#thus genuinely made my day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 11 days

Note

I wanna kiss HSR men on the forehead and tell them I’m proud of them. May I request some HCs of their reaction?

Aventurine practically melts the moment your hands held his face with a warm tenderness as your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks, causing him to close his eyes and eagerly lean into your touch.

He could feel every ounce of love you had towards him in such a simple touch that he wondered how that could even be possible.

How easy you made it seem to be able to convey all your thoughts and feelings in something small like a touch of a hand, a brush of shoulders, or even a nudging of a foot; something that shouldn’t convey as much heavy emotions but did whenever you were the one performing those small gestures.

Not to mention that most of those small but impactful gestures were directed towards him made Aventurine wonder whatever could he -out of everyone else- have possibly done to even remotely deserving of any of it.

‘I’m proud of you Kakavasha.’ You said as you lifted a hand to push away his bangs and press a loving kiss to his forehead, making him whimper and press further against your lips, silently begging you for more. ‘I’m so proud of you.’ You add as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.

Such simple words and a peck to his forehead shouldn’t have so much effect over Aventurine but it did as his eyes shot open the moment he felt you pull away, looking at you with his pretty eyes with something you’ve never seen before as he muttered under his breath.

‘What was that?’ You then asked as Aventurine sighs, leaning back against the bed. ‘I said I wanted more…please can I have more.’

‘You can have as many as your heart desires.’ You tell him, pressing a third and a fourth kiss to his forehead as he allows himself to properly relax under your seemingly magical touch, letting kiss away his thoughts until only you remained.

Argenti would smile sweetly as he watched you push his bangs back to reveal his forehead, feeling your warm breath fan across his skin as your lips closed the distance between you as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

‘I’m so proud of you Aregenti.’ You whispered but the cherry haired knight hear you clear as day.

‘Whatever for my beloved rose.’ He’d replied as he kept you close, wishing for nothing more than to commit this tender moment to his memory ever more.

You shrug. ‘Am I not allowed to say that I’m proud of you in general rather than say it after you’ve done something spectacular? Don’t that seem a little redundant?’ You asked as Argenti chuckled, bringing his face close and nudging his nose gently against your own.

‘It does indeed.’ He agrees before posing a question of his own. ‘But wouldn’t the words loose their meaning after a while if we were to say how proud we are of each other after everything?’

‘No.’ You answered without hesitation as you looked into his pretty eyes that you loved to see first thing in the mornings you’ve shared together thus far. ‘Not if they come from your lips they don’t. I don’t think I could ever grow tired if you were to tell me how proud of me you were.’ You admit and Argenti made a face.

‘Do I not do that enough already?’ He asks genuinely curious as you smile, kissing his cheek.

‘You do but at least let me return the favour now and then. I want to praise my beautiful knight more often than not.’ You murmured against his skin.

Argenti hums as he kisses your forehead. ‘You already do so just by smiling lovingly at me. I don’t need words of praise to fall from your lips when your actions speak far louder but if that’s what you wish, then it shall be granted my beloved rose.’

Sunday

His wings would flutter when you kiss his forehead after a long day of preventing The Family from collapsing in on itself.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ You uttered into his ear, making him gasp as his wings would instinctively twitch at the sound of your voice due to their hyper sensitivity.

Then he would regain composure and smile graciously at you. ‘Thank you my beloved. It is truly a relief knowing that I’m doing right by you to earn your love and your praise, I shall not waste them.’

Sunday lives and breaths on your praises as though they were the only things giving him life. So whenever you do give him praise for anything, Sunday feels more and more validated into continuing whatever he was doing in hopes of earning more in the future.

You had a powerful, powerful man who had an innate need to prove himself to you in order to gain your trust, love and respect and won’t stop until he had it in droves.

All this was within him and locked behind a calm, cool and levelheaded facade.

He may not look like he was heavily affected by your actions and sweet words on the outside but internally his need to keep you happy and proud of him outweighed everything else as the happier you were, the less likely you were to attempt to leave him later on.

Boothill

He impatiently waits for the days where you bless his face with kisses and whatnot.

It’s his ultimate weakness and you knew that face very well whenever you watched as his cheeks went all flushed, making this shark teethed man looked about as harmless as a puppy dog, when in actuality he was anything but harmless.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

You had this man weak in the knees from that alone, but the fact that you went out of your way to press a kiss to his forehead oh so sweetly had him practically kneeling before you in worship.

‘Whatever for darling?’ He’d ask.

‘Just for being genuine yourself.’ You would response, kissing his forehead a second time and pulling back to watch as he smiled dopily.

‘If me just being myself is enough to earn me some forehead kisses and sweet praises from someone as sweet as you, then count me in sweetheart.’ He would then say as he practically melted he felt your hands as they held his face still as you kissed his forehead for a third time.

Boothill thrived off of your affection.

It was his personal drug that he could never get enough of.

1K notes · View notes

kjhbsies · 2 months

Text

Romantic Roulette

HELP PALESTINE • donation links • ways to help • why you should not buy/support TLOU2 remaster

Football Player!Ellie x Classy fem!reader

Synopsis: Ellie, the charismatic star and team captain of the school's football team, finds herself entangled in a daring bet with her teammates. When challenged to win the affection of someone who is deemed to be "out of her league", - you, the one who everyone thinks is straight and seemingly Ellie's complete opposite - Ellie takes the wager with a huge confidence.

As Ellie made her way to pursue you, she soon realized that breaking your walls is no easy task. Unexpectedly, the more Ellie gets to know you, the more she finds your genuine charm and personality. Amid the game, Ellie discovers that her heart is no longer in it for the bet but for a chance at something real.

wordcount: 6, 473 Part II : PART III: PART IV

based on this request!

Romantic Roulette

Ellie Willams, one of the school’s most famous girls. Not only because she’s the football captain and has been distinguished as the best player in the nationals game, but because she has the looks that make every single girl drop down on their knees and worship her.

It’s good, really. She loved the fame, the attention, and the girls that came with it. You can always see Ellie in different clubs, partying her ass out, not caring about the school tomorrow. She was always the center of attention in there, and you could spot her, always in the middle, with a ring of girls encircling her, wanting to even get a chance to just touch her hair or even her tattooed arm which everyone adores.

Ellie always finds herself with different girls in her bed every single night. But she liked to think that it wasn’t her fault when they started catching feelings for her. Because, hey, she just wanted to have a good time, and she doesn’t really fully believe in some bullshit everyone calls love. She saw it as a waste of time, and thus she doesn’t even bother to commit to a relationship.

Every girl flocked around her feet, wanting even to get a taste of her body, and Ellie wasn’t a saint to decline them. They wanted to please her, and who was she not to agree to that? She doesn’t even bother asking for their name because she knows that she will just forget about it by the time they are in bed. Ellie always has someone who she calls whenever she felt horny, and they would oblige immediately no matter what day or hour is it. And that’s one of the many perks that she loved about being herself.

The locker room was loud as hell after their practice. Everyone was buzzed and energetic amidst the hot weather. Different conversations were emerging as the players were catching up with each other.

Ellie walked out of the shower and everyone’s attention was already with her. Wearing her sports bra and grey pajamas, Ellie laughed as she heard someone talking about a funny incident last night. She sat down in one of the chairs inside while drying her auburn hair with a towel.

“Fuck it, man. You just swooped in and got to bed Atasha that fast?” Riley asked.

Ellie laughed loudly. “Sorry, dude, she’s practically begging for me all night while we’re at the club. It’s pathetic.”

“Damn, I was talking to her all night and she just immediately stood up when she saw you.” Riley shook her head, feigning her sadness.

“Sorry, dude. You should’ve seen her bouncing at my cock last night. She moans like a fucking chicken.” Ellie stood up, picked up her hoodie, and immediately wore it. Everyone hollered at her joke. Riley playfully smacked her in her arms. Ellie looked at her watch and groaned. “Ah, I still fucking have a history class.”

“Man, be thankful that Mrs. Garcia was your professor. Her tits are spilling out every time she bends over to pick up something in her bag.” Vanessa rolled her eyes before playfully moaning.

Ellie laughed again. “Sorry, dude, I was too busy looking at my seatmate.”

One of her teammates, Alex, went near them, engaging herself in the conversation after she was done showering. “Who?” She asked, drying her arms with a towel.

“You probably don’t know her but her name’s y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Ellie answered before gathering her messenger bag and her bottled water. Honestly, Ellie doesn’t even know how she remembered your name. She doesn’t even talk to you in or outside the class that much. She can probably count on her two hands how many interactions you two had for the semester. There’s just something about you that Ellie can’t wrap her fingers. She can’t explain how much you attracted her.

The whole team fell silent and stole glances with each other before bursting out in laughter. This made Ellie look at them with a curious stare. Both of her brows rose, as she watched them holler, completely clueless.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie crinkled her nose.

“Well, first off, we know her. She’s like everyone’s dream girl, dude. But you can’t take her out. You’re not her type.” Alex smirked.

Ellie looked at her with an offended stare. “What do you mean I’m not her type? I’m everyone’s type.”

“Apparently, not for her. You don’t even know if she’s gay.” Alex argued.

“Everyone’s gay for me.”

“Then try flirting with her, I’m telling you it won’t work. She’s way out of your reach.”

“Dude,” Ellie chuckled, “No one is out of my reach. Wanna bet?” Ellie smirked, pulling up her wallet and raising it before Alex’s face. Everyone said a loud and long ‘ooh’ in unison.

Alex smiled back at her, “Ten dollars?”

“Make it twenty if I kissed her.”

“Fifty… if you can take her to the bed. But if you can’t, then owe me those fifty dollars.”

Ellie laughed. “You think I can’t do that?” She traced the inside of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “Fine. I’m in.” Ellie accepted the challenge.

To start, Ellie doesn’t know much about you. Only that you loved listening to Mrs. Garcia’s boring history lessons, asking so many questions about the topic, and attentively writing down everything the professor said. This is why you’re her favorite student. And also, you loved to wear those classy vintage dresses and you’re also polite as fuck. You’re the opposite of the girls that Ellie loved hooking up with. To be honest, you’re nowhere near Ellie’s type of girl but something about you that makes her drawn to your energy like she’s a moth to the fire – you.

You’re not the type of person who would go having meaningless sex, and Ellie somewhat predicted it. Besides, her whole team was convinced that you wouldn’t budge, nor break down your defenses to Ellie. Because firstly, they believed that you’re straight.

Yeah, believed.

Because Ellie wasn’t nearly convinced that you wouldn’t throw yourself at her feet. That you wouldn’t scramble at the sight of her. That she can’t make you question your sexuality. Because Ellie was full of herself she could do that. She always does.

“So… are you free tonight?” A girl in their class asked Ellie flirtatiously while tracing the tattoo on her arm. She sat down in front of Ellie’s table, riding up her skirt to reveal more skin on her thigh. If this were a normal day, Ellie would’ve said back at her. Probably ask her to be her date for the night, and make plans where they would fuck. But since she’s on a mission, and you could go inside the room and see the two of them, then you’d probably lose all of your interest. And Ellie doesn’t want that.

“I’m not. Why don’t you just go back to your seat, Johanna?” Ellie sarcastically asked her.

The girl retreated and looked at Ellie with irritation. “My name’s Christine!” She said before angrily stomping her way to the front seat.

At the same time, you walked inside. You were holding your books in your right arm, and the other one was clutching the straps of your handbag. Your hair was in a simple style – the front pieces were tucked behind your hair neatly, revealing the gold hoops you were wearing. You were just wearing jeans and heels paired with a plain long sleeve that revealed your collarbones and curves that made Ellie’s breath hitch.

Ellie’s gaze followed yours as you were making your way beside her. Ellie took the courage to flash you a charming smile while you were sitting. She doesn’t expect you to do anything, so when you flashed back a beam, Ellie almost gasped in shock.

“Hey, darling.” You greeted and Ellie didn’t know what to do. It’s like all of her flirting skills were gone after she heard your voice. Goddamnit.

Ellie cursed herself before silently shaking her head as if to gain back her consciousness. She’s starting to look like a fucking loser. “Hi… you look pretty.” She complimented you before smirking and looking up and down your body.

“Wow,” You couldn’t help but smile shyly while gazing down. “It kinda means a lot to me since it’s from the captain of the football team.” You looked up at her, meeting her green eyes that were staring at you intently. “Though I was curious as to why you’re talking to me.” You joked.

Ellie chuckled. “You knew me?”

You shrugged. “Of course, who doesn’t?”

“Well… I thought you weren’t paying attention to me.”

You crinkled your nose. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Ellie’s tongue traced the insides of her cheek, before she leaned into her chair, still staring at you. “I just want to be friends.”

You scoffed. “Friends? Didn’t you have a lot of that?”

“Well,” Ellie leaned in front of you. She rested her elbows on her knees. “Is it bad not to want you as my friend?”

“No,” You smiled. “But it was such an odd thing. You and I were seatmates ever since and you never really noticed me. So, what’s your intentions?”

Ellie’s heart jumped. She never expected you to quip back at her. “I’m just… scared to talk to you.” She shook her head, wanting to appear convincing but it’s just a lie. Yes, Ellie does notice you every time, but she never attempts to talk to you solely because she is too busy with other girls.

“You’re afraid to talk to me?” You asked back, finding her reason ridiculous because she’s Ellie Williams. Being afraid of a girl wasn’t in her vocabulary and you knew that. “There are tons of girls who want to befriend you, Williams. You and I weren’t exactly a perfect match.” You smiled at her before you looked in front of the classroom, where Mrs. Garcia was.

Ellie was left dumbfounded.

Did you just reject her?

“It should be fucking easy,” Ellie complained to her friends while walking back and forth. They’re at Dina and Ellie’s shared boarding house after all of their classes have ended.

Dina rolled her eyes, putting on her lip gloss in her bag after she was done using it. “Well, it’s good that you knew how to get rejected for once.” She then made her way to the couch, sitting beside her boyfriend, Jesse, who was lying down sideways while eating popcorn.

“Yeah, and she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was supposed to say yes and let us be friends so I could make my advancements on her like every other girl. But no, she didn’t.” Ellie groaned.

Dina glared at her friend. “Well, first off, not every girl is the same.”

“No, Dina, I think they are.” She rolled her eyes stubbornly.

“And second, you should stop messing with her, okay? I know Y/n, and she’s a very kind girl. Playing with other’s feelings is cruel.”

Jesse nodded and hummed while putting a mouthful of popcorn in his mouth.

“And lose fifty dollars to Alex and hurt my pride? No way.” Ellie scoffed.

“What if she found that it was all a stupid bet?”

“She won’t, Dina.”

“How can you be so sure?” Jesse asked with a muffled voice because of the food. Dina smacked him.

“Stop talking while your mouth is full!”

“No one will tell her, okay? She can’t find out.” Ellie answered with a determined voice.

Dina shook her head at her. “You know what? Go on, do whatever you want because you won’t even listen to me. But don’t forget that I warned you not to continue this.” Dina pointed her finger at Ellie.

“Thank you, Dina. But I think I can handle myself.” Ellie smirked at her to annoy her friend even more.

The one place that you’ll find Ellie the most is with different clubs and bars – particularly the ones that are near the university. And the last spot that you’ll meet her is in the library.

In her defense, what would she do here? She was not fond of reading books, not even the ones that she should use, and she hated the deafening silence in this huge room. Once, Ellie tried to come along with Dina and her friends in a group study and she just got numerous glares from the librarian that was telling her to keep quiet. Ellie never learned a thing, and she’s pretty sure that she just made a new enemy that day. So, Ellie swore not to go in here.

But today was the day that she broke that promise.

Ellie strides into the huge library while holding a particularly dirty football that was fresh from the practice. She’s still in her sports attire. Her auburn hair was tied in a bun, and some strands of her hair were sticking onto her sweaty forehead and neck. She managed to change her shirt into a plain white one but her shorts were still the same.

After their football practice, Ellie never got to shower and change completely because she knew that you’d be gone on campus already. So she just drenched herself in her perfume – making sure that you can’t smell even the slightest of her sweat.

The same librarian Ellie encountered before was in charge of today. She recognized the football captain and made a face of grimace and disapproval at her looks.

“Your shoes have mud in them.” She pointed out when Ellie passed by her.

In answer, Ellie just put on her charming smile. “Oh, I didn’t even notice.” She said before briskly walking away from her.

It was not hard for Ellie to find you. It was a Tuesday afternoon and most of the students were in their respective classes so the library wasn’t packed. Besides, how could Ellie not notice you when you were walking around the room with one of your mini-dresses?

“Hey,” ElliE came up behind you. And since you were immersed in the book you were holding, you almost jumped up in shock.

“Shit, you scared me.” You said in a hushed voice.

“Woah, you can curse?” Ellie asked, amused.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m not a saint.”

Ellie chuckled at your joke. “That’s shocking.”

You snorted. “Not really. So… what do you want for you to come rushing in here right after your practice?”

Ellie looked at her dirty shorts and muddy shoes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yup. You were tainting the tiles and Ms. Loren looks like she wants to jab you at your jaw.” You looked behind her, nodding in the librarian’s direction.

“Oh… so that’s what her name is.” Ellie looked at the woman and offered a smile but she just huffed in answer.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked again, and Ellie turned her attention to you.

“Actually… yes. I was struggling with History classes because I’m not good at memorizing ton shits and Mrs. Garcia’s quizzes were really really hard. And because of the upcoming intramurals, we’re always at the field to practice which is why I missed a quiz at her.”

“Last meeting?”

“Yup.”

“So that’s why you’re not there.”

Ellie nodded. “I never got to pass any of her exams, and she said that my grades would go down if I failed another quiz. So… can you tutor me?” Ellie shot you with a pleasing gaze.

You looked at her with a surprised face. “Why me?”

“You're her favorite student, and you’re always the top of the class. Please…?” Ellie gave you a puppy eyes.

You stared at her face, contemplating about everything. You were about to utter a word but there was nothing that left your mouth.

“I’ll do anything you want. Just… text me if you made up your mind.” Ellie says. She looked at the table in front of her and found a pen. She then gently took your left hand and wrote her number on it. Your heart raced at the first physical contact with her.

“I’ll be waiting for your text… or call.” Elli winked at you before jogging towards the door, leaving you dumbfounded.

After the class, you decided to meet up with your friends at one of your favorite cafes. Today is the perfect day to get a nice cup of warm coffee since it’s somewhat windy outside. And maybe, the drink can give you something to wake you up from looking at the number at your hand.

“What’s that?” Abby asked at the digits in your palm, causing you to jump at her voice. Her brow rose when she looked at you. She finished placing the drinks and food on the table, and you immediately got yours and took a sip of it.

“Whose number was that? You can’t stop looking at it ever since we got in here.” Nora pointed out.

You cleared your throat. “Ellie.”

“Williams?” Abby asked curiously. “Didn’t know you two have any contact.”

“Well, I told you all before that she is my seatmate in History class. But, I don’t know, she tried talking to me yesterday.” You shrugged, picking up a piece of the red velvet cake.

“Maybe she’s playing games with you,” Nora said.

“Come on, Ellie probably thinks she’s amazing.” Abby defended.

Nora rolled her eyes, “Abby, Ellie was a notorious playgirl. She wouldn’t talk to y/n just to be friends. And besides, I don’t think that was in her vocabulary.”

“Woah,” You chuckled. “Where does this grudge from her is coming from?” You threw your hands up in the air.

“Oh, so you don’t know how many girls have been crying and fighting each other because of her? Ellie is a heartless person who doesn’t care about someone’s feelings, and everyone is still blinded by it because of how she looks. Y/n, you should be careful because I think you’re her new target.”

“You shouldn’t scare her,” Abby said.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

You sighed, heavily while looking at your hand once again.

Nora has a point, but you still want to give Ellie the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t do that to you, right?

Right?

You were walking back and forth in your small room while looking at your right palm, and holding your phone on the other. You still have a lot of free time tonight since all of your school works and backlogs were done, so, you were now contemplating whether you should call Ellie or not.

I mean, you completely understood Nora’s complaints about Ellie since the rumors aren’t new about her. Sure, she’s a Casanova, but the thing is, you won’t even dare fall in love with her – let alone be one of her girls. You were just a kind student who wanted to help her classmate in a subject where you excelled. So, what’s wrong with that?

“Ugh.” You grunted while shutting your eyes tightly. You flopped down the bed before you quickly dialed the number.

“Hello?” Ellie’s raspy voice filled your room. You immediately sat down in your bed when she answered. You can hear loud music in the background, and a few people shouting and giggling. You figured out that she’s at a party. A girl asked Ellie where she was going but you couldn’t pinpoint what she answered because it was chaotic. “Who’s this?”

“It’s… Y/n. I- I’m sorry, is this a bad timing?”

“Oh. Oh! Y/n? Is it actually you?” She asked, voice rising with excitement.

“Yeah, I called to ask if you want to study tonight but clearly, you had other plans now, so let’s just do it some other time.”

Ellie managed to scramble outside the house where she was partying even though it was a real struggle. After a long day of practicing, Ellie and her teammates got invited to a house party hosted by someone she couldn’t even remember the name of. Being stressed for a whole week, Ellie wanted to have some little fun for tonight. And besides, she wants to divert her attention in the meantime, rather than looking at her phone stupidly for the rest of the day which Dina pinpointed.

Ellie immediately shook her head at what you said as if you could see her right now. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just actually hanging around there, not drinking or anything.” She lied.

“Really?” You don’t sound convinced by her answer. “Well, I’ll text you the address of my boarding house if you’d like.”

“Yes. Please. Thank you so much. I’m on my way.” Ellie said quickly before running towards her big bike. She ended the call, put her phone on her jeans, put on her helmet, and started the engine.

“Where the hell are you going?” Riley shouted from the window.

“To study!” Ellie exclaimed before driving away.

Riley and her teammates looked at each other with a frown and a clueless stare. “Studying?” They all asked themselves in unison.

Because there is no way, Ellie would’ve left a party.

And in her whole life, Ellie never even studied.

So, why is she leaving a party just to study?

After Ellie said that she was outside your room, you didn’t expect that she’d show up at your windows.

“Oh, my goodness!” You exclaimed in pure shock. “What are you doing in there?” You said before opening up the sliding windows.

Ellie threw her backpack filled with snacks on the floor before she completely entered. She managed to change her alcohol and cigarette-scented shirt into a decent one just to make herself presentable to you.

“Your landlady says it’s past curfew so she can’t let me in, so I managed to climb through your windows.” Ellie shrugged.

“You could fall.”

“But I didn’t, so…” Ellie flashed her charming smile before scanning your room.

It is warm and cozy. It is filled with plants and different vintage collections. Ellie noticed at least five different lamps open and candles lit to give some light in your room. It is very neat, well well-decorated, and it smells really good.

“I didn’t know vinyl still existed.” Ellie pointed out the small drawer of yours filled with different types of vinyl. Ellie walked to it and saw a vintage turntable. “This still works?” She asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s not quite as popular as it was before, but it still works.” You grabbed one and put it on the player to show her. Ellie’s brows rose and her mouth formed into a small ‘o’ when the music started filling the air.

“Guns and Roses. Classic.” She said when she heard the familiar sound.

You looked at her with a smile on your face. “You know that band?”

“Yeah, Joel - uhh, my guardian, he used to play their songs every single day to the point that he even wanted to try to learn it on the guitar.” She smiled and turned to you.

“You know how to play guitar, too?”

“Oh, a little.” Ellie chuckled. “I never really had any practice, unless it’s in a summer break.”

“That’s nice.” You nodded thoughtfully.

“You really like collecting such antique things, huh?” Ellie picked up a small bunny ceramic.

“It’s like a small hobby I’d like to do from time to time. It’s really fun going to different antique or thrift stores trying to find something you’d like. And besides, I really like older things because of their intricate designs and very pretty artworks.” You explained. “Look, all of those artworks on my wall are all thrifted, even its frames.” You pointed.

Throughout the night, you two did study. You helped Ellie with understanding all the topics that she was struggling. You were surprised with how quickly she can memorize everything, leading you down to the conclusion that Ellie is smart, she’s just lazy.

The two of you would take breaks in between as Ellie insisted because she can’t focus if they’re going to study for hours with no breaks. You obliged. Ellie then would ask you different things about your room, asking what you’d like the most in it, and you would explain and show her those things. Ellie asked you more about yourself, wanting to get some information while at it as her mind starts plotting what you love, and where she can take you out for a date.

You were talking about the things you love, and there was that spark in your eyes that Ellie couldn’t look away from. You were so immersed in telling her something, and Ellie got lost by looking at your face.

Time passed and the two of you didn’t seem to notice. It’s like the two of you are in your bubble that no one could even interrupt. Not even the storm, or the loud buzzing of Ellie’s phone because of her friends asking where she went. Tonight, it’s just you and her.

“I’m nervous about the quiz,” Ellie says as the two of you are walking through the hallways.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” You looked at her and gave a warm smile.

“I don’t know what’s with that subject, but I always fail every quiz in that class. It’s like someone has put a curse on me or something.”

“Mrs. Garcia is a great teacher, but yes, I do get that her voice is so calm which is why many students are too sleepy to pay attention to her.”

Ellie chuckled. “Yeah, the only thing that I can see in her class was her boobs whenever she bows down to get something on her bag on the floor. It’s fucking distracting.”

You laughed, harder than Ellie thought you would’ve, making her look at you with an amused smile. “Fuck yeah. I thought I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”

Ellie stared at you for a moment, she started questioning Alex in her mind saying that you are straight and making her think that there isn’t even the slightest bit in your body that is gay. Your reaction to what she said makes her think about your sexuality, Ellie wants to ask, but she doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries.

Ellie shook her head, wanting to keep her thoughts at bay. Instead, she changed the topic. “We have a football practice at 3:00 PM and I was wondering if you want to watch it…?” She looked at you with a sheepish smile.

“Were the girls watching you play weren’t enough?” You joked.

“There aren’t. Wait, you really think that I’m a playgirl?”

“Aren’t you?” You asked back with a small frown on your face. “I don’t think that you’re a playgirl, I know you are. Everyone does. I mean, my friend doesn’t even know why you’re talking to me in the first place.” You shrugged before looking away.

Ellie was staring at you really hard, wanting you to look at her but you wouldn’t, so she sighed dejectedly. She stopped in her tracks and held your arms to also make you stop.

“How can I prove my sincerity to you?”

You bit your lips as your hands gripped the strap of your bag tightly. You shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ellie. We’re not friends or anything more.”

“What if I want you to be?”

Your gaze fell on hers with a shocked look on your face. “What?”

“I want to be your friend, Y/n.”

You stared at her for a moment, weighing your feelings. You were used to people coming up to you and asking to be their friend. After all, everyone finds you nice and adorable. You loved friendly interactions, and never once have been doubting someone’s intentions. However, there is a huge factor when Ellie is the one who’s doing it — yes, Nora is right. Her lifestyle is much different than yours, and Ellie Williams’ reputation is not quite good. Everything about you two wouldn’t even intersect, and this is all new. Everything about here seems… artificial.

But then again, you took a look in her face, and gosh… how can you resist that?

So, you slowly nodded. Mumbling a small ‘fine’ under your breath is something that almost made Ellie want to jump in joy.

It’s playtime.

taglist: @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @amberputh @bready101 @teawithnosugar @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliewilliamgfooc

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader

555 notes · View notes

poptartmochi · 2 years

Text

i will say though, i am kind of sad at the state of our site :(

#when i made every item the size charts were hyperlinked in the description so you could check it before ordering #that doesn't seem to be the case with this new portal.. and i can only imagine what the actual scrub portal looks like.. i'm too afraid to #look ;w; i poured genuine HOURS of my life into that thing.. i was working on it between classes. during classes. on my days off. in the wee #hours of the night after work. whilst chaperoning field trips..... the list goes on and on man. blood sweat and tears on that mf thang <3 #sriracha.txt #OH WAIT coming back to my original point. so there's a separate page for size charts now (which imo is not good because people won't know #which one correlates to which item/brand. especially as some brands have different cuts and thus different size charts...) but there's no #actual size charts on them :[ which is. not helpful #part of me wants to ask my uncle if i can work on it again but methinks it's a dangerous endeavor during school season (square already #shut down for an hour today for unknown reasons.. i don't wanna mess w the online store and implode things lol)#so. maybe i will ask in august..... hmm

0 notes

chastiefoul · 1 year

Text

he said something hurtful

characters: childe & zhongli genre: hurt and comfort wc: 1.4k

Childe

it’s been such a stressful day for the eleventh fatui harbinger. all these paperwork but no place to let out his pent up frustration to; battles. he’s been stuck to the duty for too many days now and when he said it was not going to get to him, perhaps that was overconfidence.

“here, i made you tea hope it helps you to relax a little,” you said as you put the glass on his desk at a reasonable distance away from his work. he hummed a lazy response as gratitude. you’d learnt not to take these gestures to heart since he’s palpably stressed and you all of people knew that childe is the most loving man you’ve ever been with. “anything else i can do for you?” you asked, genuinely wanted to assist him in any way you could. he just shook his head, “it’s fine,” he said curtly.

“massages? back rubs? need me to get anything from somewhere?” you tried again, seeing his not so good expression at a particular part of the paper he’s looking at, wanting to at least ease him a little.

“gods, (y/n),” he said with the most exasperated tone that it made you a little nervous. “can you be quiet for a second? what the hell do you think you can do for me?”

you gasped quietly at the outburst and childe regretted the words as soon as it came out from his mouth. “(y/n), baby i’m sorry i didn’t mean th-“ but you quickly cut him off, wanting to get out of the room as soon you can. “i’ll just leave,” you whimpered, voice clearly holding back tears. at this childe’s heart twinged with even more guilt, he swiftly chased you and brought you close to his chest. “i’m sorry, that was stupid and horrible of me, sorry (y/n),” he repeated the apologies as he rubbed circles on your back. you held back a sob yet to no avail tears still fell to his shoulder. “i just wanted to help,” you mumbled. “i know and you do, my baby always does the best things for me,” he kept you in his hold as he planted kisses on your forehead. “i always worry over you, childe. if i bother you i wish you could’ve just tell me nicely.”

“i’m sorry, i took out my frustration on you, ‘m sorry baby. won’t happen again, i promise. please don’t leave.” childe’s hold on you got tighter, he wished he could turn back time and hit his past-self for running his mouth like that when you’ve been nothing but kind to him. he brought your face close to his, wiping your tears with his thumbs. you looked at him, the apparent raw regret painted all over his face. “stay? please?”

“mhm, but none of that again, okay? ever,” you warned him. “promise. sorry again, you’re too good to me.” he continued embracing you.

Zhongli

you had promised zhongli to assist him with his work, he asked you to bring over a document from clerk zhao 9 a.m. sharp as it is was a very important task to do. he told you that a few days prior about it saying that he would have no time to do it himself thus asking for your help since there’s nobody in the world he trusted more than you. and of course you were more than happy to do it if it helped him even just a little.

the said day was approaching. you felt that your body was slightly sluggish the night before as you prepared to go to bed yet you thought nothing of it and assumed would get better if you just slept it off, but you were wrong. you woke up feeling extremely sick along with a terrible headache. but that wasn’t your biggest concern, you looked over the clock and its hour hands clearly showed: 9.30 a.m.

with your best ability at your current condition—which was very limited, you quickly forced yourself up and rushed to do the task zhongli has entrusted you in. you were struggling as you arrive at feiyun slope area that even clerk zhao showed concern and asked if you were okay which to you answer that you were just fine, when in fact you were clearly not. yet your bigger worry that minute was getting that document to zhongli as he said that it’s a very important matter and you must not be late. however with such a sick body, you arrived at the wangsheng funeral parlor a little over ten a.m.

you burst open his office, “zhongli, i’m so sor-“

“where were you?” he cut you off rather rudely, and he does not do that. “sorry, i-“ you tried again.

“i had told you that this is a very important matter, yet here you are being carelessly tardy.” his usual gentle tone was nowhere to be found, you found yourself in a very bad state, it took everything out of you to just even stand up right that second and he couldn’t see that. even clerk zhao immediately noticed it. you were not even going to make excuse, you just wanted him to listen. “zhongli, please listen-“

“this was such a mistake. i regret relying on you.” he swiftly took the paper on your hand, his back turned and faced you as he sort out his business on his desk. it wasn’t until he heard a sniffle that he had realized what he just said. mistake. regret.

“dear, i-“

you were already started to leave his office, one of your hand was on the wall supporting your own weight as you felt extremely weak and fatigued from all the running around a sick person should not be doing.

“(y/n), wait please i—you’re very warm!” he claimed loudly as his hand touched your arm. “sweetheart, do you have a fever?” he reached out a hand to feel your forehead but you swatted it away. “it’s nothing, just get back to your work.” you attempted to release yourself, but zhongli had another idea on mind as the former god of rock suddenly carried you to a room where there’s a bed as he lied you there and tucked you in a blanket. you who barely any strength just let him did whatever as you turned your back on him the moment your body touched the bed. the wound from his words still fresh on your mind as you cried. you knew that it was your fault that you’re late, however zhongli acted way out of line. his tone and harsh words were very unfamiliar to you.

zhongli looked at your back as he was eaten away by guilt. if only he could just listen. to think he was very adamant to not listen to you when all you wanted to do was to explain yourself and he said that crap instead which he didn’t mean at all.

he truly meant it when he said he would entrust even his life to you.

zhongli was late on realizing the severe damage he just caused over the harsh words he spouted in the heat of the moment. whatever the reason, he should have not done that, not to anyone, especially not to the love of his life. but in reality was he did.

“love, i apologize.” he knelt beside the bed. when that met no response he continued, “that was very foolish of me. i didn’t know what i was talking about. you’re my whole world, i rely on you the most. how very stupid that i could even have the nerve to say that when i do nothing but lean on you everyday in my life.” his voice heavy with remorse as he hesitantly rubbed your arm, trying to soothe you. “to think i just made my sick lover running around like that... i apologize.”

“i wasn’t trying to make excuses, zhongli. i did not choose to be sick.” your voice was meek, zhongli’s chest squeezed in pain, how could he make you say things like this. “of course not, even with your condition you still did your best for me and i reacted like that, i really deserve your anger.”

he saw that tears still ran across your face and it broke his heart. “dear, please, what i don’t deserve is your tears.” he gently turned you to face him, wiping your tears with his fingertip. you slowly stopped crying as zhongli kept whispering apologies and sweet words. “why don’t you get some rest first? we’ll talk again after you feel better,” zhongli said softly. you who had no complaint over that only nodded, getting the sleep you’ve desperately needed.

seconds before you fell into your slumber you could feel a kiss on your forehead. “(y/n), i love you very much.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #childe x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #childe angst #zhongli angst

3K notes · View notes

princessnijireiki · 2 years

Note

what happened w the staff wrt “scortched earth”

ok so staff has a new page @/humans where they've got a post up listing several of the current moderators for the site, some of whom linked their own tumblr blogs. user @partyjockers made an original post like "so the new staff lineup explains why mods aren't blocking actual terfs huh" & then reblogged their own post with screenshots for evidence, one of the @/humans intro post, and one of the blog of one of those mods, "jas," @/jezzuminah. all publicly visible posts.

jas is a diehard hp fan, but people paid close attention to her artwork (her art tag is linked in a pinned post at the top of her blog). she's done a lot of dramione fanart, a lot of attack on titan fanart, and ship fanart of aged up preschoolers from spy x family. of note, she also put in her header, "opinions are my own," which is typical for ppl maintaining private social media accts linked to their real professional lives, as a way to ask for or demand a free pass to be inflammatory in some way w/o facing prof'nl. repercussions.

most of the commentary I saw at that point on @partyjockers's post was like, "lol that figures," bc it's not like any of that is especially shocking to see on tumblr; it's dime a dozen in fandom circles, but funny to confirm that "yeah the employees #on here are like that too, ugh, smh. 🙄"

within ONE DAY, staff had no only entirely shut down & seemingly permabanned @partyjockers, AND copyright striked the original screenshots so they get blanked out to error pictures if you try to repost them, they also did something they've never done before + which past staff have indicated was not doable within the tumblr framework: they scrubbed every trace of the post from the site. original post, gone. THOUSANDS of reblogs, all gone. even notifications from people interacting with reblogs of the post, wiped from the activity page. like beyond twitter, where if you delete a tweet, you can still see people's responses from THEIR pages, and you can still see QRTs even if you can't see what's been retweeted... every interaction w that post was gone. @partyjockers, gone. jas just toggled off the "view top posts" feature, locked her twitter & instagram, and deleted one piece of dramione fanart that people began reblogging after that overkill response.

and NOW the scrutiny is higher than ever before, because it's all fun & games and "my opinions are my own" until one person hurts your feelings (at WORK) by pointing & saying, "harry potter fan!" ...and, vitally, they also proved @partyjockers right. they've always been able to erase the entire footprint of violent fascists, people spreading explicit hate speech, literal nazis, revenge porn distributors, doxxers, bigots who run active harassment campaigns (incl some terfs!), ppl who share EXPLICIT csa materials, gore, etc.— even pages like @communismkills just got shadowbanned, and that was after a LONG TIME being a leaking sphincter on this site.

and tumblr staff have thus far ONLY ever unleashed this big gun ONCE in the whole history of the site, to my knowledge, as a tool to take down a page that wasn't even, like, a "whistleblower" for anything that serious, but who JUST SAID, "y'all don't ban terfs (true!) & y'all hire harry potter fans (also true!)," which apparently this new staff took sooooo personally & seriously & disparagingly (lol) that they nuked a random person's page from orbit over the "insult."

and we're currently on day 2, so I'm sure more will eventually unfold, but yeah, this scorched earth tactic is genuinely batshit hostility out of nowhere, over not even mild criticism but just a literal factual observation.

#it's incredibly stupid like they detonated a grenade to spite their face #smh.#drharlequin #tumblr dot com #long post //#1k #5k #10k #12k

14K notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Yay I was the anon who asked if you watch the new John Wick film, I hoped you enjoyed the movie!

Can I request some yandere marquis de gramont headcanons? (it can be romantic or platonic)

man was the biggest prick that i had seen in a while from a movie lol

Yandere Vincent de Gramont Headcanons

A/N:You read my mind Anon lmaoo - I was literally planning on writing some HCs for the Marquis <3

Despite the initial conception one may have about Vincent's dedication to a lover – that being none – he's actually surprisingly...loyal.

While he has the playboy exterior, enough money to soak up the oceans of the Earth and all the allure that comes with his occupation, he secretly feels as if he has nothing at all.

What he wants, what he really, truly wants, is to feel something new. Something he’s never experienced before.

Love.

Not just for himself - for someone else.

His brush with John Wick made him realise how empty his life was by comparison to the Boogeyman, who lived and almost died for the memory of love.

And that stuck with Vincent. Affected him more than he’d like to admit.

But, his heightened status above most others has left him isolated with few who wish to know him in a capacity beyond acquaintances for fear of incurring his wrath with a misplaced word or an overstepped boundary.

Thus, love is almost an impossibility for the Marquis.

And then he met you.

And grew obsessed intrigued. Fast.

He likely met you in passing completely separate from his usual crowd – which is to say hunters and murderers.

And he's taken aback by you; your beauty, your charm, your personality. In a way that, while many others have tried, have never breached Vincent’s superficial interest.

Or perhaps you nurse that same melancholy void he harbours; the desire for something more. Which, divulging it to him, a complete stranger, the Marquis finds oddly endearing. Vulnerable.

He’s enchanted. The void in his chest seems to tighten somewhat. Heal.

You’ve given him what no other has before. Genuine, friendly, interested conversation. All without even knowing who he is.

Now, having to rush off, apologising with a smile for taking up his time with “Trivial banter,” Vincent watches your retreating form.

He has his sights set on you.

Over the next few days, while conducting business and going about his everyday life, Vincent’s mind keeps crawling back to you, those fateful minutes wherein he felt he knew everything about you and nothing at all.

Though, he doesn't actually want to admit it at first.

While, yes, he does want to experience true love, he is entirely unwilling to acknowledge the disgustingly human need to feel something.

So, he tries to hide it. Bury it beneath his work, French desserts and luxuries you've never even heard of.

But, over time, you spring back up in the forefront of his mind when you are no longer content with being a voice in the background. A memory of a time where Vincent felt as if he’d truly been seen.

And Vincent, passing off his secret enthusiasm as boredom, a mere meandering of memories, ‘allows’ the odd thought of you to trickle in here and there.

You are a form of medicine. Whenever Vincent feels something undesirable brewing in his chest, he finds himself back with you on that bench in the park, your warmth and presence sun rays against his face as he’s transported from one of his many mansions to beside you once more.

And, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, you scratch the right spot in his psyche that material gain just can’t. Not in comparison to the human touch you have.

Gramont’s so used to people regarding him with favour or fear that it still takes him aback now how kindly you treated him, not knowing who he is or what he does.

You had nothing to gain from your kindness. And yet you still gave it to him.

Healed him with it.

Vincent’s daydreams start to grow more intense the longer he thinks about you.

An emulated conversation. Additions and projections of the recollections of your encounter, no matter how brief. Anything to let Vincent feed off the feeling you gave him when he’s exhausted the phantom of your first encounter.

There comes a point, weeks after you first met, where Vincent spends more time in these memories, both real and fabricated, than in the conscious world. And they strengthen, pulling his focus from his work, from his duties.

At first, this manifests as a glazed look in his eyes, one which, to all those who knew of him, could pen as the typical, uninterested Marquis stare.

He wears the same one in the comfort of his private rooms, one where nobody can see what he’s thinking. But now, people can see Vincent couldn’t care less about the projected bounty of this one killer from Wales; he just wants to be left alone with his thoughts.

His men have started to notice, too.

And, one evening, Vincent decides to lay upon them a task.

“I need you to find someone for me,” he says, his chin resting atop clasped hands. There is no jest, nor leniency, in his stare.

The task itself sounded easy enough. But with only a physical description to go on, not even having gotten your name, Vincent, for the first time in his life, is anxious.

Anxious his men won’t find you, no matter how deep his connections run.

Anxious that, while he’s lived in his dream world for the last month, you’ve since disappeared. Been killed, perhaps, or exposed to some freak accident.

Vincent pains at the feeling in his centre whenever he considers this a possibility. It tears the scabbing void in his chest wide open again.

Sometimes, while he lies in bed, the thought that might have perished somehow, that his men will have misinterpreted his specific instructions not to interact with you, only report on what you’re doing, plagues him.

He knows his men are loyal – that they’ve never failed a task before now. And he clings to the hope that their winning streak won’t run dry one of these nights.

One day, sat in his office, glancing over a document he’d tried reading for the last half hour yet couldn’t because, surprise, you were distracting him, one of his men came into the room.

“We have them, Sir,” he said, the image of victory. Vincent couldn’t help but scan his suit for any sign of blood. Your blood.

To say Vincent was excited is an understatement of epic proportions.

At first, he’s just numb.

Then, a few minutes later, his chest burns and sparks with an electric passion one acquires when meeting an idol.

Vincent wishes to deploy himself immediately. But he knows this is a waiting game.

So, he remains far enough away from your life that you do not suspect a single thing is wrong.

You don’t even glance over at the guy who’s been tailing you for the last few hours.

You don’t think twice about the stranger who’s been sat in perfect view of you in the cafe for the last two weeks.

You don’t even consider that the guy you bumped into earlier is responsible for your house key going missing.

Now, with access to your inner sanctum and your daily routine burned into his mind like a holy scripture, Vincent makes his move.

He stages meetings between the two of you.

Starts ‘bumping into you’.

At first, you simply recognise him, ask him how he’s doing and what he’s doing in the area.

And, Vincent, the man with an answer for everything, finds himself doing something he never has before.

He fumbles.

Even when he imagined you in a most vivid detail, nothing compares to this moment, where what he says has consequences, where he has one shot at getting this right. Or risk your uncertain stare.

He can feel fear rising in his chest as he stutters. Only once, but enough to knock him down a few pegs in your mind’s eye. At least, that’s what he thinks.

But, he completes his task, albeit not as pristinely as he wished.

He asked you out to coffee.

And you, with a signature smile, accepted.

And now, your fate is sealed.

Vincent beats himself up over his ineptitude of speaking to you like he did in his head: suave, cool, collected.

And, given the fact that he’s never had to take accountability for anything he’s ever done, he tries to blame it on someone else.

Not you, though.

Never you.

Regardless of this minor hurdle, as Vincent sees it, he purses this…friendship with you.

He isn’t used to the concept. Not in a visceral sense, anyway.

The saying ‘It’s lonely at the top’ comes to mind when describing Vincent’s relationships.

There is always a power imbalance, no matter who he’s speaking with.

He is always above them, and they are always below him.

But that’s when they know him. Know his dynamic.

You, you have absolutely no idea who he is, or what he’s capable of.

To you, he’s just Vincent, the owner of a successful manufacturing business.

No, Vincent couldn’t quite ditch the theatrics. He still needed an out to impress you – to have a valid excuse as to how he owns so many nice cars, how he never wears the same designer suit twice.

He doesn’t tone it down with the suits, by the way.

He’s too enthralled by the fascinated look you wear when you’re taking in the patterns, the chains, the craftsmanship.

Which, to his surprise, makes his face warm.

People have only ever looked at the label of his outfit, never the ensemble itself.

That’s just another of the ways you make him feel seen.

You tell him so much of yourself, yet not enough to break your mystique.

Vincent knows more about you than you think, and he uses this to create another version of himself – one which likes the same records as you (though, he unironically does enjoy them. But, he knows he likely wouldn’t unless you listened to them, too), has the same preferences for how you fold your clothes, whether you should brush your teeth before or after breakfast.

And Vincent devours every detail you grant him like a meal, saving them, storing them, testing them out in his newest daydreams when he gets home, his heart thrumming and his breathing short as an unfamiliar feeling of wholeness and anxiety overtakes him.

And yet, there is little he can offer in return.

Nothing that isn’t a lie, anyway.

He keeps you as far away from his work as possible, hence he meets you in such public spaces.

His men are always stationed nearby, disguised as civilians. Should the need for bloodshed ever arise.

Eventually, your weekly coffee meet-ups evolve into something else.

Vincent, after asking one of his men (under strict confidentiality) ”What do you do when you…like-like someone…?” starts taking you to restaurants.

He tries not to scare you off with anything too fancy, but he can’t help but feel part of himself die whenever he thinks about how dull the food here in this 5-star restaurant is compared to his usual dining preferences.

But you’re happy, thanking him for the meal with a gratitude that isn’t borne from a life-or-death scenario.

You’re not paying for these dates, by the way. Vincent won’t let you.

“I brought you here; I’m paying.”

He also has a tendency to go overboard with the gifts.

You tell him your watch is broken ? Here are five designer timepieces imported from a selective brand whose clientele is vetted and chosen by the CEO himself.

Of course, you can try to refuse these gifts – tell Vincent that you “Can’t possibly take them from you; it’s too much !”

But he plays the guilt card well.

“No, I insist,” he says, pushing them into your hands. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

If you actively wear or use anything he buys you, he’ll be overjoyed. Prideful.

You’re wearing something he got for you. That basically means you’re saying you belong to him.

Of course, he does get a little carried away with his…delusions. But he means well !

He’s just territorial.

Vincent can be a gentleman when he wants to be.

And can also be a vicious creature when he doesn’t.

He only presents one of these sides to you.

The other is reserved for his more…private affairs.

When he started feeling more intensely about you, his mind wandered to some rather unsavoury places – places that, usually, VIncent would walk through without batting an eye.

But now that he, dare he say...liked you…he felt as if he’d been drenched in cold water whenever he imagined you doing anything risqué.

So, with the steadily growing number of these thoughts, these images of you, piercing his mind, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

He beds people who look like you.

The two of you aren’t dating yet; haven’t even held hands (though Vincent agonises over finding the right opportunity to do so).

But he still feels wrong. Like he’s cheating on you.

His sanity tries to prevent him from thinking like this, tries to keep itself intact by urging Vincent to pursue another mindless conquest.

Your name does slip out between his panting, though.

Much to the chagrin of whoever’s beneath him right now.

He wonders what you’d look like, what you’d feel like in this same position. What your preferences are.

There’s only one way to find out.

He tries turning up the boyfriend factor after he decides now’s the time to pursue you. Properly.

He sits a little closer to you whenever you invite him over for movie nights, holds you for just a little longer whenever you engage in your traditional parting hug.

And he can’t help but think about how much he wants to stay with you like this forever.

And permanence is a rare commodity for people in his line of work. No matter how many bodyguards he has, or how skilled he is.

Nothing is certain.

Which is why, one evening, lying awake in bed, he decides to act.

He knows it’s a risky manoeuvre, but he can’t deny how careless he’s been with you these last few months.

Not that you’d know, but his men have intercepted five people who’ve tried to kill you, take you – or worse.

All just to get to him.

He can’t leave you in the wide open world like this. He can’t let you be at risk. Not because of him.

So, that night, his heart in his mouth as he commands his men to “Find (Y/N). Bring them to me.” Vincent awaits your arrival.

And, eventually, he hears you. Clamouring in the halls outside his office, screaming and fighting. Resisting.

Vincent can’t help but crack a smile, knowing how defiant you are – how stubborn you can be in your method.

As the heavy footsteps of his men come to a stop outside his door, your screeching is blunted only by the thick wood.

And, doors open, here you are, shoved into the room.

Your captor revealed.

You look at him with what you could construed as almost-neutrality, your bewilderment a damper to your anger, your fear.

“Vincent,” you say, breathless. You take a staggering step towards him. His men take a step towards you, reaching for weapons concealed by their coats.

Vincent raises a hand, and they retract.

He looks at you.

His eyes are filled with nothing less than adulation, misplaced happiness in a situation you view as dire.

“Sit,” he tells you, casting a glance to the seat before his desk.

With little else you can do, you obey.

And your world begins to unravel.

Vincent, in the lamest, most gentle of terms, explains that he is “Not who you thought I was,” – that he does “More for a living than make vases and luxury dishware.”

“I,” he says, watching your eyes carefully, glassy and holding no less potential for terror. “Am the Marquis.”

Vincent stands, and when he sees you flinch, something in him withers. Hurts.

He shoves it aside.

“I am responsible for making sure that the right outcome is brought to the right people.”

His hands behind his back, pacing the length of your field of sight, he swallows.

You’re judging him now. In a way you never had, you’re judging him.

His desire to display how grandiose his lifestyle is doesn’t seem so forthcoming anymore, hiding, shy.

This is more difficult than he anticipated.

“What does that mean ?” you say, voice tight and quiet.

Vincent’s fist clenches. He doesn’t want you like this. You should be happy he’s rescued you ! Albeit from threats you didn’t know pertained to you, but still !

“I’m…” he starts. His gaze wanders to his men, who, with perfect understanding, leave.

You almost don’t want them to go.

“I’m a reaper, of sorts,” he says. He draws closer, taking a step in your direction. You bite back the urge to flee.

“A face to a cause.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, instead watching you with what you think is scrutiny (but couldn’t be further from it), you ask, throat dry, hoarse from your screaming. Crying.

“What cause ?”

Vincent bites the inside of his lip. And, for the first time, he can feel himself cracking under your gaze.

You’re scared. He knows you are. He just wished he didn’t have to see it painted so blatantly on your features, downturned with grief should everything end on this night.

Where was your smile ? Your crinkled eyes, your sonorous laugh, your upturned lips ?

“I fix problems,” he says. There’s no way he can put his occupation lightly. “I used to do it with knives. Guns, a pencil, perhaps – whatever was at my disposal.”

He’s closer now, approaching. His arms are at his sides. And he stands before you.

You don’t want to look up. You want to look – be – anywhere but here.

But Vincent doesn’t let you.

“But now,” he says, and he gets to one knee. His hands trap you, on either of the arm rests of the chair. Yet he does not possess the face of one who is a captor, instead a mask of total capitulation to a feeling he couldn’t even begin to understand before you showed him.

“I do it with diplomacy. With people who are much better suited to that life than I.”

His voice is soft, quieter than before. There is a hint of a smile at his lips, pulling the corners, beginning the total eclipse of his eyes from full to crescent. An offset to the anxiety bubbling in his centre.

Your hands in your lap, he takes them in his, slowly, gently, fingers resting atop yours.

And he squeezes them.

Holds them. Just as he’d always wanted to.

“Why–” you swallow a sob, turn your head so you don’t let him see your face scrunch into the epitome of fright. “Why am I here…?”

Vincent’s lips part. His hand slips up to your jaw, urges you to look at him.

He’s forbearing. A butterfly.

Nothing like how his men handled you.

That in itself could almost convince you that he’s not such a bad guy. Even after all he’s told you.

“Because–” your face in his hand, he looks up into your eyes. Barely contained tears fill them.

“Because you’ll be safe with me,” he promises. There’s an unencumbered optimism in his eyes. A dangerous one at that.

“Because I can’t trust that my men can protect you when you’re so far away – alone – in the city.”

“What do you mean, Vincent ?!”

You don’t mean to snap. But since you’d just been kidnapped and the truth behind the matter is no clearer to you, you can’t help it.

Vincent almost seems to flinch, his eyes narrowing just for a second. He returns to you with his puppy stare.

“There are people out there who know who I am. What I do.”

He squeezes your hand again, his other still wrapped about your jaw.

“The problem now is that they know you, too.”

He swallows thickly, looking down for a split of a second. Guilt.

“And it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve just left you alone, let you live your life…but I can’t undo that now.”

He laces his fingers between yours. And you’re too frazzled to refuse.

“What I can do, what I will do–” his hand comes to the point of your chin, holds it gently between his fingers like glass.

His gaze falls to your lips, and you try to ignore it.

“Is keep you safe. Here. With me.”

You’d have laughed if you didn’t believe everything he’d just said.

It all just made sense to you.

The lavish gifts, the people watching you that you hadn’t dared notice before because you’re just being paranoid. The hard glares Vincent would grant to all that passed you by in the rooms of higher society.

And now, everything shatters. You cry.

“Oh, non, mon Cher, don’t cry–” Vincent moves to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you pull away. Retract from his kindness.

"You're insane–" you’re breathless, gasping between sobs

"Not insane.” VIncent tells you. He stands so he’s perfectly level with you, his eyes piercing yours. And, just as he had many times before in your presence, he smiles. Genuine and heartfelt. Then, a statement. A declaration.

“Just… in love.”

#vincent de gramont #john wick #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #bill skarsgard x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #bill skarsgard #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

2K notes · View notes

eddiezpaghetti · 3 months

Text

It has come to my attention that SOME OF YOU who read my last Byler post remain UNCONVINCED. So I'm gonna tack onto it this:

I'm older than fucking God and air, and I've been out and proud since 2007. Yes, I know what homophobia is, and yes, I know what queerbaiting is. I know about Supernatural and Teen Wolf and Sherlock and blahdyblahdyblah. No new ground is being covered here. I thought I made that clear in the original post, but, clearly, I did not.

I am aware of queerbaiting and homophobia, and I'm still wholeheartedly certain in Byler being canon anyway.

Okay, so there are three types of relationship I want to discuss when it comes to queerbaiting. They're all, like, "queer relationships that could have happened, but didn't".

First off, queer-coding. This isn't really a thing so much anymore, but it still crops up every once in a while. I'd argue it probably happens most with male-male relationships in family shows these days. First example that comes to mind is Mr. Smiley and Mr. Frowny from Steven Universe. You can't make a relationship canon because some shitty overhead bastard overhead said no, so you get as close as you can without compromising the show. Can't make someone gay? Well, now their comedy routine is a blatant allegory for a romantic relationship. Boom-shaka-laka. This is something I don't see being a problem with regards to Stranger Things, but I want it to be there as contrast, a demonstration of one of many things queerbaiting is not. However, one could argue that, thus far, Will Byers is, canonically, queer-coded. It's pretty fucking heavily implied in the show, and the creators have confirmed it, and you're gonna be able to see it if you're not FUCKING BLIND, but word of god is not technically canon which means that interviews don't technically make something canon, blahdyblahdyblahdyblah, technicalities, Robin has been explicitly stated in the text to be queer while Will has, thus far, not, outside of good ol' Show-Don't-Tell. Of course, anyone with two brain cells to rub together can tell that that's going to change by the end of Season 5, but, hey, for what it's worth, I'm throwing this out there.

Alrighty, Thingamajingama Number Two: "Oops, I accidentally made the greatest love story known to man." AKA, a genuine, honest-to-goodness mistake. Unfortunately, we do live in a heteronormative society. Sometimes people who don't think about being gay much write a friendship that's incredibly compelling and don't even consider the possibility that it could have been read as romantic. Something something Top Gun something. This is, again, not queerbaiting. This is Steddie, this is Ronance, this is Elmax, this is your favorite flavor of non-canon ship this week, this is not Byler. The creators know DAMN well what they're doing. They've talked about it. We know this. Nothing new here.

Which brings us to the topic of discussion here. Actual queerbaiting. This usually starts out as an "accidental greatest love story", and then reacts to fan response. And when I say "reacts", I mean like a goddamn chemical reaction. Like bleach and ammonia, bitch. It's noxious and it's gonna kick your fucking ass without mercy. This is when a creator is like, "Hey, let's get our queer audience invested, but we're not actually going to give them what they want because our straight audience isn't here for that/we personally think it's gross/we don't give enough of a shit to want to research a goddamn thing to write a real gay character," blah blah blah whatever excuse they want to come up with this time.

And when you think "queerbaiting", I want you to think "bullying". Because that's what it is. It's lucrative bullying, like beating us up and taking our lunch money, but it's bullying all the same. And it's a real goddamn thing, even if people misuse the word a lot, often when they mean one of the two above, sometimes when they mean "bury your gays", which is another homophobic thing entirely that I'm not going to get into here. Queerbaiting is the thing we're focused on, and it's real, and it's bullying. And here's the reason I want you to think of it as bullying:

They

Think

It's

Funny.

They are actively making fun of us.

That's why Dean had the "Cas, get out of my ass," line in Supernatural. It's why the "Do you like boys?" line happened in Teen Wolf. It's why "Lie with me, Watson," happened in the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies. Because "It's just a joke, mate." "It was just a prank, bro." "You didn't really think it would happen, did you?" "You should see your face."

So here's probably the biggest reason I don't think it's specifically queerbaiting in this specific instance of Will Byers and Mike Wheeler.

Stranger Things has never, not once, made a gay joke. Ever.

Every single time queerness comes up, it's dead serious.

Lonnie calls Will a fag, and the show is not at all reluctant to show what a goddamn horrible person he is. And when Hopper latches onto that, it's not as "Hahah, is he gay, though?" It's because he's trying to determine a potential motive for Will's disappearance, and even if someone had interpreted it as a joke, Joyce immediately has a line that functions as snapping her fingers in front of the audience's face and yelling "FOCUS" when she says "He's MISSING." Basically outright saying "This isn't funny!"

Troy calls him a fairy, along with targeting Lucas and Dustin for their skin color and disability respectively, and Mike gets damn near murderous. Troy is portrayed as a goddamn monster and the show portrays it as justice when El makes him piss his pants and later breaks his arm.

Steve calls Jonathan "queer" as a slur and gets the shit beat out of him for it.

Billy's father is revealed to be homophobic and abusive in the same breath.

Mike says "It's not my fault you don't like girls!" and we're shown how devastated Will is and Mike immediately follows him to beg for forgiveness.

There is a joke in Robin's coming-out scene, but it's not at Robin's expense. It's at Steve's. Specifically for being heteronormative.

Jonathan has multiple scenes where he's trying so hard to tell Will that he's always going to love him as he is, whether he's gay or not, without pressuring him to come out before he's ready.

Even when there's a little bit of ribbing at Robin's expense, it's always because she's an awkward nerd who's nervous around pretty girls, just the same as Lucas and Dustin are teased when they both first develop crushes on Max, and even then, even then, it always comes as a package deal where they make fun of Steve's girl problems at the same time.

Stranger Things is an emphatically pro-gay show. It may not be the core point of the show the way it is in, say, Our Flag Means Death, but there is nothing less than respect for its queer characters. Its queer characters are always taken completely seriously. No one is making fun of us. They never have. That's why I have serious doubts that this is queerbaiting. It would come completely out of left field for the bullying to start in Stranger Things' final season.

So it's not at all likely to be queerbaiting because queerness is taken completely seriously. The creators have talked about Will's queerness, at least, so it's not an accident. And queer-coding would be silly to expect from this show when it's already on its final season. Like, what is Netflix gonna do? Cancel it? Not to mention all the explicit queerness that's in there already. And no one's gonna "What about the children?" a show that's had sex scenes in it since the first season.

There's no fakeout here. It's gonna happen. Breathe.

#byler #Part 2 I fucking guess.#Wasn't planning on making a Part 2 but here we are.#I seriously just want you guys to feel safe.#I'm not naive. I do not say any of this shit lightly.#But I've been around the block long enough to know what queerbaiting looks like and this ain't it. Promise.#Will's already been confirmed as in love with Mike for fuck's sake. You don't think the other half of the equation's gonna follow through?#There has only ever been one other situation where I've gone 'Okay this is going in gay places' with no doubt whatsoever without being told #And that was with Daja in Tamora Pierce's 'Will of the Empress' when I read it at like sixteen or whatever #and she wound up having whole-ass fuckin' gay sex.#I was right then and I'm right now. I swear.

262 notes · View notes

athingofvikings · 8 months

Text

So yesterday [redacted] made a post detailing why they think that antisemitism is against Christian theology and belief structures; it's got some issues, but their heart is in the right place and they're genuinely trying.

Then, over the next day, multiple antisemitic Christians show up in the notes to essentially insist that antisemitism is an intrinsic part of Christian theology.

We have "Jews existing helps validate Christian interpretations of Jewish texts" and then doubling down with "I refuse to take the slightest analytical look at the antisemitism in Christian texts in the name of tolerance."

The classic "Jews have refused to convert and thus are the enemies of Christ" type.

And my own interactions with "I don't have a problem with Jews... except that they're not Christians", who then came up with some magnificent strawmen and lack of reading comprehension.

And I'm sure there's more in the notes, probably from people I've blocked previously.

It's almost poetic, in a way.

"You don't have to be biased against Jewish people or their beliefs to be Christian, and you shouldn't!"

Multiple Christians: "Yes we do have to, and we should!"

#antisemitism #judaism #christianity #redacted the name of the OP of that post at their request #they don't want more drama

559 notes · View notes

comradekatara · 17 days

Note

I just read your rant about zukka and it made me think what if zuko’s obsession with sokka has to do with the fact that sokka in some ways encompasses some of the traits that have been forced on Zuko since he was young like the whole killing without mercy or remorse and the need for control and the strategic thinking. But Sokka uses these skills no to try and rule the world but to help aang stop Ozai. I haven’t watched atla in a while but your analyses help me realize a lot of details that I missed about it was he characters

yeah i’ve talked before about how sokka and azula being so similar must be kind of a mindfuck for zuko because sokka has “a killer instinct that’s just so fire nation” but also he’s literally friends with the bald baby pacifist monk avatar who says shit like “do you think we could’ve been friends too?” and so zuko clearly has no idea what to think. like he and azula were both indoctrinated into this world that valued certain traits and dogmas over others (ie, sokka’s over aang’s) and so azula sees sokka as more of a threat.

it’s funny because obviously sokka and zuko’s first encounter is sokka getting his ass handed to him by a guy who doesn’t even care that he’s in his way, but also that scheme is pretty immediately disrupted by sokka’s boomerang. and then the next time they meet, sokka has actually spent time training under someone (instead of fumbling around in the dark by himself) and can now hold his own far better. and every single encounter after that sees sokka not only rising to zuko’s level, but surpassing him, fighting him, foiling his plans, advocating to leave him for dead, ignoring him, dismissing him.

even at the western air temple, sokka is the liaison who welcomes him into the group (the designated “leadership” role comes with more responsibilities than simply assassinating assassins), but he also makes it pretty clear that he doesn’t care for or trust zuko throughout “the firebending masters,” even if his manner of bullying is far less overtly malicious than katara’s. and yet, zuko cannot discount him. zuko saw him kill combustion man. zuko understands his value to the group. zuko recognizes that quality he and azula share. zuko may have had an advantage over him the first time they met, but it sure didn’t last long. if azula and zuko have anything in common, it’s a mutual respect for sokka.

like, sokka is the only member of the gaang’s name azula actually says (aang is “the avatar,” katara is “peasant,” toph is [insert blind joke here], and suki is “my favorite prisoner”) and on the day of black sun, she elects to distract sokka first and foremost knowing that he’s their “leader.” and she does clearly respect him more than most people do because she can see herself in him (at least to some extent, i don’t think either of them are actually insightful enough to realize how deep that connection truly goes) and thus can recognize his worth as someone who is in a similar position, albeit on the opposite side.

zuko does say and aang and katara’s names (and appa’s), but sokka’s name is the first he says, and it’s really the only name he uses as a mode of address. and the matter of naming is clearly important to royal heirs, who are defined by their names and titles. we see that especially when zuko confuses ursa’s “remember who you are” with “remember your ancestry,” declaring who he is not as internal identity, but as title. to afford someone the respect of addressing them by name is to implicitly demonstrate respect for them.

this is further demonstrated by the fact that unlike “you just had to pick up the glowing egg” zuko of just an episode prior, zuko really does follow sokka’s leadership and places his complete faith in his abilities. there’s no complaining or backseat driving or undermining of his intentions, which is genuinely anomalous for zuko, who generally refuses to listen to anyone about anything (unless he’s being actively scared into submission, and even then he’s stood up to ozai multiple times). he’s not outspoken in these episodes, however. he is downright docile. and it’s because he genuinely believes sokka to be his superior. which isn’t to say that sokka isn’t better than he is, but like. aang is too and he doesn’t take his knowledge into account! because aang doesn’t represent the values that zuko strove to embody his entire life.

what’s more, i would imagine there’s something kind of satisfying, if not downright intriguing, about knowing someone who basically is what you aspire to be, who you were told you must be your entire life, and seeing that he is just. absolutely fucking miserable. like azula is also miserable, but zuko doesn’t know that (yet), because she hides it better. but sokka is genuinely suicidal (especially in these episodes). meeting this idealized standard of perfection you have always failed to reach and realizing that whatever standards you once (recently) held yourself to are actually deeply unfulfilling. that sokka isn’t “perfect,” that he actually considers himself a failure. and the fact that when he does fail, he considers it the end of the world because he never built up the resilience one gets from being a normal person who doesn’t always succeed on their first try. and zuko’s like “finally, something i have that he doesn’t: intimate knowledge of what it’s like to constantly fail and underperform and disappoint people!”

zuko is really perfectly equipped to support sokka in this situation, because he idolizes him enough to provide him with the unconditional support sokka feels fundamentally undeserving of, and also understands sokka’s misery enough to give him actually meaningful advice when it matters. what’s interesting about how zuko feels about sokka is that it’s not just about uncritically putting him on a pedestal for being Nice Azula or whatever, it’s also about zuko’s genuine desire to help sokka and protect him.

yue inhabits the martyr role that sokka has always envisioned himself in, suki establishes herself as someone who is equally capable of protecting him and he can her, and zuko risks his life to support sokka on his crazy suicide mission, when sokka was so intent on going it alone because he wasn’t thinking clearly didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. sokka doesn’t need someone who treats him like an irreproachable god. in fact, i think sokka would hate nothing more than having a sycophant. he needs someone who understands that he is fallible and vulnerable and needs help like any human being does, and respects and trusts and admires him anyway.

zuko doesn’t have the capacity to recognize azula’s insecurities and shortcomings, or the desire to help her, but he does for sokka. because he never felt like he was in a position where he had to compete for something against him. he’s not trying to usurp sokka’s role as “leader” (except for whatever was going on in “sozin’s comet,” but that’s for another post) and is happy to simply follow him, in a way that is genuinely uncharacteristic for him.

and you can say that it’s because zuko is gay and stupid (which wouldn’t be wrong, per se), but it’s also because sokka embodies everything zuko ever thought he had to be. and it’s because sokka doesn’t even care. it’s the recognition that one person’s idealized model of behavior is another’s burden. that if zuko had been “perfect” like sokka, he never would’ve gained the wisdom to accept defeat and not let it deter him. perfect like azula, who, like sokka, shatters in the face of failure.

zuko says as much in “the siege of the north,” and again in “the western air temple.” the fact that he isn’t a prodigy, the fact that he “had to struggle and fight” to achieve what little he has, is “what made me who i am.” so he’ll respect sokka, of course, because sokka is who he wished for so long that he could be. but he’ll also support sokka, because he has just enough distance from the situation to recognize that he’s not an island (even if sokka himself is convinced that he must be). so it’s not obsession, per se, nor is it simply uncritical admiration that confuses excellence for infallibility. it’s unconditional support born of understanding, a sort of empathy. it’s devotion.

#xxzavier42 #asks #sokka #zuko #azula #sokkaxzuko #azula&sokka #azula&zuko #analysis #at some point i gotta stop saying ‘whoops i wrote way more than i thought i would!!! teehee’#and recognize that this is simply my modus operandi #i love to ramble …. lol #also when i call sokka the ‘leader’ its with the caveat that I think the designation of leadership is kind of flawed #but that’s definitely how azula and zuko see it #and in the most traditional sense that’s what he is #but not always.#i need to finish and post my essay on katara and sokka gifted kidism….#anyway. zucchini good 👍🏼

156 notes · View notes

yzzart · 8 months

Text

— "𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢'𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠..."

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Along with Satoru's students, you find him sleeping in one of his expensive chairs.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Fluff, drabble, inspired by chapter 5, reader's nostalgic moment with megumi, a mention of geto, comfort.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.749!

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i should have posted this four days ago but finally here it is! forgive me for any mistakes, english is not my first language

"He actually sleeps, huh?"

Yuji commented, in a curious tone of voice, but not as loudly as usual. Bringing his hand to the back of his neck, he thought about what he could do at that moment. — But, the young sorcerer didn't have a single second to idealize.

"Of course!" — An irritated and slightly annoyed voice echoed in that region of the large, cozy room; Nobara puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head impatiently. — "What do you think he is?"

You closed your eyes, propping your hand over your mouth, thus disguising a bold laugh at the situation before your eyes. — While you were seriously thinking about the possibility that Satoru was listening to that turn of events because of him, but deciding to continue pretending to be asleep.

You not only thought, but were sure of such a thought.

The current situation was not so chaotic, perhaps a bit of an exaggeration. — Satoru had sent a message, with a huge amount of emojis, claiming a meeting, as usual, for your students and you. — It couldn't be anything serious, so everyone thought.

And, precisely, whoever made the appointment was found by his students sleeping in a huge and comfortable chair. — And very expensive too.

An exhausted sigh, a little frustrated, manages to pull your focus, for a brief moment, from Yuji and Nobara. — A sigh so familiar, you would recognize it even from so far away.

Tilting your head towards the sigh, which wasn't that far from you, and a genuine smile automatically formed on your lips. — A smile held a huge ribbon of pride. — Along with a cautious, observant look.

"He had the ability to sleep and keep us waiting." — The young sorcerer with black, spiky hair, grumbled with squinted eyes as he watched his classmates arguing.

At that moment, even in a slightly loud tone, you couldn't hear what, in fact, Yuji and Nobara were discussing or just commenting on something that could involve the chair where Satoru was. — Maybe that was it. — And, your that small moment of frustration from Megumi was getting your attention.

A melancholy but so sweet memory posed in your mind when you ran your eyes over the youngest's face. — That expression that started to contemplate the boy most of the time, a companion of moments and great situations.

Also, it was the first feature you had the opportunity to see on Megumi's face, when you first met him. — Accompanied by Satoru.

The small child, with a backpack bigger than his body, with pointy hair, didn't quite know how to react when he saw two strangers dedicating themselves to talking to him; even more so when one of the subjects broached was his absent, and deceased, father. — But, little by little and with your influence, Megumi knew how to comfort himself between you and Satoru.

It would be impossible to deny that the boy took comfort and trust in you more than in Satoru. — And he didn't try to hide it.

In such a difficult moment, to the point of leaving your head heavy and vulnerable with your countless thoughts, and each more questions flooded you. — The occurrences, which you refused to believe about Geto and the way Satoru witnessed and swallowed the situation was devastating, violent. — One thing that never left your mind.

However, the way Megumi came to trust you and feel more and more protected by your presence was also a factor that never left your mind. — The way he paid attention, quietly, to each word that came out of your mouth, like a son attentive to a mother's orders, filled an emptiness in your chest; that you never knew existed.

And observing, admiring and contemplating the scenes, which soon became daily, with great care and passion, began to fill a forgotten void in Satoru's chest.

"He's pretending he's still sleeping." — A comment, or rather, a certainty was uttered from your lips while you ran your hands through the uniform, removing some wrinkles from the garment. — "We both know that's just like him."

"Yeah…" — Your eyes managed to observe a small, and so hidden, smile that had formed on Megumi's lips; like he was trying to squelch a bigger smile, maybe, trying to squelch a subtle chuckle just at your comment.

Shaking your head with an endearing smile on your lips, you return your attention to the two young sorcerers who were before your presence, before arguing and now quiet. — Going back to watching any tiny movement from your sensei.

"Sensei!" — A call has come to you. — "He is waking up!" — The girl with short brown hair directed a loud and clear warning, not caring if the white haired sorcerer was really waking up, to you and Megumi.

Raising your eyebrows and watching the few quick smug movements Satoru's body made as he stretched. — Your eyes managed to capture his thin old smile; the one you know better than anyone else. — A smile that has passed and witnessed countless situations.

Along with Megumi, the two of you quietly approached the chair waiting for Satoru; and the air of impatience was starting to run through the small group. — But, you knew that sleepy pretense wouldn't last long.

"Gojo-Sensei!" — Megumi's frank and attentive voice clamored for the elder's attention, wanting to keep him awake.

Until the white-haired sorcerer took one of his hands to the dark band, which completely covered his eyes, and lifted it only on one side; leaving only one of his eyes showing.

Those orbs of such a beautiful and mesmerizing blue; a color that throughout all time became part of his life. — A color that made your more alive, that witnessed all the light, heavy, happy and vulnerable events of your life.

And that color would stay by your side until your last breath. — A strong promise Satoru made to you.

"You're the one who called us here." — Megumi said directly, along with him frustration to the white-haired man. — "Please don't go dozing off."

In a quick moment, Satoru removes himself from the comfortable seat and soon, without wasting time or even questioning anything, Nobara settles down in the chair. — Which would easily fit two of her. — Then Yuji's complaints and protests were echoing under the room.

Nobara ignored the boy and enjoyed the comfort and softness of that chair, and removing all the oaths he had made, mentally, about his sensei; and giving reason that she would also sleep there.

While the two young sorcerers went back to arguing, just like they did before Satoru woke up; and you hadn't even taken your eyes off Satoru for a second. — Who didn't dare say anything from the moment he got up. — That didn't worry or scare you, it just intrigued you.

On Satoru's thin but irresistible lips was a triumphant smile, radiant and sweet. — A smile that is also typical of him; but with one little thing more, that you still didn't know what it was. — And he kept his head a little low, like he was thinking about something deep.

"What are you smiling at?" — Before you thought or related anything about the way Satoru was doing, Megumi questioned as he tilted his head towards his teacher.

Something told you that Satoru wouldn't really tell you the reason for that smile. — And once again, you felt certainty hit your chest.

Keeping his head still low, Satoru spent a few measly seconds in silence; as if that question from his student, the child he took care of as his son, did not exist. — His eyes flicked over Megumi's face and you could see the boy patiently waiting for the answer.

"Oh, it's nothing!" — Gojo finally raised his head towards you and Megumi and, of course, that smile was still plastered on his lips; tilting your head just the tiniest bit, you gave the man your sweet, genuine smile.

Accepting his guardian's answer and not questioning anything further, and not wanting to delay things further, Megumi nodded in agreement and turned towards him, delivering a respectful smile. — Then he turned to his colleagues; leaving you and Satoru alone.

So…" — Your eyes passed over all points of Satoru's face. — "... a sweet for your thoughts?" — That proposal, somewhat provocative and irresistible for Satoru's taste, drew a lick of the sorcerer's tongue..

Satoru tilted his head towards you, and under that dark and soft fabric, his eyes were admiring you; behold the presence before him. — The presence that guided his path.

Satoru's mind focused exactly on what he had projected while sleeping; the dream that one more movie was shown in the movie theater and Satoru was in the middle row seat watching everything, and alone. — A dream that actually happened and there was no going back. — Nothing can change the unfortunate and violent events that happened, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel; you.

Oh, it was you and it will always be you. — Satoru's light, guidance and love.

"Just reminiscing about our youth." — Satoru replied, and soon realized that he spoke like a very old man; mentally, the white-haired man scolded himself.

Satoru wasn't lying, or trying to come up with something to cut the conversation short, and you recognized that; besides, he would never commit such an act to you. — Gojo always made it clear, and with his somewhat dramatic but sincere way, that lying to you was one of the worst crimes he could commit.

However, one thing you also recognized was the fact that he wasn't exactly telling you everything; but, you wouldn't force or put him against the wall to tell all the exact points of Satoru's dream and thoughts.

"Our youth?" — You arched one of your eyebrows, along with your arms crossed, finding his response a bit peculiar.

"Yes!" — A pleased Satoru nods in agreement; then he ran a hand over his chin, thinking of something specific and promising. — "By the way, i was in love with that uniform of yours."

A surprised expression dominated your face, not to mention the reddish color in your cheeks. — Your wide eyes looked at Satoru, who didn't hide or disguise the satisfaction of getting that reaction out of you. — That man had a smirk on his lips, and even under that fabric that covered his eyes, you could feel the look of audacity and daring.

The gods, who may exist, gave you a boon as none of the students had listened to Satoru's boldness.

"Gojo Satoru!"

506 notes · View notes

heavencanbeaprisontoo · 2 months

Text

Strip Me to My Bones

Slowburn!Tommy x autistic!fem!reader Prologue: An Odd Woman

Summary: Tommy meets you in 1919, the beginning that feels like an ending in hindsight. Among betting men there is a vibrant culture of superstition and mysticism. It was in this industry you found your trade as a “psychic,” and met a man with a Red Right Hand.

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, contextual use of g-slur, Canon-typical violence, author is autistic, spoilers for series one possibly, slow burn, Tommy is shallow and confused at first. WC: 1.6k

1919 was an odd year for Mr. Shelby. His eyes were still bright, the boy who died in the tunnels still clung to his ankles as he stalked the roads of Birmingham. In those days, Tommy was still starving for money. For any sort of gain in power. He still slept on an old mattress with his drug of choice within reach. He still delivered his horses to mystics and magicians to psych out the competitors of the next day’s race. It was this Thomas Shelby who brought himself to the door of your flat. You, the newest little medium in Small Heath.

He had heard many things about you. How you seemed to just “know,” things. You weren’t gypsy, but there were whispers that you could see inside hearts and minds like no other. For a reasonable fee, you would read a person like a book tell them the next chapter of their life without hesitation. He was not normally the sort to seek your kind out. Thomas Shelby could see ahead just fine without the guide of psychic, genuine or charlatan in nature. Until, of course, a crate of guns came into his possession and an Irish woman sang to him from atop a table. Even the devil needs direction, sometimes.

That morning, the devil had sought you out.

Your flat looked the same as any other. There were green vines and a purple curtain blocking his view inside your window. Plain bricks on the outside. Gutter hanging off slightly from your roof. Thinking it best to just get it all over with, he knocked. You answered. And he froze.

When he first saw you, there was nothing extraordinary about you. You didn't wear a silk turban or line your eyes with black to convince your customers of some supernatural gift. You were just a young woman dressed comfortably in her little flat. A long, thick robe suited for the winter chill was tied around your body and sensible slippers on your feet. Nothing overly frilly or fanciful. Tommy would almost call your presentation "dowdy." However, what had made him freeze were your eyes. He knows the power of his own stare. Your stare was something truly unique. It was something he couldn’t quite put into words. The color of your eyes was not exceptional, nor the size of your eyes or their shape. There was a force behind the stare that had him fixed to the spot. The sound of your voice was all that put him back into the world.

“Can I help you?” your tone is flat, but he can’t decide of its intentional.

Tommy takes a glance from the corner of his eye to ensure there are no onlookers. The roads are empty. He looks into your eyes once more and says, “You see the future, I hear.”

“I see people, for a price. Not the future. Nobody can do that. It’s rather early, so I hope you’ve got money in that big coat,” you step aside to let him inside. He almost hesitates. Second thoughts are not something Tommy likes to entertain. To falter, to ruminate, is to dance at the edge of cowardice. Tommy pushes onward and crosses the threshold of your home. Thus begins the start of a most unusual affair.

The lighting was dim in your little flat, and on the walls were dozens of shadowboxes were every assortment of insect on display. In fact, nearly everything in your home appeared to be some sort of collection. Orderly in their presentation but crowded due to lack of space. All the furniture looked inherited rather than new, but that was typical. There was the scent of lavender and cedar in the air. As he passed by two sticks of incense burning on the mantle of your fireplace, he found the origin of the fragrance.

‘No trace of any other resident in the home. No husband. How modern’, he thought. As he made his observations, Tommy was painfully aware of your eyes on his back. You guided him silently to a small room with two sofas facing each other. He sat opposite to you, not bothering to remove his cap. As you sit across from him, your eyes are everywhere but him. Roving about the room as you tap your thumb to the tip of each finger on your hand. By the way you were sitting, someone just entering the room might assume you were a guest by how stiff your posture was. Back completely straight, both feet firmly planted on the floor. This was your home, your time, and Tommy looked more at ease sitting on your own furniture.

“I normally have tea prepared, but you don’t drink tea anyway, so I won’t bother with the kettle this time,” you say as your bottom hits the sofa cushion. He hears you. He hears you make a correct assumption about him, but he does not show his acknowledgement.

Tommy threads his fingers together on his lap, “They say you can see inside of people, tell them things about them that even they don’t know.”

Blinking owlishly at him you reply, “My, that’s a lovely review of my services! Should put that on a sign outside my doorway. Though I would rather know why you came to see me, Mr. Shelby. You are Mr. Shelby yes?”

“That I am,” he nearly laughs, “and I am not entirely sure why I came to see you either.”

Your eyes snap onto his own and again he feels caught off guard by it. Slowly, you lean forward, “It’s not like you to need help. You avoid seeking it. Something has happened to you that has never happened before, you do not know how to carry on because you cannot fall back on learned tactics to navigate the storm.”

He says nothing. Tommy finds you don’t require his input to carry on speaking as you tilt your head and continue. As you speak, you never break eye contact. Your gaze is one that leaves him feeling stripped to the bone. Flesh peeled back and pinned so that you may inspect him further with an objective, curious eye, "One of the walking wounded, soldier come home from war. You don't sleep well. None of you do. But, you hide it better than most."

"Quite the assumption," he deadpanned.

You carry on as if not hearing him, “A Catholic without Christ. Guilty but without remorse. You only follow yourself and yet you have lost faith within. So, you act out of your own character to try to find a solution to a problem you’ve made yourself. A problem with solutions you can't commit to.”

Tommy’s heart is beating faster in his chest. The plain-faced woman who greeted him at the door has been replaced. Your face seems to change, the sir around you shifting. There is a thrill in being seen. A thrill, but also annoyance. “And what would you do to solve such a problem?”

“It wouldn’t help you to know what anyone else would do. Even if my way was best, you wouldn’t obey it. Obedience is not something you do willingly,” there’s a smile in your eyes that makes his hands tighten around each other. “Is your greatest problem above, below, or beside you?”

His face remains stoic as he mulls over your odd question. He thinks of those beneath him, the factory workers who riot and cause him distraction. Beside him, his brothers in arms and brothers by blood. Ada. Freddie…. Grace. And then he thinks of Campbell and Kimber. “Above me, always.”

You nod, “There was no need for you to come see me. You know the answer to the question before you asked it. The greatest woe for you is that there are matters of the heart keeping you from stabbing upwards to the enemies who stand over you. You aren’t used to having that sort of obstacle... You need to decide what you want more and act accordingly. To have both things will end poorly, but I can't stop you. Nobody can but you.”

For a moment, he feels a sense of relief. It had been many years since the words of a stranger had done that to him. This feeling was overtaken by an immediate realization. He had come to you under the assumption that you were gifted by second-sight. Yet… You had no cards, no crystals, did not say a prayer or even a hymn in a nonsense language.

“You’re no medium,” he states it as fact. Not as a question or accusation. Though, he watches to see how you take it. Tommy likes to see how people respond to being caught, he finds it to be the most revealing time for most. For the third or fourth time since he laid eyes on you, you defied expectation.

With a slow shrug you say, “I’ve never made the claim that I was one. Everyone started saying so one day and I decided not to correct them. I just read people.”

‘What an odd woman,’ Tommy leaned back in his seat. Face still as stone. As he looked at you, your posture returned to that stiff, nearly-too-straight, position from before. He could see why the average man would see you as something beyond the natural. Ordinary to otherworldly. An odd woman indeed. You stand from your couch with a small, crooked smile, “That’ll be ten quid, Mr. Shelby, a discount for a first-time reading. It'll be thirteen for the next time.”

He pushed the money into your hands and said, "Won't be a next time." You gave him no audible response as you walked him to your door and released him from the dreamworld your home had trapped him in. Tommy did not look back as he walked three paces from your door and lit a cigarette. No one had seen him and he had a feeling you wouldn't share his visit with others.

Tommy pushed you from his mind to focus on what may come next.

The rest of the day moved quickly and slowly all at once after he left your little flat. He swore to himself that he would never go back. Swore that he hated every instant spent in your dark home that smelled of lavender and cedar. Swore that he despised the way you peeled back his skin with that glare so sharp. No, he couldn't feel them on him. Not at all.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x you #Thomas Shelby x autistic!reader #autistic!reader

287 notes · View notes

ghostlywhiskey · 5 months

Text

John Price - Hell on Earth - Part 2

Pairing: Lawyer!John Price x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,304 Warnings: Mentions of masturbation Summary: Three months into being Price's main paralegal and while the late nights, work load and attitude is everything you expected - there's something you didn't entirely expect to find out about him. Notes: I recommend reading part one before this part, just to understand a few things, etc. Please be advised I did not proofread at all, so if you catch anything I apologize. I always read through after posting and fix things. But, here is part two of lawyer!price. Enjoy! :) ▸read part one here ▸find my masterlist here

It had been two weeks since the odd behavior John displayed when you had stayed back late at the office the same night as him. But, as quick as he was timid and distant after that night, he was back to his regular self even quicker.

And if possible, an even more intensified version of himself. While some days he had opted to work from home after court, he had been in every single day. All the paralegals on edge with his looming presence in the office, which was a downside of him being in every day. For you personally, it was ten times worse considering you handled all of his files.

Everyone just had to avoid and stay clear of his gaze. That wasn’t the case for you - there was no way to avoid him being the handling paralegal on all his files. Any drafts of documents, questions on cases, updates and everything of importance brought to his attention. But you quickly learned that while he seemed in a bad mood to everyone else, you were able to gauge where he stood on certain days based on how loud or quiet he was in his office and the way his emails were worded - down to the punctuation being an indicator.

The cheat sheet was as followed:

Thanks! - The exclamation would make others quick to assume he was in a good mood, but you learned it just meant he was annoyed.

Thanks. - Avoid him at all costs that day if possible. He’s pissed. Can’t avoid him? Then hope everything you send him is perfect and error free.

Thank you. - While it seems harsh and again, the period making him sound pissed off, it was the complete opposite. The addition of you made it genuine on his end. It was the same when he spoke, you noticed a small tug at the corner of his lip when he would say ‘thank you’ before quickly heading off back into his office.

You never did come across a ‘Thank you!” yet, but that bridge would be crossed when you get there.

And in terms of how he signed off on an email, while his signature block was always included, he always added John or JP before it.

John - Typically used with outside counsel.

JP - Used with the in office employees, quick and simple.

But since working with him directly, you noticed he used ‘Price’ with you a lot. It felt a lot less personal and personal at the same time. ‘Price’ as if he didn’t want you to refer to him by his actual name, making it less personal. But, it was personal in the sense that you noticed it was never used with anyone else in the office after asking a few others.

Regardless, every day you were becoming a more skilled paralegal based on the content of work John was giving you. Which part of you was thankful for, it would help in the long run for when you would decide to go to law school or if you would try getting another job, making any application of yours appealing.

The sound of your name penetrated through the closed office door, your body instantly stilling and the email you were writing coming to an abrupt stop. The way your brain ran through all the tasks you had done thus far today to try and figure out if you had done something wrong, but nothing coming to mind.

Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the desk and stood up to walk to his door. Knuckles tapping three times on his door to make your presence on the other side known before you opened it, standing in the doorway as you made eye contact with him.

“I need a motion for a protective order. Son of a bitch filed a notice to admit.” was the only context Price had given you, no file name or anything. Nor a greeting.

But having familiarized yourself enough with all of his files, you knew the exact case he was discussing. The notification from the court came earlier today that it was filed.

“I’ll draft it for your review and get the exhibits ready.” you said confidently, having drafted one before you had an idea of what he would want to include.

“Fuckin’ bullshit.” he muttered, tossing papers in his hand onto his desk and standing up. “I want it filed today. I’ll review it before it goes out.”

“Yes, sir.” was the only response you gave, not wanting to deal with the wrath he would exude from the remainder of the day.

And that’s how you were up until 11:00 PM that night. After multiple revisions emailed back and forth between you and Price, exhibits prepared and reordered more than once; your finger finally pressed the ‘CONFIRM FILING’ button at the bottom of the court website.

And when the confirmation page popped up, you quickly saved the receipt into the file and shut your laptop. Standing up from your desk, you made your way to the bathroom and finally got ready for bed. The need for sleep hung over you as your feet dragged you to bed, collapsing onto the mattress. As you were setting your alarm, the text notification at the top rang out into your room to meet only the sound of your soft breathing.

John Price (Work): Thank you. Appreciate you staying up to file it.

For a moment, you thought your sleep deprived brain was pulling a trick on you. But, you had forgotten when he assigned you to all of his cases that you had exchanged numbers. It was just the first time he decided to use it instead of emailing.

Fingers quickly typed a response as your eyes were on the verge of shutting. Quick and simple you responded:

You’re welcome. Have a good night.

The last thing you remembered was your phone slipping from your hand as you rolled over in bed, sleep overtaking your body until the alarm would wake you up the next morning.

And the next few days went on seemingly normal, whatever twisted normal was when it came to working in a high anxiety inducing firm.

While Price had left closer towards the end of the day, around 4:00 PM, his last hour was spent with the door shut and obnoxious music blasting; you still found yourself in the office again until 7:00 that night.

The usual cleaning lady, who you learned was named Ana after multiple nights spent clocking overtime, made her way around the office. But, what caught your attention was when you heard her scuff while she was in John’s office. Intrigued, you couldn’t help but glance over and straighten in your seat as you watched her dump the contents of his trash can into her larger one.

“Everything alright, Ana?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what caused her disgust.

“Is Mr. Price sick?” she asked, coming out of his office with her cleaning cart.

Sick? In the head, maybe. Fighting the common cold, not so much.

“Not that I know of, no.” you shook your head, the expression on your face must have given away the fact you were wondering why she had asked.

“So many tissues in his trash.” she huffed, shaking her head. “Don’t go near him, maybe have some soup tonight to keep yourself from getting sick.” Ana suggested before reaching for your trash can to dump the contents into hers.

“Mhm,” you hummed, not thinking much of it. “Will do, Ana.”

“He’s jerking off.” Morgan says flatly, her espresso martini meeting her lips before she sets it back down on the table. Finally, you had met with her for drinks after you left the office that night, no excuse to use as it was a Friday night.

“You’re crazy. There is no fucking way,” Morgan’s hand going up to stop you as she leans forward in her chair, elbows resting on the table.

“What reason might a man, who isn’t sick, have a shit ton of tissues in his garbage?” her words make your body stiffen at the fact she might be right. “A man who is jerking off.” she answered her own question, her drink coming to her lips once more.

Not sure why you find yourself trying to defend him, you roll your eyes before speaking, “I doubt someone as professional as him is jerking off during the work day in his office.”

Morgan’s eyes stare directly at you while she holds her glass close to her lips, the silence building until she chuckles. “You’re serious?”

Shifting in your seat, you reach for your own drink and take a sip.

“You’re quiet because you know my assumption is right.” she points out, setting the glass down. “If people have sex in the office, I’m sure jerking off isn’t as far fetched.”

“No one’s having sex in the office.”

“I am.”

“Morgan!” you exclaim, chucking your crumpled napkin at her. “Are you fucking joking?” the hiss of your words causing her to giggle again, her head shaking ‘no’.

“Kidding, but my coworker is.” she sings out the last two words, a smile appearing on her face. The thought of it makes you think more about her assumption of Price.

That man is way too tense. Angry. Surely he would be far more pleasurable if he was jerking off at least.

The snap of her fingers in your face pulls you from your thoughts as you leave your zoned out state.

“Play detective instead of lawyer one day. See if you can figure it out.”

And that is how on Monday you found yourself distracted the whole day as you tried to get work done. Price had been in the office since you got in around your usual time, his door opened for most of the morning until noon when he had a call.

The call lasted for no more than 30 minutes, the indicator being the loud music that once again blasted through the closed door. Your body perked up, head turning away from your desk as you looked towards his office door.

What if the music is to sound out...oh my god.

Quickly grabbing your phone, your fingers typing into the Google search bar: ‘how long does it take for a guy to jerk off’.

5 minutes. 10 minutes. An hour. All of these answers are different.

Your eyes glance back at the door and then at your clock on the computer. If I give it ten minutes, maybe I can try knocking on his door. Setting the phone down, you bit your nails as you clicked away on your computer, but your eyes were more so focused on the clock rather than actual work.

And when ten minutes hit, your body raised from the chair and legs slowly made their way towards his door. Knocking softly at first due to the fact you didn’t want him to hear it, part of you wanting to be in denial that he could be jerking off.

But, when there was no response, you knocked again louder. This time, a voice combining with the music behind the door.

“Five minutes.” his voice was stern, you didn’t notice anything abnormal about the tone, but quietly you retreated to your desk.

It didn’t mean anything, it didn’t confirm anything. And when you resumed your work, you nearly had forgotten you had knocked on his door as you got wrapped up in work. Except, the door abruptly opening more than five minutes later startled you as you looked over to see Price.

The color of his cheeks had a red hue to them, besides that, everything about him was put together.

“Did you knock?” his throat clearing as he asked, hands slipping into his pockets of his pants.

“Uh,” you looked at him, caught off guard by his question despite the fact you were expecting it.

He furrowed his brows, but his expression wasn’t one of confusion, but rather annoyance. “It’s a yes or no question.” he stated, walking closer to your desk. The warmth radiated through your body out of nerves, watching as he got closer.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, I knocked,” you confirmed, looking up at him as he towered over your seated body. “But I figured out the answer to my question. It was silly.”

His mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape as he stepped back, nodding. “Alright,” his throat cleared again before he started to head back to his office. “I have another meeting at two, don’t go knocking unless you are completely unsure about a question.” The door to his office slammed shut, causing your body to jolt.

The rest of the day went by rather quickly after that and Price left not long after his meeting. However, for once you stayed back willingly despite having no work or deadlines to worry about.

Ana wasn’t going to make her rounds in your office until 7 and everyone else was cleared out as you peeked around the office at 5:30.

So, as you got back to your desk area, you couldn’t help but make your way to Price’s office. Your hand reached for the light switch on the wall, glancing around the office before you stepped further in.

Turn around and accept you have no proof he was jerking off. No, don’t turn around - get confirmation.

The voice in your head going back and forth with itself as you walked over to his desk, pulling his chair back. As you bent down, you grabbed the rim of the trash can and pulled it towards you, peeking in.

Tissues.

And before you could process anything else, the same gruff voice that became the reason for your around the clock anxiety filled the office.

“What are you doing?”

For all my non-law besties, here's a quick explanation of the legal jargon I mentioned:

Notice to Admit - A notice to admit facts is an invitation to another party to admit specific facts or parts of a case. If no reply is made within twenty days, or at a time set by the court, the matters contained in the notice to admit are deemed admitted.

Motion for Protective Order - A request made by a party to the court to limit or prevent the disclosure of certain information or documents in a legal proceeding. In this instance, arguing that the Notice to Admit is being used as a purpose to disclose discovery, but that is not the purpose of it. Therefore, an abuse of the purpose of the Notice to Admit.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price smut #john price #captain john price #john price x female reader #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #lawyer!price #captain price #john price cod

330 notes · View notes