#said limit is much lower than people think it is

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Cupid's Arrow

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: You and Joaquin don't get along. He doesn't take things seriously and he think you don't loosen up. Well now you two are paired up on a mission and, well, it doesn't go well.

prompt #1457

“Have your eyes always looked like that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the purple color… and like the pretty specks? I’ve never seen someone with eyes like you.”

“You think they’re pretty?” from @writers-are-writers

Warning: mentions of experimentation on a minor

Joaquin Torres Masterlist

Like many enhanced individuals, your backstory isn't sunshine and rainbows. You were a teenager when you got sick and you dad was desperate. After losing your mom, he couldn't bare to lose you. So when someone at the hospital said they could help you for free, your father immediately jumped at the chance.

Turns out, they were rogue doctors messing with otherworldly substances, trying to create the ultimate cure. They injected you with the "cure" and, while it did take away your sickness, it gave you purple eyes and dangerous powers.

The doctors convinced your dad to let them keep you, under the guise of making sure your sickness doesn't come back. In reality, they started to train you. They poked and prodded and pushed you to your limits until you couldn't take it anymore.

When you finally escaped, you tried to look for your father. Turns out, he was killed because he saw and knew too much.

"He was collateral damage," one doctor rasped out before you snapped his neck with your mind.

Now you're an adult. You've done some pretty shitty things in order to live, but now you're making up for it. Hence why you're now working with Captain America and his sidekick, The Falcon.

"Amethyst, you and Joaquin take the lower levels. I'll take the upper levels."

"Copy that," you grumble through your comms and follow Joaquin up various flights of stairs, checking each floor for any hostages or hostiles.

"I think I know why they call you Amethyst."

"Oh really?" you ask in a deadpan tone.

"It's 'cause of your eyes, right?" you don't answer him, instead keeping your dagger filled hands up in defense, "That's totally it right? I mean, it's kinda obvious now that I think about it. Originally I thought it meant you would should like crystals out of your hands or something. But then I read your file-"

You snap your head towards him, your purple eyes practically glowing in the dim light, "You read my file?"

He shrugs, "Background checks," he says nonchalantly as he inspects every room on the left.

You continue to search the rooms on the right, "So you saw the notes about how I was experimented on as a kid and trained to use my powers for evil?"

"I-Yeah."

"And did you see what the project was called in regards to me?"

"...Was it Amethyst?"

You pause and look and look at him, "It was. Because of the amethyst colored liquid they pumped me with that gave me my powers and changed the color of my eyes. If you're going to read up on me, at least read everything. I'd rather have that than you come up with shitty theories." You continue to search, eventually reaching the end of the hall.

"I was just trying to make conversation."

"It's not the time for that, Torres. Read the fucking room. We're trying to save lives and you wanna do ice breakers?"

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood!"

You scoff, "That's the problem with you! You never take things seriously! You always make light of a situation!"

"Maybe because you're so fucking serious that it dampens everyone's mood!"

"Well sorry for being so serious when it comes to people's lives! At least one of us cares about them!"

"And there you go, twisting my words to make me sound like a dick!"

"Because you are one! And you-"

Something whizzes past your ear and lands in Joaquin's chest.

"Shit!" you cry out and immediately turn. Your eyes glow a bright purple as you lift the assailant with your mind and throw them up to the ceiling and let them fall.

They groan and you lift them to the ceiling, letting them fall again. This time no sound comes from them and they remain still.

You turn back to Joaquin and assess him. A pink and red arrow is sticking out from his chest, "What the fuck?" you murmur to yourself.

A sheen of sweat is forming over Joaquin's face, "What's your verdict?"

You immediately call Sam on comms, "Sam? Sam! Joaquin's hit. A hostile got the jump on us."

"Shit, is he okay?"

"He got shot in the chest with...a pink and red arrow."

"What? You know what doesn't matter. I'm on my way. Hang tight."

"We're on level three."

"Copy that. See you in a bit and keep Joaquin awake."

"Got it," you clear the comms and put your attention back on Joaquin, "How're you feeling?"

He gives a lazy grin, "You called me Joaquin."

"That's your name."

"Yeah, but you always call me Torres. My name sounds good coming from your lips."

You cock a brow at him, "Uuuhh okay?"

“Have your eyes always looked like that?” he asks, slowly pointing to them.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the purple color… and like the pretty specks? I’ve never seen someone with eyes like you.”

“You think they’re pretty?”

"Yeah. Like you. You're...so pretty."

You immediately call Sam back on comms, "Where the fuck are you? Torres is getting delirious!"

"Incoming!" Sam yells as he flies through a window. You shield yourself and Joaquin from any glass.

Sam retracts his wings and rushes to Joaquin, "Oh shit. How are you feeling, kid?"

Joaquin looks up at him with a sort of hazy look in his eyes, "Isn't Amethyst pretty? Her eyes. Her smile."

"See what I mean?" you gesture to the fallen Falcon.

"Alright, c'mon, kid. Let's get you looked at," you help Sam bring Joaquin into his arms.

"Don't touch the arrow. It was probably laced with some sort of drug."

"Right. Got it. Let's go. Redwing cleared the other levels. We're good. The others will take care of the rest."

You follow him out of the building and the waiting med truck that take him and rush him to the nearest hospital.

___________________________

Even though you and Joaquin don't get along, you still worry for him. You hoped the arrow didn't hit anything vital, you hoped whatever drug that was in his system didn't kill him. You hoped he'd get out alive because, sure, he was annoying and happy all the time, but it was a little refreshing. Refreshing to see someone not drowning darkness and despair like you are.

You're in the waiting room with Sam sitting in silence. Your leg is bouncing and your mind is all over the place. When you start to spiral, things in the room start floating and Sam has to nudge you to bring you back.

"Sorry."

"It's okay...honestly, it's good to see you worry about him. Thought you hated him," Sam says with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, "I don't hate him. I just...find him annoying sometimes...and too cheery, and so unserious. Honestly-"

Sam holds a hand up, "I get it. He can be a lot sometimes, but give him a break. He's young."

"So am I."

"True, but not all of us are hardened by our hardships."

You snort, "Not yet. You're getting there, though," you playfully nudge his knee with yours.

"Captain?" a doctor calls for Sam and you and he stand.

"How is he?"

"He'll recover, from the wound at least. It didn't penetrate deep or hit any vital organs or arteries. But whatever that arrow was laced with, it's something we don't have in our database."

"Did you save the arrow?"

"Yes," the doctor hands Sam the bagged arrow.

"Thank you. Are we free to see him?"

"Yes, but we'll keep him here for a seventy-two hour hold just to make sure whatever he was laced with doesn't give him lasting affects." The doctor then looks at you, "I'm assuming you're Amethyst?"

You look at her suspiciously, "Yes, why?"

She chuckles, "He's been asking for you. I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you."

"Oh, uh, thanks," you give her a polite smile and follow Sam down the hall to Joaquin's room.

Sam enters first and you stay by the door, "You get knocked down and you get back up again. Maybe we should change your name to Phoenix instead of Falcon. Always rising from the ashes."

Joaquin chuckles, "Nah. I'll stick with Falcon." He turns his head towards you and his smile grows, "Hey gorgeous. What're you doing all the way over there?"

You let out a tired sigh, "And the drugs haven't worn off yet."

"What drugs?"

"The drugs that are making you talk nonsense."

Joaquin frowns, "I'm not talking nonsense. You are gorgeous. You're also smart and witty and-"

You interrupt him, "Joaquin, we don't get along. We can barely stand being around each other for a minute without arguing."

He shrugs, "All couples argue."

You laugh in disbelief, "We aren't a couple."

"Oh...wanna be?" he gives you a smirk and a cocked brow.

Sam holds in a laugh, "Alright, Romeo, why don't you rest up and heal first before you go all Mr. Romantic?"

Joaquin looks at you with hopeful eyes, "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

You really want to say 'no'. You're tired and sweaty and don't think you can stand hearing Joaquin flirt with you more. It's so...unlike him. But then Sam gives you a look that basically says, 'You better say 'yes' or else', and it makes you grit your teeth.

"Fine," you murmur and Joaquin settles further into the bed, "Awesome."

It takes two hours for Joaquin to fall asleep. Despite you wanting to leave earlier, you feel bad for doing now. So you decide to stay back and keep him company throughout the night.

______________________

When you wake, you see Sam standing over you with arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

You groan as you sit up, stretching your arms and legs, "Don't. I just felt bad leaving him."

"Whatever you say," he responds with a chuckle.

Joaquin eventually stirs awake, "Hey."

You stand up and get some distance to stretch out your body. Sam takes up your spot, "How're you feeling, Casanova?"

Joaquin looks at his mentor confused, "Casanova?"

Sam chuckles, "Yeah. You were hit with Cupid's Bow and was trying to wine and dine, Miss Dark Cloud over here all night."

You roll your eyes, "Leave him alone, Sam. He was drugged. He didn't mean anything by it."

Joaquin sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "What'd I say?"

"You were calling her pretty, asking her out. Really laying on the charm."

"Oh...sorry," he says, shyly looking at you.

You shrug, "I know you didn't mean it."

"I...But I do think you're pretty," he looks at you, no hint of sarcasm or joking behind them.

You suddenly feel very warm, "Oh, uh, thanks. I-I guess." You look away, "I'm going to get the doctor so they can check up on you," you hastily exit the room, trying to calm your racing heart. Just yesterday, you would've scoffed and told Joaquin to fuck off. But...But now why are you suddenly okay with him thinking you're pretty? Maybe you got some of the drug in your system through second-hand or something....

Joaquin slumps in his bed, scolding himself for making you uncomfortable, last night and now. He sighs and looks at Sam, "So...cupid's arrow? That's what you're calling it?"

"I mean it was pink and red and it made you all lovey dovey. Tell me, what else would you call that?!"

[here-there-were-dragons]

eh, it's not really *changing* so much as people are just getting more skillfully passive-aggressive and oddly specific about it, and a lot of the people who were big on that sort of thing back then have since either threw a tantrum and left when the eye vials came back, left the game in general just because it was nearly 10 years ago, hoarded all the big-ticked items and got bored because they felt like there wasn't anything else to do anymore, felt like they won and so haven't thought about it in quite so explicit terms in awhile, have gotten bored with the idea and/or the game after it slowly became more and more the case that no one could afford to buy their Rare Collectibles tm anymore and the fever-pitch of "the final mandatory achievement to be a real fr player is to have all the sprites" culture and basically sprite collecting culture in general died off as a result, or have moved from exclusively that to being more interested in a more varied, subtle, and esoteric blend of ways to signal that they're a real, proper, acceptable player. it's a beast that's very much not dead, only lying in wait, and these people would absolutely groggily wake and come shrieking out of the woodwork anew at the mere suggestion of anything happening to one single fraction of a cent of the hypothetical resale value of their precious sprites that even they can't sell or buy anymore and no one but them even cares about ever since we all realized it was pointlessly impossible to even long-term goal for one.

The most frustrating part of the conversation about retired items is that the people who really want to push for more things to retire so that they'll "appreciate in value" don't seem to understand that if there isn't enough supply for the demand, it just means that no one gets anything.

It means that the player selling the Light Sprite for more than what my mortgage is worth...doesn't sell the Light Sprite, because most people can't fucking pay for it. And it means that players who want the Light Sprite can't have it because its only listing is beyond the definition of expensive, or that saving up for years is a race against other people trying to save up fast enough to buy it first. Either way, most players go without.

It means that, with enough retired items, you end up like GaiaOnline. Yeah, there's tons of limited items that may "appreciate in value" but the truth of that...is actually this:

Some of these items have been on my wishlist for a decade.

These items have no value because not enough of them even exist.

GaiaOnline used to be a place where "Questing" for an item was something that tons of people loved doing. Even I did it. I quested for a Fallen Wish back in the day, I quested for Inari's Beads, I quested for monthly collectibles every time one I liked dropped.

Now I'm not questing. Because the items I want simply don't circulate. This is what too many retired items does to an economy. I watched GaiaOnline die this way. Which is why I strongly oppose any retired items in any other site. Flight Rising doesn't need this.

[dwaekkicidal]

Nonsexual Dominance with SKZ

wc» 1.1k

cw» gender neutral, d/s dynamics, dom!skz & sub!reader, trad!minho, sfw but some people might see some things as controlling or toxic- it's not meant to be and this is based off a MUTUAL agreement + set boundaries. if you dont like dont interact <3

txt version

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗

Makes you send him food pics regularly. On days where you genuinely don't want to, he won't push it, but for the most part he enforces it and will be upset if you don't send a pic. And this is only really because it means you didn't eat.

He loves it not only for the obvious reason of watching over you even when he's not around, but also because it reminds him to also eat. All those hours in the studio blur and it's only a matter of time before he completely loses track of time- but you and your meals are there to remind him :)

𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠

Ok hear me out, traditional husband!minho... If you don't want it, he won't push it but it works so well,,, If it's far enough into the relationship that the trust comes naturally, he'd sit you down to discuss your opinions on you staying at home all day and quitting your job and putting all the financial burden on him- because he wants that responsibility. He wants to take care of you so extremely.

The pleasure dom in him comes out specifically outside of the bedroom. He absolutely loves cooking for you and spoiling you with extravagant dinners & expensive gifts, and he loves just holding you close just because he can, but he expects you to do everything else in the house- or at least most of it. While he's willing to compromise certain chores, he wants to come home to the house being clean and clothes being washed and all that.

But he always makes it worth your while and spoils you rotten :( Cuddles you until you're absolutely sick of him (not) and tries to take you out on regular dates to spoil you (like while shopping at the mall or taking you out to a nice dinner)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚋𝚒𝚗

Might sound kind of weird but hear me out- him telling you "no." I think Chris is one that would love to do this but has NO self control and therefore can't bring himself to unless he absolutely has to lol. But Changbin thrives off of it.

Don't get him wrong- he looves to spoil you. But he also loves that little spark in your eyes when you bat your eyelashes at him so prettily and ask him for something- only for you to get a gentle but firm "no" that makes your bottom lip puff out. & It's not that he doesn't want you to have whatever this thing is, it's more so that he knows there's a limit to being spoiled and no matter how much he loves you, you both need an occasional humbling- and he feels like you both could use a soft reminder of who let who have all the control

He'll always make up for it with sweet kisses and maybe a little tickling to make your pout go away, but his chest puffs out a little every time he gets to tell you "no"

𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚗

Is the kind to having his hand on your body at all times, if you're more than an arms length away from him you'll be getting a certain look that discreetly reads "Get over here now." Sometimes will even curl his finger up in your direction- doesn't care if somebody is watching or even if he's in the middle of talking/an important conversation

He just likes to have you close, and he knows he needs that mental grounding that you offer more often than not. He's just confident about needing it, so he's not afraid to show everybody how much he loves you and needs you by his side

That being said, he will lead you around malls, museums, grocery stores, or hell even the other boy's apartments all with his hand either intertwined with yours or on some part of your body (usually your lower back) that lets him guide you around.

𝙷𝚊𝚗

He felt a little awkward at first bringing this up to you, but now that it's become a regular part of your routine, he lives for these moments: he loves when you sit pretty on his lap and shave his face for him. It's gotten to the point where he will refuse to shave himself at all for weeks on end if you aren't able to do it for him.

It makes him feel a bit more dominant than it should? considering he will see you have free time and point out that he needs a shave- which usually has you dropping everything to go do it for him. But he also sees it as him being loyal to you and you having an equal amount of "control" on his life. (Also you will catch him dead before you catch him complaining about his lover sitting in his lap for any amount of time lol)

Generally just domestic little acts of service that let him "command" you while also letting you have control over his life (that's really only obvious to you two, but that's more than enough for him)

𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡

Doesn't realize he likes it right away, but he loves to talk for you with strangers. He loves to order your food for you, order your coffee for you (sometimes even mobile ordering it so you don't have to talk to people if he's not available), carrying your clothes for you while you shop and being the one talking at the cash register- stuff like that.

Not only does this scratch that little dom itch in the back of his head because he's taking care of you while still being in "charge", but it also allows him to spoil the hell out of you with you knowing how much money he's spending on you lol. You get to sit pretty at his side and look at/play with the little trinkets by the register while he drops literal hundreds on you with a smile on his face.

𝚂𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚖𝚒𝚗

Sorry not sorry but he loves his non sexual punishments. No matter what you do in or out of the bedroom, he can and will find a way to punish you for it without having to lay a finger on you.

One of his favorites is making you write a sentence down over and over again. Kinda cliché "teacher" punishment but it usually gets his point across and prevents you from acting out (for like a week max lol). If he's particularly annoyed at you/frustrated he will make you write it in Korean & wont translate it for you more than once lol.

Another one he really likes is making you kneel on the floor instead of on the couch. He's not really huge on forbidding you from watching tv unless you want him to go that far, but you're not gonna be allowed to sit on the soft, comfy couch- you're gonna be kneeling on the floor, most likely by his leg so you can still cuddle up to him (he'll grant you a small pillow if it's a longer punishment)

𝙸.𝙽

Jeongin loves picking your outfits and your accessories for you. He's not usually too dominant out of the bedroom otherwise, and it's very rare that he is, but this is the main way he is.

Even before you two lived together, he would text you a grossly sweet good morning message and would include a comment about how you should send him a few outfits for him to choose from you to wear. But now that you guys are living together, he takes it upon himself to pick out an outfit for you while you're still in bed or in the bathroom waking up.

Taglist: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[hoshigray]

hey love can i request brothers bff cho and how he's just down bad for you 🤍🤍🤍

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg wait, i fucks with this baddd

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m!) - oral (m! receiving) - tit/breast fucking (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - implied that reader is big chested - Choso crushing on you hard, lmao - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Choso knew better than to be attracted to you, the sibling of his best friend ever. 

Your brother and Choso have been buddies for a while, meeting during his part-time job at a burger joint as servers and finding out they have so much in common. Being older siblings, lovers of rock music, and relating to so much together, the two often hung out after work and became pretty good friends. Just two people vibing out in each others’ company, and there was nothing to make this relationship complicated!

“Hey, Choso, I’ve told you about my sister before, right?”

You greeted him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Choso!”

Well, that is until you came and absolutely rocked Choso’s world. 

You were the younger sibling of two; a college senior comes home biweekly to take care of laundry and then drives back up for your education. By your gorgeous face and alluring figure, Choso was struck by your image from the first time his eyes ever laid on you. You were such a kind spirit, always so sweet to him and others surrounding you — you’d want to hang with the boys whenever you had the chance while you were visiting, which was hellish for the brown-haired man. 

You’d laugh along with the jokes, making Choso’s heart skip uncontrollably, and the way you’d lean to him when you’re sleepy watching a movie with them pushed the guy on the verge of shutting down. He could never get tired of how you’d say his name; it came out so dear from your lips as if he could be under your spell at any second. And it didn’t help that you’d walk around the house with shorts on, the lower fringes constantly threatening Choso on whether they’d creep up to see the mere crevice of your ass.

As said before, he knew better than siblings of best friends were off limits. However, you were becoming too much for him. It’s been half a year of seeing you, and there has never been a day or night where you haven’t popped up in his head one way or another, particularly when his mind would think of you in the most…lustful ways.

He throws his head back, reminiscing about you and your outfit from the pub. The way your breasts were tucked in nicely by the window of your bodycon dress, yet the cleavage was too tempting for his eyes not to notice. The dress sculpted your curves dangerously, Choso fighting the urge to put his hand on your hip to feel your clothed skin. And your lipgloss made your lips shine; every time you spoke to him was a test for him not to kiss you right there in front of your brother. It was so cruel how you looked so good for him!

He was spending the night at yours after a night out drinking with you and your brother, using the basement bedroom to sleep. Sleep evades him; however, he uses this space to deal with the erection he’s been dying to indulge in this entire night instead. His teeth pull the bottom of his shirt, dark jeans discarded to the floor, and his hand pumps his shaft that’s freed from his boxer briefs.

He grunts at the memory, teeth grinding while he strokes his long cock. Precum exuding from the urethra slides down to the base and wets his fingers. “Fuuck, Y/n,” your name is said in choked moans, the horny man fisting himself in a faster motion. Brown eyebrows are trenched, and his abdomen begins to flex. Shit, I’m so close, so cl—

“Choso?”

He never in his life froze still in an instant, and his heart goes to a complete stop, too. No way.

“Ca–…May I come in?”

No words are said from either side, so Choso’s heat immediately shifts to icy cold when he hears the door open, and your frame is all he sees. You’re still wearing the beautiful dress, yet your face is molded into an expression of utter anxiousness. Sweat goes down Choso’s forehead, oh fucking shit!

“I came down to see if you were okay and needed anything,” your eyes were downcast to the floor, chewing on your lips during this awkward situation. “But…I heard you say my name and…”

Oh, it was so over for him. All Choso could do was stare at you in dread, entirely shocked that you saw him masturbate at the thought of you! You were fidgeting with your dress, perplexed about how to handle this predicament, too. He was so done for; not only was he thinking of you, the sibling of his best friend, and using said thoughts of you, but now you are aware of how he pictures you in his fucked up head! Yup, he can never walk into this house again. “S–Sorry, Y/n! I’ll just go and—“

“Can I help?”

Again, his body goes rigid mid-stride of getting off the bed after pulling his underwear up. ….What?

“I mean, can I…help you with that?” You meekly walk into the room and close the door behind you. “I am the one who made you like this, so…I’m okay with it if you are…..”

Choso blinks, too alarmed to make any movements. “But, your brother…” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you spook him by taking steps in his direction. He gulps thickly when your figure crawls on the bed, too close for his brain to comprehend. You take his hand with your soft ones and bring his fingers to your lips to kiss, and his breath hitches when you suck and lick his digits. The boner stuffed in his briefs twitches at the sensation of your tongue running against the underside of his middle finger and sucking on it. 

You peer at him, “What about him?” That is what you say before lifting your dress to remove your panties. And just when Choso thought his life was about to be thrown in the gutter, you flipped the script on him again.

In his head, Choso knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Mmm…Mmahh! Oh, Choso, you taste so good…”

But in his heart, he couldn’t help but give in to this situation.

You were situated between his legs, ripped him off his briefs for you to suck on his glans freely. Your tinge dances around his cockhead to prompt more come to ooze out of his urethra, and your hand slides up and down to stroke his member. Choso whimpers under your touch, and shivers crawl up his spine as you lick from the base to the tip before sucking hard.

“Fuuck, Y/n,” he grips the sheets, barely containing his hips to buck to your lips. “Your mouth, it’s—Hssshh…!”

“Mmm?” You blink before releasing the tip with a sound. “What about my mouth, Choso baby?” Fuck, the nickname made the pink of his ears creep down to his nape. “You feel good?” He nods at your question, and you giggle before sucking one of his balls, resulting in a sharp gasp from the brown-haired man. “I’m so happy you are…”

Hallow cheeks take in his cock, busying your throat with his length that has you humming blissfully. You massage his waist as you bob your face up and down, and shaky breaths leave his lips while his legs jolt with every swish of your tongue.

“—Shhiiit, oh shit, hnnn,” he can’t do it, you were driving him crazy. “Y/n, you’re gonna make me…Mmmm”

You pick up on his cue, withdrawing your lips from him to maneuver and pull down the top of your dress. Caramel eyes widen at the sight of your breast spilling out, forgetting how to breathe when you bring them to wrap around his long dick. You move them around to please him, taking the tip back into your mouth to slurp his leaking essence that trickles down to your chest. 

“Mmaahh, go ahead, darling,” you place kisses on the tip, Choso looking at nothing but your mounds swallow him with every stroke. It takes mere seconds for his orgasm to sneak up on him, his jizz coming out to fall and trickle down in between the rifts of your tits. “There you go, let it out for me…” the way you looked at him with half-lidded eyes took his breath away, especially with the spit that connects your gloss-shining lips to his spit-and-come coated shaft. 

And when he’s finally inside you? He’s too far gone to even think of being away from you.

“Ohhh, hoooh!! Chosooo, y’u feel soo good!”

Your dress was cast-off entirely, your nude body bouching up and down on Choso, his cock bullying the inside of your cunt. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes shared between the two of you exploring each other’s bodies, and sweaty skin exchanges heat from the constant motions. And come from rounds prior spill from your chasm as you ride on Choso’s dick with a rhythm.

He has his hands on your hips now, using you to keep him steady before he gets too lost in the feeling. Not that it hasn’t happened already; the man moans with every clamp of your walls around him, tightening around him with every graze of your g-spot. You wail for him up top, and your aroused sounds have to be the cutest things he’s ever heard. And the way your tits jump every time you plummet down to the base of him, it’s an image that will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Tahhh, ughh, Jesus Christ…” He’s too sensitive right now; he just came not too long ago and is now being chased down for another one. “Y/n, sweetie, too fast, slow d—Ahh…!”

You hear him and titter, “Yeah? Want me to slow down, huh…” You bring your hips up excruciatingly slow, listening intently to the shaky sobs from the brunette as you get to the very top. And then you smack yourself down with haste, sharing a yelp at the rushed sensation. You do it again, “Think you’re about to cum again, huh, honey?”

His hands now come to your ass to grope with the flesh, and you twitch around his girth at the hunger. “Yeahhh…”

“You gonna be good and cum for me again, right?” Another snap of your ass crashing down on him. 

“Yess, baby,” he throws his head back to the pillows, his head pounding so hard it could kill him. You can feel him pulsating within your slit. “Almost there…Ohh–ooo..!”

You bite your lip, relishing at the sight of him being desperate for release. You lean forward to him, your breasts meshing with his chest as you snake a hand around the back of his head. You place your lips on his, and he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

The kiss gets hotter when you dial up the speed, tongues swirling and exchanging spit as the friction becomes a lot more pleasurable than before. Choso’s ears ring the deeper you bring him in to kiss, humming on his tongue as you suck on it with harsh rocks on his length from scraping places you couldn’t reach. He’s so fucking addicted to you; his composure long deteriorated the moment he first put his cock inside you.

Choso bucks himself to you in sync, his climax coming in just a few ruts. He howls into you, and you wail along as your hips don’t rest until you’re hit with a crescendo of your own. Contracting your vaginal walls milks him, exerting his load into you again to spill and flow down your sticky frames. 

You two heave and pant in each other’s mouth before the kiss is broken, and the string of saliva is evidence of you being one with the other. Although the both of you are dazed, you smile at him before kissing his nose. “Glad I helped you out, huh?” He chuckles weakly as you lay kisses on his chin.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

And just like that, the two of you are frozen yet again. Wait…

Too late, the bedroom door busts open with a bang, and in comes your brother!

“Yooo, Choso, my guy—hic,” your brother stumbles inside the room, still a bit loopy and drunk. “Wanna go up and hit a quick blunt with— ah…”

The heat shared between you and the man below you switched to silent torture, awkwardness suffocating the three figures staring at each other. And this is the exact reason why Choso should’ve known better than to mingle around with you…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[azsazz]

In Safe Arms

Bodyguard!Azriel x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hey ! Ik u are hella busy and I am so proud of ur for ur publication , but if u ever get time could u do a Celebrity reader x bodyguard az?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2390

_________________________________________

“I said back the fuck off!” Azriel growls, and you know for a fact that the paparazzi who’s been steadily inching closer and closer throughout the night has landed himself on your bodyguards shit list.

Azriel’s hand doesn’t leave the small of your back, no matter how much he wants to lunge across the sidewalk and knock the fucking camera out of this goon’s hands. The man’s been harassing you all week, from the moment you stepped off the plane in New York, getting testier and testier with his shots, following you from your hotel to your shoots, to parties and bars and back to your hotel late into the evening hours. He doesn’t know how the man finds the time to sleep, honestly.

And he knows it’s the same one following you around, not only because it’s his job to remember people that might prove to be a threat to you, but because he’d never forget this fucking scumbag’s face.

You duck your head lower, pressing Azriel’s handkerchief tightly to your eyebrow. There’s blood dripping into your eye from whatever it was a fan tossed your way as soon as you’d stepped foot out of your SUV. Azriel had been turned toward you, lending you a helping hand from the vehicle when it struck. He whirled around, but it was too late, the coward had slunk off into the crowd before he could sniff them out like a bloodhound.

And Azriel was livid.

If your father had just hired two bodyguards to protect you instead of one, this wouldn’t have happened.

Not that Azriel isn’t qualified to keep you safe by himself. With six years of training with the Royal Marines under his belt, he’s more than capable. He’s carried injured men across his back for miles when there was no hope of getting out for fuck’s sake. But this is a new playing field entirely. You’re the most well-known celebrity he’s had the pleasure of working with, and when your father didn’t heed his advice that one bodyguard was not enough, he knew he was going to be in for a challenge.

A challenge that he’s failed tonight.

You let him lead you blindly, trying your best to block out your surroundings: the screaming fans begging for a picture or autograph, the stream of liquid you’re desperately trying to blink from your eye and soak up with the rag. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest, breathing shallow pants, and the only thing keeping you from collapsing right onto the concrete outside of your hotel is Azriel’s strong hand at your back, guiding you to safety.  

“Almost there,” he murmurs at your back, and your shoulders slacken slightly at the familiarity of his voice cutting through all the other noises that pierce your ears. “Only a few more steps and we’ll be in the lobby.”

He’s right, the concierge is holding the door open just enough for the both of you to slip through, and when it shuts tightly behind you, muffling off the loud wails and camera flashes, you release a shaky breath.

“Miss, are you okay?” The man asks, concern lacing his tone, like his job is on the line because someone decided to toss something at your face. “Do you need me to call the polic—”

“No, no,” you blurt frantically, waving him off. “That’s not necessary.”

“(Y/N)—” Azriel tries to cut in, and you know that this is something he’s going to have to report to his boss. Concern laces his tone, not for his job, but for you, because you’re injured and shaking in the middle of the lobby, looking like an abandoned puppy left to wilt in the rain. “I think you should—”

“No, Az,” you choke out, finally lifting your gaze from the floor to meet his. The look he wears makes your breath catch in your throat, but looking at him always does. He’s beautiful. And completely off limits.

His thick, straight brows are the only thing that gives his concern away. There’s a wrinkle between them that you want to reach out and smooth with the pad of your finger. His mouth is set in a firm line, not unusual for the stoic man. And his eyes, well his eyes are roiling with anger, hot coals ready to combust.

You don’t even care that you’ve called him the name you shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to address him by his name at all, let alone the nickname you’ve secretly become fond of. Right now, though, you’re much to shaken to realize your slip up, and he’s too worried about your wound to correct you.

“Please,” you beg, tears brimming your eyes. His tall, built frame conceals you from the people still lingering outside, and he spots that fucking paparazzi from the corner of his eye, smirking in the window as he cranes as far as he can to be the first to get a shot at your injury. “I want to go to my room.”

You’re already pulling the cloth from your face, and he’s quick to reach out and press it back, all too aware of the people around. Any one of them could spill the beans, could secretly be listening or recording, ready to make a quick buck off your horrendous night. Fucking assholes, all of them.

“Okay,” he consoles, glaring harshly at the concierge when he opens his mouth to protest. The man’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click, and he scurries away. Returning his attention to you, one hand pinning yours and the cloth you’re clutching to your face, he urges you toward the elevator. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

The doors chime open, and after getting you on safely and pushing the button to the suite on the top floor of the building, Azriel shoots one last menacing look to the paparazzi that’s still standing out front. He’s going to have a few phone calls tonight, with the hotel security and the local police, because he doesn’t want that fuck anywhere near you ever again.

The sleazy pap has the gall to wink at Azriel before the doors shut between you and the man he knows will be standing in that exact spot come the morning when it’s time for you to leave again.

The ride is long, and with the adrenaline draining from your system, you’re exhausted. Azriel lets you sag against him, and you trust him so fully that you let your eyes drift shut, allowing him to guide you through your room and straight into the bathroom so that he can take care of your wound.

You crack your eyes open when he lifts you to rest on the counter before dropping to his knees and helping you out of your heels. Your feet scream happily, and your body ignites at the sight of him on his knees before you.

Standing, he shoves the sleeves of his thick, black shirt up over his elbows, exposing those strong forearms you’d had the pleasure of peeking at for the last few months. That’s not the only thing you’ve noticed about Azriel. There are scars on his hands, bad ones. You don’t know what they’re from, but you’re aching to know. To learn anything about the man who’s been your bodyguard for the better part of this year.

“I think you should go home,” Azriel says softly. Or, as softly as someone like him can. It sounds harsh, gruff, but you know he doesn’t mean it like a demand. He’s concerned in his own way.

“I can’t pull out of my appearances, that’ll only make me look worse,” you argue, sliding back onto the counter he guides you to. People already hate you enough for the rift that Azriel has caused in your relationship with superstar Tamlin Oleander. Having an attractive man protecting you has not only made the man your team is paying to be with you insecure, but he’s been twisting this story for too long already. Pulling out of your appearances now will only give the fans another reason to pick and tear at you.

He scrubs his hands hard with the bar of soap in the sink before toweling them off and looking at your injury.

There’s a split above your eyebrow. Face wounds bleed a lot, he tells himself, smothering the memory that rises at the sight. Except that that injury was about an inch lower, and his comrade didn’t make it out alive.

“Who cares about looking worse,” Azriel scoffs. This time, he speaks harsher, but his movements against your face are still soft. The sting is barely there because you’re focusing on the buzz his fingertips brushing your skin provide. You’re focusing on the soft spot in his hazel eyes as he examines your wound, his breath against your skin. It’s dizzying. And not from the blood loss. “You should care about being safe.”

Neither of you brings up that it’s his job to do just that, but it sits heavily in the room anyway, sucking all the air from the expansive bathroom.

He swallows harshly, refusing to look at you. He busies himself with plucking a few butterfly bandages from the first aid kit beside him. The split skin above your eyebrow aches when he pinches the slice together to apply the bandage. “I’ll call down to the lobby to see if there’s someplace more private we can meet the car to take you to the hospital. You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

“Azriel, wait,” you call, grabbing for his hand when he turns to leave the room. You know exactly what’s going to happen when he crosses over that threshold. “Please don’t call him.”

He allows you to stop him, but he doesn’t turn to face you. He can’t. Can’t bear to look at you when his failure is staring right back at him. He let you get hurt, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.

Azriel’s body is too still, and his tone is too even when he answers. “I have to.”

“You don’t,” you plead, clutching him tighter. If he calls your father and tells him about what happened tonight you know you’ll never see him again, and if you never see him again, you’ll be fucking miserable. You’ve found comfort in Azriel’s presence throughout the time you’ve been working together, and he’s the only one who’s been able to see through the façade you put on, the personality you’ve spent so long pretending to be. He sees you.

“I do.”

“Why?” You don’t care that you’re getting worked up, that you voice is becoming louder with your desperation. That your nails are biting into the skin of his arm because you refuse to let him walk away from you.

Azriel whirls, and you startle back a step. But you don’t let him go, you never want to let him go. You take him with you, and he goes tripping forward with how you’ve caught him off guard.

He stumbles into you and his hands find your waist, steadying you against the counter. His grip on you is tight. His eyes defeated.

“I couldn’t protect you tonight,” he admits, and you can hear the heartbreak in his voice, you can almost see the memories that resurface, threatening to drag him under. “You need someone who can.”

“You can, Azriel! It’s an isolated incident!” You’re desperately trying to get him to see reason, scrabbling your fingers at his shirt, dragging him even further into you. Tears slide down your face, and for the first time of the night, you’re afraid. You weren’t scared when Azriel was the one there, jumping into action, but now, thinking that he might leave you, you’re terrified.

“It won’t be,” he sighs, brushing his fingers softly over yours, trying to calm you down lest you reopen your wound. “Now that it’s happened, other will try, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart. I can’t protect you like I thought I could.”

Neither of you catch his slip of the tongue, too caught up in the emotions for it to register.

You can’t swallow back the sob. You try to bury your face in his shirt, but Azriel catches you gently around the shoulders, keeping you from hurting yourself.

His hands are calloused and strong, you can feel the ridges of the scarring that paints them. So tender, so cruel, so soft.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” you admit, blinking your tears away to meet his gaze. You don’t care that your makeup is probably a mess with your tears and whatever’s left of the blood, and Azriel doesn’t care because he still thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Azriel presses his forehead against yours, swiping your tears with his thumbs. “I won’t,” he promises, “I can’t.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and just like that, you’re staring up and him and he’s staring back at you like you’re the most prized possession in this hotel, in this world.

He doesn’t know when he fell for you, if it was the way you tried to find the cracks in his stoic exterior between photoshoots and interviews, or if it’s the way you opened yourself up for him only, showed him the real you.

You’re nothing like the way you’re portrayed in the media. None of those fucking people know how big your heart is, how much you’ve been hurt, how much you care.

And he’d lie down his life to keep you safe and whole.

“Promise me.” You breathe. Your lips brush his as you speak, and the gentle touch sends shockwaves up your spine. You follow their current, lengthening your spine, pushing closer to Azriel. His hands tighten on your hips, and you spread your legs wider for him so slot himself between.

He does with a jagged breath, like he’s trying to hold himself back but is unable. His hazel eyes bore into yours and you see the war there, how he wants to go against everything he vowed not to do with you. He shouldn’t be anywhere near you like this…but he can’t help himself.

“I promise,” he says, along with ‘fuck it’ in his head, and leans down to capture your lips against his.

[unpretty]

Rare non-kink-taxonomy-hell ask: your description of Sorrowverse Joker as actually good at manipulation and gaslighting, to the point where the act he puts on might sometimes resemble Therapy Joker, has actually made me interested in a version of the Joker. Which has never happened before. Could we hear more about him/this aspect of him? Love your writing btw

what if we had a rare limited-time crossover event

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 🤡:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

"Helloooooo nurse."

"Don't whistle," she snapped, shutting the door. "I'm doing you a favor," she reminded him.

"I thought you were recognizing that denying me cosmetics had no purpose but to dehumanize me," he said.

"You know what I mean," she said, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. "And I'm not a nurse." She pulled the sparkly pencil case she'd brought from the pocket of her coat to offer it to him.

He did not so much rise from his bed as unfold. A spider of a man, all long spindly limbs in ill-fitting pale pink. With all the green of the rest of him, it made him look floral, a mop of green hair and his eyes pastel. Even the white of his skin had a green tinge on closer inspection. She'd been sure it reminded her of something and had spent hours online trying to find it. She'd decided on a small emerald moth, staring at stock photos of delicate wings almost translucent and trying to remember where she ever could have seen one.

Charming as a bouquet full of insects.

He plucked the bag from her hand and pulled what looked like a butterfly knife from inside. He grinned, and when he did his face seemed to grow twice as long and half of it teeth. Gleaming purple metal spun between long fingers, but when he pointed it at her to watch her recoil, it had the teeth of a comb. He waggled his eyebrows at her before running it through his hair, using both hands and raising his elbows much higher than necessary so his shirt rode up. She pressed her lips together rather than dignify the performance with a response.

His eyebrows were still pristine and had been since he'd been admitted. Precise arches with edges razor-sharp.

Without products to keep it in place, his hair fell back down at an angle from his widow's peak. "Don't pretend I'm not funny, Dr. Quinn," he said, metal twirling between his fingers again.

"Quinzel," she corrected.

"Nurse Harlequin," he said, rummaging through the limited personal effects she'd brought him. It was absurd to refuse anyone these few small comforts. She'd always thought so. It was punitive, the way they denied any dignity to anyone they were meant to be treating.

There but for the grace of God, she thought and tried not to.

"I don't have a mirror," he declared, holding a red vial she was sure could not be blood. He reached out to touch beneath her chin. "Hold still."

"Mr. J," she warned, refusing as she always did to refer to him by the only name they had for him.

"I love it when you call me that," he said with relish, using her glasses as a mirror to apply tint to his lips with a wand. "Say it again, doll."

"If they catch you wearing lipstick—"

"It's stain," he said dismissively. "They can't prove it. For all they know I got this the old-fashioned way, sucking dick in the bathroom again."

"Agai—"

"Excellent work, Harley," he said, and then his lips were on hers. She made a muffled sound of indignation and was careful not to move. He'd done this before, the first time they'd met, when he'd learned her name and had a good laugh about it. She'd slapped him for it then, hadn't protested when they'd put him in isolation for it. "Aw," he said as he pulled away, touching her lower lip. "I know it hadn't dried yet, but it doesn't show on you, does it?"

It was only stain, but his skin was so pale the red popped, his grin grotesque. A caricature of something unwholesome, white as a sheet and a mouth like a minstrel, too dark a thought to trust. It was hard not to think the worst of people, ascribe symbolism to nothing at all, fall into spirals. Enough real dog whistles without her inventing new ones.

"That's unacceptable behavior," she said, "and that's not my name."

"You don't call me by my name," he said, tapping the tip of her nose, "and I don't call you by yours." He dropped the pencil case back into her hands before she realized what he was doing, and she had to scramble to catch it in time. "Besides, you seem like a good ride." He made an exaggerated handlebar-revving gesture with both hands and winked as he stepped away from her. Something Fred Astaire in his footwork when he walked. She was careful to stay where she was, tucking the contraband back into her pocket.

"Do you harass all your doctors this way?" she asked pointedly, fixing her glasses again.

"Aggressively," he confirmed as he fell back into his bed. "The rest of them don't like it as much as you do, naughty girl." He sprawled sideways, propping his head up in a pose that might have been provocative if he'd had a curve anywhere but the jutting bones that slotted his hands into his forearms. "It's why they locked me up for being a deviant," he said with a limp-wristed gesture.

"They locked you up for killing people," she corrected.

"They were rich," he scoffed. "That doesn't count as people." Her nose crinkled, pressing her lips together again rather than do anything he'd interpret as a laugh. "You can tell because they didn't send me to prison."

"They didn't send you to prison because Gotham's justice system is fucked," she said. Arkham was privately owned with a budget inflated by charitable donations. It was inevitable that expensive-looking criminals were judged criminally insane, the worst of their excesses no longer a taxpayer problem.

He cocked his head. "Do I look sane to you?" he asked.

"Sane doesn't look like anything," she said. "We both know you knew what you were doing, and there's no medical intervention that would make you behave differently."

He grinned, too wide, too many teeth. She tilted her head a little, only enough to see around the edge of her glasses and confirm that his mouth blurred. "Yet here you are," he said.

"Rehabilitation isn't the exclusive domain of the medically impaired."

This job had been a nightmare from the beginning. Every day in large and small ways it wore her down, an endless river of bullshit trying to smooth down every part of her that believed in anything. No accountability, barely treatment, shifts too long with coworkers as sick as the patients. Less like doctors with patients and more like researchers with lab rats. Rubber stamps and no rocked boats and no goals greater than the status quo. Cameras easily bypassed by any employee who cared to, for whatever reason struck their whim. Her no better.

She should have done more. Her job shouldn't have been worth more than her principles. She could have done more than this, makeup and candy and burner phones in her pockets. She kept notes and told herself she'd blow the whistle someday. She kept her head down and kept her health insurance and knew herself for a traitor.

"Come closer," he said, gesturing with his fingers.

She was halfway across the room before she thought to stop and ask, "Why?"

He was grinning again. "Because I wanted to see if you would," he said, and at the look on her face he threw his head back to cackle. She pressed her nails into her palms and felt her face burn. "This might sound racist," he began.

"Then don't," she warned.

"No, no, it's not like that, I just—"

"Don't."

"I can't tell if you're blushing!" he said, exasperated. He swung his legs around to sit upright, his knees a mile apart. "That's all I was going to say, honestly. Is that bad? You can tell me if it's bad."

"I would call that an 'inside thought'," she said, still blushing. He cackled again.

"Really, though," he said, crooking his fingers again, "you should come over here."

"Why?" she asked first this time.

"So I can kiss you stupid," he said.

Her face felt hot again. "I'm not doing that."

He rolled his eyes so dramatically it took his whole face with it. "I have to come over there?" he asked rhetorically, gesturing at her. "Come on, now, doll. Give yourself a little agency, here. I'm locked up. You get to leave. That little love tap earlier was fine, there were cameras on, I get it, kind of hot if I'm honest, pretty into that. But I've got limits too, you know. You want me to play the big bad taking advantage, that's fine, I'm into it, but trust's a two-way street. Get over here and make it clear you know what you're here for, yeah? Despite what your bosses think, I'm not actually an animal. I'm not sitting here waiting for pretty girls to maim."

"I don't think that," she said, defensive.

"Naw," he said, "you're just coming in here when you're not supposed to be and standing in grabbing range, waiting for nothing to happen. Get over here or leave, I'm not going anywhere."

She half-turned, looking at the doorknob, but hesitated. She wanted the last word, but didn't have one ready and her throat was dry regardless. She felt sick.

"You're real scared I'm gonna laugh at you, huh?" he asked, and she whipped her head around to stare at him. He was leaning forward, chin on his fist, watching her. The pale shade of his eyes made it more predatory than it otherwise would have been. His smile was a wry gash across his face. "That happen a lot?" he asked, cocking his head. "Men telling you you're pretty as a prank, asking you out to make fun when you believed it?" She scowled, and his smile split into a grin. "Awww. Poor l'il Harley. C'mere, then. You wanna make a show of being vulnerable, be vulnerable. Least you can do, don't you think?"

The worst part was realizing, the moment he said it, that it was the thing she most dreaded. That he'd laugh at her for believing him.

She came close enough to stand between his knees, but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. She looked at the hole in his ear where they hadn't let him keep his earrings, instead.

"There's a doll," he said, grabbing her wrist and yanking so she'd fall into his lap. She narrowly avoided her knee hitting him somewhere awkward. She was distracted by how bony his thighs felt compared to hers, all his limbs too thin as his arms went around her waist. He kissed beneath her ear, and she thought of his mouth, the wide span of it and all those teeth at her throat. "Doesn't being honest with yourself feel better?" he asked against her skin.

"This is very, very bad," she breathed, her voice shaking. Her own body heat was mortifying. He felt halfway to a corpse.

"Awww, don't be like that," he said, and she could feel him smiling. All those teeth. "What's the worst that could happen?"

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

SOULMATE SOAP HAS MY HEART. I DONT THINK THERES ANYTHING I WOULDNT DO FOR HIM

67 / 2.8k / soap soulmate au, epilogue

...

"Anything, you say?" Soap's eyes sparkle. "A dangerous proposal, hen."

You roll your eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know what you said." He grins at you as he towels himself off. "I’m wonderin' what exactly I could get away with, bein' offered anything. No limits, no boundaries..."

You can't help but let your gaze trail down his form. He's totally naked and still dripping wet. "Anything within reason."

"Where's the fun in bein’ reasonable?"

You lean back, pulling your feet up and crossing your legs atop the low hotel coffee table where you're seated.

You and Soap have been getting to know each other here—intimately, as soulmates and people—for the past two days. You don't live near Glasgow and wouldn't tell Soap where exactly you call home, so he offered to get the two of you a hotel suite near the mountains while the higher-ups figure out what to do with you.

You figured he'd offer to take you out on a date or something, but so far you haven't made it out of the hotel room yet. It's more like a honeymoon than a vacation. You can't say you're disappointed with all the things he's shown you, though.

"Oh, so it hasn't been fun for you yet?"

Soap laughs at that and throws the towel to the carpet. No point in modesty. You’ve seen and touched every scar and bruise on his powerful body, but it does nothing to deter your gaze.

"Been plenty fun. But now I know I could be gettin’ away with even more if I play my cards right."

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

You scoff. "Pervert."

"Am I?" He leans toward you and braces his hands on the edge of the coffee table. He loves the way you try to resist looking at him but can’t help yourself. Your gaze keeps trailing down to his abs. "I think you like the idea of me down on my knees. I’ve seen you enjoyin’ the view."

Your back straightens. He's so cocky. Still, your eyes don't meet his. If anything, they dip lower. "Laswell called while you were in the shower."

"Did she?" He strolls across the space between the bathroom and the bed to his duffel bag. You lean back and watch him languidly as he digs around for his phone, his handsome mouth settling into a frown. He won’t find it. He sees why once he glances over at you to see your catlike smile.

Soap crosses his arms and looks down at you. "Resigned to petty thievery now, are we?"

You shrug and hold his phone out, letting it dangle from your fingertips like a mouse by the tail. "It's not like I have any other jobs to preoccupy my time."

He pauses to admire the view down your tank top—his tank top—and then snatches the phone away. "How many times do you want me tae beg and grovel for forgiveness? Not that you deserve it, ye wee hellion,” he mutters, scrolling through his recent calls.

"At least three more times." You lean back on your hands as he walks away. "Aren't you going to ask me what she said?"

"Are you going to tell the truth?"

"I was considering it."

"Were you?”

You sigh and watch him raise his phone to his ear. You miss when he hung on your every word.

"Go for Soap."

Soap makes a show of talking on the phone with Laswell. He tries not to glance at you too much. You and your sharp pout and the black tank top you’re wearing and how it rides up on your hips and leaves nothing to the imagination. He’ll have to do something about that later.

"Aye. Understood." A slow grin stretches across his face. "Now that is good news. Pleased to be workin' with ya, Laswell."

He hangs up. You cross your arms. "Well?"

Soap tosses his phone on the bed and turns back to you. "Ought to chew you out for answering a call on a secure line."

"Kate already did."

"Did she, now? And you’re on a first-name basis?" Now he is amused. "Don't think I'm not keeping track of every little rule you’ve broken so far. You’re in enough trouble as it is."

You bounce your leg against the tabletop. "What did she say?"

Soap closes the space between you. In the time it takes him to reach you, you stand up, bare feet on the low table. It puts you barely above eye level with him.

"She didn't tell you the news, then, did she?" His lips twist into a smug smirk. "Serves you right."

You stare him down. You don't often get the chance to, so you capitalize on it for all you're worth. "She did," you lie.

"You’re lying, darlin’."

"How would you know?"

"You'd be right pissed off already, for one." He wraps his hands around the backs of your bare thighs idly. His thumbs brush the underside of your ass. "For two, I know better than to take you at your word. Might as well start assuming the opposite of what you decide to tell me."

"That's not a nice thing to say to your soulmate."

"You’ve never been nice to me in your life." He pulls you closer, making your legs part so he can hike his thigh up between them, his foot flat on the table between yours. He grins at you. "I seem to recall you threatenin' me that first night we met."

You push against his chest to steady yourself. "I was trying to protect your dumb ass. You were going to get yourself killed."

Soap’s hand slides up to the small of your back to help you balance. "Didn't get killed, though, did I?"

"Only because I told you to hide."

"My guardian angel."

"You're lucky you got away when you did. If you compromised us, I would've gutted you."

"Vicious, vicious woman."

"Stubborn mule of a man."

"Gorgeous, disobedient pain in my ass." Soap takes your chin in his fingers and lifts it, drifting closer to your lips as if drawn in. "Not tae mention ornery."

"You're ornery."

"Now, that's hurtful. You ought to give me some sympathy."

"Give me one good reason why."

His hands slide up to cup your ass. "Because I’m your soulmate, and I’m entitled to a little sympathy for the fact that your brazen attitude makes me crazy."

You rub at his collarbone. "If you're my soulmate, it follows that you deserve it."

Christ, he loves when you say shit like that. He leans in to mouth the underside of your jaw and murmur directly against your ear. "You know what I deserve? And you’re gonna give it to me?"

You tilt your head up. His lips slide further down your neck. You preen. "Someone has to."

He lets out a dark huff of laughter at the response. You’re all too eager to push back at him, and nothing gets him hard faster than a challenge.

Just as he latches onto your neck and begins marking you with a new hickey, you push him backward onto the hotel bed. Soap laughs as he lets himself fall. Then he sits up on his elbows and leers at you. His hair is already mussed and his breathing already heavier than normal.

You climb over him, plant your palms on his shoulders, and press him down into the comforter. Right as you stoop down to catch his bottom lip in your teeth, though, you look down at him from above and frown. "Wait, but what did Laswell say?"

Soap pauses. “Now?”

"Yes." You can’t stand not knowing. "Tell me."

Soap grabs two handfuls of your ass and squeezes in annoyance. Ruin the mood, then. "She said she heard back from the program." The program meant to protect the soulmates of military operators and other agents who could be compromised by the existance—or any knowledge whatsoever—of a soulbond. Like witness protection.

You suck in an annoyed breath. "Are you really gonna lock me up in some safehouse?"

“I’d love to—chain you up, put you in a cage, keep you somewhere all safe and sound so nobody else can touch you.” Soap watches you with an off-kilter gleam in his eyes. His words draw an image in your mind that isn’t remotely unpleasant. “But it won't be with the program, no. They denied the request."

You perk up. "Really?"

Soap grins at how excited you get. “Aye. Said your old job makes you a security risk. Too hot to handle.” He lets out a huff as his hand slides up your bare thigh. “But don't get too excited. Laswell found another opening. Or… made one. Something in her sector."

You sit back in surprise. "CIA?"

"Aye. Turns out your impressive track record of selling violence for money makes you a font of useful intel. " Soap watches you, gauging your reaction. "Couldn’t let that go to waste, now, could they?"

You glare down at him. "What's the catch?"

Soap can see the wheels turning in your mind. He grins. "Oh, hardly a thing."

Your hands tighten on his shoulders in warning. "Johnny."

He grins up at you, all teeth and confidence. He loves the way you say his name. “You should go into intelligence. You’d be a hell of an interrogator. You’d get me to tell you anything and never even bat those pretty eyelashes at me."

"John, I swear to God."

He laughs as he sits up on his elbows, his free hand running up your leg to wrap around your hip. "Alright, alright. Pushy." This is almost how he wanted you: straddling him on the bed, hips pressed together. "You're the perfect hire because you come attached to your own soldier, aye? Package deal. Someone to keep an eye on you."

"What, like a handler?"

"Somethin' like that," he muses, tracing his finger along your spine.

You give him a doubtful look. There's no way Laswell would stoop so low. But seeing the shit-eating grin on his face gives you a sinking feeling. "I'm an asset?"

"Course not. An asset would've defected of their own free will. And since you runnin’ away with me is still off the record as of yet…"

Still perched across his hips, you cross your arms. "And what if I say no?"

Soap narrows his eyes.

The world flips. You're on your back, pinned underneath him against the bed. He presses your wrists against the comforter. "Then you'd be a hostage."

You pull at his grip, but it does no good. "You can’t do that."

"I can."

"Says who?"

He leans close. "Says your new handler." He lets the word sink in, lets it make your mind race with indignant heat. That's how he likes you best. His lips trail along the side of your neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin there in a way that makes you arch up. "Talk or don't. Either way, I'll have a convenient excuse to keep you locked up tight."

Naturally. He lets the truth slip out so easily. Likely because he never intended to give you much of a choice. He's learned his lesson and knows very well not to trust you to stay in one place anymore. If he wants to keep you around, he needs to play dirty. Like you.

He trusts you with his life, yes, but not with your own. And certainly not with his heart.

You scoff. But instead of resisting, you relax your body and let him have his way. "Fine. If it makes no difference, do your job. You know what that is, right? Extract my intel."

He pauses with his mouth against your neck. You’re giving in already. He isn’t used to that.

He shifts his hands to thread your fingers together and pin them higher over your head. He lets his mouth brush your neck as he speaks. "I intend to."

"Go on, then. Let’s see a real interrogation. Nothing like that silly warehouse you had me in before."

Soap’s face falls into a scowl. Cheeky. "That wasn't an interrogation, hen. That was a rescue." He settles one muscular leg back between your thighs. "Bloody eager to test my patience. And for what?"

"Mm."

He lets his knee nudge up against your core and grind against it, skin to skin. "You want a fight?" His voice softens, barely. "You want control?"

You think about it. But ultimately, you let your eyes close and relax your body that much more under him. "No, I trust you."

“Oh?” You’ve never said that before. Those words sound good coming from your lips. “Do ye?”

You open your eyes a fraction to narrow them at him. "Don't look too far into it."

“I’ll look as far as I please. Trust me not to hurt you, trust me not to let you leave...” He kisses you. It steals your breath again. "Trust me to give you what you need. Am I close?"

"You're trying to rile me up."

A dangerous grin slowly spreads across his face. “That's what I do best, sweetheart. So you trust me, eh?" When he gets like this—dark and heated, predatory—Soap looks more dangerous than all the weapons he’s ever used combined. A man as trained and deadly as Soap can get downright lethal when he’s playing with you. “Are you sure you should be trusting a man like me?”

"No, definitely not. Horrible idea."

He lets a laugh rumble out of his chest and his knee grinds against you again, earning himself a soft gasp. "But you’re still doing it, aren’t you? And you know what I'd do if your sweet little ass pulled another runner."

"I'm shaking in my socks."

His eyes flash with heat as he smirks down at you. He can feel your thighs clenching around his leg as he continues to grind against you. "You ought to be," he murmurs. "You know I got you. And you owe me."

"Do I?"

"Aye. For runnin' away from me, for lyin', for makin' me hunt you down. For makin' me drag your ass out of a frozen river. For makin' me think you were gonnae freeze t'death the moment I finally got you in my arms." He gives you such a heated look, you find yourself looking off at the ceiling behind him rather than holding his gaze. "And that's not even gettin' into all the stitches I got 'cause of you. You owe me for every single one."

You swallow. "Are you planning to hold that stuff over my head forever?"

If you had any idea how it felt to see you disappearing into that river, you probably wouldn’t be asking that.

"That depends on whether you plan on bein' the sort who needs to be kept in line forever," he growls. "Or whether you're gonnae let me keep you safe, darlin', always where I want ye."

Your face warms and your chest flutters. Damn it. "Fat chance," you retort as quickly as you can to cover up the butterflies.

"Forever it is, then." He lets go of your hands and reaches up to grab your chin. Soap has big hands, strong, with too many scars along his knuckles given his young age. "You’d do well to remember that every time you think about runnin’ from me.” His knee grinds up against you again, a tease and a promise all rolled into one. “Now tell me again that you trust me.”

"Nnh." You squirm. "Johnny, c'mon..."

"No, go on. Say it for me. Say you trust me. Say it out loud." He leans in closer. He's hungry again. Starving. "Let me hear it again. Sounds as pretty as you look."

You roll your hips against his knee again, seeing stars against your eyelids when his thigh muscle clenches.

His grip tightens in warning as he fights to keep control of himself. "You’re pushin’ it, hen."

"Do something about it," you murmur. You wanted bite in your voice, but it's not quite there. "Handler."

Coming from your mouth, it does funny things to his mind. His muscles coil tight with need. But then he relaxes. He has all the time in the world to do everything he wants to you. He bites down gently on your ear, earning a breathless shudder from you. His hands snake under your hips, pulling them up higher as his body slides between your legs.

"That's right. All mine."

...

the end :) thanks everyone! soap loves you <3

...

← previous part / [epilogue]

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

...

send me a prompt for more of him? :)

[hysteria-things]

DRUNK IN LOVE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend has never been so in love. he has to prove it to you somehow.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FILTHY, swearing, jealousy, oral (female receiving), spanking if you squint, overstimulation, dumbification, passing out

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 756

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day FIVE (🤫) of nate week!

WE ARE SO BACK…

genuinely, you don’t know how much more you can take, but god it feels so good. your legs are propped over nate’s shoulders, still shaking from your two previous orgasms.

juices coat his mouth and the sheets below, your fingertips massaging his hair. he hasn’t come up for air once, and it’s quite shocking to you.

your twitching lower half grinds into his face, chest heaving as you pant uncontrollably. your parents aren’t home, so you two need to take advantage of that.

the funny thing is, he’s not doing this because you guys got bored. he’s doing this because he saw you and this one kid talking at his lacrosse match… he didn’t like that.

the two of you are a well-known couple around school, so it didn’t take long for everyone to know you’re off limits. guess that one junior didn’t get the memo whatsoever.

before the other team gets to the school and while the stands slowly fill, they warm up as much as they can on the field. a glimpse of you catches nate’s eye, but you’re not alone.

nate stops in his tracks, staring intently at the way whoever that fucking kid is is talking to you. from where he is he can’t hear, but he can tell by the boy’s body language.

you’re too much of a people pleaser to notice, but your boyfriend can notice from a mile away that he’s flirting with you. his hand touches your shoulder while you’re laughing at something he said.

eyes like daggers, nate breathes heavily from anger the more he watches this go down. “nate, man, you good?” one of his teammates asks, jogging in front of him to block his view.

“yeah. i’m fine.”

it’s just the fact that he loves you so much he can’t help himself as he worships your pussy. his pussy, and he’s letting you know that it belongs to him and nobody else.

his tongue licks fast strands up your slit, high-pitched mewls leaving your mouth. “nate.” you sob, hot tears trickling down your face. “nathan.” you repeat, gripping tighter onto his brown locks and arching your back.

usually, he would praise you, but he’s so pussy drunk that he can’t pull away. your mind isn’t the only thing that’s not thinking straight. his isn’t either.

other than your cries and moans, the squelching noises your pussy makes are his favorite sound. he hums hungrily into your cunt, and you exhale when your third release of the night paints his lips that have to be swollen by now.

the view at nate’s eye level is fucking filthy. your poor comforter is drenched, practically ruined at this point. the inside of your thighs glistening with your folds fluttering the rest of your orgasm out onto his chin. this isn’t enough. he needs more.

his muscle enters your sopping hole, all red and used from continuous stimulation. gasping, you close your legs tight around his head and keep them there. this hits a new angle, making him dig deeper… and deeper.

you’re wrecked at this point, absolutely helpless and out of control. “stop it.” you whimper, breathing through your sobs.

with that, his hands grip your calves and spread your legs wider than they were before. “s-stop.” you cry out again.

you desperately try to push his head away, but of course, he doesn’t listen. in fact, he pulls you closer to the point where his nose grazes you clit with each stroke and slaps the outside of your thigh.

screaming, you accept your fate and lay there. he’s eating as if he’s never eaten a meal in his life. your whole body loosens, brain dead, and laying there to take it like you were supposed to do. your lower half is so numb that you don’t feel the other orgasm rip through you.

this time, he takes his lips and sucks at your pussy along with your clit. poor you, so useless and crying with your eyes crossed and tongue sticking out. then, your vision goes black; the rest of you becoming limp.

he kisses your puffy cunt before slowly stopping to catch his breath. a string of saliva mixed with your cum connects from his lips before he breaks it by pulling away.

getting up, he wipes his mouth and makes his way to where your face is. he rubs the tears from your cheeks and kisses the corner of your lips softly, whining before he thrusts into the mattress while cumming in his sweats. again.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

Antivaxxers are not responsible* for the current pertussis outbreak. In fact, rich countries are! Here's how:

Whooping Cough, also called pertussis is back in a big way in the US right now. Other nations are also seeing outbreaks, particularly 'rich' or 'first world' or 'developed' nations. Wait what? Rich countries are having a bigger increase in whooping cough than countries with limited healthcare infrastructure? You're probably thinking 'ah, it's the antivaxxers, isn't it?' While they're contributing to the problem, but no, they're not in fact THE PROBLEM. In fact, even fully vaccinated people in rich countries are at risk for pertussis. The first thing to understand is that there are two 'generations' of pertussis vaccine available at present. Both are given in combination with tetanus and diphtheria vaccines. As far as I know, tetanus, diphtheria and pertussis are given together in every mainstream formulation of pertussis vaccine globally. The OG (first gen) pertussis vaccine was the DTP vaccine which contains a whole cell inactivated pertussis bacteria so when it is given, the body develops a robust immune response to every antigen (the thing your body can learn to make antibodies to recognise) on the surface of the pertussis bacteria. It is still used in countries where money is tight because it's cheaper to make and the immune response is robust and long-lasting--5-10 years depending on your source. Unfortunately, side effects were higher with the OG. Some children spike high fevers causing febrile seizures (which are terrifying even though they're benign), arm pain is more intense, and people feel worse after getting it. A miniscule number of children given the OG suffer encephalitis and more serious neurological effects, though most cases self-resolve. In rich countries, as the incidence of pertussis (and diphtheria and tetanus) fell with robust vaccination programs, people became more and more afraid of the side effects of the DTP vaccine. Those side effects sound scarier when there's lower risk of pertussis. There were also ever-growing antivaccine movements because since there has been inoculation (a precursor medical practice to vaccination that goes back all the way to ancient China) there have been opponents inoculation and vaccination. Antivaxxers are not new and modern. They have always been there and they were PISSED about the encephalitis. So both antivaxxers and provaxxers who were starting to forget how scary it is to watch a baby with pertussis said 'we need a better option'. This brings us to 2nd gen vaccines, the acellular pertussis vaccines DTaP and Tdap. The little a stands for 'acellular', meaning that there is no longer a whole dead bacteria cell as our antigen. We use specific cut-up antigens instead. Most formulations use 3-5 different antigens. This results in much lower side effects! Immunity without side effects is the goal! The problem is that this vaccine doesn't last as long. In fact, for 0-10 year old children, 98% are immune at 1 year after vaccination while 81% are immune at 5 years after vaccination. For 11-20 year olds, those numbers drop to 72% at one year and 42% at 5 years after vaccination. For people who are older, those numbers drop even faster. And the acellular vaccines aren't as good at preventing infection--they're more like the covid vaccines in that rather than stopping infection, they make the symptoms less bad. And those 3-5 antigens in the acellular vaccine are becoming less common on the surface of the bordatella pertussis bacteria. Yup. It's out-evolving the vaccine. So where does this leave us? 1) Make sure your pertussis vaccine is up to date. This protects you against the effects of a very serious illness. 2) If you have been exposed to pertussis TALK TO YOUR DOCTOR ABOUT PROPHYLACTIC ANTIBIOTICS. After an hour in a room with someone who has pertussis, if your body doesn't have sufficient immunity there's up to a 90% chance of you getting it and you will be sick for months. This is one of the ONLY CASES EVER where you should be getting prophylactic antibiotics. Usually, I would say do not get prophylactic antibiotics. This is a special case.

3) If a third gen vaccine comes out (many are in development), update your pertussis shot! 4) IF YOU FEEL SICK AND HAVE A COUGH, STAY HOME. If you cannot stay home, then you should wear a well-fitted disposable n95, kn95, or surgical mask (in order of preference) at all times around other people. 5) Mask in crowded public spaces and on airplanes even if you feel well.

[lucidfairies]

— m'lady [sevika]

part one

synopsis: your sister was in need of something, anything to reel her in, and a handsome new knight was just the one for the job.

pairing: sister's!knight!sevika x queen!reader

warnings: forbidden/off limits, mentions of parental death, light angst, essentially an introduction to the rest of the series, lots of sexual tension, eventual smut (see: parts 4, 6, probably more)

wc: 3k

a/n: check out the @sevsgiirl cameo ;) so much love to them, she's helping me so much with this so go follow them and love on all their work!!!!

2 YEARS PRIOR

Your father's death came and went with haste.

He was a noble man, the King. After your mother's death, he took control of Piltover and led with proficiency. There was never a moment where he wasn't thinking of the people, rather than himself. Your mother was born of royal blood, and married your father against her parents will. And together, they lead beautifully.

You said that all in the obituary, before he was lowered into the ground to rest next to the Queen. It was one week prior that he was joking about your queenhood, and the following week he was dead, only bringing that joke into reality.

Everything moved too fast for you. Your father died, you hosted his funeral at the castle, and five days later you were being crowned. The coronation was a dull thing; the colors weren't as bright in your eyes, and the dress was simply another designed to make you look ready to assume the duty of Queen. You weren't.

You couldn't find joy in the occasion. While most girls dreamt of their sweet sixteen, you spent nights dreaming about your coronation. You've had the colors picked out since you were 12 - a gorgeous mix of yellows and pinks, and even some light blue. Spring colors. However, as a young girl, nobody told you what had to come before the coronation for it to happen.

As your eyes drilled holes into the floor and your knees splintered from the old wood of the church steps, the royal priest placed your crown atop your head, finishing the ceremony with the exchange of the sword of state. You rose, he blessed you, and it was over. You could retreat back to your quarters and simply not attend the party, stating to the townspeople that you had fallen ill, but they should enjoy the party in your absence.

And now, you were Queen.

What came after that might've even been worse. Upon taking over the entire kingdom and all duties, you also took over the responsibility of Sarah - your younger sister. At 13, she was a brilliant thing, but also a hell of a lot for you to handle. To you, she was a rebellious child who channelled her guilt into sneaking out of the castle and piercing her ears.

You wouldn't pretend like it wasn't a burden, all of it. Sometimes you spent hours thinking about what it would be like to go back to when you didn't have to fret over foreign relations and the Piltover school system, when both of your parents were alive. There were nine years before your sister existed, nine years that you clung onto like a crutch.

You remembered the day your parents found out about Sarah's existence clearly. Your mother told you in your bedroom, and you were excited. You had no idea what would happen five months later, when your mother had an emergency birth at 22 weeks. She died that day, and so did your excitement.

It took you years to stop resenting your sister. Like most kids did, you blamed her for the death of your mother, but you never told her. After years of therapy, you worked through your resentment, but her constant presence and reliance on you led to the feelings creeping back up your spine, and you knew then that you had to do anything in your power to stop them.

PRESENT

“Elora,” you yelled from your writing room, as you continued to glance over a law that is on track to pass. She arrived in front of you in a moment's time, hands behind her back with a small smile. “I need you to find a knight for my sister. Organize interviews for the coming day and make sure to run background checks.”

“Yes ma'am.” She nodded and turned on her heel, quickly leaving to begin researching and organizing. You required the knight quickly; in a few short weeks, Piltover would be hosting its annual creation ball, that you had to plan all of. You needed Sarah safe and off your plate, so that you could focus on passing legislation and planning the biggest event of your royal career.

After countless attempts at reigning Sarah in, you had finally given up. You had put her in therapy and in public school, given her a royal advisor, and even offered to pay her to act right, and nothing managed to get through to her. You hoped that, now that she was 15, she would've moved past this part of her life, but she has yet to.

This was the one thing that she was absolutely against. She insisted that she didn't need a person, especially a man, following her around all the time. She hated the idea of someone posted outside her door. But her wants were too late for your needs - she would be dead by 16 if she kept up the way she was acting.

You would need three of them - each taking eight hours shifts to cover all 24 hours of the day. You had three, and you hardly noticed them. Sarah's guards would be no different, and you wouldn't take her no as an answer.

The first interview was nothing less than abhorrent bland. It was a man, of course, who barely met the qualifications and basically had to talk Elora into letting him interview. He failed knight training because of drugs, and had to retake it at much too old. He wasn’t in shape, and he refused to refer to you as Queen, rather than princess. You asked him to leave quickly after.

Terribly, the rest of the interviews followed the first one steadily. You had two potential candidates lined up, neither of which you were particularly fond of, but it didn’t matter. They met the requirements, and that was what was important. But, with the rate that the interviews were going, you truly didn’t believe that you would ever find a third, and that was an issue. No knight would settle for twelve hour days, it was against kingdom policy anyway.

Your final interview of the day was late, and found you swiftly. You were tired, and damn close to simply asking Elora to do the interview for you. You feared that if this woman wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you would absolutely flip your shit at her. In between each meeting, plans crept up your neck and you scribbled as much as you could down before the contestant arrived, and you were desperate to hide in your chambers and sort through all of your notes. But you were far from that.

The woman that stood before you as Elora opened the door was nothing like you had expected. It wasn’t like you got pictures when you looked over the recruits’ files, simply just a handout from the knight academy that was hardly legible. She was extremely tall, towering over Elora and eating up the space in the room, and her muscle wasn’t that of anyone that you had seen before - man or woman. Elora looked over at you with rosy cheeks and a hinting smile before she shut the door and left you to your business.

It was almost sensual the way the woman bowed to your presence, but kept her dark gaze on your eyes. Even bent at the waist, she took up a grand amount of space, in the best way possible. It was as if you couldn’t look away, even if she was burning you. Your eyes begged for hers, prayed on hers. There wasn’t anything in the world other than you and the pair of eyes gazing back at you.

Her eyes were something of magic - a dark mix of steel greys that got darker as she scanned your face. They almost made you shiver, the way she was looking at you. Her eyes fit perfectly in respect to her face; the high cheekbones, sharp nose, broad lips, scar drawn across her cheek. It gave her the most perfect blend of masculine and feminine, put together in one. She was beautifully a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Queen,” she spoke low and smooth, taking your hand as she stood up. She left a kiss to your knuckle, something that none of the other recruits had even dreamt of doing. She had a sense of unrequited confidence to her that oozed, and it was drawing you in far more than you wished it was.

“The pleasure is mine,” you spoke before you could think, clearly your throat with haste to subdue the tension that she had created. “Please, sit,” you insisted, taking your seat as she took hers. You couldn’t help but watch as she sunk down in her chair and shifted her legs, letting them fall open wide. You swallowed, quickly averting your gaze to the paper in your hand with her work on it. “I must say, I did not have time in between applicants to look over your resume, but it is incredibly impressive,”

“That is the goal, after all.” She snickered, and you pursed your lips to restrict yourself from grinning. She had numerous highly selective and incredibly prestigious positions listed for her, and she passed at the top of her class at the academy, however, she graduated several years before any of the other applicants had.

“So, Sevika, I must ask what led you to leaving your post with the Kiramman’s? It appears as if you held the post for several years, and it's a highly competitive program, after all.” She sighed, shifting awkwardly and scratching the back of her neck.

“There was an incident that led me to become temporarily unable to provide them with the service that they needed. I chose to step down under the idea that I was not serving them to the extent that they needed.” You nodded slowly.

“May I ask what this ‘incident’ was?” You pressed. It could’ve been anything, with the vagueness of her speech. Slowly, with caution, she pulled back the partial cape that was covering the left half of her body. You had wondered why she was still wearing it when she appeared in your office, it was unusual and you were sure Elora had offered to take it.

Under it was a gorgeously mechanical prosthetic arm, one that looked as if it took years to build. “I can promise you, ma’am, that my injury doesn’t negate my ability to care for the princess. In fact, I believe that it makes me a stronger candidate-”

“Sevika, you aren’t ruled out of the competition simply because of a disability,” you insisted, softly. “It was the Kiramman bombing, I assume?” She nodded briskly. “I see. Well, moving past that, aside from the oath of Piltover, what does loyalty to the royal family mean to you?” You sat the paper down and clasped your hands on the oak table.

“Loyalty means everything to me, my Queen. There is nothing in the world that could make me turn my back on the post I’m assigned to. Nothing.” She insisted. You noticed the gap in her teeth as you spoke, and you almost forgot to listen to the words she was uttering.

“And if another realm were to offer you money or land in exchange for betrayal, what do you see yourself doing, honestly? I’ll kindly remind you that all of these answers are private and not shared.” She didn’t have to think before answering this one.

“Like I said, ma’am, I value loyalty above all else. Once I’m committed to a position, there is nothing that could draw me from it, especially something like money or land. My commitment to you means more than anything.” You couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your cheeks, even though you knew deep down that she was just trying to butter you up into hiring her.

“If you did not morally agree with an order given to you by the princess or myself, how would you respond?” She thought for a moment before answering this question. You couldn’t think of anything morally or ethically wrong that you would ever order her to do, but the questions were left by your father from when he hired knights, and you trusted his judgement over your own.

“In either situation, I would bring that up with you. If I don’t agree with somethin’, I won’t just blindly follow orders. And if it's something that I can’t do, I will resign from my duties.” You nodded, scribbling a few things down on the paper.

“If you would like a straight answer, I’m going to hire you undoubtedly. However, I need to warn you before you accept this position that my sister is quite a… handful. She can be difficult to deal with and she doesn’t often listen to directions. It may be difficult keeping her in check and protecting her to the best of your ability.” She laughed, and you couldn’t imagine why.

“If you think she’s bad, you clearly haven’t met a young Caitlyn Kiramman. Man, was that woman a lot to handle. You couldn’t help but join her laughs at that one. You had known the Kirammans for quite some time, and it was a well known fact that Caitlyn was quite the trickster in her developing years, much like Sarah. But Caitlyn’s was rooted in grief, like Sarah’s.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but Sarah hasn’t healed from the death of our parents, and it can be difficult for her to regain control sometimes. So, that being said, if you don’t think this is the position for you, it’s completely understood.”

“No, I think this is definitely the position for me. I’ve trained in both physical handling and mental handling. I’m sure that I can meet all of your sister’s needs within my station. I won’t let you down, m’lady.” The name rolled off her tongue unlike any other, even though thousands of other people had called you the exact same thing. “It can’t possibly be that difficult with a boss as pretty as you.” You couldn’t escape the blush that the woman gave you.

“You’ll start promptly tomorrow with two other soldiers. I’ll train you for a portion of the day and my general will spend the rest of the day with you. It was lovely meeting you Sevika, and thank you for your service to our kingdom. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elora will show you out.” She rose with you, bowing once again.

“Thank you for the opportunity, my Queen.” She shot you a smile as she made her way to the door, where Elora was already waiting. Once Elora had walked her out, you let out a breath that you had been holding. The woman was more than attractive. She made you forget about the gala and how taxing your day had been - if you hadn’t taken notes, you would have zero recollection of anything she said. She was entrancing, enchanting, and you knew that this was going to cause a problem.

Elora found her way back into your writing room steadily after she presumably walked Sevika to the door. “Miss,” she chirped with excitement. “Now, that has never been my particular taste, but I must say that that woman was very attractive.” Elora was never the outspoken type, so when she plopped down in the seat across from you and fanned herself, you were more than a little surprised.

“I must agree,” you said, quietly. It hardly mattered whether you found her attractive or not. In fact, it mattered not. She was to protect your sister, and that was that. “She worked for Kiramman House, I would’ve hired her on the spot if I knew that. She’ll start tomorrow with Loris and Steb, could you make sure the Generals are aware that this is happening?” Elora stood, wiping her hands on the apron covering her dress.

“Yes ma’am, right away.” She left you with a suggestive smile as she made her way out of the writing room and away, and you stopped to think about it for a moment. Think about everything. This was the first person you had found undeniably appealing since long before your father’s death, and it made you wonder. Why her? Why someone who was the definition of off limits? You couldn’t bear the thought of distracting someone as qualified as Sevika from her work, not that you would ever explore that option in the first place.

You had come to a point in your life where you believed that the castle and the kingdom and all the needs of others were more of substance than your own. As a queen, you couldn’t see yourself settling down or bringing someone into your life who sought to slow you down. You had no room in your brain or heart to focus on another human being to the extent that they needed, and that was okay with you, at least for now.

But gods, did the woman have pretty eyes.

taglist: @lovinglynny @ferxanda @sevsgiirl @lilithyys @ayooooohush lmk if you want a tag :)

[intoblonde6ftwbbplayers]

HEADCANNON Paige x reader (w a tongue piercing n shit)

pairing : paige x reader

warnings: piercings tattoos mentions obvs

not edited sorry!! lowk got carried away but we're chilling

||

in high school you decided you wanted a tongue piercing

you got it and absolutely loved it of course

for some reason it always seemed to shock people when you would play with it unconsciously

if they didn't already know about your tattoos or piercings

they always said "wow you don't look like you have any piercings"

you didn't understand why because you had a couple

4 on each ear, your tongue, nipples, and for a while even considering getting one somewhere lower but then deciding that maybe your pain tolerance had limits

maybe one day

you also had tattoos

a "tramp stamp", some flowers REALLY high up on your outer thigh, behind your ear your lucky number 8, a butterfly on your hip, and the year your childhood dog was born on your upper arm

not that most people would ever get to see them

you met Paige and started dating

she LOVES your tongue piercing

she could watch you play with it absentmindedly for hours

she also was shocked when she saw it the first time

but she then quickly corrected herself telling you how good it looked

she never really cared for facial piercings or tattoos

she never thought it was something she preferred on others or on herself

after meeting you that changed obviously

even if you didn't "look" like it, you had many tattoos and had a good amount of piercings

which made the fact you had them so much better in her opinion

Paige absolutely loved every single one

she loved the fact that most people would never get to see them too

the first time you bent over to pick something up and paige saw the ink on your lower back she knew it was over for her

of course she immediately asked you if you had any other surprises like that

you said yes and told her exactly how many tattoos and piercings you had

and where

safe to say she chocked on air when you told her

the first time you guys kissed and she felt the piece of jewelry in your mouth it was like she had died and gone to heaven

paige swore she had never been so affected by a kiss in her life

she is addicted to the feeling of your body with its piercings in her mouth

even if it doesn't turn into anything she loves having her mouth on them

paige likes kissing you and feeling the cool metal against both your tongues

or the contrast of the hard jewelry with your soft chest

paige is also addicted to tracing your tattoos with her tongue

as well as using marker to color them in

since the start of your relationship you've gotten a few more tattoos

not filled in of course so she can color them whenever

a couple months ago you told her you wanted a belly button piercing

paige of course was on board instantly telling you how hot you would look with it

she definitely said something like "ma you'd look so fine, get it"

she goes to the appointment with you of course and helps you clean it and take care of it in the weeks after

she thinks she falls in love with you a little more if that was even possible once she see's it fully healed for the first time

paige loves loves loves your piercings and your tattoos but if she had to pick a favorite it's definitely your tongue piercing

and the butterfly on your hip (it's purple)

you've talked to her about considering a certain piercing that goes a little lower than your naval

she literally forgot how to breathe for a second

paige turned the brightest shade of red you've ever seen in your life

she started picturing it as you explained where it go and what it would look like

she silently started thanking god for your love of body art and jewelry

and of course your pain tolerance to be able to get them is certain places

paige never knew that she would like tattoos or piercings on others until she met you

and now she couldn't live without them or you.

[sayruq]

Last week, Politico reported that President Joe Biden would “consider” conditioning military aid to Israel if the country launches a large-scale invasion of Rafah, where more than a million Palestinians are sheltering. “It’s something he’s definitely thought about,” said one of the four anonymous US officials cited as a source. This was about as weak of a position as could be imagined: The President had definitely thought about maybe doing something. Still, even this proved too much. One day later, National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan said the article was based on “uninformed speculation” by anonymous officials and that he wouldn’t be entertaining hypotheticals about how the US would respond to a major invasion of Rafah, which US officials have signaled they would accept in a more limited form. The dismissal was the latest indication of the administration’s almost complete unwillingness to even discuss imposing serious consequences on Israel for waging a war that has killed more than 30,000 people, most of whom were women and children. Instead, the administration has adopted a newfound feeling of impotence. As State Department spokesperson Matthew Miller put it last month, “The United States does not dictate to Israel what it must do, just as we don’t dictate to any country what it must do.” The absurdity of this position was made clear when a reporter interjected, “Unless you invade them.” Miller couldn’t help but laugh. It has been obvious for months that there are many things the Biden administration can do to restrain Israel and distance itself from a war that has been condemned throughout the world. The problem has not been a lack of options but a lack of political will. Daniel Levy, a former Israeli peace negotiator who is now the president of the US/Middle East Project, told me, “I think many of us who had very low expectations of the US and of Biden have had a rude awakening as to how much lower the actual performance has been [compared] to even the lowest of low expectations.”

As evidence of how important US backing has been for Israel, Levy cited veteran Israeli journalist Yoav Limor, who wrote in Hebrew earlier this month that without “Biden’s support, Israel would long ago have been forced to stop the fighting in Gaza due to a shortage of weapons, while at the same time it would have been forced to deal with United Nations Security Council resolutions (and possibly sanctions) against it.” Still, Levy thought it might take weeks or months of sustained US pressure to compel Israel to change course. In any case, Biden is under no obligation to provide thousands of bombs to a country whose leader has consistently ignored him as Israel wages a brutal war that has leveled much of Gaza and caused children to die of starvation. “We need to stick to our own values,” Ford said. “If our values say, ‘Starving children is way beyond the pale,’ then we need to react to that and take stern action, whether or not it changes Israeli policy.”

[silens-oro]

Retreat to Safer Waters

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Jack Abbot x f!Reader (slow burn) Shared grief/Comfort

The Pitt Playlist located here Masterlist Pass Slowly Series Patron Saint, Are We All Lost Like You?

Synopsis: With a little encouragement, you initiate some free time with Jack. Word Count: 2.8k Content Warning: Spousal death discussion; fluff; HEALTHY communication A/N: This is the next installment of my Pass Slowly series. Between this and my Pope series, the only thing going through my brain is every TikTok "at the same damn time" edit with Abbot and Pope 😭 save me Please comment and reblog :)

Two Weeks Before Patron Saint, Are We All Lost Like You?

“So, anything new with you and Doctor Jack?” Chrissy asked as you were out to lunch. You took a half day at the office so you could get an early start on the weekend and catch up with your sister. It was a question she brought up frequently. You were currently sitting on the outdoor patio to a Mexican restaurant that you both frequented during the warm summers, chatting over drinks and some killer nachos. 

“The same thing that’s always going on with me and Jack -nothing. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask, Chris. The answer isn’t going to change.” You replied nonchalantly, sipping on your margarita. 

“He’s interested.” Chrissy said like it was the most obvious thing in the world to say. You scoffed, laughing nervously. 

“He’s not.” 

“Yes he is.” She argued back with a scoff.  

“He’s dealing with a lot, and I’m sure the last thing on his mind is dating anyone…much less me of all people. Believe me, Jack’s a great guy-”

“-Very attractive-” Chrissy let her sunglasses slide down the bridge of her nose and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Christine!” 

“You’d have to be blind to not think so. Tell me I’m wrong! He’s older,” She started using her fingers to count, “Very attractive, incredibly kind, a doctor. I can keep going,” Chrissy shrugged, sipping on her mojito. “But I might run out of fingers.” 

“You’re not wrong, but the whole situation is-”

“Messy?” She finished for you. Nodding, you looked down at your drink and swirled the straw. .

“Yeah. And even if I was interested, there isn’t a way of going into this where I don’t feel gross about it.”

“So you have thought about it,” Chrissy’s grin was downright lecherous. 

“Of course I have, but Janine was my friend, Chris. It’s weird, right? He’s definitely off limits, right? Am I overthinking this? Is there anything to even overthink?” Christine waved her hand with a shrug, stealing a chip off the plate between you. 

“I mean, if he was going to move on with anyone, I’d think it would be with someone he’s already comfortable with, wouldn’t it?” Chrissy sighed your name. “I’ve seen it with my own two eyeballs, alright? You two are absolutely clueless, I swear to God. I think you need to initiate anything if that’s what you want, and it is -I know you better than you know yourself. Then the two need to have an honest conversation, and then maybe some hand stuff-”

“Christine!” Your jaw dropped to the ground and that grin was back on your sister’s face. She leaned closer to you and lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“I’m just saying! I’m sure he’s a little rusty-” 

“-Stop!” You snorted into your napkin, waving your arm to bat her away.

“You don’t want to kill the guy. Just give him a hand!” Chrissy was nearly howling as you felt the heat of embarrassment run through your entire body. “Or two.” 

“Enough!” You laughed through clenched teeth. 

You ran into Jack when you both got to the main door of the building the following morning. He was coming home from work and you were leaving for your Saturday morning yoga class. 

“Well, good morning, Dr. Abbot.” You greeted Jack cheekily as you stepped out of the elevator. “Busy night?”

“It was surprisingly quiet. Not my preferred tempo, but I got through it.” He sounded tired and if you could see his eyes through the dark sunglasses he wore, you’d see the weariness there too. 

“Take the victories, Jack, even if they’re small.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He noticed the bag strapped to your shoulder that had your mat. “Got a lot to do today?” 

“Just a class and some errands. Nothing crazy, but I am going to that bakery on Easton. Want me to grab you a loaf of that bread you like? My treat.” 

“You don’t have to do that-” Jack started to argue the same argument anytime you went out your way for him, and you cut him off to give the same answer you always gave him back. 

“-Either I’m buying it for you -and I can steal a few slices, or I’m buying it for me, Jack, but either way it is coming home to one of us today.” He held his hands up, but smiled nonetheless. 

“Don’t gotta twist my arm about it.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck in an odd display of nervousness that you hadn’t seen from him before. “You uh, got any plans for the night?” Small talk with Jack wasn’t all that weird, but inquisitive small talk was. You didn’t want to overstep, so you never asked him anything personal out of respect, and in turn he never really dug into what you did when you weren’t hanging out together until very recently. 

It was a subtle shift, one that would go unnoticed with just about anyone else, but nothing was subtle when it came to Jack -not by your standards, anyway. He was generally an upfront kind of person, so to see him not in his usual state piqued your interest. Your thoughts went back to the conversation you had with your sister the day before. You need to initiate, she said. Just the idea made you want to puke on the spot. 

“Figure I’d put a movie on and order some takeout. It’s been a very long week and some relaxation is very much needed.” Jack nodded, hands stuffed into the pocket of his sweatshirt. 

“Yeah, I feel that.” He said with a sigh. Jack was looking at you like he was trying to analyze you, like he was trying to figure something out and you hadn’t the faintest clue what. The feeling of his unyielding eyes made you suddenly very nervous. 

“Are you interested in joining me? Unless you’re working -I know you usually have Saturdays off, but I also know your schedule can be wonky. You know what, you probably already have plans-” Jack chose to give you mercy at that point, cutting off your rambling.

“-I would very much like to join you. I’m off tonight, thankfully.” He clarified with a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took off his sunglasses. Jack knew that he shouldn’t even think about it, about you, but your genuine smile allowed him to push his doubts down and allow himself to be around another person. Put the effort in, his therapist told him. “Something is drawing you to her, and while it could be a fleeting moment, it could be something more, but you have to put the effort in to find that out.”

“Great!” You replied almost a little too quickly. “There’s a Korean place that just opened up a few blocks down that I’ve been dying to try. Seems like as good of a night as any.” You tried to play it cool, act nonchalantly about…whatever this was. “Six o’clock at my place. Sound good?”

Something was off the second Jack stepped into your apartment. It wasn’t bad, but it was noticeably different. Jack held himself differently than he usually did when he came over to hang out. He wore cologne that you hadn’t smelled in years. He wore jeans and a nice, casual shirt as opposed to the comfortable sweats and pullover he usually opted out for. He was still comfortable, but definitely more dressed up than he needed to be. You weren’t going to think about the little bit of extra effort you put into your appearance. If you were being honest, the whole vibe shift was enough to throw you through a loop. 

Jack’s eyes, the way they looked at you -through you- were also different. The intention was different. His calculating eyes held a look that you couldn’t quite read and every time you peered over at him on the other side of the sofa while the movie played in front of you, he was already looking in your direction with his brows furrowed.  

“I’m sensing something here. This is different.” You paused the movie as you turned to face Jack. He looked slightly thrown that you were facing this head on, but went with it for the sake of cutting the growing tension in the cozy living room. “Does this feel…”

“Strange?” He finished, slightly shifting his body to face yours on the sofa.

“A little, yeah,” You breathed out, setting the remote down on the coffee table. “It shouldn’t.”

“But it does.” You nodded.

“I don’t want this to be weird, Jack.” You stated the obvious, heart pounding in your chest. 

“I don’t think either of us wants this to be weird.” Jack chuckled.

“Then why is it weird? We’ve had movie nights before. We’ve gotten dinner together. We’ve hung out.”

“Is that what we’re doing? Hanging out?” Oh, your eyes widened. OH. Goddamn Christine was right and you were never going to hear the end of it once she found this out. 

“Is that not what we’re doing?” You raised an inquisitive brow at Jack as you tried to get him to say exactly what was going on in the event that you were reading into things differently than he was. Jack sighed, your name slipping through his lips as he gave you his full attention.

“It’s been…a long time since I’ve done this. I haven’t put myself out there since I lost Janine, maybe I am so horrifically far removed from being practiced with any of it, but If I’m being completely honest here, my intentions were…not to hang out.” You nodded, a slight giddiness rolling in your stomach.  

“Okay…so this is mutual?” There was still this lingering doubt in your mind that maybe he didn’t really want this and was just looking for…you didn’t really know, but it still gnawed away at your psyche. 

“I sure fucking hope it is.” Jack chuckled, nerves peaking through, dragging one out of you as well. Part of the weight that was carried on your shoulders regarding him lifted ever so slightly. There was going to be a lot to work through, for both of you, but he put himself out there and you weren’t going to leave him hanging. 

Jack held out his hand for you to take, pulling you into his side when you accepted it. His warmth instantly radiated through you when your body met his, enveloping you in a comfort you hadn’t felt in years. You stretched your legs out over the length of the sofa and allowed yourself to sink into Jack as he pressed play on the remote.  

“Shit,” You groaned out, somewhat disoriented and stiff as you tried to sit up. At some point in the night, you and Jack had shifted on the sofa and right now you were wedged between Jack and the back of the sofa with your face pressed against him. His scent had your head spinning momentarily before his own groans brought you back to the present. Jack’s drowsy eyes blinked up at you, his brain catching up to where he was and who he was with. “God, what time is it?” You reached over Jack to check your phone. It was nearing two in the morning and it felt like you and Jack were in between dimensions where inky the two of you existed. It was a bubble you didn’t want to break and it seemed that Jack had the same idea because he gently pulled you back down to him, only now you were partially laying on him. 

Everything about Jack was comfortable, you were finding out. Not just physically, but his entire aura put you at ease. His hand rubbed lazy circles along your back. Jack’s steady breathing, the up and down motion of his chest, started to lull you back to sleep. 

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, Jack, but I don’t know if now is the time to dive into it.”

“We can.” He assured you. His voice was just above a whisper and you felt his breath in your ear. “I can sense you have some reservations about this.” Opening your eyes, you tilted your head to look up at Jack. You kept your voice as low as his, not wanting to break the barrier of peace that settled around you in the dim comfort of your living room. 

“I feel like I’m…intruding, but not because of anything you’ve done. Janine was my friend and you were her husband and also my friend. And I have to say this out loud because the guilt I currently feel for even looking at you too long will eat away at me if I don’t.” Jack nodded for you to continue. “It almost feels like I’m poaching. I know I shouldn’t, but I do because I don’t want anyone, especially you, to think I’ve just been waiting in the rafters for my time to strike, you know? I never looked at you as anyone other than Jack, Janine’s Husband, while she was alive. I’m not the type of person who looks at their friend’s husband or partner and thinks anything other than platonic, neutral thoughts. And I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret because you feel some sort of obligation-”

“-Have I been reading this wrong?” Jack started to shift under you.  

“I really hope not because I do like you, Jack, but I want to make sure that this is the right thing for you, you know?” His hand continued moving along your back as he thought for a moment. 

“I understand your concerns.” He started, “I also only saw you as Janine’s friend, to be clear.” You never doubted Jack’s loyalty for a single second. “In the last…god, I don’t know, year? I’ve thought about this, us…often. Just haven’t pushed myself to do anything about it until now.” Butterflies erupted in your chest. Jack gently tilted your chin up so he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “This isn’t something I’m jumping into without any forethought -believe me. I don’t do anything without completely overanalyzing it. I’ve spoken with my therapist about the situation extensively and I’ve put the work in to navigate through every roadblock I’ve given myself on why I couldn’t move forward with my life when I desperately wanted to after almost four years without her.” You clasped your hand in his, feeling the roughness against your skin, and brought up up to rest on his chest between you. His thumb traced over your knuckles as he continued. 

“You understand who Janine was to me -who she still is, and that is so incredibly important. I’m not looking to forget her or to replace her.” The earnestness in Jack’s voice simultaneously broke your heart and mended it back together again. “She was a part of my life for almost twenty years and will continue to be a part of who I am until I’m long gone. I had to accept that my life would continue on, because it does. It’s agonizing at times, and there was a point where I thought I wasn’t going to make it out, but you’re the one who pulled me through it. Those meals you dropped at my door? Those meant everything. The space you gave me while letting me know you were there? That meant everything. Just knowing you cared kept me going some days. You’re a true-hearted person and Janine loved you fiercely.” Jack cleared his throat and looked away, but you saw the tears that started to line his eyes. 

Without a second thought, you tenderly turned him back to face you. Please don’t hide from me, you said with your eyes. 

“I realized it would be a very long and lonely existence if I didn’t allow myself to continue. It was only a matter of how I wanted to continue -to spiral until I was a shell of who I once was, a complete disservice to every second of Janine’s life that she gave to make me a better person. Or be that better person from the get-go because that’s the legacy she left me -to grieve her loss and honor her memory. That’s all she would’ve wanted from me. Letting all of that work go undone would’ve been worse than not mourning her at all.”

“That’s a beautiful perspective to have, Jack. One I don’t think a lot of people end up with when they’ve lost a spouse.” You brought his hand up and boldly kissed the back of it. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I can’t imagine how difficult this still is for you.”

“I care for you -deeper than a friend. And I’m not sure how to navigate this, but if you have the patience to spare, I’d really like to figure it out with you.” When you smiled up at him, he brought your hand up to his lips to reciprocate your earlier gesture.

please comment & reblog :)

[washingtonmarvel]

Since my first post about Charmion only scratched the surface, I thought I'd give some more info about a few different aspects of her story here. I hope everyone finds it worth reading.

First, Charmion was a marketing genius. She was one of the most photographed people in show business, her flexed arms ubiquitous in the newspapers of the era, and she gave out free pinback buttons with her image on them at each show. Charmion herself reported in 1905 that she’d given out a quarter of a million buttons over the previous year. I don't know how accurate that number is, but there was definitely a huge number produced and you can often find them for pretty affordable prices on eBay to this day. Charmion would also sometimes give away chocolates, clothes, and other souvenirs to the women in the audience.

Second, during her travels, Charmion made time to personally advise women who needed help with their fitness goals. During her time in New Orleans in 1902, for example, she let it be known that the hours of 5 to 7 would be set aside for any woman wanting a “conference” with her to discuss matters relating to “physical culture.”

Third, Charmion could be considered one of the first female bodybuilders. Through rigorous workouts (including curling fifty-to-seventy-pound dumbbells and one-hour bag-punching sessions), Charmion intentionally tried to build her muscles as large as possible, which was incredibly rare for a woman in that era. Even circus strongwomen, who showed off their strength publicly, often downplayed their muscularity, but Charmion was eager to show off her muscles and actively tried to grow them. Apparently, it worked. By her own account, when she began her career the (already very fit) Charmion weighed 98 pounds at a height of 5’1”. She afterward gained enough muscle that by 1902, she was a solid 130 pounds. Charmion would’ve also felt at home with modern bodybuilders in the sense that on-stage posing was a major part of her performances. After she had finished disrobing on the trapeze, she would conclude her show by standing onstage and flexing her biceps before turning around and displaying her back muscles. The audiences were as flabbergasted as you’d expect. “When she hunches her back,” said one newspaper, “it looks like a cage of boa-constrictors interlaced in a snake-fight”; “her shoulders and arms appear a knotted mass of muscles,” said another.

The less pleasant aspects of Charmion's story are the misogyny and prudishness that Charmion dealt with with throughout her career. There were attempts (some successful, some not) to ban her act in New York, New Orleans, London, and Berlin, and she had to contend with right-wing attacks throughout her career. Here are a few newspaper quotations to show the kind of opposition she encountered:

Times Herald (Washington, D. C.), May 10, 1898: “Her performance is a simple attempt to provoke all the lower passions of which mankind is capable, without passing the limit the law has placed on such an exhibition. It is for this reason that Charmion is revoltingly disgusting, coarse and disagreeable. It is because of this that no man, who realizes what he is doing, or respects himself, will care to take his mother or sister to the National Theater this week.”

Sioux City Journal, May 15, 1898: “Charmion’s object in her trapeze act is indecency.”

The Times (Washington, D. C.), May 15, 1898: “It seems revolting to think that men would go to a place of amusement with the sole idea of witnessing such a performance, but that women should willingly accompany them is nothing less than disgusting.”

The Courier and Argus (Dundee, Scotland), Aug. 5, 1898: “…it is scarcely possible to conceal the fact that Charmion’s performance takes us very much nearer to the frank indecencies of the Parisian variety theatres than we have hitherto strayed.”

Daily Gleaner (Fredericton, New Brunswick), Oct. 26, 1898: “we hail with gratification the drastic criticism by a section of the New York press of such debasing performances as those first given by a woman called Charmion…Charmion’s act had grace and beauty to recommend it, and except that it was performed by a woman it was no worse than the undressing act of the equestriam [sic] acrobat in the circus; but it was the natural forerunner of the others, and so should never have been permitted in a theatre making pretence to decency.”

The Times, January 1, 1899: “Charmion’s ‘turn’ was revolting.”

Toronto Saturday Night, January 18, 1902 [speaking about Charmion disrobing on the trapeze] “There is an unpleasant suggestiveness inseparable from such an act.”

The Kansas City Star, September 19, 1904: “Her turn is offensive to modesty.”

As infuriating as these comments are, the happy irony of the conservative attacks on Charmion is that they only made her more powerful. As even her critics sometimes admitted, the controversy stirred up by those critics served to make her act more intriguing and helped increase her popularity. For a woman devoted to liberating women from the constraints placed on them by the society, her message must have been even more meaningful because so many men tried to constrain her and she overcame that adversity. You can see how little success her critics had by the fact she was one of the most popular vaudeville stars in the world, sometimes earning the equivalent of almost $20,000 per week in today’s money.

Of course, not all men disapproved of Charmion’s act, and she had her fair share of male fans. But almost all her critics were men. And though there must have been lesser-known female critics, there’s only one example I can find of a woman (at least initially) disapproving of her. That woman was Elizabeth Grannis, president of the Purity League, an organization that supported the kind of repression and prudishness that Charmion fought against her whole career. Grannis, with a committee of Purity League members, attended a performance one day in 1901 to “judge for themselves” whether the act was as “impure" as alleged. After the performance (during which Charmion daringly threw a garter into Grannis’s box), a local newspaper said, surprisingly, that Grannis “was pleased by the things done and undone by the actress” and “was delighted with the actress’ control of her muscular system.” Charmion, likely not a fan of the Purity League, was not mollified by the praise. Asked about Grannis later, she bluntly said, “I scarcely approve of her.”

If you all are still interested, I’ll share more posts about Charmion. I’m mildly obsessed with her and there’s loads more fun facts and stories about her. Thanks for reading.

EDIT: Here's a photo gallery for anyone who's still interested in Charmion:

[starvales]

hand in hand, chest to chest, face to face

narumi gen / gn!spouse!reader

content : crack, fluff, gender neutral reader, spouse!reader, dancing in the rain, narumi should have his own warning, relatively short, can be read as a standalone.

a/n : before anyone asks, yes, the title is based on 'don't stop the music' by rihanna, and no, that song and this fic have completely different vibes. releasing this chapter really really early to celebrate the happenings of chapter 115 of the manga huehuehue

an extra to 'a cheers to our youth'

"Dance with me?" You offer your hand.

"I don't know how to dance." He takes it.

"Don't worry, I'll lead." You pull him up from his spot on the dampening grass.

The clouds above are getting darker and the droplets of rain start to get heavier, but you don't make a move to rush.

You guide his left hand to rest atop your shoulder and his right hand into your left one. You let Narumi adjust until he felt comfortable before placing your right hand above his waist and started swaying.

"When did you learn to slow dance?" His shoulders relax and his arms are less rigid.

You lean in closer. He smells like sweat and freshly cut grass. Figures, he's been training on the field for hours now. "Remember that bar I used to work at for catering events?"

He hums in confirmation. You sway a bit more.

"Sometimes, when the birthday or wedding or whatever event it was dies down, and the families with kids start to leave, and the DJ starts playing slower songs, the older couples would take each other's hands and dance like this until we closed."

You notice that Narumi's vision must be very limited since his bangs hang even lower on his face because of the rain. You pause for a bit and take your hand that wasn't in his own and rake your fingers through his hair to slick it back.

"And sometimes, I'd imagine it was me and you, sometime in the future, dancing like we were the only ones in the room." You shut your eyes and reminisce. You sway a bit more.

Despite the embarrassment and teasing that may befall you after this confession, you think that it's okay here. It's just you and your husband and the rain. It's safe to be this vulnerable. You're safe here. You're safe.

Rather than a cocky laugh or a confident grin like you expect from him, Narumi whispers your name and you look back at him. You're slightly caught off guard at the softness of his features and the affection in his stare.

You sway a bit more.

"But what about now?"

A few shorter strands of hair fall back to his forehead and the way he looks at you so earnestly is forcing your heart to do somersaults.

"Huh?" You furrow your brows. It's maddening how pretty he looks right now.

"We're the only ones dancing in this field. Heck, we're probably the only ones outside. Who's to say that we aren't the only ones in the world right now?" He tilts his head to the side and sends you a gentle smile.

You are soaked to the bone, drenched in rain water, and the chill that comes with a storm runs up your arms and spine, but despite all of that, you are overwhelmed by this inexplicable warmth that you only ever feel when you're with him.

You take a few moments to properly grasp what your husband has said before you let out a hearty chuckle, because of course he'd say something like that. Of course Narumi Gen would say that only you and him were the only people to exist in your vast but miniature world.

You look forward to it. The future. Your future.

"Wanna learn how to ballroom dance?"

"Earlier, weren't you the one that said there was a meeting soon?" Your husband finally flashes you a cheeky smile and a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sure they won't miss us too much."

"Should I fetch them, Sir?" Hasegawa asks, looking through the wide expanse of window panes of the Chief's office.

Before going out to get Narumi from the training field, before it even started raining, you had initially asked the Vice Captain to bring your finished reports to the Chief before the official meeting began, but it looks like both of you aren't coming back inside any time soon. Hasegawa sighs inwardly and makes a mental note to grab two towels later.

Shinomiya Isao takes a few seconds to respond.

The couple he has personally watched grow into the people they are today, are dancing merrily in the presence of each other, out in the open training field during a torrential downpour.

"No, leave them. If they get sick, they get sick. A consequence they are surely aware of. However..." The Chief sighs aloud and leans back into his office chair, a memory of a now very distant past flashes behind his eyes.

"They do remind me of some people I used to know." He looks to his left.

Hasegawa does not dare bring up the small smile on the Chief's lips, nor the longing gaze set on the picture frame atop the desk.

a wee side note : it's been so long but would anyone still be interested in a tag list or would it be a little too late-

[orangeheliophile]

Kats as your heavy metal bf!!💣💥

Cw: minor cursing, kats being a metal fan, mentions of marriage and babies, fluff.

A/n: I'm not very educated in this type of stuff, so pls bear with me! These are just some random thoughts I had a while ago, lmao.

☠︎︎Loud. Loud and annoying is what your boyfriend likes to be with you.

☠︎︎ Eijirou is more of a hard rock fan, Tokoyami is a goth guy (obviously), Jirou likes punk, and Aizawa definitely loves grunge/alternative. Katsuki is that heavy metal guy that everybody is sorta intimidated by.

☠︎︎ His favorite bands are definitely Metallica, AC/DC, Guns' and Roses, Slipknot, and an honarary mention of Nirvana. Aizawa rubbed off of him.

☠︎︎ This boy is full on metal. Although he also has that punk style and grunge in what he wears. He occasionally wears black eyeliner and lets you, his princess, paint his nails in whatever color you'd like. This boy is wearing leather boots, a leather jacket, band shirts and jeans with some rips on them.

☠︎︎He definitely lets you wear his clothes. Katsuki thinks that they look so pretty on you, too. One time, he found you wearing one of his favorite Metallica shirts, and he swore that was the moment he knew he was gonna marry you.

☠︎︎ Momma Mitsuki was the one who introduced baby Kats to metal/heavy rock music. She sometimes regrets it due to the fact that he won't shut up about "metal" anymore.

☠︎︎Sometimes, Jirou lets Katsuki choose which song they play during band practice. Usually, it ends up being amazing because he would choose the best songs to rage to.

☠︎︎ He would definitely take you to metal concerts. But if you're sensitive to clouds and loud noise, he would be supportive of you and buy you noise cancellling headphones and make sure that you don't get overwhelmed. You're his baby, so of course he's gonna take care of you! <33

☠︎︎ He will love you even more than forever if you give him anything related to his favorite music. He will absolutely cherish it if you made it and will make sure to take you on multiple dates if you buy him something that was limited edition.

☠︎︎ He loves it when you play with his jewelry. Finds it adorable when you're ramblin' about something, and your fingers are just twirling the bracelets or rings on his hands. He's a softie for you, but don't you dare tell anyone. <3

☠︎︎ Not only can he play the drums, but he is also good at the electric guitar and bass, too. This bastard is talented, and he knows it.

☠︎︎ When you both get married, there will definitely be heavy rock/metal themes. But he also wants your style to be involved as well. He doesn't care if you both have totally different tastes. He wants to marry you, and he wants you to have the dream wedding you've always wanted.

☠︎︎ He wants metal babies with you. As much as possible and ONLY if you want it. He absolutely worships your body, and he doesn't want you to go through all of that pain and stress.

☠︎︎ On the other hand, his heart absolutely melts at the thought of mini yous and mini Kats running around the house and blasting music. He's definitely going to teach them how to play the drums/guitar and will take them to concerts if they wanna. And if they're not die-hard metal fans? That's absolutely okay, too. Katsuki will love his babies either way.

☠︎︎ Sometimes, people think he's too intense, but Katsuki doesn't really care. But he won't deny how heartwarming it is whenever you defend him or tell him how much you love him either way.

☠︎︎ Of course, he's going to be loud and aggressive, but he makes sure to lower his voice down and is significantly more softer whenever he's with you. You're the only thing he worships other than All Might and becoming number 1.

☠︎︎ Finds it adorable when you make him wear pink or more vivid colors. He always wears a bracelet you made him for your anniversary. He said it looked badass and awesome.