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brunetteaura · 1 year
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i love tumblr because youll experience the most intense insane emotions within an hour and feel so alienated from everyone else but then youll come here and see some girl posting about the exact same thing. and the world feels okay again
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shypupi · 2 years
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Wanna sit in your lap & makeout while only wearing your shirt ♥︎
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cutleta · 7 months
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desireangel · 4 months
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Infernal Desires | Chapter 1 | Coriolanus Snow
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Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.
Chapter 2
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: enemies to lovers, explicit reference to sex, hair pulling, talk of ownership (bc we all know coryo has a complex), swearing, this is shit low key, coryo is a little shit but you know of course he is :P
Author's Note: this is the result of my assignment procrastination and now I am posting it at 2:30AM :)) this hasn't been beta read and actually it might seem a little disjointed but pls lmk if you have feedback for me if I end up carrying on with this series? lots of love!!
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It is a debt to be paid, that’s all it is. 
Easy enough for them to say. After all, it was you who suffered from the mistakes of your family and not them. They may as well have left you to the streets of the Districts with nothing more than a shattered dignity and the tears that trailed down your cheeks. 
Shit. Crying wasn’t going to do anything and while you never intended to present yourself as weak to anyone, there was nothing you could do to stop the angry tears that welled in your eyes. You wondered if your parents truly pained to see their daughter cry or if the tremble in your mother’s lip was nothing more than a pretence. 
Your father stared at the ground by your feet. “It wasn’t supposed to come to this.”
“But it did. Are you really going to sell me off to–”
“We aren’t selling you off. Stop saying that,” He snapped. “Maybe all you will have to do is dust a few shelves and brew a pot of tea every now and then. It cannot be that bad.”
The glare you sent his way was full of malice and rage. How could he say that? You were better than that, smarter than that and the thought of being reduced to who knows what that man had in store for you - they may as well have cut your tongue out and made you a slave. Knowing that your family, whom you loved endlessly, were so sure of bartering you away to a man like Coriolanus Snow caused a dull ache in your chest. 
It seemed hard to breathe through the betrayal, the air thick with deceit and heartbreak. Had you known what your father had been planning, you could have left and found a way to survive without the comfort of your family home. 
“What Coriolanus has offered has saved us,” Jericho stood leaning lazily against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He stared at you, his little sister who would have died before leaving him to such a fate. “Just think about it! Would you rather him send our entire family to the fucking Districts or have us hanged? I fucked up. I know, and I’m sorry but this is the only option we have.”
There was a tense silence. Jericho had ruined everything with no chance of repair and it was you who had to pay the price. You knew what happened to rebel sympathisers and Jericho had damned the future of your family. What was happening in the Districts was wrong, you agreed with that but there was something inherently stupid about putting the people you cared about at risk just to send a few thousand dollars to some hopeless rebels. 
You blinked as you tried to make sense of it all. “Explain it to me. I don’t understand.”
“Coriolanus is not only my friend but he’s just become President,” Jericho said. “We made a deal. This is part of it. Pay off my mistakes with hard work and time. You have no clue how generous that is.”
Friend? Generous?  You would have laughed if you could. You briefly wondered what the other part of their deal was but didn’t focus on it for long. It would be of no use to ask a question you would get no answer to.
“All he wants is something to hold over your damn head, Jericho. Paying off your mistakes with my work? Making his bed and wiping his ass is not going to fix what you did. People have been executed for far less.”
Your father cleared his throat. “It’s our only option. We have no money and a ruined reputation. The family name holds the last of our power and without that little power we have left, your brother and I would lose our jobs. It’s a miracle we haven’t already.”
“Coriolanus wants to dangle you over our heads? Fine. If that’s what it takes for him to spare our lives.” Jericho’s voice was so rough. It was the first time he’d been anything other than gentle towards you and you felt a heaviness at the sight of him so distressed. 
There was not much left for you outside of the empty empire that your father’s father had built for your family. At least you still had each other and despite the situation they’ve forced you into at the end of the day, you all loved each other to death. It would have been a death sentence but you could have left instead, could have found a life for yourself somehow. But how could you live with yourself knowing that you’d damned those you love because of your pride?
So reluctantly and tearfully, you nod your head and silently agree. 
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Coriolanus wondered whether he was making the right decision by giving Jericho a second chance. If it were anyone else, he’d have had them hung without a second thought. Hell, he’d even had Sejanus executed at the end of his time in District 12. But Jericho and his family were different. 
If there was one person in his life that Coriolanus could call a friend, it was Jericho. It wasn’t that Coriolanus trusted him, no. There was not a soul in this world that Coriolanus could truly trust, not even Jericho who had been by his side for the entirety of his life. It was a moment of weakness, an inexcusable lapse in his judgment to make that deal with him. 
But it was also a moment of selfishness and a decision made with nothing more than foolish curiosity. You had always been there, in the back of the picture and unnoticed by everyone apart from him. There was not a person in this world who infuriated him more than you and the two of you had spent years bickering and pestering one another. Charming, intelligent Coriolanus Snow who had the entirety of the Capitol wrapped around his finger had always been instinctively cruel to you. He was never your friend. While he had never actually done you wrong before now, you were never really fooled by his deceiving charm. 
Coriolanus was now twenty three but when it came to whatever distorted plot he was planning, he felt juvenile. You were the perfect leverage. Your brother and your father were the perfect pawns. As much as he convinced himself that having you in his possession would mean he would have invaluable power over Jericho to do exactly as he wanted within his twisted court, the idea of having you in the palm of his hand and under his control was exciting. 
He was never one for meaningless entertainment. But what was the harm in indulging himself this once?
You had changed since the last time he’d seen you. It had only been two years but he would never admit to his surprise at just how different you had become from the cowering little girl he remembered you to be. 
Coriolanus’ office was as big as your dining room back home but you felt claustrophobic under his gaze. His eyes were hellfire as he silently stared at you, leaning back in his chair and resting his fingers under his chin. There was little you could do but stare back at him, anxiously tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
Shakily, you broke the silence. “Why am I here, Coriolanus?”
“Your brother has committed a crime,” He drawled, fingers tapping on the rich mahogany desk in front of him. “That’s why you’re here.”
“You know what I mean, asshole.” You scowled at him. It wasn’t smart to talk to him in such a way, you knew that. He is President, after all. The memory of your brother’s warning to be careful flashed briefly in your mind. 
Eyes narrowed, Corialanus considered putting you in your place. He wouldn’t tolerate disrespect. Not from anyone let alone you. Instead, he somewhat answered your question. “You’re going to stay here. Do whatever the hell, doesn’t matter.”
In any other instance, Coriolanus would have detested the sight of you gaping at him, stumbling over your words as your wide eyes confidently held his own. You had changed. Or maybe he had just been blind to the perfect curves of your body or the way you looked at him, so submissive yet so stubborn. So tempting. 
He’d condemn himself before ever admitting to his thoughts. 
“What?”
If he were to be honest, Coriolanus didn’t entirely know himself. But he took pleasure in the way you seethed. “I’ll give you work. But I won’t let you back to that treasonous family of yours until I have what I want from them.”
You could hit him. If he weren’t the king of Panem, you would have. “You’re keeping me prisoner?”
“No,” he stood from the table and in two strides, he was in front of you. So close that you could smell his cologne mixing with the smell of laundry detergent on his clothes. You shuddered. “Maybe. Call it what you want. You can do what you want, eat what you want, wear what you want, you can visit home on the weekend. I don’t care. But when I give you a task, you will do it.”
Coriolanus’ eyes were an icy blue inferno as they held yours. The light hit his painfully perfect face so that it almost seemed as if he were shining. Struggling not to lose your breath, not to lean into him and feel him, you held your head high. “Fuck you.”
A gasp fell from your lips as Coriolanus’ hand found the back of your head in an instant, fingers weaving into your hair gently before closing into a tight fist and pulling back so that you were forced to look up at him. The tightness of his grip on your hair ached and left you dizzy, longing for his hands to find more of you with the same fervour. Suddenly, you were burning from head to toe, a fire setting on your skin as he held you roughly against him, so close that you felt the feather light tickle of his breath when he spoke. 
“Is that how you talk to your superior?” Coriolanus’ voice was low, dripping with a dominance that commanded respect. He was devastatingly beautiful. The curve of his nose, the strength in his jaw, the soft fall of his hair and the soft shine on his lips that you so badly yearned to feel. You cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. “This is my house. My country. You are here because I said so, because I own everything. Everything. Including you. You’d do well to remember your fucking place while you’re here, pretty thing.”
The fire in your blood was rage. It was anger, it had to be. Despite your better judgment, you whispered once again, “Fuck. You.”
His jaw ticked and with a strong yank, you were flush against him. The pounding of your heart was violent and you were sure he could feel it against his chest but you were stuck under his burning gaze. Coriolanus was angry. And you couldn’t help but think that it suited him. 
Coriolanus was strong and hard against your body, tense as he held you so intimately yet so roughly. 
Fuck, you couldn’t even think. What was happening? 
“Corio-”
“Quiet,” Coriolanus commanded. His deep voice, raspy with lust and with rage sent shockwaves down your spine. “Fuck me, huh? I could have you begging on your knees, crying for my cock all day and all night and you would never deserve it. Be careful, angel, because I can ruin you.”
Another gasp fell from your lips and Coriolanus took pleasure in the way you squirmed against him, thighs pressing together as you felt the flush of his words through your body. So reactive. Somehow, you fit perfectly against him, so that he could feel every little tremor he caused in your body, every goosebump that he placed on your skin. His eyes never left yours, his resolve solid as iron. 
Your mouth watered at the thought of all the things Coriolanus could do to you. Thoughts you had never imagined having, especially not for him. It overwhelmed you - he overwhelmed you. But all you had to do was glance at the file on his desk, the file with your surname plastered onto the front and you were shoving him off of you. 
The rise and fall of your chest was heavy and you had the sudden urge to punch the sultry smirk right off of Coriolanus’ face. That was not okay. Right now, you didn’t even want to think about the way your body reacted to his, they way you would have let him have his way with you right there and then. 
“Just-just what the hell am I doing here, Snow?”
Coriolanus swallowed. He didn’t have an answer that he could share with you even if he wanted to give you one. “Making up for the sins of your family. Do not make me repeat myself again.”
“Fine. But-”
“That’s enough,” Coriolanus firmly stated. He turned his back to you, flexing his hands that were curled into fists at his sides. “Candice will show you where you will be staying. I’ll find you when you’re needed.”
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bad-science · 1 year
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riddledore · 7 months
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so true
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lighthouseas · 7 months
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oh my god hear me out okay. byler au where they haven't seen each other in years since the gates were closed, they've moved on with their lives, etc etc. will never came out to mike or confessed his feelings, mike didn't realize he was queer until he was older (btw this is only for the purposes of this au . this is Not how i see it working in the show with him.) both of them are making valiant efforts to pursue relationships, though and failing so of course. they're on the same dating site. looking for people to go out with.
and of course. said dating site matches them and they start talking without having seen each others' faces. and, after talking for a while, they agree to meet in person. For A Real Date (disregarding how unsafe this is okay. but if i had to guess they let someone know where they were going in case things go to shit.)
cue them walking into the restaurant or wherever and seeing each other and hugging and being like oh!!! i haven't seen you in so long ☹️☹️☹️☹️ why ru here???? and after talking for a while. They Realize.
They Are Both Here For A Blind Date. and that blind date is each other.
oh, fuck.
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mrsensitive · 1 year
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4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did
a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋
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1
You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.
When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.
Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.
“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”
You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.  
“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.” 
You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”
“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”
You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead. 
Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.
“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”  
You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”
“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.
“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing. 
“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”
Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated. 
You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.
“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”
2
You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.
“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.
“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.
“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”
“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”
“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”
“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”
And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.
“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!” 
You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.
He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”
“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.” 
“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.
“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”
Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.
You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”
“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.
“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”
Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.
Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.
“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.
“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”
Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.
“Wanna take bets?”
3
Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.
“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’
As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all. 
When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.
“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”
You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”
He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”
“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.
“Let me show you around!”
You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.
Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is. 
“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.
You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.
He doesn’t quite hear her at first.
“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”
Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.” 
His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.
“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”
“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.
She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.
“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”
“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”
“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”
Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.
“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”
“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”
This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.
A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.
Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?! 
Brock: I like movies too :))
4
For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.  
If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew? 
Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.
You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost. 
You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust. 
Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”
You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.
You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”
“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.
“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.
“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”
“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.
Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions. 
In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.
“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down. 
“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.
“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”
He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.” 
He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.
You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.
“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door. 
Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.
He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home. 
You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”
“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out. 
He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.
He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”
“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”
“Is it shooting here as well?”
“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.
“So you’re gonna do it?” 
“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”
Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.
“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”
When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.
“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”
He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.
You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”
“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.
He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.
+ 1
Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.
You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.
“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.
“No.”
Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”
Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”
Quinn only stares at him in response.
“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”
There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.
“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”
“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”
Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”
Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.
“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”
When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.
“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”
Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.
“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”
“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”
“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”
“I’m what?!”
“You heard me.”
There’s a pause.
“Are you home right now?”
“Ye-”
You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.
You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”
Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”
“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”
You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.
You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”
You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.
“Fine.”
You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.
Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.
Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring. 
When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it. 
Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)
– Beau
You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.
Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.
Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)
It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between. 
You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.
You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump. 
“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom. 
You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume. 
“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”
When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.
You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.
“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”
You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match. 
“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”
Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”
You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.
“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.
“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way. 
You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.
“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there. 
You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.
“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”
On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.
It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.
“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway. 
Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.
Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.
Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.
Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.
“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”
Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.
“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”
“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”
“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.
You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.
“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”
He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.
“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”
“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.
Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.
“Can I kiss y-”
“Please.”
His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.
When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.
“I, uh-”
“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”
You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb. 
You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.
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light-lanterne · 7 months
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hmm, i just saw the loveliest gifset of nancy being protective of max and once again got reminded of the fact that she's never shown that amount of concern for mike.
for three seasons straight, she'd even leave him to his own devices when it wasn't the safest. ditching the kids at the gym in s1 regardless of the fact that they were being hunted,,, leaving them with steve in s2 when there were demodogs still at large (and knowing the kids have a proclivity towards getting themselves in danger),,, straight up driving away from starcourt, leaving them with no escape method, as well as russians and a flayed biIly in the premises (even when seeing first hand what happened to the last two flayed men they "killed").
in all three instances, mike's the only constant (which doesn't seem unintentional in the slightest) and it's not just about that. she's worried about will in s2 and s3,,, el in s3,,, max in s4,,, even on lower stake circumstances, she comforts dustin in s2, when he was sad at the snowball (even though mike was also moping at right around that same time).
and yet, for mike, she only showed concern in s1, a little in s3 (but it was mostly about will, seeing as he'd been targetted by the mf before), and a little in s4 after vecna shows her his plan.
idk,,, it just makes me sad to see her being so protective of everyone, pushing herself to be brave even when she's still just a teen girl who shouldn't be dealing with any of this, but always leaving her own brother to the end. almost like an afterthought; the last thing in her mind, only worrying about him when the big bad straight up shows her his death.
and even then, when he returns from cali after days of suspicious lack of contact, she doesn't give him a hug. doesn't ask how he's doing,,, doesn't even talk to him, from what we were shown.
because, after all, there are larger problems at hand than mike.
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monopoisonous · 3 months
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Hi! I saw that you were taking drawing requests. Please draw Mikoto if that's ok!
hi yes of course 🎉 mikoto with a rainbow cat ...
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stonathanweek · 10 months
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STONATHAN WEEK 2023 PROMPTS
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Please click the read more to see more detailed explanations about the prompts!
~~ PROMPTS FOR WRITERS AND ARTISTS / PROMPTS FOR GIFMAKERS & VIDEO EDITORS ~~
Day 1 (Friday, July 21st): Scoops Ahoy! / Favourite Outfits
Scoops Ahoy!: Inspired by Steve's job in Season 3, this prompt refers to all Food Services AUs you can think of! You can stay close to canon with an Ice Cream Shop or you can get creative with a Coffee Shop, or a Cake Shop AU, or anything you might like, it's up to you!
Favourite Outfits: Show us your favourite outfits worn by Jonathan and Steve throughout the series! It doesn't have to be limited to scenes they've had together (because there isn't many, as we all know). You are free to play with different clips from different seasons! Maybe there's an outfit you think should make a return next season?
Day 2 (Saturday, July 22nd): Roommates AU / AUs
Roommates AU: And they were roommates... In Day 2 we invite you to explore Stonathan's dynamic as they share a living space and all the chaos that situation can bring!
AUs: This can be any sort of AU that you can come up with. Get creative with the video clips or photos you use! Images do not have to be limited to the show. Anything from Fantasy AUs, to Bookstore AUs, to Coffee shop AUs, to Dystopian AUs. The world is your oyster!
Day 3 (Sunday, July 23rd): Fake Dating AU / Parallels
Fake Dating AU: When the truth hides in a lie! Pretending to be together to fool the others was part of the plan, but the more time they spend together, the more... they want it to be real?
Parallels: We all know the Duffers and their love for patterns and parallels! However, parallels don’t need to stop with ST. This prompt is a challenge to find any parallels in the show or other media that connects to Steve and Jonathan!
Day 4 (Monday, July 24th): Fantasy AU / Colours
Fantasy AU: We've seen a lot in ST. We've seen Shadow Monsters, and Evil Vines, and little girls with superpowers, and Vecna. But we haven't seen it all. What about kingdoms, and dragons, and knights, and princes, and wizards, and mermaids, and shapeshifters? The options are endless! In a world where magic exists and royals rule the lands, what are Jonathan and Steve up to?
Colours: Colours are a big part of cinematography and character design, but here we wanna see your take! What colours represent Steve and Jonathan and their bumpy dynamic the best to you?
Day 5 (Tuesday, July 25th): Canon-verse / Steve & Jonathan + another character
Canon-verse: We all can agree we haven't gotten enough from Steve and Jonathan together in the show. Well, this is your chance to change that! With this prompt you can play around with the rules of canon. Maybe Stonathan got stranded in the Upside Down? Maybe there's some deleted scenes between seasons you want to explore? Or what happens after canon? There's many options!
Steve & Jonathan + another character: Friendships and relationships are one of the most important aspects of the show. Here you have the opportunity to explore some of the other dynamics that Steve and Jonathan have together with other characters, or dive into a dynamic/group that includes Stonathan and that you might like to see in S5!
Day 6 (Wednesday, July 26th): Music AU / Song Lyrics
Music AU: Music is a huge part of ST, so we couldn't not have a prompt that related to it. Bands, mixtapes, old record stores, etc. Anything you can think of that relates to music counts! Let Jonathan's music snobbery and Steve's mainstream taste shine this day!
Song Lyrics: Have some song lyrics that are just perfect for Steve and Jonathan? This is your time to shine!
Day 7 (Thursday, July 27th): Forced Proximity / Favourite Scene
Forced Proximity: Isn't it just inconvenient when for reasons out of your control you have to share a same space with someone you might not like so much, or someone who might not like you so much, or someone you might like too much, or just someone you haven't talked to in a long time, and it's just Awkward? Yup, it's the worst. But it's so much fun when it happens to the characters we love! Go wild with this one!
Favourite scene: Show us your favourite scene with Steve and Jonathan. We know there aren't many to choose from, but we'd love to see how creative you get with it! Show us your different styles and takes!
** No prompts are exclusive to any media! We made separate prompts for Gif Makers and Video Editors and Moodboard Creators so they could have a better prompt to work with given their type of media. That being said, to all Gif Makers, Video Editors and Moodboard Creators, feel free to choose any prompt of the day you would like to work with! **
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brunetteaura · 10 months
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one thing ill always love is a personal post by a girl on here i will eat it up every time. 6 notes on someones personal post is more powerful than a million followers on instagram
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shypupi · 1 year
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Wearing just your fav oversized tee while you hold my thighs apart & eat me out 😵‍💫
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the-habitat-sysblog · 27 days
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inspired by @polyfrag-kero - a poll but it's things about our system!
feel free to elaborate on anything, if you would like.
- lola.
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desireangel · 4 months
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Infernal Desires | Chapter 2 | Coriolanus Snow
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Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.
Chapter 1
young!president snow x fem!reader
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: NSFW! Smut! enemies to lovers (??), biting, fingering, unhinged dirty talk I guess, degrading, swearing, talk of ownership, orgasm denial, almost hate fucking, stockholm syndrome maybe?
a/n: ok, i got a little carried away here and I'm sure you can tell because this one seems possibly more disjointed than the last. let me know what you think and if I've missed any warnings!
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Days had passed and Coriolanus had been acting as if you didn’t exist. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he didn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what work you were supposed to be doing and why are you here if you aren’t doing any work like you were meant to?
Truth be told, Coriolanus had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Coriolanus certainly would not stand for it - more so because of the sting of your brother’s betrayal. But here you were, waiting outside of the bedroom he had the staff keep ready for you with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 
Without saying a word, Coriolanus stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 
“I was supposed to be given work for our end of the bargain,” You avoided letting your anger seep into your tone. “Instead, you’ve been keeping me in your home and avoiding me like I’m some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to leave yesterday. Your guards–or whoever they are–stopped me from leaving. Said you told them I’m not to exit the grounds.”
Coriolanus was calm. “That’s right. That is exactly what I told them.”
“You said I could visit home.”
A shrug. “I lied.”
“You’d better start telling the truth-”
“Do not,” Coriolanus spat. Somehow, he resented you so much that he couldn’t hold back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I won’t tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”
Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Coriolanus barely flinched more than the turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You will let me serve my brother’s sentence so that I can get the hell out of your house as soon as I’m done. Or is there no honour to your word?”
Coriolanus was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he claimed to have over you. He may be ruler of Panem to its citizens but the two of you had grown up side by side and you knew the man he was past the charade of charm and carefully written speeches. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 
“You still think that’s really why you’re here?” He looked terrifyingly handsome in his rage. “You should appreciate the generosity I’ve shown you. You’re living in my home, free of charge and free to do as you please with your time so long as you stay within its walls. I hardly see how that is a problem for you.”
“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”
Coriolanus’ expression was blank, his light curls casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The fabric of his meticulously tailored jacket brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into the bedroom with a strong hand on your back that had you stumbling into the middle of the room. 
“Since you’re so ungrateful, I’ll show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Coriolanus said, sticking his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and pulling out a set of two keys, dangling it in front of your nose. “You’re not to leave this room until I say so. Try to leave and I’ll have you whipped.”
And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 
How dare he? 
Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the streets of the Capitol and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Coriolanus’ home was a luxury far beyond your imagination but the feeling of confinement ate at you. 
This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho. So why did Coriolanus have so much rage for you? Even as a teenager, he was cold and detached despite your best efforts to warm him. 
If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the bunkers or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the new President.   
The room you had been given upon your first night was unlike anything you had expected. It was red and big and the carpet felt like clouds under your toes - a luxury so simple and so particular that you wondered what kind of wealth could afford such minute pleasures. The wealth of a country, it seemed.   
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You still think that’s really why you’re here? 
If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no work that you could possibly do to fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  
So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last three days with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Coriolanus.
Jericho had said you were only part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Coriolanus had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as Coriolanus had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was Coriolanus needed him to do. 
The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Candice didn’t bother knocking before stepping into your room with her arms full of–dresses?
“Mr. Snow wants me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the gala we’re hosting tonight.” 
What?
You eyed the dress that Candice laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the other dresses she held. From what you could see of the dress, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear. “I’m supposed to wear this?”
The look she gave was answer enough. “Take a bath first. I’ll help you into the dress once you’re out.”
You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Candice was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching set of underwear laid out with the dress - if you could call it underwear. 
Clutching the towel to your chest, you decided against the g-string that accompanied the stick-on bra. Before Candice could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own makeup. 
Candice pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, ma’am.”
“Please, you don’t need to call me ma’am,” you corrected. 
You stared at your reflection in the mirror.
Fuck. 
The dress was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green satin, floor length gown with a wired corset midsection. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly. Inch thick straps hung just off of your shoulders, leaving your neck and collarbones bare. The back of the dress dipped just above your hips. It made you look and feel sultry in an entirely new way. 
This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Coriolanus had intended it to be. Candice fastened a thin, crystal chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me at the gala?”
“I’m merely the housekeeper,” Candice spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh,” you murmured. 
“I’ll leave you for now. Mr. Snow will escort you downstairs when he’s ready.” 
And just like that, you were locked in your room once more. 
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Coriolanus was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from your room and show you to the main hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the effect he had on you. 
He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.
Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Coriolanus was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in a three piece suit that was tailored to every curve in his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty and temptation. 
Coriolanus’ gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. “Let’s go.”
“Am I-Am I your date?” You still didn’t understand. 
“Of course not,” he answered. “You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”
A statement. That’s what you were. 
I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Coriolanus. “Let’s go then.”
Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Coriolanus’ hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 
“Follow me.”
Coriolanus had left your side before entering. The main hall was packed with people, many of whom you recognised from your days studying or as past friends of the family. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Capitol. You weren’t but you had the same blood as one. 
The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 
Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 
It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Coriolanus had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 
“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”
“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”
“Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Snow has been generous.”
Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 
“Yes. I’ve been–I’ve been okay.”
You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one glass of champagne and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 
Slipping your glass onto a tray that one of the Avox were carrying, you smiled at Livia Cardew who barely spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Coriolanus and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 
You glanced towards the corridor. Coriolanus seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 
A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, seeing you alone and extending a greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 
By the time you were at the exit, Coriolanus was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The front door was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 
You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way a block down where your parents would drive past and leave with them. It would work and you’d be out. You could see Jericho, your friends and then you could disappear somehow. Jericho would help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 
The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Coriolanus smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into your side.
You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Coriolanus was strong and how far would you even get before someone else caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 
Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Corolanius’ cologne and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 
Shit. 
Coriolanus pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “Didn’t I tell you not to run away, little mouse?” 
Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Corolanius had brought you into a closet which was the size of a small bedroom but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 
“What? Are you going to have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 
Coriolanus pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I don’t like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”
You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I’m not something you own, Coriolanus. I don’t have to listen to you.”
“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in Panem where I couldn’t hunt you down myself and you’d be back here within a week.” Coriolanus could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”
There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the Coriolanus Snow you had known all those years ago who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 
“What did I ever do to you, Coriolanus?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”
Coriolanus stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that four years ago, he would have despised himself for making you cry. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s friend. Jericho’s friend who never had the perfect home that you had, never had the wealth that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 
He never had you. 
And Coriolanus hated you for it. 
“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”
Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I didn’t know. You were so cruel to me, Coriolanus.”
Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 
“You want to know why I’m doing this to you?” Coriolanus brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”
His hands, his hands. 
They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Coriolanus was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 
He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”
Another gasp and you arched into him. Coriolanus’ words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After everything, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 
The air was thick and Coriolanus thought he’d choke on the passion that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think about all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 
“So tempting all the damn time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this, missy? How I should have done years ago and make your body mine?”
You let out a wanton moan as his lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I don’t know-”
“Of course you don’t.” Coriolanus let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of underwear and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little thing.”
The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent shockwaves through your body, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 
You were blind with need for Coriolanus’ body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d have perfected. The little voice at the back of your head told you to slow down, to think and that you’d regret this tomorrow morning but you were far too weak to listen to it. 
“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 
Coriolanus tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I’m going to have you missy, it’ll be in my bed. Where I can take you in every way I’ve spent hours dreaming about.”
Against your better judgment, you drawled, “Thought you hate me-”
“I do hate you,” Coriolanus growled, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”
You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his dress pants. But Coriolanus was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 
He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 
Coriolanus was usually a selfish lover. He didn’t take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely new way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.
“Please, Corio–I’m so close,” you whined. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.
There were people looking for him, Coriolanus could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That’s enough for now. Seems like they’re looking for me.”
You turned yourself around, still squashed between Coriolanus and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupils blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh. You resisted the urge to smack him again. 
“You can’t be serious.”
Coriolanus stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 
How he longed to corrupt you. 
“Collect yourself. I’ll send Candice to get you to your room,” he was at the door by now, fixing his tie as his fervent gaze was focused on you. “If you ever try to leave again, I will not be so lenient.”
With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 
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tags: @deadly-femme-bimbo @justaproudslytherpuff @10ava01 @edb954 @real-lana-del-rey @demyackerman @whatupitshuff @foreludes @motley-baby @unclecrunkle @cillianmurphysbxtch
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bad-science · 10 months
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Fact! Cannibalism is OK if they deserved it
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