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delfiore · 1 year ago

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #wwc23 #spain wnt #man united women

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wilwheaton · 9 months ago

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youtube

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D'Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn't want to be an actor, whose eyes can't hide the pain? I'm your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and saved by the Man Who Fell To Earth, who uses a glowing crystal to save his life from ... some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden - Piece of Mind

Judas Priest - Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P - The Last Command

(I know this was in March of 1987, because Turbo had just come out.)

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it's-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don't accumulate albums like I once did, because I'm Old and set in my ways.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years.

There was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don't have any of the others -- I looked -- but The Last Command was right there.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The title track was just as great as I remembered it. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was ... um. It just didn't connect with me, and for the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I don't think it ever really did. I would remember.

But I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn't want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started.

I didn't listen to the second side. I didn't need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

#music #memories #records #Youtube

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kwillow · 3 months ago

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Does Theo even have a game plan to stave off poverty? Or is he just going to eventually end up dead and destitute in a gutter somewhere? 😩

Sure, he has a plan. It is, um… elegant in its simplicity, shall we say.

Listen, Theo is an intelligent guy if we measure by fact recall and ability to learn new skills, but he’s not much of a planner, more of a single-minded, self-destructive, do-or-die-er.

Thankfully for him, he’s not so poor he’s about to starve. Before his mother died, they were getting by. They were poor for the circles they traveled in - political players and dignitaries, where poverty is defined by the inability to maintain a large household staff instead of not knowing where your next meal is going to come from.

Theo has enough money stashed away to maintain his current hermit’s lifestyle, wherein his only real splurge is eating something other than canned food once every few months. So you don’t need to worry about him (for a while, anyway).

In theory, he could shore up his finances by doing what he is supposed to as Northcrest’s resident mage instead of going crazy alone in his house. Collecting fees or tax proceeds in exchange for using magic to help the public is how his family historically earned their keep, but he hasn’t exactly been holding up his end of the bargain. Many townspeople think he died at some point, so they’ve stopped bothering to set aside funds for work he’s not doing for reasons of apparent laziness, madness or decomposition. That's a little bit of money he could get his hands on, but he's too busy chasing his pipe-dream/nightmare instead.

Even if he did end up running out of money completely, he wouldn’t end up a corpse in a gutter anyway. He’d sooner die than let anyone take his manor from him. So he’s end up a corpse in a decaying old mansion instead! Much more dignified.

#if i were to depict his “plan” more honestly it would also have a lot of ???? steps before step 1 here #it's a work in progress. he's improvising here and there #asks #theo #doodles #currently going through it and helping family so all you get this week is an old meme reference and a lore dump #next week? who knows...

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generalllimaginesss · 10 months ago

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Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #jh86 #toxic relationship #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #megan moroney

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asunflowerana · 3 months ago

Text

mishaps — Itoshi Rin

“I love you, Rin.”

He swallows the rest of whiskey in his glass, the malt and alcohol burning his throat as he tries to chug it all down. He wants to suppress his senses and hush his mind, anything to stop the non-stop aching in his heart.

He just wants to forget, but the remorse keeps whispering in his head, from the moment his eyes found your figure among the mingling bodies in the room. Someone he hasn’t seen in years, that he didn't realised how much he longed for until now. The gentle tone of your voice, your bright smile when you saw something you liked, the twinkle in your eyes whenever you watched one of his matches; the feeling of holding you, having you right there between his arms even though a brief moment, made most of his days in high school. The sound of his name running through your honey lips, excited, apprehensive, sad, hopeful.

Once, Rin had all of you versions. Now, he can only get a small, superficial glimpse, which is still beautiful because it’s a part of you.

He wants to have the whole you again.

But how could he, after what he said?

“Rin.” As if his problems couldn’t get any worse, he hears Sae's voice close to him, taking the opportunity to sit on the free stool aside his. Shoulders tensing, Rin anticipates another pitiful conversation, wondering if he could be fast enough to make up a small excuse and escape to the bathroom. It’s hard enough to have your own mind reminding you of your mistakes; he doesn't want to hear it from Sae too.

Not that he can stop him, anyway.

“Your teammates are looking for you. That lanky guy wants a couple of pictures for the press” Ego. He almost forgets why he's in this party, among futile golddiggers, instead of the safety of his home.

With the promising future of Blue Lock 11, the company held a gala event to promote the project and acquire more sponsorships. All the eleven best players were obligated to make an appearance, in addition to some guests of honor, renowned players, soccer club presidents, and some contemplated journalists.

A game of pretenses, appearances, and a lot of money involved. Another reason he wants to leave as soon as possible. This party was over before it even started for him.

“Not interested.” He lifts his hand to the barman for another round. He doesn't even bother to turn his face toward his brother, keeping his piercing eyes away from attention. The pink-haired man beside him chuckles, finding the scene too amusing.

“You know, she moved on quite quickly.” Rin clenches his jaw. Sae knows exactly how to push his buttons, and the bastard won't stop until he gets a reaction out of him. “Why are you so pitiful? It's not like you didn't reject her in the first place.”

Words that stings like alcohol on a fresh wound. Why cant' he just leave him alone? His situation is torturing enough. He can’t help but glance at the happy couple a few meters away, slow-dancing on the dancefloor with a sickening fond gaze at each other, as if they're the only thing that matters there.

Red take sover his vision, watching that man’s arm wrapped around your waist, bringing your bodies close to each other in a embrace. An intimacy that not him, but his own teammate created with you.

Hyoma Chigiri it's the name of the man who stole the happiness Rin refused in the past. The man who hasn’t taken his eyes and hands off you, earning your smiles and flustered giggles as he impeccably leads you on, just like in those scenes from fairytales. The man who doesn’t need pointless words to express how beautiful you are, but do it with honesty, just by staring at you.

The man who placed a gold, diamond ring on your right finger, as a promise of his unending love for you.

Rin wants to break him apart right there, but he chooses to gulp down his replaced dose of beverage, the only thing that can hold him down, as ironic as it is. He ends it in one shot, having enough of this terribly and long night.

“Tell them I left sooner.” Not waiting for an answer, he places a tip on the counter to the bartender, poor guy did quiet a good job at bearing his grumbles and sorrow. Ego probably won’t like his departure, he hasn't shown much of himself through the night, but in the end of the day, Rin doesn't give a care.

“Running away, I see.” Sae scratches his chin, observing his younger brother's. It's not a situation he could intervene even if he wanted to, but man, it’s irritating to watch Rin's childishness, preferring to sulk in silence instead of fighting for what he lost. You loved him before, you could love him again. He might be a good player now, but he's still as dumg as ever.

“Maybe it was for the best. She wouldn’t be happy with a coward dragging her down, anyway.”

Rin stills. His brother should thank heaven for the few steps he took away from him, or he would have a bloody broken nose for everyone to see. It would be unfair, though, because he doesn't disagree with him. He does wants to get you back, but no amount of trys will change the fact that he rejected you. You wouldn’t forgive him, even if your eyes no longer hold resentment when gazing at his

Now, they hold indifference. Maybe a bit of politeness you grant for people you've just met, but it's not the same way you used to look at him. And that's so much worse, ‘cause it means that what you both had lost its significance; as if he's no longer worth keeping in your memory.

“Good evening, Itoshi.” IIt's how you greeted him earlier, with nothing but cordiality.

He was never Itoshi to you. He was Rin, your Rin.

“I love you, Rin”

“....I don’t.”

Two words. Two cursed words, coming so easily out of his mouth, made him lose everything. Everything, over a stupid teenager pride. Love was not on young Rin's plans, the only goal filling his mind was to become the world's best striker, and defeat his brother. Love would be a waste of time and effort, and he didn’t want anything to disrupt his ambition.

His own mind disrupts him now.

Giving a final, challenging gaze at his brother, he mumbles. “Don't talk to me as if you were better.” And then he leaves, taking the phone from his pants pocket to order a taxi back to the dorm. He’ll probably practice a few extra hours the next day to make up for the misfortune, but he doesn’t mind.

As long as he forgets, anything will do.

n/a: writing angst is so bittersweet... rinrin will have his redemption, i hope😬

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fridgrave2-0 · 2 months ago

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We share so many headcanons for Felix and Turbo that it's actually so exciting to see someone who shares a perspective very similar to mine on their characters! I feel like Turbo while dating Felix was less grumpy and sad as a lot of people interpret him :[ like he's not a perfect person ever and he has a million flaws but he also lived as king candy for a while. He's gonna be a little silly, I think. In fact, I think he'd only get that way (mostly) bc of Felix. Like Felix saw this mentally ill guy and went, "I can make him WORSE!" And then justified it to everyone as "I don't know what happened he just went insane!" for almost 30 years. I'd bet half my money that he even coined the term "going Turbo"

YES, EXACTLY, THIS!!!!

let the guy feel happy and silly in a company of someone who's "safe". turbo cannot allow to change others' perception of him by acting out of the line (aka his constant "I'm the best" bravado), but with felix he can relax a little and have a moment of peace when he doesn't have to put on a façade so much. but in the end, the only time he didn't wear a mask was when he was all alone after roadblasters, and being apart from felix was exactly what set him free

felix can't understand anyone else's problems until he goes through something similar and it gets shoved in his face, and even tho he liked turbo a lot back in the day, he was ignorant to things what were troubling turbo. his need of attention and appreciation wasn't normal, and there's only two options: felix supported it to the point when it got out of control, or he was dismissing turbo's concerns and frustrations. I don't see turbo as someone who understands his own emotions, and felix isn't a guy who would help him and guide him into healthier ways of seeking attention because felix himself is just immature and doesn't look outside of his bubble. if he feels good and happy and that his life is fulfilled, that means everyone else like turbo or ralph or else feel that way too. "you have your game, you are a main character, you earn your rewards. what else do you need?" felix would say, genuinely not understanding how neglectful he is. and turbo, disdained by everyone but felix, cannot explain why it's so important, or give a sign how damaging it is to his self-perception and self-esteem. turbo is already shaped into someone who keeps everything to himself, and seeing that felix doesn't want and won't understand him just makes every negative emotion and every concern accumulate in him, rot and poison him until it's too late

I'm sure turbo seeked for an advise when roadblasters were plugged in, but, as always, he was treated with "you're worrying too much. it's gonna be fine. just calm down. no one is trying to take your place". the same exact place by felix's side turbo doesn't feel he belongs to anymore. the same place for which he stepped over himself to open up, made a crack in a safe shell and was met with ignorance. is this what he tried to bent himself for, to be a different person for someone who just isn't willing to understand? to expose his back to others who are waiting for him to fall?

turbo felt rejected. he was rejected. by players and by the person he trusted most. and then he lost control, let the emotions boil out. and then the games were unplugged, his rivals and his home. he felt the invisible strings tearing up, ripping pieces of him out and living a hole that cannot be filled anymore. his connection to his game, his code, his life and soul

he crawled back to the one he also called home, damaged by another crash, the damage that won't heal anymore, because his game was gone. he crawled to felix, hiding from everyone's sight, scared of seeing nothing but "we knew it would happen" in their eyes. he didn't want to prove their expectations to be right. but when he noticed felix through the cracks in the tunnels under gcs, this was exactly what he saw

"he was so jealous. he was crazy... i should've seen it coming", felix said with a glimpse of regret on his face, too small to show the loss he should've feel. instead, there was it. the disappointment — and nothing else for the long ten years of hiding. his name turned into a common noun, a scary story, a legend he never wanted to be. but still, thanks to felix and his fantasies, his inability too see further than his exes' fake façade, turbo did actually become

a legend

#sheesh im sorry about that #i can just yapping about them nonstop #anyway their song is “every me and every you” by placebo #very turbo pov #i hate them so much #just get a fucking therapy for couples #and individual #ughh #80s boyfriends #hammertastic #turbo #turbotastic #fix it felix jr #wreck it ralph

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pinkgy · 4 months ago

Text

PB is fucking things up, but there's hope, and here's why

During the past hours i've gave different opinions about this whole mess that's going on with What in Hell is Bad, but this is my final opinion.

Please, don’t attack me for “justifying” PrettyBusy, because I’m not, I already expect bad reactions because of this post.

I decided to write this because moments ago I checked the game's Reddit page and well, i already knew that many people has been quitting the game for various reasons, like the constant bugs and the lack of new content, but within the past hours this number increased significantly and almost every player of What in Hell is Bad that has some kind of presence in social media related to the game has spoken up about this, and i'm glad this is happening. For change to happen people needs to speak up, but i think that by know, PrettyBusy already knows it. I talked about this in a reblog i did some weeks ago, but i'll say this again, PrettyBusy is a business, a small one, but a business, and they have and can keep track of many things that are going on in the game, and by now, they probably noticed that they are losing players even without having to check what's going on in different social medias, and my hypothesis is that there's some internal issue going on for them to have so many unfulfilled promises and so many things that are lacking in the game. But i don't mean to say that we should be considerate, that's something that's up to every singular person.

They know about what's going on, and if you ask me, i believe that by the end of the day we will have an update from them explaining everything, Prettybusy may be fucking up many things right now, but they are really receptive and i think many of us have noticed that with the past issues, the last one being when they deleted the mission that involved using Nightmare coins during the past Nightmare Pass when many of us started to complain about it, they had no need to fix that because it wasn't an impossible mission, really hard i must admit, but not impossible, but they still did and compensated us later. And no, i'm not excusing PrettyBusy, I’m just trying to see the positive side out of this. PrettyBusy is being greedy, not event the biggest dating games have 40$ cards, or even content that is worth that amount of money, and for a game that doesn't even have a year since it's release that is absolutely inconsiderate, my theory is that they noticed that those overly expensive cards were actually being sold by players so they thought that if they released others, the same would happen and the F2P players would just ignore it and keep playing, and they ended up making a mistake by saturating the game with paid content and neglecting those parts of the game that are actually important, the Main Story and the Organic Players. And surprisingly, this is a common mistake many companies do, but they usually end up fixing it, because at the end of the day, us, Organic Players of What in Hell is Bad are the best promotion for the game, or any game in question since this example can be used for many other situations, a singer can have the biggest billboards, the best music, the most expensive commercials, but the fans are always going to remain as the best promotion they could have EVER, and if they don't have fans, they won't be successful. And if me, a normal 19 year old college student can realize this, i'm sure a COMPANY, a BUSINESS, can definitely do it way better and quicker too. No game wants to lose players, yes, they're earning 40$ for selling those cards, but they’re losing waaaaay more by losing F2P players, and summarizing the last tho paragraphs, PrettyBusy needs us because we are money.

It makes me really sad to see many players lose interest in the game, and if any of you care, I'm not leaving, at least not for the time being, i know it sounds dumb to see the positive side of everything that's going on (Because it's definitely not positive at all) but i will keep doing it, I like the game but that doesn't mean I'm going to justify what PrettyBusy is doing, and I think that's a valid opinion.

To conclude this, I’m going to gaslight myself into thinking that PrettyBusy isn't dumb and they do know that what they're doing it's wrong, and they will search for a way to fix this as soon as possible, and if you think this is impossible, read again this post because that's the whole purpose of it. I hope I'm right, but if I'm not, then I’ll try to stay optimistic until they fuck it up again.

If you want to mail PrettyBusy complaining about this, I'm really glad you are! I'm working on a mail too, I recommend you read THIS post before you do it, and please, remain respectful.

Thank you so much for reading this long-ass post! I'll gladly accept any addition to this post or any comment, but please remain respectful, and remember, this is a personal opinion, I'm also a F2P player, and believe me when I say that I'm as mad as you are about this but I just have my own point of view of it.

#whb #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in “hell” is bad?#whb mess #pinkgy thoughts #prettybusy what in hell is bad

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amymbona · 4 months ago

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I'm so obsessed with the idea that Patrick will have a daughter, not a son! but a daughter. And I need to read something abt ex-husband! Patrick and their daughter again. Saw ur bot in character.ai, but I need something more on this topic, 'm dying 😭😭

Patrick is hundred percent a girl dad, that's an iternationally known fact! I was almost convinced that I posted some headcanons about girl dad Patrick but I can't find it anywhere on my tumblr, so maybe it was just a dream. 😟

Despite Patrick being quite a reckless prick, you're always sure she's safe with him. He can be a bit messy, you're well aware, as you used to be a frequent coordinator of his messiness, but with your daughter, he could earn a master's degree in cautiousness. It's almost surpising to you, how clean his place is and how beautiful of a room he has made for daughter there, with pink walls and a princess bed, all to ensure his daughter gets the treatment she deserves.

Sometimes, when you drop her off and catch a glimpse of the pristine marble counter in his kitchen, you get very doubtful of your own job as a mother. It's not like you're poor, no, but with Patrick being a successful and now retired tennis player, he's able to afford whatever you have times three. And for that reason, you're afraid your daughter would tend to gravitate towards him. After all, you work a lot and aren't able to buy her all the toys she'd like (you'd be able to, if you accepted all the money Patrick has generously offered you over time, but your own pride doesn't allow you to) and Patrick is basically a stay at home dad, constantly present and showering her with gifts.

This is a thought that you've managed to keep safe from the outside world, mainly from Patrick. Despite him being allowed to see his daughter at any time, her permanent residence is your place, and after the divorce you've been assigned as her number one guardian - a mutual agreement between Patrick and yourself, as you both know the little girl needs her mother's presence more - you're still too afraid that the moment Patrick sees you fall behind, he'll attempt to gain full custody over her. And that would be an absolute stab in your heart.

Each time you drop the little one off, he notices you disheveled appearance and offers you to take care of your daughter for a day or two longer so you could get some rest. He even offers you money again, so you don't have to work your ass off and stay at home with your daughter instead. But again, you reject.

"At least come inside," he insists, bouncing the little one in his arms.

"No, Patrick, I have stuff to do," you reject his offer with a shake of your head.

Patrick rolls his eyes just subtly enough so your daughter wouldn't notice. "Don't be stubborn. I'll make you some tea."

So you do come in, finding yourself absolutely unable to oppose Patrick. In full honesty, you're too tired to fight him, feeling like you could fall asleep even when you're standing on your feet. The last couple of days have been rough and you simply weren't able to get enough sleep.

"I'll go make it," Patrick announces, his voice much softer as his hands are now free and your daughter runs in the direction of her room.

"Okay," you nod, unable to offer even a simple smile and follow your daughter. You've only seen her room at Patrick's about two times, but that was about half a year ago, and your curiosity gets the best of you. "How about you show me what's new in your room?"

"Yes, yes!" the girl's little hand slips into yours and she drags you behind herself with the force of a horse, probably having inherited that after her father. "Daddy got me a new lego house last time. Come, look!"

You follow the little bundle of joy into her room, a gasp leaving your mouth when you see the little princess chamber Patrick has transformed it into. A pink canopy bed sits in the centre of the room, surrounded by an uncountable amount of toys all over the floor, various houses for her Barbie dolls lined up by the wall. A giant teddy bear is occupying an armchair in the corner, where Patrick probably sits when he reads her bed time stories, and little stars that presumably shine at night are hanging off of the ceiling. This is nothing like the excuse of a room she has at your place. This is way better...

With a yawn, you drop down on the bed, the soft mattress creaking under the weight of your body, while your daughter begins excitedly showing you all the outfits she put together for her falls, explaining how this one is meant for a casual walk and that one will be worn at a Barbie winter ball. Her eyes are glowing and she's clearly in her element, constantly pulling your attention with look, mommy! from one gift to another. She has everything she'll ever need in here.

The distant noise of the running kettle fills your ears as you lower yourself down, knees curling up by your chest as the bed clearly isn't made for someone your size. But you're really fucking tired at the moment and just need to rest for a while. While your daughter plays, your eyes follow all the goods in her room, eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Perhaps if you close them for just a few seconds, it'll get better.

Just few minutes after that, Patrick's curly head peaks through the door, a cup of black tea in his hands. "There you go, now we can- Oh."

The sight in front of him is something he would have never expected to see in a million years, his ex wife, evidently absolutely worn out, funnily curled up in the toddler bed and snoring softly. It's pitiful, and at first, he wants to laugh and make fun of you for being so pathetic. But then it hits him, like a dagger straight through his heart, that you're really fucking exhausted.

Patrick squats down by the bed, eyes settling on your beautiful face, so pale and almost lifeless. It hurts him to see you like that and he doesn't have the heart to wake you up, deciding that even if you don't suit the surroundings at all, you deserve to stay asleep as long as possible. So he gathers the bunched up princess blanket and places it over your back gently. With a small, partially guilty smile, he smooths the blanket down and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"Come on, princess," he gets up with a small pat on his thighs and walks around the bed to scoop your daughter into his arms. She's so similar to you, a little reminder of what he has lost. "We're gonna let mommy rest."

#challengers #patrick zweig #josh o'connor #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig x reader #girl dad!au #dad!patrick zweig #ex!patrick zweig #ask #challengers movie

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siegecraft · 1 year ago

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Defining spaces, work-play separation, and avoiding TTRPG burnout.

I’ve seen a lot of folks in indie TTRPGs talk about overlapping issues and experiences around feeling burned out, not being able to keep up with new games, playing games starting to feel—or actually being—always for work rather than for fun.

I have begun to think of this issue as a game is never just a game. Not in the sense that it can’t be, but that many people working in TTRPGs in some capacity don’t allow it to be. Play has become the secondary function, because the game's primary function is no longer play, but something else. Be that a playtest, an Actual Play (AP) recording, a charity stream, content creation fodder (a review, a blog post, a video essay), a self-imposed obligation to stay on top of industry trends, etc. Because it is for work rather than play, the game is no longer play.

My firmly held litany against that is twofold:

1. Name the purpose of the game.

A playtest or AP can be fun, but you can't trick yourself into believing that that instance of play is for the sake of it. There’s a book I love called The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters by Priya Parker. One of the key takeaways is to be deeply intentional, for yourself and for the people joining you, in defining why you have gathered together. What does this do?

It frees you from the mismatched expectations that inevitably emerge when intentions are not set. The rules and expectations for a playtest are not the same as they are for play’s sake, so get everyone on the same page.

It allows you to fully take advantage of this instance of play for its primary function. Letting go of the notion that you’re “just” playing a game lets you set expectations different from those in a space where you’re playing for play’s sake.

Whenever I playtest, be that for one hour or an intended campaign, I am extremely candid with my playtesters about what I need from them. That the expectations of the space are different than when we play together for fun.

I ran a six-hour playtest of The Prince of Nothing Good a few weekends ago. If I was just running a game for fun, I would consider that a nightmare of a game length! I would never do that to my players!

But everyone had a blast with this playtest. Because we had set aside the entire day for that purpose, and said we’d play until it was done. Everyone came in with the goal of helping me iron out some kinks in the game, and was excited to do it. And that wouldn’t have been possible without defining why we were gathering at that moment, and what we were doing to make mode of gathering work for us (dedicated time, many short breaks, blanket permission to get up from the table to meet movement/food/bio needs, I bought everyone lunch).

2. Protect your time to play for the sake of play.

I believe the quickest way to kill your enjoyment of something is by making every instance of partaking in it work.

I’m aware there are Actual Play professionals who only play games as part of their jobs and not in their personal lives. That’s great for them, if they’ve figured out how to enjoy it (or earn enough money doing so that it doesn’t matter if they do), but the overwhelming majority of people in the game industry are simply not earning “only doing it for work” money. And until you are—and for most people in games, that will be never—you need to allow yourself time to just play games.

I’ve run a weekly home game since I got into TTRPGs, and I consider that space is sacred. Some of the players help me playtest outside of that game, but that weekly meeting is just for play, not work. Dedicating time for play to just be play makes it possible for it to be other things, too.

I’ve never experienced anything consider close to the TTRPG burnout, exhaustion, and frustration that I’ve heard many people talk about. I’ve done it to myself with other things! I used to read and evaluate theatre scripts for work. I’ve read literally hundreds of plays. And there was a whole chunk of time where I was still doing that and I absolutely dreaded reading plays. A friend invited me to a play reading group during the pandemic and I had to decline because reading plays was synonymous with evaluating them for what was honestly not enough money to do it.

So I just stopped. I don’t read scripts for pay anymore, and I stopped reading them for fun too, because I was at a place of deficit where even doing it “just” for fun was not appealing. I’m only now getting to a place where I am interested in reading theatrical work again. It is much harder to get back to a place of enjoyment than it is to never depart in the first place.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #everyone should read the art of gathering imo

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8momiji · 19 days ago

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Hi! Do you want to play yuri horror visual novels this Yuriween? I have some great recommendations for you.

I’m sure it will cover all you need I have a lot of visual novels ranging from vampire lesbians to vtubers.

I’m sure you will enjoy some of this titles. It’s also free to play. I hope you enjoy some of this games and make sure to support the creators by rating their game.

Welcome to the Execution Hour!

The River Bride

"The River Bride" is a visual novel based on the events of the bridal sacrifices in Ancient China. Players play as Fu Suyu, the current year's bridal sacrifice. Experience how Fu Suyu deals with her fate through accepting her duty, fighting for her life, or even experiencing love for the last time.

Maple: I love historical yuri.

Mama

One day, you’ll thank me. After all… mother knows best.

Today’s the first day of HimeCon, a Yuri convention. You’re attending with your girlfriend who’s a vendor in the artist alley. At the convention, you receive a text that ends up changing… everything.

You find yourself back in your childhood home, except this time, something’s amiss— and you’ve got to escape.

She’s always w̶̨̠̟̳͚̮̫͒͒̏̏̌͑͊̒́̂̈̀̓̒͘͠ā̷̧̠͎̤͖̝̠̯͎̎̇͒̋͑̾͑̑͂̂̽͐͂̄͘̕̕͠͠͝t̷̢̙̦͖͙̹̪̠̳̰͛̓̇̀̂̾́̉̍̈́͌̇̔̑͝ç̷̥̮͓͔̣̆̀̆̔̈́̈̀͋͛̓̈͐̕͝h̵̢̧̹̲͇̭̥̰͎͖͇̎̓͒̎̂͑̽͒͑̓͗͗̕̕͘͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅi̸̛̝̳̳̠͇͍̓͒̈́̑́̒̓̊͐͒̆͘͝ͅͅñ̶̢̡̨͓̥̞͉͓͚̞̞̞̲̤̹͙͍̙͛̋̏͗̍̽̇̒̅͊͜͠ͅg̸̪͇͋̓͋̍̈́̇̽̿̑̋̏̏̈́̋̾̋̃͘ͅ you, isn’t she?

Maple: Everyone should be allowed to have one kill count in their life.

Oto-hime

Shimako, a socially anxious office worker, escapes the pressures of her company's beach retreat by fishing alone, only to stumble upon a trapped turtle by the shore. When she rescues it, Shimako is mysteriously whisked away to a hidden underwater palace, where she meets Oto-hime, a breathtakingly beautiful but enigmatic princess. Drawn in by Oto-hime's charm and her lavish hospitality, Shimako soon realizes there is something unsettling beneath the princess's kind façade.

Maple: I want to be in a toxic relationship. I totally didn’t sneak my own game here. I want someone to gaslight me.

Underholo

A group of girls are hoping to run a successful VTuber agency so that they can chill out together for the rest of their lives but, unfortunately, the VTuber industry is secretly rigged by an underground syndicate called UnderHolo.

With your expert managerial skills, bring your very own VTuber Agency to the top of the leaderboard!

Maple: I still want to be a gay vtuber playing gay games everyday with my gay vtuber friends.

Shut-in Vampire

Oh no! Mayu’s in a pinch! She’s woefully behind on paying the rent, and her scary landlady, Miss Himemiya, has issued an ultimatum. Mayu needs to earn ¥100,000 by the end of October, or she’ll be kicked out!

Being evicted from her home would be bad enough, but Mayu has a secret: she’s actually a vampire. Mayu hasn’t been a vampire for a full year yet, and the church is keeping close tabs on her to ensure she’s been behaving herself. According to the stone-faced Sister Juriel, it’s the church’s standard policy to execute all vampires without a fixed address, lest they start roaming the streets causing chaos.

Maple: Where can I send her all my money?

End of the World

~The year 6666, October 31st , The Demon of Wishes was awoken underneath a monster extermination company~

You are Remoryn, the Demon of Wishes who's been sealed away for 4000 years.

After being released, the legend of the 3 heroes, the holy weapons, the Halloween party surrounding you, and the disappearance of... her... made everything feel overwhelmingly strange and unfamiliar.

On top of that, you're being held captive by a person named Jeok-Ah.

Who wishes for...

the end of the world

Maple: I will end the world for you.

Dead End

Closing Notes:

Watch Girls Band Cry

Maple: I'm not asking.

#yuri #visual novel #horror #halloween #indie games #yandere #vampires #girls love #girls loving girls #sapphic #yuri recs #toxic yuri #yuri vn #yandere core

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 months ago

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Nobody's Girl - Chapter Three.

Check your girl out over here like Oprah. YOU get another chapter, and YOU get another chapter, and so on! I am seriously so flattered by everyone loving the story so far, and watching you all so rabidly consuming it makes me so very happy :)

With the time off work I have had recently, it's meant the story has virtually written itself, I'm up to chapter eleven in the writing, so what I thought would originally be a shorter series has turned into a longer one, meaning I can update more regularly. Well, I can only hope you like this chapter just as much as the previous two, and if you do, remember to leave me a little comment, or a reblog. You would have my eternal gratitude for doing so!

Previous chapters - One Two

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,300

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Conversation. With a woman he wasn’t involved with. Truly, Luca couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever enjoyed such, but there he was on an otherwise quiet Thursday night experiencing just that. A soft flurry of snow gently drifted down outside, his apartment the warm cocoon he and Emily sequestered themselves within, sitting on the couch, mostly her sharing stories of her life before she’d literally fallen into his.

“I remember there was this one time, back when I first got caught up with them, I was taken for a game at this house in Queens. Joey had loaned me to his brother, Giacinto, but of course there was the issue of how he could get me in at the table. So, he made a bet on a bet, I guess you’d call it. Strode in there and announced that he bet each player two hundred bucks they couldn’t beat me in a game of seven card stud.

“Of course, part of the point of poker is counting cards, but I can do it faster and better, and I did. I won Giacinto five grand in one night, and most of the guys were pissed as hell that I’d beaten them, except for one. He was an older guy, thick glasses, big birthmark on his cheek. He told me I was every man’s worst nightmare, a pretty blonde with a brain, and he respected that.”

“That’s Jimmy Phelan, Irish mob from Philly,” Luca nodded, quite impressed that she’d grabbed his attention.

She clicked her fingers in remembrance. “Yeah, Jimmy. That was his name. I’ve met so many wiseguys that it’s hard to keep up with all of the names. I remember the ones who have curious nicknames, like Carmine the Boots, and Duck Foot Silv. I never asked how they got them, though.”

Luca knew, of course. “Carmine is the boots ‘cuz that’s what he does to those who earn it, fits ‘em with a nice set of concrete boots and sends ‘em off for a swim in the Hudson River. Silvio, they call him duck foot ‘cuz the guy was born with webbed toes.”

Her eyes widened, leaning forward in her seat. “Have you seen the toes?”

“I have,” he smirked, scratching his jaw,. “He does this trick, sticks a quarter on his big toe and flicks it about ten feet in the air.”

She snorted with giggles, sipping her drink and catching an ice cube to chew upon. The sound of her cracking it between her teeth did something to his insides that he couldn’t explain, but was very, very pleasant. “I bet he’s a good swimmer too, huh?”

“Guy don’t need no flippers, that’s for fuckin’ sure.”

He looked at her for a long moment, enchanted as usual by her loveliness. It was so easy with her. She knew exactly who and what he was, and she just accepted it without fuss, acting unguarded with him, rather than either trying to work him out or shrink in intimidation. It made a nice change, to simply experience a slice of normality like that, and especially with a woman. Most only wanted him for his money or the association of who he was.

Or his cock. He was famed for having one hell of a nice cock, after a woman he’d bedded had been very loud in her praise of it one time.

“So yeah, back to Jimmy being nice to me. He gave me a hundred dollars, said I’d earned it, being such a good card player. I was amazed, and I thought the cash was mine to keep, but not according to Giacinto. Copped a huge beating for that assumption, ended up with this.”

Hooking her finger into her mouth, she pulled her cheek back to reveal the empty gum space where her back teeth should have sat, Luca feeling caustic within. How hard must he have punched her to knock a both a double and fucking wisdom tooth out, he had to wonder, remembering how tough his own had been to have extracted by a dentist.

“Bastardo,” he hissed, picking up his drink and knocking it back, refilling it. “Ain’t no big man’s game, sluggin’ a broad. You wanna prove you have cojones? Fuckin’ walk up to the biggest fella in the room and crack him in the mouth. S’what I used to do whenever I got thrown in Sing Sing as a kid, not long after I arrived here from England.”

“Have you ever done serious time for your endeavours?” she asked, lifting the wool shawl where it had slipped from her shoulders, Luca wishing she’d left it. Any chance he got to view more of her beautiful, lily skin, and he shamelessly took it. It had been gnawing at him for the past fourteen days since she’d been there, chewing away at his resolve like a starving wolf.

Usually, he’d have made his move by now on somebody he coveted. Hell, his record was ten seconds upon seeing a woman he desired, walking up to her and brashly asking a simple, three worded question. “Wanna fuck me?” No woman ever refused him. With Emily, though, because of her sheer loveliness, as tempting as it would be to corrupt, he held himself back.

It was a fierce internal conflict he waged war with, his rampant libido dictating he simply take her to bed and bounce her on his cock until she screamed his name, the very little morality left within him castigating such, because of how innocent and sweet the girl was. He couldn’t tarnish something that lovely and pure with the infection of his darkness. Until he could come to some resolve, he supposed he’d have to simply deal with the juxtaposition of wanting to cherish her like a princess and fuck her like a whore.

She was a billion miles away from the latter, though. Hence the conflict.

Also, he got the distinct impression that she was still too scared of him. For the most part, she was settled around him, a little shy still, but definitely comfortable enough to open up to him and talk, just like she was doing on that particular evening. If he showed the weight of his desire for her, though, she’d surely bolt. The last thing he wanted was for her to flee.

“I did a few years for theft, when I was eighteen,” he eventually replied, once he’d managed to finally pull himself back out of his thoughts. “Few times being locked up here and there in the time between, too.”

“Don’t you mafia guys have the police on payroll, or something?”

That was another reason why he held himself back. Would she truly want to remain in the world she’d been held prisoner in, should he instigate anything with her? Then again, at least this time she would have a choice. “We do now, yeah. Hence why I ain’t seen a cell in a while.”

“I think I’d cry if I was ever arrested. Jail sounds scary,” she spoke, sipping her drink, her sweetness making his chest hurt. Why did she have to be the loveliest little thing he’d ever met? It was making him crazy, the want to protect her, the need to fuck her dirty, both colliding with the resolve that he’d solely keep here there until he knew all he wanted about the Calabrese family.

It was a resolve that seemed to fracture away with every second that passed in her company.

She’d given him very useful information so far, too. Safe house locations his guys had duly gone in and looted, details of deals that she’d been made privy to that he’d been able to scupper before they’d had a chance to come to fruition. Because of Emily, he had the upper hand in the war against the family who – in his mind, at least – needed to show respect and fall back into line.

What would happen when the well that was her information dried up, though? What, he was simply meant to let this beautiful little creature, this utter mythical princess of a woman unlike any others he’d encountered simply be on her way, and leave his life with a little less pure, iridescent sparkle in her wake?

He was glad of the distraction when a heavy fist pounding the door below interrupted their evening, Emily nearly jumping out of her skin.

“S’okay,” he assured her as he stood, resting a hand to her shoulder. “That’s Angelo, he has a habit of knocking like he’s the fuckin’ police.” He headed to the stairs, descending, opening the door but remaining out of her sight as he and Angelo exchanged hushed whispers. Luca appeared again after a few minutes, looking lamentable, but also angry as he pulled himself into his thick, black coat.

“I have to go out, something I gotta attend to,” he spoke, Emily rising to her feet.

“Oh, alright. When will you be back?”

He shrugged, not looking pleased at all. “Hopefully not too long, but don’t wait on me, alright?”

She nodded, and then completely on blind impulse, reached for his face, pulling him down to her tiny level and kissing his cheek. “Be careful.”

His heart all but broke the ribs covering it with the force of its rapid thuds. He winked, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “I will, doll.”

As he walked back down the stairs, he could still feel the soft press of her lips against his cheek, his pulse amped up from even the tiniest display of affection from his houseguest. He truly hadn’t expected it, and when he should have left the building with nothing but business on his mind, instead, it was only getting back to Emily again that occupied his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the girl herself flopped back onto the couch, sighing as she covered her face with her hands. “Oh, god help me. I want that man so badly!” she grimaced, groaning with discomfort. Truly, she didn’t know how the hell to play it, either, feeling so conflicted.

Sometimes, he’d flirt with her, but she was too shy to reciprocate it, meaning he’d pull back and cool down with how he acted around her. Other times, she knew only too well he was trying to wheedle information regarding the Calabrese’s from her, information she found herself giving, getting herself furtherly wrapped up in a world she knew truly wasn’t any good for her.

How much danger was she in, though, from her place beneath the albatross-like wings of Luca Changretta? Nobody would be fool enough to touch her. However, that was only if she became more to him than whatever she was, she supposed. Then again, he had told her several times already she was safe with him.

Falling into a silly daydream, she imagined him taking her in his arms, kissing her, those big, tattooed hands laying worship upon her, that sultry voice of his speaking his wants and desires. She let her mind wander for so long that she was still partially in a daze when she heard a rapid knock at the door, followed by the creak of it opening, the music no longer playing.

“Luca? It’s only me,” a female voice called, her heeled feet alighting the stairs. Before she could speak, a buxom looking redhead appeared, her face surprised as she took Emily in. “Oh, hi! I’m Maggie, and you are?”

“Hi, Maggie. I’m Emily, and Luca is out,” she spoke, picking up her drink and finishing it.

“Oh, oh alright. I must’a missed him leaving,” she muttered, holding two large jute bags in her hands. “I was just bringin’ up the takings to him, but I guess I can leave ‘em with you. You’re his new gal, right?”

She shook her head. “No, just his, uh, his friend.”

Maggie snorted, placing the takings down on the coffee table. “Luca don’t have gals who are just friends, sweetie pie.” She viewed her carefully, watching the way the young blonde blushed furiously, reaching for the vodka bottle. Only a tiny drizzle remained within.

“Damn,” Emily pouted, “I drank it all.”

“Hey, I gotta load of premixed cocktails I’d otherwise throw out. Fancy coming and helping me drink ‘em while I clean up for the night?” Maggie offered, suddenly feeling like she would be being rude to go and pour it all away, and leave the girl upstairs alone, waiting on a man who would likely be gone for hours. Especially too after she’d blatantly embarrassed the hell out of her by her assertion over her boss and his lack of female friends.

Who was she to judge? Stranger things had happened, she guessed, although she had to admit, she was very curious. If Luca wasn’t giving her a good fucking on the regular, then just what was she doing there? She had noticed her boss not present down in the joint for the last two weeks, with none of his usual rotation of females making their way up to the apartment. Curiosity demanded an answer.

Smiling, Emily rose to her feet, stuffing them into her shoes. “Sure, that’d be nice.” Following Maggie back down, she was ushered over to the bar, taking a seat on one of the high stools, the clean up in full effect as people swept, tidied and mopped, the band disassembling their instruments and returning them to their respective cases.

“Here, I hope you like Manhattan’s,” Maggie spoke, pouring a large measure into a copper mug and passing it over, topping off her own and holding it out. “Cheers, Emily.”

“Cheers.” She took a swig, the alcohol hitting her throat so hard, she almost coughed, the redhead throwing her head back.

“Sorry, sugar. I make ‘em potent!” she smirked, taking a soapy cloth and beginning to clean down the bar. “So, you and Luca. What’s the story, darl?”

Emily didn’t really feel comfortable with revealing the whole truth to a perfect stranger, even though obviously she was a trusted person by the man himself. She wouldn’t have been working in his speakeasy if she wasn’t. “I’m staying with him for a little while.”

“And you ain’t knockin’ boots with him?” she was then asked.

“No, definitely not,” she replied, taking another sip of the rocket fuel in her grasp.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, beginning to pick up liquor bottles from behind the bar and clean the runs and drips away with her cloth. “But you wanna, amirite? Everyone wants to fuck Luca, ‘cept me. I like ‘em a little prettier.”

Watching her wink as a cute, almost angelic looking blonde saxophone player walked past and waved goodnight, Emily caught her drift immediately. Turning back to Maggie, she shrugged lightly. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m his type.” By that point, she’d seen a picture of Filomena, his ex-wife when he’d shown her some photographs of his children. She was dark haired, buxom, Italian and glamorous. Everything she wasn’t.

“True,” Maggie spoke, pausing to light a cigarette, her cleaning endeavours finished. “But men like somethin’ a lil’ different, they’ll find themselves urging for a taste of the unfamiliar when it’s presented to ‘em. You should give him a go, darl. I hear he’s good with his cock.”

It was an unfortunate time to take a sip of the lethal Manhattan, Emily half spraying it back into the mug at her brazenness. Maggie couldn’t resist in teasing further. “One of the dancers here was fucking him a while back. Said he was hung like a bull and had the stamina of a guy half his age.”

Emily felt herself shrinking with every word, Maggie throwing her head back and laughing hoarsely. “Oh, ain’t you a cutie! Gettin’ all shy. Sorry, I know I’m brash. I’ll behave.”

Perhaps having a female perspective into her predicament might be helpful, she then pondered. Maggie seemed nice, friendly, too. It wasn’t like Emily had a whole lot in the way of friends, either, no gal pals to run her thoughts by. “Okay, so the truth is, I do want to,” she began, Maggie’s face lighting up as she leaned over the bar, huddling close.

“Tell me more, sugar!”

Pausing, she took another sip of her drink for courage. “I want to, but I never have before. With any man.”

The barmaid’s eyes all but fell out of her skull. “Really?”

She nodded.

“But... why? Sex is amazing with the right guy!”

Just then, a door flew open down at the other end of the room, one of the dancers striding out, mid-tirade. “It’s the fuckin’ same with all you fuckin’ Italian jerks!” she screamed, the guy following her looking nonchalant. “All of youse expect us to fuckin’ suck dick, but when it comes to returning it, nadda, nothin’, no sale! Would it fuckin’ kill you to eat me out just once, Luciano?”

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “I ain’t about that.”

“Yeah, me and my thirsty kitty cat know only too well, you two-bit fuck! We’re done!” She was out of the joint in a blur of sequins and fury, Emily and Maggie sharing a wide-eyed look at having front row seats to such a show.

“Yeah, he ain’t the right guy,” the latter snorted, jerking her thumb in the direction where Luciano, one of Luca’s street guys had just walked in, softly cussing to himself in Italian.

“To answer your question, I don’t know, really,” Emily confessed, thinning her lips momentarily. “I’ve never found anyone I like enough to do it with, I guess. It’s like I’m a beacon for shitty guys with bad intentions.”

Her confidant didn’t truly know how to answer that, since Luca did seem to go through women like they were entering and exiting in a revolving door. However, there was a plus point. “Well, if you decided to, at least it wouldn’t be a lousy first experience for ya. He’s forty-three, the man has heaps of experience, so it wouldn’t be like my first. Two pumps and a squirt, baby. I was so disappointed,”

The women both snorting laughing, Emily throwing her head back as she truly began to cackle loudly. Oh, she was funny, this brazen woman who had taken her under her wing and plied her with lethally potent cocktails. While she was beginning to relax and find herself making a new friend, the topic of their conversation was walking into a speakeasy in Bushwick, his crew around him.

“Luca, glad you could join me,” Giacinto Calabrese spoke, leaning back in his seat. “Drink?”

“No thanks,” he drawled through the chew on his toothpick, “won’t be stayin’ all that long. So, Angelo here tells me you gotta deal for me, huh?”

His adversary gestured to a chair, Luca taking a seat, his eyes never leaving the man as he felt his mood darkening, looking at his hands. Those were the knuckles that had smashed the teeth out of her mouth. “I do, because you have somethin’ of ours we want returned to us, but I’m a fair man. I’m happy to exchange.” Lifting his chin, he pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one up. “Give me the girl, and I’ll walk away from the warehouses in Yonkers. You have my word.”

He rolled his tongue against his cheek, chuckling a deadly hiss. “Your word is worth shit, and Emily ain’t for sale, pal.”

“Oh!” The wise assed man laughed, entertained. “On first name terms with the little puttana now, huh? Wait, I can’t call her that, though. Bitch is more frigid than a fuckin’ nun!”

Luca remained still, but his eyes moved with all the intent of a predator locking onto its target, slowly pulling the toothpick from between his lips. “The fuck you just call her, stronzo? A bitch?”

“Yeah,” Giacinto laughed, “I called her a bitch, and...”

That was as far as he got before the lion that was the head of the Changretta mob pounced, grabbing his collar and pounding his head down onto the table, their respective guys all drawing their weapons.

“You’re outnumbered, fellas,” Angelo rumbled, tutting. “Put ‘em down.” The men fell back, all watching the scene unfold before them.

Luca loomed like a shadow of death, his hand holding Giacinto fast against the smooth, dark wood. “Did you call her a bitch when you knocked her fuckin’ teeth out? Did ya? Tell me, how hard does a guy like you have to slug a tiny little thing like her to crack the goddamned teeth from her jaw? This hard?” His fist met his face in a sickeningly strong blow, the piece of shit beneath his grasp grunting in pain. “This hard?” He punched him again, this time loosening one of the teeth he was aiming for, Luca hauling him up and beginning to lay repetitive punches to his face, Giacinto flying back to the floor.

With his rage pumping like water through a broken dam, Luca loomed over him, pulling a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade, holding it so hard against his cheek, his blood began to seep from beneath the press. “You ever speak her name again and I will cut your fuckin’ tongue from your head. The Yonkers warehouses are mine now, too, just for the fuckin’ gall of you. Give your fuckin’ father my goddamned regards, Giacinto.”

“Fuck you, Luca!” he spat, shame and rage coiling through him.

“Fuck me, huh?” he laughed, low and deadly. “Nah, kid. Tell me, you right-handed? You are, aren’t ya? It was your right hand you used to beat her, wasn’t it?” Wrenching his arm up, he grasped his wrist, bringing the knife down between his third and fourth fingers, beginning to slice through skin, sinew and tendons. Giacinto screamed, Luca holding the knife towards Angelo, needing both hands to grab the second and third, then fourth and fifth fingers, grasping hard before literally ripping his hand apart.

“Can’t go punching little girls no longer now, can you?” Standing, he left him screaming on the floor, looking to his guys. “Step down from the warehouses as of tonight, or I do worse to all six of youse.” With that, Luca and his eight cohorts left the speakeasy, heading back to their cars, Brooklyn bound. Entering his apartment just under a half hour later, he made sure he was quiet, not wanting to wake the beauty in his bed.

Hanging his coat and jacket, he unlaced his shoes, removing his tie as he walked over to the bed, just about able to see her outline there curled up, sleeping soundly. Reaching toward her face, he gently swept the platinum strands of hair that had fallen loose back behind her ear, tenderly stroking the apple of her cheek with the back of his fingers.

He realised right there that she could never again utter anything about the Calabrese’s, and he wouldn’t care at all. He didn’t need her for information. He just needed her to be safe.

The twisted irony wasn’t lost on him, though, that the very person she wasn’t safe from was the one whose bed she slept soundly in, but for very different reasons than what the Calabrese’s represented. He lingered there only a moment longer before going to the bathroom and undressing, pulling on his grey and white striped pyjama bottoms, heading for the couch.

“Luca?”

He actually jumped a little, hearing her soft voice suddenly sound through the dark. “Yeah, doll?” Turning, he watched her sit up, peeling the bed clothes back as she shuffled over, patting the mattress. “It’s freezing. You can’t keep sleeping on the couch. I don’t mind sharing.”

He hesitated only a second before walking over, climbing in next to her, his heart beginning to race. Her warmth was the most alluring intoxication he’d ever felt near to him, wanting nothing but to wrap himself around her, meld his body to hers, tell her in no uncertain terms that Giacinto Calabrese would never dare touch her again.

Lying there, Emily could feel the tension radiating from him, not knowing why he was in such a state, but sensing it all the same. Had something happened, while he was out, something to spark his temper, amp his ire? She felt him turn away from her, turning over herself and hesitating a moment before putting the advice she’d had from Maggie to good use. ‘Just move on him. You’re beautiful, sugar. He won’t turn you down.’

It wasn’t necessarily a sexual advance, as Maggie had been specifically advocating, but it was a step in the right direction. Wrapping her arm around him, she pressed herself against his back, resting her hand to his chest. Her heart almost leapt into her throat when she felt him grasp her hand, thumb stroking, placing a kiss upon her fingers.

He clutched her hand tight, feeling her breath flutter against his shoulder blades, his heart still hammering. If he turned to her, that would be it. He wouldn’t be able to hang onto the bull within him, goring against the very last of his soft flesh in a bid for freedom. Flesh that had softened for her.

He remembered how he’d felt, punching Giacinto repeatedly in the face, until he had expelled blood with every groaned breath, all for her, because of her, because no man would ever make the sweet little darling curled against him feel less than all she was ever again.

But still, he didn’t dare turn over. It’d be like Satan himself defiling the purest of angels. If only Luca knew, though, as he wrestled with the beast within, that the only thing the angel pressed against his back wanted was to feel the burn of his lust against her skin.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #luca changretta x ofc #luca changretta fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fic #nobody's girl #luca and emily

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kittievampire · 2 years ago

Note

So long/odd request but hear me out

Mc and Lucifer are in a sugar-rotting relationship and brothers and undatebles react

Lucifer spoils Mc so much like…mammon gets in trouble he gets hung from the ceiling Mc does the same thing they get away scot-free Satan has been begging for a cat for eons nope! but Mc wants one of course. He gets them tons of expensive gifts and if Mc ever wants something they only have to bat their eyes at him. It's not like Mc is using him though they dot on him a bunch too. And whenever they get in a fight loud moans are followed within a few minutes (if you know what I mean) but feel free to ignore 💙

I was in the middle of class when I read this and I was WHEEZING

I am a firm believer in Lucifer spoiling the MC rotten and leaving his brothers to fend for them damn selves but denying any sort of favoritism

I only did the brothers this time, I hope that's okay 😭😭😭

Sorry this took so fooking long to make 🥲

Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~

Click here if you wanna request!

Warnings: Very suggestive, jealous bros lmao L

Enjoy.

You and Lucifer had been dating for a few months now. Though, one would think you'd just gotten together with the way the two of you treated eachother. Or maybe that you were newlyweds in your honeymoon phase.

Lucifer treated you like a goddess. There was constant praise and worship, he'd drop everything if you asked, and he'd spoil you rotten with his love. You would return the favor, of course. Every now and then you'd surprise him with a new cursed vinyl, which he'd listen to all night if not spending it with you.

However, the brothers believe that you're getting totally unfair treatment.

Mammon

Baby boy was spending a lot more money than usual

He was playing a new gambling game he'd downloaded on his D.D.D.

When Lucifer got home, he immediately scolded the second-born for a solid 45 minutes

He announced that Mammon was on "lock-down" and wasn't allowed to ask anything of anyone, nor was he allowed to spend money

He was hung from the ceiling

And Goldie was taken away, too

Mammon was pissed the fuck off

So, when he noticed you were spending a lot more money, he did tease you for being greedy

"Oi, human, ain't splurgin' on shopping supposed to be mine and Asmo's thing? Lucifer's gonna be on yer ass if ya spend too much. Just be careful."

He says this and is genuinely a little worried that he'd see you hung from the ceiling as well

Lucifer confronts you about it in front of Mammon

"My Love, may I know why you've been spending so much grimm recently?"

First off, Mammon didn't like how he started that

How come you got that sweet conversation starter?

What he got was, "Mammon, what have you been wasting your money on this time?!"

Though, he still suspected it'd go downhill, and that he'd need to jump in to protect you at some point

"Oh, just some things... I can't tell you what they are, but I promise this is a rare occasion, Luci." You said, gifting him a kiss on his cheek

Lucifer smiled at you. "Alright, as long as you're being responsible, I trust you."

...

WHAT?!

"WHAT?!" Mammon shouted, earning a slight jolt from you and a look of annoyance from Lucifer

"What, Mammon?"

The Avatar of Greed froze. "I-I-! Y-You—" He paused before letting out a small groan

"Nevermind. Forget about it, yeah?"

Leviathan

Snekboi missed roughly a week of school and wasn't attending his online classes

He was grinding this new game he got so he could keep his spot as one of the top players!

He just couldn't afford to take his attention off of his D.D.D. for a second, the price would be too high!

Of course, Levi ended up being scolded by Lucifer

"Your priority must be your studies, Levi, do you intend on dragging Diavolo's name through the mud?"

How Diavolo was relevant was beyond him

But, Levi still had to sit through a lecture

He also got his D.D.D. taken away from him for a week

Not only did he lose top-spot, but he lost a majority of his self-esteem as well

So, he was obviously worried when you started skipping as well

"Uhh, MC, I'm not sure you should stay home today. Lucifer's not too kind to those who slack off."

But, his warnings fell upon deaf ears

You decided to take a few days off, deciding that you just really didn't feel like going to RAD

You woke up with a migraine one day, couldn't get sufficient sleep the other, and you just took another day to catch up on sleep and what work you had

Leviathan actually tried to stop Lucifer when he saw him outside of your room

"Lucifer, maybe they were feeling really bad or something, I don't think punishing them is a good idea, please show mercy! They're just a human!"

"Quit your whining, Levi. Or do you want to be given the Mammon treatment?"

This made Levi yelp and cower behind him, watching as Lucifer knocked on your door

You answered it, and Leviathan bit his nails nervously

"Hey, Luci," You said, greeting him with a small kiss to the cheek

"My Love," He started softly. "Are you feeling alright? You haven't been attending your classes. Is something wrong?" He asked, a hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

Error 404 not found

Leviathan.exe has stopped working

You smile sweetly. "I'm okay, Lucifer, I just really wasn't feeling up for RAD these past couple of days. It's nothing to worry about, promise!" You say, quite enthusiastically.

...

NANI THE FUCK?!

Levi SWORE you were about to get bodied

But, no

Lucifer just smiled, chuckled softly, and left with an "Alright, take care of yourself, Love."

Bullshit

You're fucking hacking

Satan

Satan wanted to bring a cat into the HoL

Lucifer reminded him of how he brought more cats than were allowed and "turned the House of Lamentation into the House of Cats"

Very fucking salty about it, but ultimately got over it (for the most part)

He saw you bring a little feline home and immediately rushed to your side to help you take care of it

It was a stray with a few wounds from other cats

He helped you bandage it and feed it, all the goods

"MC, I must warn you that Lucifer isn't exactly fond of pets... Let alone cats," Satan said, stern gaze meeting yours

You tilted your head in confusion. "Why is that?"

Satan was a bit hesitant to tell you, so he gave you the shortened and sweet version

"We had a bit of a cat problem a while back, he just really doesn't like cats. Dog people, am I right?" He scoffed

"Satan, what did I say about bringing in cats?"

Satan lowkey jumped a bit and turned his head

The fuck did he come from, bro is teleporting or some shit

You immediately hold the kitty close to your arms, looking up at Lucifer with doe eyes

"Luci, I'm sorry! I was the one who took in the cat, but he was hurt! Please, can we just keep it for a little while, at the very least?" You begged, the black cat in your arms meowing at Lucifer

Satan sighed. He was about to tell you that it was no use, that Lucifer couldn't be bought or reasoned with on this topic. That may have been his fault and he was sorry, but there was absolutely no way Lucifer would budge on this-

"Fine."

...

What

Satan sat there dumbfoundedly before the two of you as you continued to converse, trying to process the events that had just taken place

Lucifer said yes

To you

For a cat?

Huh...

He was upset for a mere moment, but then a light bulb went off in his mind

Perhaps he could use this to an advantage

Satan's definitely going to try and get you to be a wild card whenever him and Belphie are pulling pranks on Lucifer

Just so the eldest will be a little more lenient

Now he knew Lucifer's weakspot

He found himself laughing maniacally in his mind as he realized just how much him and Belphegor could do with you as a cushion whenever they'd get in trouble

Asmodeus

"But, Lucifer, all of products in my favorite cosmetic brand are going on sale today! I have to get every single one of them or else I'll be..." Asmodeus gasped

"Trashy!!" He cried out, practically leeching off of Lucifer's arm as he continued to beg

"Asmodeus, no! You and Mammon are both on lockdown for the rest of the month! Now, get off of me!"

Lucifer managed to pry his younger brother off of him and slammed ether door shut to his office, leaving a near-on sobbing Asmodeus in the library

That's when he heard you

"Lucifer, must you always be so rough on your siblings?" He heard you ask, making him gasp and sigh dreamily. "Oh, darling, you always come to my rescue when I need it!" He said, his voice not loud enough to penetrate the door

"MC, I suggest staying out of my family matters. They have nothing to do with you."

Asmodeus could tell from the other side of the door that an argument was likely about to ensue

However, when the two of you started raising your voices, he could also sense some... Arousal?

"Oh!"

"Oh."

It wasn't long before he could hear your moans and whimpers from the other side of the door, lewd slapping noises making him step back a bit

Asmodeus couldn't help but giggle a little

He honestly didn't mind this as much as his brothers did, he found it really entertaining that the two of you endulged in his sin after such a heated argument

Asmodeus approves 👍💖

Beelzebub

Poor baby gets scolded so often for raiding the fridge, especially late at night

He's usually told to go to bed, and that these late-night trips to the fridge aren't good for him, all that

He couldn't help it, it was his sin! That was no fair!

Lucifer ended up putting him on lockdown after 11pm, meaning no trips outside of his room whatsoever

Beelzebub would usually try to get some snacks into his room before that time, but he usually ran out rather quickly and was left with a rumbling stomach

That's when you came in, holding two arm-fulls of snacks

Quietly, you pushed the door closed with your foot

You knew Belphegor was a heavy sleeper, but you still wanted to be quiet anyway, so as not to wake the Avatar of Sloth

You saw the gluttonous ginger perk up when he saw you

"MC?"

You smiled, dropping down the snacks before him

"Lucifer didn't say I couldn't raid the kitchen. I figured you'd be hungry, so I got you some snacks."

Bro bear-hugs you

He lowkey almost breaks your spine with how tight he holds you

"Thank you, MC! Can I call you sister, please? Get married to him quick so I can call you sister!"

You blushed at this comment, chuckling softly

"I'm working on it, I guess," You choked playfully, patting his back

"Beel, I need to breathe."

Not really all too jealous

A bit sad, but he gets over it when you bring him food

Lucifer never says anything about it tho when he finds out you're the one who's causing such a snack shortage

Belphegor

He was constantly scolded for pulling all kinds of pranks on Lucifer

There was that time he threw his D.D.D. in the trash, lit his coat on fire

All harmless things

So, when he catches you attaching a can of whipped cream to... Something in the fridge, he immediately raises a brow at you

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Ahhh, just setting up a little surprise," You chuckled out

At first, he thinks it's for Beelzebub, but Asmodeus had taken him shopping with him earlier with the promise of free food afterward

"For..." Belphie trailed off, hearing footsteps nearing the kitchen

Immediately you close the fridge and take your seat in front of a plate of food you'd made yourself earlier. "Sit down," You whispered to the Avatar of Sloth

As he shuffled to a seat next to you, he realized what you were up to and put a hand over his mouth

Lucifer walked into the kitchen, greeting you and the youngest with a smile and a "Good morning."

You picked up a piece of the pancakes in front of you with a fork, putting it in your mouth and humming to yourself. "Luci? Could you pass me the butter?" You asked softly

Lucifer nodded, turning and opening the fridge

Immediately, whipped cream sprayed all over his face, some falling onto his chest

Belphegor bursted into a fit of laughter, immediately giving you a high-five and wiping a tear from his eye as he clutched his stomach

"Oh, that was good!" He choked out in between laughs

Lucifer turned to look at the youngest, wiping off a large portion of the whipped cream on his face

"Belphegor, did you do this?"

You snickered beside him, looking up at Lucifer

"I thought you'd like a snack, Luci~" You hummed out, giggling softly

Belphegor mentally prepared himself for a 45 minute lecture

There was a pause, making him shift a bit in his seat as his laughter died down

Suddenly, Lucifer began to laugh

It started out small

Then, his laughter boomed in the room, bouncing off of the walls

"Huh,"

This confused the fuck out of Belphie

Like, ummmm what

"You've gotten me, MC, well done. I needed that laugh." He said, walking over to you and wiping some whipped cream off of him, putting it on your nose

He dismissed himself, saying he was going to wash this off of him

Belphegor was silent for a moment

"Hm?"

"You get laughter and boops after pranks and I get lectures and scoldings... Favoritism at it's finest. The Anti-Lucifer League could make use of this."

He'd explain more, but he was getting too sleepy

Shit was fun asf to write, thanks for requesting

I hope you enjoyed this, anon!

#obey me mc #obey me #lucifer obey me #obey me hcs #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer hcs #lucifer swd #obey me mc x lucifer #obey me lucifer fluff #obey me fluff

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