
“I got a surprise for you…,” she said, but it was not much of a surprise as you could already see the stuffed toy she was trying to hide behind her back.
It is a black dragon that is almost your size, you saw it at the stand where you were playing earlier. You’ve spent dozens of minutes and dollars in that game without winning anything so you can’t believe that it took her less than five minutes to come back with the biggest prize.
“How did you do that?! It was impossible to win anything!” you exclaimed as the woman hands you the stuffed toy. 
You immediately hug it, squeezing the dragon as tight as you can. It is the fluffiest and you’re already loving it. If you are a bit surprised that Natasha got you something that big, you’re trying to not think too much about it. She always tells you no for everything that could ruin the aesthetic of her house so you want to enjoy the plushie as much as you could before she changes her mind and takes it back.
“Thank you, I love it so much,” you told her, not letting it go, which made her laugh - the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. 
Even her knows that she’ll eventually regret it, but for the moment the smile on your face makes it all worth it. It became even more important than her house’s décoration.
“But?” she asked, frowning when she heard your tone, knowing that something else was keeping your mind busy.
“There is not but,” you replied, and this time it is your turn to frown at her question.
“I know when you’re lying, love,” she said, her hand brushing your hair away from your face so she could admire every feature of your face.
“... god, I hate when you do that, you’re so annoying,” you mumbled, perfectly knowing that she was right. You bury your face in her shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment. 
Even when you try your hardest to keep your thoughts for yourself, you are unable to do so. There is nothing you can hide from the woman because she is too good at reading people, her eyes seeing everything.
“Then tell me what’s in your mind, and maybe I'll stop being annoying,” she said, trying to hold back a laugh. She won’t say it because she doesn’t want you to be mad at her for real, but she finds it cute when you’re angry.
“I-didn’t-want-a-stuffed-toy-I-was-trying-to-win-one-for-you,” you replied, talking as fast as you could in hope she won’t retain anything of your rambling - which was doomed to failure.
You are a bit embarrassed by the situation because she succeeded so easily where you didn’t. For once, you wanted to be the one to give her a present, something you rarely have the chance to do because she is always the one who spoils you, but somehow she managed to turn the situation around once again, and you hate it.
She chuckles, relieved that it was nothing too serious. She gently grabs your chin to lift your head up and watch your expression. The moment she saw that hint of sadness in your eyes, she understood how affected you are by the situation, and she finds it surprising how something so insignificant in her eyes could be so important to yours.
“Then I could keep it and we’ll pretend that you won it for me, what do you think?” she asked, trying to cheer you up, not wanting to see that look on your face anymore.
“But that's not the same,” you whined, starting to complain about the unfair situation.
“Oh gosh, you're such a child,” she said, rolling her eyes at your answer - but even if she acts like your attitude is annoying her, deep down you know that she loves it. “Come,” she added, pulling you by the hand to guide you through the crowd after she handed the huge dragon to one of her men.
“Where are we going?” you tried to ask, but of course you don’t get an answer from the redhead. 
When you eventually get to the stand where Natasha won the dragon and you lost your money, the showman looks at you with a wry grin. He recognizes you as the one who spent dozens of dollars in his game without winning anything and he is probably hoping that you are back with more money.
But as soon as his eyes landed on the redhead at your side, his face completely changed. He knew he messed up the second he noticed how her hand is resting at the bottom of your back as she guides you toward his stand. She puts down a bill, which the man takes with caution, probably thinking that there is a trap somewhere. 
“We won’t need that,” she told him the moment the man made a move to give her one of the plastic weapons.
If he is about to protest, one glance from the woman is enough for him to understand that he would better keep his mouth shut. Instead, he watches her carefully as she takes her own gun out, a real one. 
You are a bit confused when she puts the gun in your hands : it is the first time it happens. She has never let you touch anything that could be dangerous, and it obviously included her weapons. It has nothing in common with the fake guns you are used to, it is heavier and more impressive.  
“Go on,” she said, trying to encourage you when she noticed you still haven’t made a move.
“What? With your gun?” you asked, unsure of what you are supposed to do now, “b- but I don’t know how.. I mean, I’ve never-,” you added when she nodded as an answer to your question, but she doesn’t give you time to argue. 
“I know,” she cut you, already knowing what you were about to say, “but I’ll help you, don’t worry about it,” she added, putting her hands on your shoulder to turn you around so you’re facing the targets instead of her.
She stands behind you, and if you can’t see her, you could feel her hands roaming over your body. You’re barely listening to the advice she is whispering in your ears, your mind being entirely focused on her hands. She moves your shoulders and legs in the right position, then she wraps your hands with hers to be sure that you won’t miss this time. It requires even more concentration than earlier to not let yourself get distracted by your proximity with the redhead, so close that you could feel her breath on the back of your neck. 
Even if it doesn’t feel right to do that, you shot. Three times, and you didn’t miss one, all the balloons popped under your eyes, granting you the victory. She immediately snatches the weapon from your hand, not wanting to leave it to you for more time than it’s necessary, but you don’t care, too happy about your victory.
“Theirs are rigged, you never stood a chance,” she simply said as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. If she understood what was the problem in one shot, why didn’t you after you’ve tried countless times?  
You start to feel a bit stupid as the realization sinks in ; you blamed yourself for something that wasn’t even your fault, something you should've noticed on the first shot. You now understand why the showman was looking at you that way, he must have been happy to see someone that was dumb enough to spend all their money in his stand, from the beginning he knew you wouldn't win because no one that plays along the rules does. 
 “I am so proud of you, malyshka,” she added, the sound of her voice pulling you out of the spiral of your thoughts - a deadly one.
The lower part of your back is now pressed against the stand, she turned you around so she could admire every feature of your face.
“Stop lying,” you mumbled, the expression on your face not matching the smile on hers - she is smiling but you want to cry, fearing that you might have disappointed her because of your mistakes.
“I am serious,” she immediately said, not leaving you a chance to argue. Her hand gently grabs your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet hers. “It even makes me want to see you try with live targets now, you must be so hot…,” she continued, her thumb brushing your cheek as she gets lost in the pleasant scene her mind is playing.
But you are not enjoying it as much as she does. A shiver of disgust shakes your body at this simple image, the one of your hands covered in the blood of your victim.
You are not a murderer, nor a monster.
Even after meeting the redhead and being dragged into her chaotic life, you’ve never done a thing that was illegal. If you know about her activities, she always makes sure that you are nothing more than a witness. She likes her women to be innocent, she used to toss them as soon as she felt their souls started to be corrupted, but she was slowly changing her mind. 
For the first time, she wants to see her sweet thing with blood on her back. There is nothing that could please her more than to see the glimpse of darkness in your eyes growing until you are too deep in it to step back. 
For the first time she wanted to fully introduce her girl to her reality.
She wanted to corrupt you as much as she wanted to protect your innocence. There is no word to describe how much she appreciates this oblivious expression of yours and, right now, she is not missing a thing about the one on your face. She revels in the mixture of fear and disgust she could read on your face.
“I was joking,” she sighed, “so don’t worry your pretty little head with that, okay baby?” she said and you believed her, nodding.
You couldn’t see the smirk on her face - the only hint that she was lying - because she leans forward to kiss the top of your head, her hand brushing your temple one last time before she pulls away. You immediately whine, trying to grip on her arm so she wouldn’t leave but this only makes her laugh. 
“Go get your prize now, so we can get home,” she said, ignoring the pleading look you’re giving her to gesture towards the showman.
You turn around and, indeed, you see that the man was impatiently waiting for you to make your choice, he probably couldn’t wait to get rid of you and your problematic girlfriend. You immediately point to one of the biggest stuffed toys, similar to yours, but before the showman could make a move, Natasha shook her head, showing that she disagrees with your choice. She takes your arm and gently moves it so you’re now pointing at the shelf where the smallest plushies are displayed.
“It’s one of those or nothing,” she said, her stern tone leaving no room for discussion. 
She obviously doesn’t care about the pout on your face. She considers that she has already been pretty nice by gifting you that giant stuffed toy, so she definitely won’t bring a second one home.
“Fine …,” you replied, frustrated that you couldn’t freely choose, but it was the perfect opportunity to make her regret her decision.
You missed nothing of her expression when the showman took the strawberry bunny that was on the shelf. She rolled her eyes, obviously you choose the most childish of all, but she decides that the smile on your face as you’re handed it to her is worth everything. She gladly takes it, and even if she tries to pretend she doesn’t like it, you don’t fall for her lies. The kisses she lays on the top of your head, then on your lips, are enough to convince you to keep your sneaky words to yourself, enjoying the moment the two of you were sharing.
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| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO REQUEST
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poeticpascal · 9 months
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White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)
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Masterlist | Request here!
Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain
A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!
It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.
The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.
Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.
Which is good, because things get messy a lot.
Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.
No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul. 
No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.
That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.
He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.
He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.
Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.
So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.
“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.
Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.
He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.
“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”
Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”
The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go. 
One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.
“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.
There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.
“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”
Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.
“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.
“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”
Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again. 
He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”
“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”
Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”
He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.
Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.
Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.
The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.
Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.
“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.
“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”
“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.
“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”
Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas. 
“Shouldn’t be a problem-” 
With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.
Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.
This was going to be a long night.
—------------------
It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.
He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.
The most important thing was that he found the meds.
The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.
“Joel?”
There you are.
It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.
“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.
You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.
He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.
“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.
“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.
The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.
“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.
Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.
A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.
He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.
“How was today? Doing the sewage?”
Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.
“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”
He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see. 
“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.
“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”
“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”
He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.
You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.
The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.
“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.
“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.
You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.
“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”
Oh, babygirl, he thinks.
Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.
So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.
He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”
That gets his attention. “Scary things?”
“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”
Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.
“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.
“I’m proud of you, Joel.”
He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.
If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.
It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.
His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.
He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.
You are worth it.
And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.
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bluberryfields · 7 months
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"I want a proper apology."
The dramatic “apology dance”
In the entirety of Season 2, I think the “apology dance” scene is pretty close to my favorite.
The way Crowley walks in like he’s entering a stage in a packed theater.
The way Azi clearly sees him coming and fusses himself up to look extra focused on his work and not at all excited about Crowley’s return.
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Crowley, noticing that Azi has yet to look at him, ramps up the drama by:
Whipping off his glasses (taking off his armor)
Response from Azi? Clears his throat and focuses harder on his work.
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Time for Level 2 Drama, it seems.
Stalking over to the table (no sauntering here)
Tossing the glasses down (looks casual but absolutely isn’t)
Ringing that little bell (like a ceremonial gong signaling “this is fucking happening”)
Walking back into the rotunda where he has maximum visibility (also maximum vulnerability)
Azi now has no choice but to react, which he does by slowly looking up and over at Crowley, who looks like the human-shaped embodiment of dread.
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Finally announcing “I’m back” like the bitchy customer who just yesterday had declared they were never shopping here again
I mean, wow. Amazing. Glorious.
Not to be outcunted, Azi just casually turns back to his work and practically hums, “Yes. I can see that.”
Damn, Aziraphale, did you take lessons in passive aggression from my mother?
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Now Crowley groans in a way that I felt to my core and asks, “Do you want a big, ‘I think I said the wrong thing,’ sort of an apology, or can we take that as said?”
He averts his eyes until the last second because this probably feels more demeaning than begging Azi not to do his magic act at Warlock’s birthday part.
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Still turned away, Azi replies in a tone that is a mix of hurt and guilt that makes me think this has been coming for awhile. "I'd like the apology actually." I bet you would, Angel.
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Back to Crowley, he pauses to assess his options, takes a deep breath, and says the magic words: “You were right.” Also looks like he almost says something else but either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to say it.
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Oh wow, so convincing. Bravo.
Finally, Azi puts down his glasses and his work and turns to address Crowley. He is not happy.
“Not good enough. I want a proper apology.” Also, side note, but Michael Sheen’s voice here is just…yum.
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Before Azi can finish, Crowley is so quick to reject this idea. “No.” with a shake of the head.
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You're not winning this battle, Crowley, and you know it.
“With the little dance.” Azi’s voice perks up and his eyes brighten at the hope this will happen. Seize that opportunity!
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Again, Crowley barely let’s the word “dance” come out before he tries to shut it down. “I don’t do the dance.” Nope, no sir, not this demon.
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Oh no, now Azi’s anger joins the hurt and guilt for a vicious trifecta. “I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, 1793, 1941…” each date being spat out with increasing amounts of venom.
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Oh Crowley, you brought this on yourself, girl.
This non-apology combined with his “I'm sorry. I apologize. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Work with me, I’m apologizing here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.” and I can see why Azi reacts to this the way he does.
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Crowley knows he’s beaten and concedes with a “Fine!” that feels the very opposite of the word.
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Okay so before the “proper apology” can begin, Azi gets up from his chair, straightens his waistcoat, and stands with his hands grasped in front of him like a proper gentleman. A properly petty gentleman.
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Then the main attraction! Crowley, looking completely stone-faced, does “the little dance.”
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It’s wonderful. He looks so silly and childish and graceful and mature. And god, that deep knee bend at the end? Amazing.
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Also amazing is Crowley’s face when he says "Kay?” while bobbing his head and eyebrows back like a sassy rooster? *chef’s kiss*
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For Azi’s part, god it is just a delicious mix of polite poker face and barely concealed thirst. I see your eyes scanning Crowley, drinking in that thin, dark Duke. That little dance will live in his head forever.
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And that’s the signal to go back to normal! Crowley regains control and Azi falls back into the supporting role.
Long-term relationships are hard, yo.
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miedvma · 6 months
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MEDDLE ABOUT
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l. williamson x awfc!r
summary: jealous leah but she’s just a softie really
sharing hotel rooms with daan has always meant being up for anything she would come up with at half-past eleven at night, including painting her nails orange— and, of course, she’d have to paint yours too.
“yeah, for the netherlands!” danielle immediately reasons, her choice of colour still causing a disappointed frown on your face. “cause, you know, oranje leeuwinnen—”
you scoff. “i know, daan! it’s just.. orange is, uh, too much, no? plus, we’re like mid-season now— we should paint it red, for arsenal.”
danielle’s speech is followed by her expressing nothing but displeasure towards your suggestion, arguing that she’s constantly repressed by both her girlfriend beth and your girlfriend leah’s patriotism, insisting that you should stand by your roomie and best friend, getting your nails painted orange to rebel against the proud englishwomen’s system.
there is very little to discuss: dedonk can be particularly persuasive when she wants to win an argument, and so you find yourself with no other option than to settle your hands over her crossed legs and hope that neon bright orange suits you.
“hi love” leah peeps as she places a lovingly peck on the side of your neck, sitting down next to you for breakfast.
despite your strict no pda at work rule, the defender can’t really bring herself to be any less affectionate towards the girl she loves the most— and you eventually gave in on that once mutual agreement.
“hi love” you mock her tone, earning a roll of eyes and a shoulder nudge. “hi babe.” you quickly correct yourself, a satisfied smile taking place on your girlfriend’s lips.
as the defender devours her characteristic ham sandwich, her curious sparkly eyes watch closely as you sink a silver spoon on your berries bowl— most noticeably, your hands; more accurately, the weird coloration your fingernails are washed in.
“did you get your nails done?” asks a pouty leah, instantly shoving you out of the conversation you’ve gotten in.
you leave viv and her remarks about the game you’re about to attend on hold and turn your girlfriend, “mmh, do you like them?”
she doesn’t seem to like it. in fact, leah hates it when you get your nails done by yourself and don’t do hers as well— but as this had never happened before, you don’t really have any way of knowing it.
“you got them done without me.” she pouts again, her voice bathing in gloom. “oh, i’m so sorry babes, i’ll get yours done soon as we get home, yeah?” you use your nose to caress her cheek, then her own nose, and then manage to place a millisecond long kiss to her lips— causing the blonde to run out of words, cheeks blushing at the sudden interaction.
nonetheless the flushed older girl’s emotions, it doesn’t take too long before she’s back at cherishing her thoughts on the game ahead of you, herself quite really excited to attend to her favourite london derby.
as the morning progresses and you finally step into the pitch, leah’s excitement seems to fade away. which is a little strange, since you are well aware that beating spurs is still one of her greatest pleasures— so it does turn out weird for her to start acting a bit off out of nowhere, right?
well, not exactly. unbeknownst to you, leah’s got a pretty good reason to keep her distance from you (or at least that’s what she tells herself)—
“leah come on, you’re warming up with me” beth chimed in, causing the other blonde to furrow her eyebrows. “thought you’d team up with daan?”
“yeah no she’s taking the piss cause i said her nails look weird” beth’s eyes rolled as the defender worked the situation out on her head.
unable to settle for the other girls’ silly argument, leah’s gaze perked around the pitch just until she could evidence danielle’s neon orange nail polish.
it hit her harder. you getting your nails done without her? bad. you getting your nails done without her, with daan instead? worse. way worse.
“i literally scored a winner and you’re not even going to gimme a kiss?” you pout to your girlfriend, the both of you about to head home in her still parked car.
leah isn’t one to play differently or give any less of herself to win, but as soon as the whistle blew, there was no way of hiding it: the green monster inside her hadn’t really gone away.
“there’s um.. people here,” your girlfriend replies, nonchalant. indeed, there are people around the parking lot— teammates and staffers, all of them knowing about your relationship. besides, it’s not like she had ever cared about being seen anyway.
“right.” you mock her tone, leah giving you a stern stare until she realizes she had done the exact same thing before.
leah drives surprisingly slow, contradicting her clenched jaw and bitten lips. her lack of physical and verbal interaction, particularly in such moments, is highly unusual— especially considering arsenal’s victory, largely because of you. it’s easy for you to sense her irritation, and that is why you don’t exchange any more words the whole way home.
as soon as your girlfriend pulls up to your house you swiftly jump out of the car, hastening your steps to leave the girl alone, hoping some time apart might heal whatever conflict she’s found herself in.
it doesn’t. long after you’ve completed your extended skincare routine (usually a joint activity but not a good idea at the minute) and changed into comfortable clothes (opting not to wear leah’s, just in case), the house remains terribly silent.
your bed is empty when you leave the ensuite bathroom. the corridors are silent, and a peek into the guest bedroom reveals it to be just as empty. stepping into the dining room, you finally spot leah’s still-intact ponytail.
her head hangs down, probably slouched on the sofa; the tv is off, hinting that she’s mindlessly scrolling on her phone. you allow yourself to swallow your pride and prepare sandwiches for both of you before walking towards her.
as you hand her a plate, a mumbled “thank you” is all you get— her eyes still avoid meeting yours, or even your hand.
your girlfriend lets out a sigh before picking up the telly remote and switching on some rubbish reality show in an attempt to dispel the palpable silence— prudent, but ultimately ineffective.
“is something wrong?” you ask, your voice soft as always. leah usually finds your natural tone charming, but this evening even that doesn’t seem to be enough for her to open up about her troubled emotions.
she replies with a simple “nah,” but the distance between you speaks volumes to the contrary: even though the sofa can easily accommodate up to five people, your girlfriend always ensures there’s not a single atom between the two of you.
frustrated by the girl’s nonchalance, you decide to test how far her grumpiness can go. you remove both your plates and place them on the coffee table, hoping she’d take the hint— but she doesn’t. not at all.
the blonde remains in her original position, spread out on the sofa, elbow on the armrest, supporting her head against her fist, eyes glued to the screen, oblivious to your approach.
it is normally up to her to initiate closeness, drawing you in or melding you both together— so the fact that you’re moving closer on your own should prompt her to react, but nothing really happens, so you audibly huff as you stand up to leave the room in nothing but defeat.
“you’re sleeping on that sofa tonight.”
her head shoots up to look at you in disbelief. “no i’m not!”
“oh yes, you are.”
the blonde’s eyes roll back almost instinctively, and you shoot her a sharp look. “hey, no fair! you get other girl’s nails done, and i’m the one who’s supposed to sleep on the sofa?” her voice sounds genuine, yet tinged with frustration— and here she is, leah, in her purest and most absolute form, feeling nothing but betrayed by not having her nails done by her girlfriend.
“oh my god lee, is that why you’re all grumpy?” leah’s eyes dart around the walls, as if pretending you hadn’t just guessed it right. “danielle is my friend, our friend, you know that..” you chuckle, settling down next to her again.
“i know but— it’s our thing! and i mean, you’re pretty and all but that orange is just not it.” the defender glances at you with that one nonchalant expression that always reveals her disappointment, and you can only look back in amusement. how could you ever tire of how adorable she sounds when she’s jealous?
“just so you know, i’m really offended by you saying i don’t suit orange. and i do forgive you for being an asshole today.”
leah folds her arms, her look at you not good— but you had guessed earlier that calling her an asshole might irk her more (she kind of deserves it anyway). “you should be the one apologizing for breaking our rules!” the blonde hisses, though she couldn’t seem more harmless.
either way, you’re never willing to argue with your loving girlfriend. especially when you’re seeking a reward for your hard work after a tough game.
“okay, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry i let danielle do my nails, and i’m sorry i did hers. can i get a kiss now?”
a wide smile brightens the older girl’s face as her hand reaches for your hip, guiding you to lie down on the sofa with her on top of you. as she leans in and you blindly reach for her shoulders, a breathy laugh tickles your face, causing your eyes to widen.
“soon as you take that ugly-ass colour off your pretty nails, babe,” the blonde suggests, thinking she’s hilarious as she pulls herself off the mess she’s already made of you.
you scowl and toss a pillow her way, but she simply shrugs it off, fixed on watching the trashiest show imaginable.
realizing you won’t get any favours from her unless you get rid of the questionable colour on your nails, you rise from the sofa and set off to find some nail polish remover. “want me to bring the red one so i can do yours?”
you spot a smirk forming on the lips of the girl lazily lounging on the sofa. “no need love, gonna save my hands for other kinds of activities now.”
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