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rinhaler · 6 months

Note

toji fucking his step daughter because his wife won’t give him any attention and she’s the second best thing :3

-🌹

daddy toji my beloved :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, praise (good girl), biting, age gap, stepcest, cheating, daddy kink, creampie, bimbofication, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation.

words: 2k

Toji doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, whenever he sees you floating around the house. You’re confident, that he knows. Short skirts and tiny t-shirts are usually your go to attire, whether you’re at home or going out with your friends, you often dress scantily.

He tried scolding you about it, but you didn’t listen. And his wife, well, maybe if she supported him more he wouldn’t be thinking such oh so inappropriate things about his cute little step daughter.

“Where is she?” you ask, rudely, snapping Toji from his thoughts as you lean across the breakfast bar. He has to force himself to not look down your top, your cleavage on full display. Though his eyes do slip downward when he realises you aren’t even looking at him, too engrossed with your phone. “Said she’d give me money t’get my nails done.” you tell him, and he now knows you’re referring to your mother.

“She’s back to school shopping with Megumi.” he tells you, breaking his stare from your low cut crop top and looking into your eyes. Have you always been so skanky?

You’re a grown woman. He can’t believe you’re still leaching off of your mother. Nails can’t be that expensive. You should get a job and pay for them yourself. What makes you so special that you just get whatever you want just because you asked?

“Oh, well, you’ll have to gimme it.” you smile at him briefly before texting your friends again. You don’t even notice when he scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment.

What’s annoying him more is the fact that you’re reminding him so much of your fucking mother. Before she grew up, before they grew old, she was exactly like you. Vapid and gorgeous. She had him wrapped around her little finger back in the day, and he’s sure you are the same with every boy you come into contact with.

He feels his cock strain against his slacks as he thinks about all of hot and wild sex they used to have back then. Honestly, these days, he doesn’t remember the last time he got his dick wet. Now he’s just a miserable, pent up dad in a regular marriage. That’s life though, right? That’s just what happens as you get older.

Your wife loses interest and you develop a porn addiction.

“I’m not pay—”

You silence him as you pull your old school pink flip phone to your ear and hold up a finger in front of him, smiling when you hear your friends voice. “Yeah I’ll be there in thirty! Daddy’s givin’ me the money.” you beam at him, your shoulders bouncing as you talk excitedly.

Toji shakes his head again, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

He’s wrapped around your finger, like mother like fuckin’ daughter.

“I’m not fucking Satoru!” you tell your friend, rolling your eyes. Your step father freezes, for just a moment, before pulling out some money from his wallet. You look down at his hand and see the pitiful amount, taking his wallet from him and stealing a few extra bank notes while you rest your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Ugh. No one believes me! Do you? Whenever I tell anyone ‘m a virgin they think I’m lying.”

“Hang up the phone.” Toji tells you, but you barely hear him. You look at him for a split second before focusing on the call again.

“No, I didn’t! I sucked him off and that’s all I’ve done.” you huff. “Also my step dad is here so, like, stop talking about it.”

“Kid, hang up the fuckin’ phone.” he tells you, louder.

“Wait a sec,” you tell your friend, moving the phone away from your ear. “What?”

“Hang. Up.”

“Oh my God!” you moan, “I’ll meet you there, Toji wants to talk to me— yeah I’m probably getting in trouble because of you! Hahaaaa okay, byeeee~!” you smile, hanging up and giving your full attention to your step-father. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you. Not for a while, not until the silence makes you too uncomfortable to keep it going. “Is this ‘cuz of the money? You didn’t give me enough.”

“I— no, sweetheart.” he shakes his head. “Were you lyin’ to your friend, just now? About being a virgin?”

“Hm? No, why?”

Toji huffs out a breath, his cheeks filling with air as he thinks things through. He’s shocked, to say the least. He always thought you were putting out like a pro. He knows you’ve been on birth control for years. He’s had to drive you to get your injection a few times. He never thought about it much, just a regular dad chore when your mother wasn’t available.

But you’re a woman, now.

He’s surprised you haven’t been fucking since you were a teenager. But he’s even more surprised that you aren’t sexually active, now. He can’t help but wonder why. What’s stopping you? You dress like a slut, after all. Why aren’t you acting like one?

He reaches over and grabs his wallet and the money from your hand. You want to protest, but he walks by you too quickly for you to object. He hurries up the stairs and slams the door after himself.

“A— Am I grounded?!” you yell, hoping for a response.

Nothing.

You follow up the stairs, running up them as best you can in your high heels, and wait outside of his bedroom door. You knock a few times, and get no response. So you begin to pound on the door.

“Toji! You can’t ground me anymore!”

“You’re not grounded, come here.” he instructs. You open the door and walk into the room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, belt unbuckled and zipper down. He must be changing into something comfier to wear around the house. “Sit.” he tells you, patting his hand on his lap.

You go to him, immediately, sitting sweetly on his thick thighs as he thinks about what to say.

“Didn’t realise you were such a good girl,” he tells you, kissing your shoulder softly. “You’re like a nice version of your mother.”

“Should divorce her if y’don’t like her, daddy.” you tell him, looking down at your imperfect nails. You giggle when you feel him bounce you on his leg.

“Maybe I should.” he tells you. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“You’ll have me ‘n Megumi!” you remind him. “Well, maybe not me as much, but, y’know.”

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t wanna lose you. Not now, not ever.” he kisses your shoulder again. “How come you’re a virgin, huh? Savin’ it?”

“Mhmm… wanna give it to someone special.” you tell him, looking his direction and batting your pretty, false eyelashes. “Everyone thinks ‘m a slut… but ‘m not! Promise! Makes me embarrassed that I haven’t done it yet, sometimes, though.”

His cock aches as he hears you talk. How dumb yet adorable you sound as you discuss your sex life, or lack there of. He isn’t even a little surprised that people don’t believe you, he wouldn’t have believed it himself if you hadn’t told him. He can see in your pathetically wet eyes, though, that you’re being truthful.

He is overwhelmed by the need to bare his soul to you. To tell you what he wants. What he needs and desires from you most right now. There’s no shame within him as he puts his hand down his pants and wraps his hand around his cock, pulling it free. He holds your body in place with his free hand, his arm possessing enough strength to keep you firmly in place.

You’re just like your mother.

If your mother wasn’t a cold, celibate bitch.

“Daddy wants to be your someone special, darlin’.” he informs you, words warbling as he pleasures himself behind your back.

You can hear it. You can hear the tacky sound of his cock being rubbed again and again. The way his breath and speech is slightly uneven. He sinks his teeth into your bare shoulder and you wince. It’s not too hard, but it was unexpected.

He’s surprised you don’t object when he splits your legs apart so that you’re straddling one of his thighs. His hand roams up your thigh and beneath your skirt, towards your clothed cunt. Though when he gets too close, your legs shut, quickly.

“You’re my daddy, you can’t touch me there!” you remind him. But he knows. He knows he’s your daddy and that’s exactly why you should let him. Admittedly, part of you wants him to. You want to feel someone make contact with your untouched core for the very first time.

Someone that isn’t you.

You’re sure Toji is very experienced. He’s so handsome, even now. You’ve seen pictures of him when he was your age over two decades ago. He’s beautiful, like a film star. You know he was fucking like it was going out of fashion.

Your mother has told you what a stallion he is in bed, you’re close like that. There’s no secrets or shame between you. And honestly, it did make you feel a little jealous. You felt like you were missing out on something. Sex, in general, and Toji.

But you never thought you’d be like this, with him.

“Baby, who’s gonna make you feel more special than your daddy, hah?” he asks. You feel your resolve weakening as he kisses your neck deliciously. You want to scream at him, to tell him where you want him to touch you.

He teases your body until your arching and squirming to follow his touch. And you practically cream around his thigh when he lifts up your top and tweaks your nipple. You’re weightless in his hold as he moves you around like you’re his little doll. He licks and laves over your pulse point while playing with your tits. His free hand moves your panties aside with a goal in mind. Two thick fingers slide effortlessly into your tight, virgin slot. The resistance is there but he ignores it. You ignore it.

And within minutes you’re having your first orgasm on account of another person. You aren’t sure why your mother has stopped having sex with Toji, you’d be begging him for it every chance you got if this brief encounter is anything to go by.

“Fuck me, daddy, please? Please—”

“Thought daddy’s can’t touch their little girls there?” he smirks, already helping you turn around to face him. He kisses you, sloppily, as he lines his thick cock up with your tight hole. “Sh, sh, shhh, baby… good girl, c’mon, take daddy’s cock. Jus’ like that.” he talks you through it as you sob. Little cunt stretching to accommodate his monstrous size.

“T-Too big! Daddy’s too big for me!” you tell him, though he silences you with another kiss.

Truth be told, he doesn’t particularly care if it hurts or not anymore. He doesn’t care if you can’t take him, because you will. He does all of the work for you, lifting you up and down like a toy while he thrusts up into you.

He almost cums from the sight of your eyes turning white and your tongue hanging out as he pummels into your sweet spot. He wonders if you’ll keep telling your friends you’re a virgin. It’ll be a fun little secret, for both of you, he thinks.

He finishes with a string of grunts, fucking his seed deep into you again and again until he’s got nothing left to give.

You feel so icky and sweaty as he starts to calm down from his release. He kisses you, sweetly, thanking you repeatedly. He needed this badly. It’s not even just sex anymore. He’s tired of feeling lonely and he’s tired of being neglected.

You’re not your mother though, are you?

You won’t make him feel like that.

“Don’t tell her, sweetheart.” he tells you, brushing your hair from your face and kissing your cheek. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look at him as he speaks. “This stays between you ‘n me, alright?”

“Mhmm!” you nod, leaning forward eagerly to kiss his lips. “Always wanted you to be my special person…” you confess.

“Yeah?” he smiles at that, you really are sweet when you want to be.

“Wanna do it again, daddy. Can we?”

“Of course,” he nods, “I’m addicted to this little pussy, now.”

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jojissalsa · 6 months

Text

Dangerous Game (part one)

you get a new job as a federal agent for the F.O.S, and now you're stuck dealing with the reckless D.S.O agent, Leon Kennedy.

Warnings: dom/older!Leon, sub!reader, slight age gap (reader is in late 20s, up to y'all), dirty thoughts, masturbation (f and m). this one is fairly tame. kinda.

WC: 2.8k

an: hey y'all!! i'm hoping to make this into a 3 parter, felt like my idea is a lil too big for just one fic, that's why this one is probably a tad more tame compared my previous stuff. as per usual, critique, reposts and requests are welcome! enjoy <3 (minors do not interact, go touch grass.)

Working for the Field Operations Support is fairly easy, you got a nice seat at the front desk as the receptionist, you’ve worked there for a good couple of years. Nothing crazy ever happened, and everyone respected you pretty well. Especially Hunnigan. Well, Ingrid to you, Hunnigan to your coworkers. You always respected her the most, always envious of her job. You initially applied for her job, but you could take being a receptionist. You could live vicariously through her, since she seemed to like you the most in and outside of work. Hunnigan was always so sweet, giving you a pleasant smile and a morning chat whenever she’d come in for work, bringing you lunch as you two got closer. That also opened the door to lots of girl talk, mainly about how stressful the job was sometimes. Hunnigan loved her job, truly, but it came with heavy challenges. A very heavy one would be Leon Kennedy, a D.S.O agent she’s worked with for a majority of her career.

You’ve heard some of the horror stories from her about the bioweapons, insidious cults and rich white guys that try to carry on Umbrella’s work but fail miserably every time. This time seemed a bit different though, more final for her. “Honestly, the guy is an idiot sometimes. Likable, but an idiot.” You snicker at how nice she’s being for how pissed she looks, angrily sipping her coffee from the breakroom. “I think you mean he’s a lovable dumbass, but I guess that works too.” You chuckle softly, stirring sugar into your own fresh cup of coffee. “Hey, I’m serious this time. I mean, come on, I’m getting older.” Hunnigan watches as you sit down across from her, a worried expression starting to take over your features. “You really think it’s time to call it quits?” “Maybe not quitting just yet, just maybe looking over a different agent. Spots are starting to open up y’know.” Your eyebrows shoot up at that, trying to hide your excitement as you look down to sip your coffee. “Well, maybe I can take your spot? I’m pretty confident, and I’ve done all the training.” She shares your new found excitement, reaching out to put her hand over yours. “I’ll pull some strings, okay? I think we both need a change of scenery.” Her sweet smile never fails to spread to you, you can trust her. She’s been your best friend, if you’re being honest, and you’re sure she shares the same sentiment.

It didn’t take long for those strings to be pulled, and soon you were standing in front of the President and a few other important men in nice suits, watching as you shake hands and smile awkwardly. Finally, you get a briefing on the infamous federal agent you would be helping. Leon Scott Kennedy. He’s got a good reputation with everyone in the room, saying that while he may have an “eccentric” personality, he’s a hard working man, compliments all coming from the President. You heard about it from Hunnigan and a few other agents that he saved his daughter from a deathly cult, and brought it all down in the same day. You could tell from his file that he clearly worked a lot, even if he didn’t get this job on his own violation. Sucks that he was forced into his life, but it’s good that he’s making it work. Seems like a good looking guy too, at least from the small picture of him clipped to the folder.

And now you’re waiting for that good looking guy to walk into your new office, setting down a few knick-knacks you had on your previous desk. You turn your head to the sound of someone walking in, your eyes widening as they set on the man who seemed to be searching for someone. Good looking was an understatement of the century. The way his blazer fits just right on his biceps, his light brown hair and piercing gaze that just speaks "brooding loner", if you weren't at work you'd have fallen to your knees the second he made eye contact with you. You try to reel in your awe as he walks up to you, dusting off your clothes to make you look put together. "So you're my new babysitter? Y/n, right? I'm Leon Kennedy." Just the sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps, but your name from his lips is like a drug that gets you hooked instantly. And just like that, something flips in your brain, you are so not gonna be professional, how can you? How can anyone handle themselves around this man? You shake his hand as he extends it for you, and the feel of his rough hand from hard work sends so many dirty thoughts through your mind, like how good it would feel with his fingers on your neck, or his palm pressed against your tit, or how thick his fingers would feel inside you- chill out, play it cool.

"It's great to finally meet you, Mr. Kennedy, everyone has told me a lot about you.." You make sure to say it in a sultry tone to make it obvious how much you think he's attractive, and he sure as hell catches it. "Good things, I hope." He chuckles, giving you a sly smirk. Oh he knows. Fuck. "Oh don't worry, it's been all good things, promise. Though, I have heard that you made Hunnigan’s job a lot harder." You tease, looking him up and down and matching his sly smirk. Two can play that game. "Sure, but I get the job done, no?" The way he says it is so damn sexy you're sure he's doing what you're doing. "I'm sure you get a lot of things done with that attitude, Mr. Kennedy." You act like you're being sarcastic as you cross your arms under your chest, but you know how he could make you cum with the brush of his arm. "Only one way to find out, right?" That one makes your eyebrows raise, your smile widening as you blush slightly. "Is that an invitation?" You drop your voice slightly, leaning against the wall. The curve of your body sends a shockwave of arousal through him, and his eyes narrow on your figure. "If that's what you think I meant then by all means." He's so damn smug and it just makes you wanna sit on his face to shut him up.

"Is there anything you wanna ask me? About myself, the job?" You try to sound professional and not desperate, but you feel like it's helpless when you're looking up at him and he's so obviously checking you out, his eyes taking note of every curve on your body. Like he’s studying it for later. "I think I have a pretty good idea from Hunnigan and the President, is there anything you wanna ask me?" His question makes your eyes light up, but you don't wanna immediately ask him on a date. Classy, that's who you are to your core. "I can ask you anything I want?" "Anything." You smile smugly, lowering your hand to take his, clearly inspecting his ring finger as you bring it closer to you. "Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger." You say it in an innocent yet flirty tone that he so obviously gets turned on from, considering how he chuckles lightly as he shakes his head before taking his hand away. "So observant. I guess that comes with the job, huh? No, I'm single." Always such a tease, I guess neither of you can help that though. "Really? I have a hard time believing that." You have a faux surprised look on your face, all in the name of trying to get him to blush. You're getting close, you can feel it. "Is it? I'm an old man, what can I say." That one gets you shifting your thighs, biting your lip as you think of just how much older. What kind of experience comes with that age? "Old man, hmm? You ever thought of being with someone younger?" You step a little closer, just barely invading his personal space. "Haven't met anybody that can keep up." He says it so nonchalant, but fuck if it doesn't light a fire that spreads throughout your body. God, it's so hard not to say you could totally keep up, doesn't matter how long he'd want it. "Keep up, hmm? What, does this job give you a lot of stamina or something?" Your question makes him smile at you confidently, and it gets you oh so excited. "Well, I meant that most women don't like that I'm constantly busy, but if you wanna be dirty minded about it, be my guest." He totally stumps you, and it just makes you giggle and rest your hand on his arm, letting out a lil “my bad” before letting it slip away. You're slick, cause you honestly just touched his arm to feel how firm it was, and oh my god. Like diamonds, kind of hard. You can't imagine how fucking good it’d feel wrapped around your neck- there you go again. Snap out of it.

“You're pretty funny, you know that? I’m gonna have fun talking to you. For work, of course.” He let out a soft laugh at your flattery, loving how you tried to soften the thirstiness of your words with a joke. It's cute, you're really trying to say he's not hot. “Trust me, Hunnigan got very tired of my jokes.” You scoff, cause honestly, who could get tired of this guy? “Sorry, but she doesn't know what she's talking about, clearly you're an A class comedian.” You make it sound a little sarcastic, but he doesn't seem offended in the slightest. He loves a challenge. “Yeah? Aren't you a sweetheart? You love to flatter.” Your eyes widen a bit, resisting the urge to squeal and fan your hot face like a rabid fangirl, simply looking away to try and take a moment away from his hungry gaze. “I mean, it's hard not to, Mr. Kennedy..” You sheepishly give him that win, you’ll take it since he called you sweetheart, and in that teasing, cocky fucking tone of all things. If Cupid was real, you’d probably have a million arrows in your back right now. He parts his lips to reply, but gets cut off by his phone ringing, taking it out of his pocket to see the President calling. “Shit, I gotta take this.” He sighs, clearly wanting to keep talking to you instead. “It’s just Leon by the way, no need for formalities.” You get a smug smile again before he starts to walk back to the door of your office, walking with him to let him leave so you could wave him goodbye. “I’ll see you around, okay?” You nod, your smirk not leaving as he waits for you to say goodbye. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Kennedy~” You and your teasing, it's gonna throw him into cardiac arrest. He shares your smugness before begrudgingly answering his phone, looking back to see you waving bye at him with your dainty little hand. Like you knew he didn't wanna end the conversation.

He couldn't stop thinking about you all damn day after your little exchange, could barely focus on his briefing or look anyone in the eye. Even when he got home, knowing he had to wake up supremely early for work, he couldn't get you off his mind. You weren’t like every corporate drone the D.S.O hires, nothing like Hunnigan either. Bless the woman, but he would finally have someone to laugh at his shitty dad jokes. No wonder you got the job. You were drop dead gorgeous to him, not daring to come close to any Victoria Secret model. The way you giggle when you're nervous, how you sneak touches or how forward you are. God, it took every fiber in his body to not grab you and fuck you in a storage closet. Or against the wall? He just towers over you, he could fold you like a lawn chair and you’d take every inch. Fuck, how did his cock get in his hand? Who cares, honestly. He’s too busy spitting in his hand, too worked up to get anything better to help him jerk off. He groans, thinking of how good your soft, delicate fingers you used to wave at him would feel wrapped around his dick, whispering in his ear in that sexy voice you have. He feels chills down his spine when he remembers the way you teased him, how you didn't even say his name. Cause you didn't wanna give it to him yet, that satisfaction. Jesus, you're gonna kill him before any bioweapon does if you keep that shit up. His hand gets faster as his thoughts keep speeding forward, thinking about how good you’d sound saying his name. Not Mr. Kennedy, Leon. He has to hear it, has to hear you scream it when you cum on his cock. He needs to know how pretty you’d look when you cum, clinging to his arms, maybe even digging your nails into his back as your legs lock around his waist. So fucking hot as you beg to have him fill you up. He cums in his hand, spilling out of his palm and down his happy trail. He lets out a heavy sigh, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. He's not even close to feeling satisfied, even as he gets up to go shower again. He needs you, and he knows you feel the same. Hard part is gonna be getting you, without all the stress of what your coworkers would say.

You honestly don't stray too far from how he felt that night either. The second you closed the door to your office, you sat down and processed everything. It was a lot, seeing a man that fucking fine and not being able to drop to your knees and take his cock in your mouth. You were close to sprinting to a bathroom and taking care of the issue, maybe even slipping a hand between your legs and just testing the waters. Literally. He made you so wet, and you could feel it your entire shift, even as you walked to your car. You could only imagine how wet you’d get if he actually did anything. If he talked dirty? Him telling you to cum would make you do it on the spot, no question. Fuck, if he touched you? You’d be screaming like a damn pornstar, waking up the whole building when he slides his cock inside you. It's all you can think about when you get home, not caring to take a shower when you do. You just plop down on your bed and practically tear your clothes off, desperate for relief. Maybe that’ll save your career, fucking yourself thinking about him. So you do, pulling your nightstand drawer open the second you’re naked, taking out ol’ reliable. You can't count on your hands how many times this vibrator was there for you, it was way more reliable than your parents or therapist. Or you could be addicted to cumming, that too. But who wouldn't be? It's not your concern, especially if it's because of Leon. You wanna hear him say the most degrading, defiling, depraved shit in the world but still praise you for it, praise you for putting out so easily cause you're such a good girl. If fucking him with no hesitation makes you a slut, then you wear that badge proudly. That title feels even better when you start moaning his name, your toy hitting that sweet spot which makes you move your hand faster, needing to cum so damn bad. It feels so dirty in the best way possible, thinking of how firm his thighs would feel under your hands as you grip them tighter every time he shoves his cock further down your throat. You can’t imagine how fucking hot it’d be to hear him order you to grind your wet cunt on his boot, holding your hair so hard that you can’t help but push your nose against his pelvis, making your clit nudge against his boot again. Hearing that cocky son of a bitch tell you to cum would be like the devil coaxing you to join him down in hell, too sinful to imagine without having the real thing. It doesn't stop you from cumming on your toy, whining as your legs shake, turning it off as you heave out breaths. You’re fine if you think about him every night, it's good material for your shower thoughts. You’re more excited for his upcoming mission, making you all giddy as you get ready for bed. You're gonna be insufferable. Lucky Leon~

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jordyn14 · 2 months

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request

angst (divorce, don’t love)

Y/N and Joe are childhood bestfriends, their families are friends and everyone waited the moment that they had start date. They started dating officially during 9th grade. They married after their graduation and they had four children. Joe always been a wonderful man, kind, gentleman, always treated as a goddess, and he is a greatest dad. but y/n leaves him devastated by asking for divorce, because she feels that her love as a wife is over, she no longer loves him as a husband.

It’s over, we’re over | Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe x first person fem reader

Word count: 2283

Notes: thank you for this request! Keep in mind that it is the first request I’ve gotten so I hope you enjoy!!!

For the past few months, something has been weighing down on me. From the time I wake up to the time my head hits my pillow at night, I am thinking about it. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to shake it. What’s worse is that Joe has no idea what is going on. I don’t know if the worse part about it is that I’m going to be dropping a bomb on him out of nowhere, or the fact that he has been so oblivious about his own wife being completely miserable. I wake up, take the kids to school, go to work, pick the kids back up, make dinner, say hello to Joe, go to sleep, and do it all over again. Over…and over…and over again.

It sucks. This life sucks. I never thought I’d be saying it, but it’s true. It didn’t used to suck, though. My life was great. I moved to Athens, Ohio when I was 10 years old after my dad got a new job. I knew nobody at my new school. I walked through school with my head held low, scared that I would never make friends and never connect with anyone at this new school. That was until someone took a chance on me. Can you guess who? Ding ding ding. Joseph Lee Burrow.

He was incredible from the start. Every chance we got, we were hanging out either with some other friends, or alone. We became such good friends that our parents had no other choice but to become best friends as well. From the start, our families used to joke around about how one day we would fall in love and get married. Of course we responded with, “ew, her? No, she’s my best friend,” or “ew, him? No, he’s my best friend.” I thought we would stay best friends forever, until I slowly started to realize that I was falling for my best friend. We stayed friends all the way until 9th grade when Joe finally confessed he had feelings for me.

All throughout high school we were together. We were inseparable. We were known as the ‘it couple’ of high school. Anywhere I went, Joe went, and anywhere Joe went, I went. We loved it that way, though. We never got sick of each other. We wanted to be in each other’s presence forever. We eventually won prom king and queen and obviously went to the same college. Right after our first year of college, when I finally turned 18, Joe proposed to me and we got married. We were so in love, even at a young age. When people said that true love or soulmates didn’t exist I wanted to say, “excuse me, speak for yourself.”

Everything was going right for so long, even through long distance when Joe went to LSU. It was hard, but we got through it and moved to Cincinnati right after the draft. My husband, the #1 pick in the draft. We were on top of the world. Everything was going our way. Shortly after the draft, I got pregnant. It was incredible. We were finally able to build the family we always wanted. One kid led to two, two led to three, and then finally we had our fourth child 5 months ago.

Everything was going right, until it wasn’t. After a few years, things started to fall apart for me. It was so incredibly hard to be in the spotlight. Not only was I supposed to maintain this image as the QB1’s wife, but I had to do it all while juggling work and kids. That’s when the anxiety came. Trying to uphold this image felt impossible and no matter how much Joe tried to reassure me, it just wasn’t enough.

I thought I could do it. I thought I could be with Joe while he lived out his dream, but I couldn’t anymore. It was too hard. It was too much pressure. The realization that I was falling out of love with my husband was heartbreaking and terrifying, but I wanted-no, needed-better for myself. Joe needed a wife who could endure all of those things that came with being married to a man in the NFL. I just wasn’t the right girl for him.

I sat on the couch with my hands in my lap, picking away at the skin until my fingers bled. I wiped the blood off on my pant leg while bobbing my knee up and down, up and down. So many Thoughts raced through my head, but I knew what I needed to do. All of a sudden, I heard Joe’s car pull into the driveway and knew that this was it. This would be the last time Joe would come home to his loving wife. This would be the last time Joe thought he was coming home to a woman who loves him.

I finally stood up while still ripping off the skin around my finger nails as the door opened up. Joe walked in a few steps and groaned loudly while throwing his bag on the couch. “Oh boy, today’s workout was tiring.” He chuckled and began to walk over to me, stretching his arms above his head. I gave him a small smile as he wrapped me in his arms. I wrapped my arms around him as a tear escaped, but I quickly wiped it away before he noticed.

Even now he still couldn’t tell anything was wrong. Was he really that oblivious? How Could he not tell that his own wife was miserable? When we pulled away, Joe glanced up at the stairs with a confused look on his face and asked, “where are the kids?” I stayed in place as he walked over to the stairs, waiting for the 3 of them to run down and give him a big hug. They usually did. It was the same thing every. Single. Day.

“Maisie is upstairs sleeping, but Dakota, Louie, and Georgia are at the sitters. Can we talk?” I asked him. With a hesitant shrug, Joe walked over to the kitchen, expecting dinner to be done and waiting for him like always. Don’t get me wrong, he loved me with his whole being. He loved our family with his whole being. But everyday was the same. He came home, said hi to me and the kids, ate and watched film. It was like I got no time alone with him. I craved that kind of love again. The love that consumed me. The love I felt before he let football come between us.

“Where’s dinner? I’m starving.” Joe said when he realized there was no dinner cooking yet. “I didn’t make dinner yet, can we talk first?” I asked Joe and followed right after him as he leaned on the counter. “I have to go watch some game film, but after I can go pick up some food.” He said with a smile. With a sigh, I looked down at the ground for a few seconds before dragging them up to Joe. “Joe, for the past 6 years, we haven’t been right…I don’t want to do this to you, but I want a divorce.” I said. I ripped the bandaid right off. I didn’t give myself time to change my mind and continue to be miserable. For the first time in a few years, I finally spoke my mind. It felt amazing.

Joe chuckled and walked over to the cupboard, grabbing out some potato chips. I heard the annoying ruffling of the bag before I heard him chewing. “Haha, so funny.” Joe laughed, thinking I was joking. “This isn’t a joke. Can we talk?” I asked. Joe glanced over at me with that same smile on his face as he shoved some more chips in his mouth. Still, he laughed like I was joking, going about his business. I bit the inside of my cheek as I continued to hear his annoying chewing in my ear. All of a sudden, I ripped the bag of chips away from him and slid them across the counter so he couldn’t reach them.

“This isn’t a joke.” I said. The smile on Joe’s face dropped immediately and he looked shocked. “What are you talking about?” He asked me in a nervous monotone way. I tried to stop the tears from rolling down my face, but I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted a divorce and how much I was miserable living here with him, I still felt like I was going to be losing a part of me. Ever since I was 10 I’ve been with Joe, and now I wouldn’t. I didn’t know how I was going to continue my life without him, but I needed to. For my own sanity and wellbeing.

“I want a divorce Joe. I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.” I said. Joe was quick to answer, shocked at what I was throwing at him, “what do you mean? Everything is fine…” Joe said, trying to think of when I’ve shown that I was not okay with the way our relationship was going. I felt crushed at the fact that he couldn’t even tell that for a while-mostly the past few months-I’ve fallen out of love with him.

“No it’s not Joe. I can’t do this anymore.” I said. I tried to talk more, but Joe talked over me. “Why?” He asked me quickly and abruptly. “I can’t keep doing this-“ I started to say but he cut me off once again and said, “What do you mean this? What do I need to do?” I put both of my hands on the counter and drug my eyes up to look like him. “Everything, Joe. Everything. It’s exhausting. I thought I would be able to juggle a full time job, being a mom, and being married to an NFL player, but I can’t, I’m sorry.” I admitted to him.

It felt like a weight was being lifted off of my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I was able to take a deep breath and let go of some anxiety and stress. “No, no, no,” Joe said to himself and then looked up at me with a painful look on his face, “you’re saying you don’t love me anymore?” My heart was crushed at the look on his face and how helpless he looked. The love of his life was telling him that she wanted to leave and he was in denial. “No, Joe. I don’t. Our crazy lives ruined that for us. I mean hell, we barely see each other. If you’re not at games, you’re at the facility or in a different state with friends while I’m at work or with the kids. I don’t deserve that and the kids don’t either.” I said.

Doing what I did, Joe leaned on the counter like he couldn’t stand up straight as tears streamed down his now rosy cheeks. “You signed up for that…don’t do this…we love each other.” He said. I let out a small sob, the emotions spilling over uncontrollably. I put my hand over my mouth and said, “I know I did, and I am so, so sorry for that, but I can’t do it anymore. I need a husband who is around more and is willing to sacrifice his job for his family.” I said. Joe walked closer to me while shaking his head, his face wet with tears and some snot from crying. I could barely look at his face. It pained me so much to see him like this. He was so despondent.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said simply, running his fingers through his long hair quickly. Oh that hair. I would miss that hair. “I know, and that’s why I have to leave. You don’t deserve a wife who no lon-no longer loves you.” I said, unable to get the sentence out without letting out a sob. It hurt me so much, but this was good. I needed to leave. I couldn’t stay. “Come on, don’t do this. I don’t understand. I love you more than anything.” Joe cried. I felt terrible, I did. For so long he went through life thinking nothing was wrong, and maybe I was good at hiding it, but he should’ve known. He should’ve been able to tell that his wife wasn’t happy with him or in love with him anymore.

“Listen to me, Joe. This life was great, don’t get me wrong. We were great…but football changed you and changed the way I feel about you. I want more out of this life than just being your second option.” I said. Joe looked up at me with a small scowl through the tears and said, “you were never my second option. Never. You know that.” He said. But it was a lie. I used to be his first option though, and I wish it were still that way, because this wouldn’t be happening if so. “Yes, yes I am. It started after your second year in the NFL, right after you tore your ACL. After that, me and the kids came second to your football career.” I said.

I scanned Joes face as he started to connect some of the dots and realize that after today, everything would change. Our lives would be so different after today. “I don’t hold anything against you, Joe, please understand that. It’s an impossible spot to be in, for both of us. But you deserve a person who is okay with being second to football, and I’m not.” I said. “Please don’t do this to me.” Joe said and looked up at me. We held eye contact for a few seconds, just scanning each other’s faces. I could tell Joe was searching my eyes for some sort of connection. For some sort of love. Maybe if he found that he could save this marriage, but he looked down at his hands when he found none. “It’s over, we’re over.” I said.

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Text

QUESTION…? — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which Quinn and sunshiny good girl, y/n, have harbored feelings for each other for a while. but when they finally hookup, Quinn leaves in the middle of the night and let’s y/n believe maybe it was just a one night fling.

specific lyrics: “good girl, sad boy.” and “did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room and every single one of your friends was making fun of you but fifteen seconds later they were clapping too? then what did you do? did you leave her house in the middle of the night?”

warnings: kinda steamy but no NSFW. profanity.

notes: it does get a little steamy but there is no actual smut in this, i apologize if you were expecting some! i wrote this while watching the UMich game and i have the worst migraine, so i’m sorry if this sucks.

not my gif

contrary to popular belief, i’m not oblivious to the irony of Quinn Hughes and i being best friends. the optimistic, always happy, constantly smiling hopeless romantic being best friends with the pessimistic, always looks miserable, rarely smiling hockey player? yeah, it’s baffled our other friends for years.

but when asked, i can’t really explain it. Quinn and i just click. we know what makes the other happy, or sad, or angry. it’s easy for us to be around each other. and we’re understanding of each other. i don’t push him to talk, and he’s one of the rare few who will just sit and listen to me ramble without asking me to shut up. as like all best friends we’re really close. we like to think we have no secrets. that we tell each other everything.

but, i have one.

i’m in love with my best friend.

i never meant for it to happen. when we became friends, i was actually glad to finally meet a guy that just wanted to be friends. no underlying motives, no moves being pulled. just friends. but eventually my feelings changed. it wasn’t all at once, like i read about in my romance novels. no. the changes were gradual. it started slowly, with me seeking him out more than my other friends. then it turned into getting butterflies in my stomach when we touched, no matter if we were holding hands, linked arms, or if i was just sitting close enough to him on the couch that our thighs touched. at first i chalked it up to him just being my best friend, but then the dreams started happening. dreams where he and i were dating. and eventually sleeping dreams turned into daydreams. and then i finally realized my true feelings. i’m in love with my best friend.

i’ve spent the better half of our four year friendship hiding my feelings from him, too scared that confessing might ruin our friendship. he’s never given me any reason to assume that he feels the same way, so i keep my feelings locked in a box in the back of my mind, only let free when i’m alone and daydreaming about what life would be like if we were more than friends.

i’ve since then gone on several dates with numerous guys, trying to find someone who makes me feel the way Quinn does, but it’s been a moot effort. every guy has been missing the spark that i feel between Quinn and i. and i always end up back to the beginning, spending my nights hanging out with my best friend and just hoping i’m strong enough not to spill my secret.

which brings us to now, where i’m mentally screaming over how good Quinn looks in his white button down shirt and black dress pants. it’s new year’s eve, and most of the Canucks team, their partners, and a few friends are lounged around Elias’s house. with five minutes until the new year, i’m sat on the couch clutching a glass of champagne, my sixth of the night, and animatedly chatting with Quinn, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. but i’ve learned by now that that’s just his resting facial expression.

“alcohol makes you chatty, doesn’t it y/n?” Elias laughs from his spot in the chair a few feet away from us. i stop talking, letting out a weak chuckle. it’s not like i’m unused to comments like that, i’m often told that i talk a lot, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little.

“it does. but i like it. i like listening to her talk.” Quinn defends. my heart flutters in my chest at his words. a blush coating my cheeks. “now back to what you were saying, y/n.”

i blink a few times, just staring at my best friend in front of me before i begin to speak.

“oh. i was just saying that i think my parents want me to visit soon. but i was done speaking.” i shrug.

“no, you weren’t.” Quinn’s brows furrow and he wears a scowl. “you were still talking.”

“well, i was about done anyways. but i can keep talking.” Quinn’s lips quirk in a half smile and he nods for me to continue. “well, i do think the concept of new years is pretty weird. and some of the traditions that people have are weird as well. like-”

i’m cut off by the simultaneous chants of the people surrounding us. counting down from ten. i smile and my face lights up. i love this part of the holiday.

“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!” i sigh as i watch couples pair off, ready to kiss their other half a happy new year, a longing look in my eye. i feel Quinn shift beside me, his thigh pressing closer into mine. but my eyes are locked on my friends all smiling at their significant others, so happy and in love. i want that.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” i’m snapped out of my thoughts by a hand grasping my chin. my face is turned and i’m able to catch a quick glimpse of Quinn’s eyes before my lips are covered by his. his hands move to cup my face, his lips moving over mine. it takes me a second of hesitation to realize what’s happening and my heart speeds up. i snap out of my trance in time to move my lips, locking us into a slow and passionate kiss.

“GO HUGGY! FINALLY!” i hear someone yell and everyone laughs, cracking jokes about how long it took for us to kiss. Quinn pulls back to lock eyes with me, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. he gives me a small smile before leaning in and capturing my lips with his once more. our friends start clapping and i smile into the kiss, making him pull away once again. this time he pulls away completely, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close to him.

what did that mean? does he like me the way that i like him? or was it just a midnight kiss between friends? is this gonna change anything, or are we just going to move past this like it didn’t happen? does he realize how much this means to me? my head is swarmed with questions that i may never know the answers to.

i stay glued to his hip for the rest of the night, my head still reeling from the kiss. not long after midnight, everyone starts to head home, and i follow Quinn out to his car so he can give me a ride. he opens the passenger seat for me, helping me in before shutting it and jogging around the front of the car, slipping into the drivers seat. the drive is unusually quiet, my usual chattiness drifted away after our kiss. instead i’m stuck inside my own mind, still wondering what it meant. when he pulls up and parks in a spot outside my apartment complex, he turns to look at me, and i manage a smile.

“you okay?” he asks. “you’ve been quiet.”

“yeah, i’m fine. just figured i’d give you a reprieve.” i joke. his expression tells me he didn’t appreciate my attempt.

“don’t do that.” he says.

“do what?”

“don’t let what Elias said get into your head. i love that you never stop talking. i like seeing you happy.”

okay he needs to stop talking before i do something monumentally stupid. like kiss him again.

“don’t worry, Quinny. i’m not gonna go silent on you. i was just joking.” i smile. “who else can i talk about all my star wars theories with, without them calling me a nerd?”

he laughs and unbuckles his seatbelt.

“you wanna come in and drink some wine while i tell you about how i think Palpatine is actually Anakin’s father?” i ask, and he nods.

“what else would i do?” he jokes sarcastically.

we get out of the car and Quinn leads the way up to my apartment, having been here hundreds of times in the past four years. i unlock my door and call out to my cat that i’m home. within seconds she comes around the corner, and Quinn scoops her up in his arms, cradling her like a baby. i listen to him coo at her as i grab a bottle of wine off my kitchen counter and pour two glasses.

within a few minutes, Quinn and i are sat on my bed, drinking our wine as i lay my feet in his lap and talk to him about my theory. Quinn listens intently, as if he hasn’t already heard it a million times, and absentmindedly lays his hand on my ankle, sending a spark up my leg.

“anyways, enough about that.” i finish. “how’s your mom? i heard you on the phone with her earlier. I miss Ellen.”

he smiles, a rare genuine grin at the mention of his family.

“she’s good.” he nods. “she misses you too. keeps telling me to bring you to the lake house this summer.”

“we’ll if that’s your way of offering, then i accept.” i tell him before joking- “i miss my favorite Hughes brother.”

“there’s no way that Luke is your favorite. i call bullshit.”

“you call bullshit every time i say it, but i still remain adamant. he’s the sweetest.” i tease. “he told me last summer that if i ever decide that i like younger guys, he’ll take me out. maybe i’ll finally take him up on that offer.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow, tickling the inside of my ankles as he speaks.

“oh please. he wouldn’t know how to handle you.”

i bark out a laugh and nudge his thigh with my foot.

“and just what is that supposed to mean?” i ask.

“it means that whatever man you finally decide is good enough for you, needs to appreciate you. he needs to love how much you like to speak, and your hopeless romantic side. he needs to appreciate that you always look on the bright side of things, and find a silver lining in everything. he needs to remember that you’re a sunrise person, preferring the beginning of a new day rather than the end, so you prefer your dates as brunch or picnics or going to a museum rather than dinner or a movie. and Luke is not that guy.”

my heart melts at his words. the fact that he knows these things about me and believes that i deserve to find someone who won’t make me compromise those parts of myself.

and there i go, doing something monumentally stupid, because before i can take a second to think before i react, i lean over and press my mouth to his. his lips lock with mine, moving slowly. i open my mouth, letting his tongue roam freely over mine. Quinn grasps my hips, pulling me in closer so that i’m straddled over his lap, and i roll my hips, lightly grinding down onto him, making him let out a groan.

he tastes like red wine and mint, an odd combination, but not a bad one. his hands slip under my top, skimming my bare skin as he settles them at my waist and pulls me closer. my chest is flush against his now, every breath i take making my nipples brush against his chest, sending pleasure driven shivers down my body, straight to my core.

“please.” i whisper against his lips.

“please what, y/n?” his voice is raspy, laced with lust and seduction.

“please Quinn. please fuck me.” i whimper as he pulls me down to roll over his quickly hardening length.

“whatever you want, baby.”

my eyes squint against the light coming in from my bedroom windows as i finally come to. it takes me a couple seconds to remember why i’m naked. and when the memories of the night before flash in my mind, i smile, rolling over in my bed to face Quinn. but his spot is empty. i reach over to feel cold sheets. he’s been gone awhile.

when did he leave? why did he leave?

tears prick at the back of my eyes, but i blink them away. he could just be in the kitchen. rising from my bed, i throw on an oversized t-shirt and some underwear as i glance around my room. his clothes are gone, the only ones left scattered on my floor being my own, sending another sinking feeling in my gut.

i leave my room, walking to my kitchen only for it to be empty. i check my bathroom, my living room, and my guest room, only for all of them to come up empty as well.

he left.

i finally let my tears fall, collapsing on my couch. i thought maybe he liked me, but was last night just an easy fuck for him? did he not want me in the way that i want him? in a relationship sense?

it’s been four days since Quinn and i slept together, and we haven’t spoken or seen each other in those days. it’s not unusual for us to not talk or see each other for a few days, but after our night together, i wasn’t expecting the complete silence. i told myself i would confront him the next time i see him, but the thought makes me anxious.

with the Canucks having two nights off in a row, a lot of them are going out to a bar, and as a close friend of the team, i was invited. Andrei didn’t tell me who all is coming though, so as i walk into the bar right now, i worry over the possibility of being confronted with Quinn.

my eyes roam the bar, searching for my friends, and when i finally spot them, i feel both relieved and anxious. i don’t see Quinn. i make my way over to them, giving hugs and fist bumps as i say my hello’s.

“i’m gonna go order a drink.” i let them know, but as i turn around, i see Quinn, who seems to be returning from the restroom. we lock eyes and he veers course, coming to a stop in front of me.

“hey.” he greets me, pulling me into a quick hug. my arms stay glued to my sides.

“hey.” i say weakly. before i can lose my confidence i speak again. “can we talk?”

Quinn nods and tips his head over towards an empty booth across the room. i lead the way over to it, taking a seat on one side while he takes the seat across from me.

“what’s up?” he asks, and i take a second to study his expressionless face. does he really not know what this is about?

“can i ask you a question?” i ask.

“yeah, of course.” he replies. he lifts the hat off his head and sweeps a hand through his hair before replacing the hat. i swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath.

“why did you leave?” i manage to get out.

“what?”

“that night. why did you leave? i woke up the next morning and you were gone.” i explain. he opens his mouth but i continue speaking. “i just need to know. did it mean nothing to you? because that night meant everything to me. and i was under the impression that it may have meant something to you, but then you left without even saying goodbye and it made me feel…cheap. so i just want you to be honest with me Quinn, did it? mean anything to you?”

Quinn’s nostrils flare and he winces, as if my words were hard for him to hear.

“of course. it meant so much to me, y/n. but it all happened so fast and right after i said those nice things. so, i laid awake overthinking. and i got it into my head that maybe you were just overwhelmed with what i had said and acted on impulse. that maybe it was just one night for you. and i could take that, so i left. i thought maybe that’s what you wanted me to do.” his voice is soft, barely audible over the commotion of the bar, and his words only make me more upset.

“so you didn’t think to talk to me? you just left?” my words are sharp, my tone incredulous. “if you would’ve talked to me then you would’ve known that i really like you, Quinn. i’ve been in love with you for two years. i wanted that night to happen. it wasn’t just a night for me. was the decision impulsive? maybe. but i thought about that happening between us for years. i wanted it. i want you. not just for one night, but forever.”

his hand snakes across the table, clasping my own.

“i want you too. forever. god, y/n, i’ve been in love with you since i met you. but i knew how much you’d been through with past relationships and i didn’t want to push you. and then when i thought enough time had passed, i didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so i took you in any way i could have you. if that was just as your best friend, then so be it. but i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, y/n/n.”

my head reels with his words, thinking back over them. wait what?

“what?” i whisper, my voice shaky.

“if you can forgive me for being an idiot and jumping to conclusions, i’d really like to be your boyfriend.”

my heart races, and i look into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity.

“i’d really like that. but you can’t leave me like that again, Quinn.”

“i don’t think i ever want to leave you again.” he tells me. he stands, taking my hand in his and pulling me up so hard that i crash into his chest. he wraps his arms around my waist, leaning down and letting his lips graze mine, smiling. “my mom is gonna freak when i tell her we’re finally dating.”

my head drops back in a laugh before i tease-

“oh no, how am i gonna break this to Luke?”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #vancouver canucks #midnights fic list #faithlynn’s writings <3 #babydollmarauders

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drivinmeinsane · 6 months

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Snowstorm ※ 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Ten ※ Colt Seavers / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

※ Summary: You and Colt discover that some gambles don't pay off.

※ Rating: No mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Cuddling for Warmth, Ill-advised Winter Safety Practices, Fluff/Humor

※ Word count: 1998

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

Despite your layers, you’re shivering enough that your teeth feel like they’re going to rattle right out of your skull. It’s hard to imagine that the weather is going to take a turn for the worse when it’s already cold enough in the warehouse that everyone’s breath is visible in front of their faces. This far north by the Great Lakes is always a gamble this time of year. This movie production is certainly not winning the lottery.

“Alright crew, let's wrap this up,” calls the team lead.

Everyone picks up speed, finishing their tasks so they can separate into pairs and small groups to carpool back to their temporary housing. Automatically, you gravitate towards Colt. The two of you have been working off and on together for years on various movie sets. Being around him comes as easily and naturally as breathing. It was a massive relief when you were assigned to share an airbnb for the couple months you’re going to be spending here.

“This sucks, huh?” You comment, helping him to roll up an impact mat.

He laughs, breath clouding the air. “Yeah, it super sucks.”

The rest of the crew files out while the two of you work, alternating between sweating and freezing. Securing all the impact mats for storage is a miserable task, but it gets done. The building is empty aside from Colt and you.

The stunt guy straightens up, groaning as his back loudly pops. “Ready to bounce on outta here?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

At the door, the two of you take the time to adjust your layers. Colt wraps your scarf around your head teasingly after offering to help you put it on. You give him a scathing look between the layers of material before you break and the two of you start laughing. Colt is wiping at his eyes, still chuckling a little, when you shove the door open.

The cold air immediately tears right through your clothes. The hollow thud and click of the door closing and locking behind you both sounds ominous. Colt offers his arm to you and you take it, resigning yourself to the weather conditions. The snow is coming down heavily, making it difficult to see across the sprawling parking.

Your Lord of the Rings worthy journey to Colt’s truck starts out easily enough, until you wipe out on a snow-covered patch of ice. If it wasn’t for the death grip you have on each other's arms, you would bust your ass right then and there. Instead, you and Colt end up doing a weird dance to try to stay upright.

“Maybe we should consider a career in couples ice skating. Maybe retire from the stunts biz.” Colt suggests, breathing heavily from the unexpected exertion.

“Toddler level, maybe,” you grumble back, foot skidding again. You hate the fact that the stunt crew has to park clear out of the way on the very fringes of the parking lot.

You risk a glance at your coworker. His gaze is focused intently on the ground. Snowflakes are collecting in his beard and in his shaggy hair, making his blue eyes appear even bluer. After what feels like an age of taking minuscule steps across a frozen wasteland, you finally spot his garishly colored truck through the snow. You’ve never been happier to see the yellow and brown eyesore.

Colt helps you up into the passenger seat. Once you're settled, he pushes his tuck keys into your hand. You pass him the windshield scraper in return. It was a new purchase after having to use the airbnb’s dustpan the first morning the two of you had walked out to the vehicle to find it under a thick layer of snow.

“Start her for me?”

Mumbling an affirmative, you lean over and slot the key into the ignition switch and twist. The truck sparks to life with a smooth rumble. Meanwhile, Colt skirts around the edge of the vehicle. He’s scraping at the windshield, chiseling the packed snow in sheets. He suddenly slips, hitting his sternum on the truck’s grille guard. Upon seeing your horrified expression through the cleared glass, he flashes you a thumbs up and a grimace. You give him the same in return.

Working faster now, he finishes the windshield and makes sure that the side windows and mirrors are clear. He knocks the scraper clean before opening the door and heaving himself into the truck. The stunt man tosses it at your feet onto the already cluttered floorboard. The cold air that followed him into the cab does neither of you any favors.

“You think we’re good, Colt?” You ask, watching him pull off his gloves and tuck them into his sun visor for safekeeping.

“Hope so. If it doesn't get worse we should be fine,” he says with a shrug only to yelp when his bare hands come in contact with the steering wheel. “Shit, that’s cold!”

With the heat on full blast, Colt backs out of the parking lot and then you’re off to the airbnb. He handles the truck expertly. While not used to driving in what is essentially a blizzard, the man has done enough crazy stunts to keep from skidding all over the road. That and his monstrosity of a vehicle with its sizable off-roading tires makes the trip go a little easier.

“Colt…” You say, worried. The weather is getting worse, much worse. The truck is struggling to maintain traction.

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart.” Both of you are so glued to the increasingly limited visibility and heavier snowfall that neither of you acknowledge the unintentional endearment Colt lets slip.

Spotting a ihop coming up, he makes the choice to pull into the empty lot. There’s no way he’s going to be able to push through. The weather is just too bad for his vehicle. The restaurant is clearly closed. This isn’t the southern part of the United States where there’s a Waffle House around to keep its doors open no matter the situation.

“There’s no way a tow truck is going to be able to get out here, is there?” You comment rhetorically.

Beside you, Colt groans when he can’t get reception on his cell phone. “Looks like we’re going to be here until the plows come through. Might be in the morning.”

You sigh and settle into your seat. Both of your phone batteries are too low to risk running them down by idly scrolling through old saved pictures. It’s going to be a long night.

To pass the time, you decide to lean over and rummage through the pile of trash and receipts on the floorboard. Like his apartment, he does not keep his truck clean or organized. You spend the next couple hours going through his receipts and judging him for his purchases. It’s mostly “Another Bonsai tree?” and “Just how much do you love this fast food place?” while your best friend does his damndest to defend himself as though he’s in front of an imaginary jury.

Eventually, the light fades too much to see the small text. Colt has long since turned off the truck. As the sun dips below the horizon, it gets colder in the cab.

You shiver and Colt notices. “C’mere.”

You slide across the bench seat and underneath his offered arm. He’s warm but the meager contact is too scant to do much. You seem to take turns shivering against one another.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a tauntaun,” he says suddenly.

You turn your face into the side of his chest to smother a groan at the reference. “I’d give anything for a hot drink right now.”

Colt makes a sound in agreement and slides down in his seat, struggling to get comfortable. His knee hits the steering wheel and you feel his pained exhale. “Yeah, I would too.”

A particularly vicious wind tears over the truck. It feels like it bypasses the layers of barely insulated metal entirely. The two of you clutch at each other in response. The lack of light isn’t helping it feel any warmer or cozier. Snow has entirely covered the windshield and the windows are fogged up from your breath and body heat.

“I’ll turn on the truck for a sec to run the heater, but then I guess we oughta try to get some sleep.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You don’t separate when Colt turns the key. The warm air is luxurious against your cold face. You nearly shove your fingers into the vent. He turns the truck off once you’re both sufficiently warmed. Now comes the difficult part, navigating where to put your bodies for sleep. The temperature has ruined any semblance of personal space.

“Wanna be on top?”

“If you insist on bottoming, stunt guy.”

“Oh, I always insist.”

Nearly hitting your head on the cab’s roof, you manage to shove yourself off of the bench seat enough for Colt to wedge himself into the short space. You can barely make out his shape. His hands find you and he guides you on top of himself. He hisses sharply and puts a hand over your kneecap when you graze it dangerously close to his crotch.

“I don't have plans for kids any time soon, but I’d like to keep my options open,” he jokes.

Finally, you are settled on top of him. It’s incredibly uncomfortable for both of you. He’s got his knees drawn up, shins against the door. Your left knee is wedged between his hip and the seat as you lay with your cheek on his shoulder. His arms are up and around you. Yours are tucked alongside his torso with your hands under his shoulders. You feel like a pair of pretzels.

You lay in silence, listening to the winter storm outside. Both of you start to shiver again.

“I know it’s silly but-”

“This sucks so-” you accidentally start at the same time. “Go ahead,” you encourage.

You hear him swallow. He seems stiff, nervous all of a sudden. “I know it’s silly, but uh… skin to skin contact works. With us both wearing jackets we can’t share body heat as well. So maybe if we… Wow, I promise I’m not trying to come onto you.”

“Okay.” You say gently.

Sitting up in his lap, his hands fall from your back to the sides of your hips. You unzip your jacket. You’re instantly colder. Underneath you, you feel Colt’s breath hitch and pick up the pace. You put your hands on his amble chest and find his coat zipper and tug it down. His fingers twitch, but they don’t make any move to stop you. You push his shirt up over his pectorals, all the way to his neck. You don’t touch his bare skin with your fingers. His hands find the hem of your shirt and together you draw it up to your collarbone. Both of you are bared in the truck cabin.

The man leaves you holding your shirt in place while his hands move to your back. He guides you into laying down on top of him. Your friend sucks in a breath and exhales slowly as inch by inch you make contact. Your bare skin colliding is sinfully warm.

You sigh into his neck, resisting the urge to press a kiss against it even as the stubble of his jaw grazes your face. He pulls his jacket up and over you as much as he can. His hold on you is tight, comforting. The direct contact of his body provides much more heat than between the layers. You’re not as cold as you were before.

“Heck of a holiday season, huh?” You mumble, already beginning to drift off.

Colt hums in agreement. Before you slip entirely under into the oblivion of sleep, you swear you feel a kiss pressed to your forehead and a low “Sweet dreams.” that rumbles against your chest.

#12 days of goosemas #the fall guy (2024)#the fall guy #the fall guy fanfiction #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling fanfiction #.my work #.my posts

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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

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I’m currently in my first watch through of one piece and got to /that part/ in marineford with Ace 😢💔 I’m heartbroken! Could I request some Ace fluff please? Maybe Ace finding out his crush actually likes him back? He talks about not deserving love/to even be born but that man deserves the world! I love him so much 😫

A/N: I remember almost a year ago my best friend told me she was finally starting her One Piece journey and after I think the first month or so I asked her who was her favorite so far and she said Ace and I immediately laughed….good times. ANYWAYS THO—Enjoy!

Ace Finding Out You Like Him Back(FLUFF)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

WC: 1.2k

CW: Very Fluff, Confessing, Kissing, Not proofread yet

He has had a crush on you since the day y’all met , but he didn’t realize how much he liked you until Marco pointed it out

“I DO NOT?!”

“Then why do you blush so much when you talk about her?”

He wanted to be in denial about it so much solely because he knew you couldn’t like him back. He never had much luck with ladies in his life.

Sure they flirted with him, and he had his small fair share of one night stands, but he never felt satisfied. He was curious at one point what it would be like to be with a partner that would love him for him, but alas he just pushed those feelings aside until he met you

You were so funny, and charming, and sweet to those around you. You even were like a mother/big sister to those you barely met when you both were out adventuring together.

You two became as thick as thieves, where ever you were he was and vice versa.

Ace developed feelings for you a few months after getting to know you, but it wasn’t until it got outted by his big brother that now he’s very awkward around you.

Ace became difficult to act normal around you and as much as he hated it he wanted to prevent you from finding out his feelings towards you

It’s been 2 weeks he has been trying to keep distance and you immediately noticed. You both now eat at different times. Ace is gone when you’re awake and there on w the ship while you sleep. It sucked because you assumed you probably made him mad somehow

Marco (and everybody on the MD) notices your slump mood and asks what’s wrong. You of course only confide to your big brother and Marco slaps the hell out of Ace for it because wtf is his problem ignoring you for almost a whole month for no reason

“GO TALK TO HER, MAN? She is miserable without you!”

Hearing the bad news about how his actions effected you made his heart sink. He would never EVER try to purposely hurt you, he didn’t really know how to properly express himself and just tell you the truth so here is now, in front of your room door pacing back and fourth fiddling his fingers.

“I like you, Y/n’— no that’s too direct—‘We should go out sometime’—-too desperate….—‘You’re so beautiful let’s date.’…..maybe—-“

His thoughts were thrown out when you opened the door, you must have been napping because you looked drowsy, you were wearing some shorts and one of his old shirts hanging off your shoulder.

“Oh…hey Ace…” you yawned wiping your eyes, you always looked so cute and cuddly to him when you first wake up.

He missed you so much and didn’t even realize it until he seen you again.

“Come in…it’s cold…” You moved back to let him enter, he took off his hat and inched his way inside as you closed the door, biting his lip contemplating what he should say next,

“What um—-“

“I’m sorry!” Was all Ace could muster up as he bowed in front of you, “ I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you! I didn’t realize how badly I was treating you until Marco told me. I’m…Y/N I’m so sorry…”

You were startled at the sudden apology from him, it’s not like you were mad at him, but you’d be lying to say it didn’t hurt you a little you both weren’t hanging out as much anymore. You seen his troubled face still bowing and you walk over to him to grab and hug around his neck, you missed his smell and warmth so much.

“Y/n—“

“I missed you, dummy…”

Ace’s eyes grew wide, hearing those sincere words come from you made him blush, and his heart pound. “Now,” He thought, “Tell her now…”

“You’re okay though right? You didn’t avoid me because I made you mad?”

“No!” He immediately shook his head looking down at you, fisting your his shirt tightly. “No you could never make me mad Y/N! You—you um…fuck…”

Ace was defeated he pulled away scratching his head to sit on the edge of your bed, you were confused. What’s up with him? You sat beside him, he looked as deflated as he was when you first met him,

You and Marco seen him sitting on the MB crouched down with his face in his knees after being thrown by WB all day once again.

“Y/N…I been avoiding you because…I…”

Ace grown frustrated with himself, you pretty eyes not leaving his when you speak, the amount of worry in your face, you were so beautiful in his eyes, it crushed his pride knowing he couldn’t speak to you so carefree anymore, because he knew if you rejected him. There would be no way he could rekindle your friendship with him.

“Ace..” you pulled his cheeks to look back at you, your thumb rubbed over his small freckles on his face, leaning into your touch like a cat you smile warmly at him. “Talk to me….what’s been going on?”

He sighs, grabbing your wrist to lower them he mutters, “Hypothetically speaking… Have you ever liked someone Y/N?”

“Oh…um…yeah I have.”

“Do you like someone now?….hypothetically…”

“Well hypothetically …Yeah. I do.”

Ace heart sank. Of course you do. You noticed his face frowning and you giggle to Ace’s dismay he’s a bit annoyed by it.

“What’s funny?”

“You, dummy.”

“How?”

“Because…hypothetically speaking ….what if I told you I liked…a guy…and he was very sweet…strong…funny…Lowkey a hot head….can’t express his feelings for crap…oh…and he’s my best friend.”

“You like your best friend?! Who is that?!”

Your lit up eyes lowered to dumbfounded, you tilt your head and scoff playfully.

“Ace be so forreal right now…”

“I AM WH—OH!”

“OH!” You mocked and laugh. “You dummy. Or are we not best friends?!”

“NO NO WE ARE WE ARE —I—I um…I didn’t know you felt that way….why?”

“What you mean why? You’re Ace! I adore you! You get me! You’re …you’re like…I don’t know…I just…really like you… probably even more than that…”

Ace couldn’t even begin to believe what he was hearing, maybe you were playing a prank because he hurt your feelings, “No seriously, Y/n..”

“I am serious! Ace I know…I know…about…not feeling worthy of love…but…if anybody else besides your brothers don’t show you it…I will…because I do love you….Ace…”

You could see his eyes gloss with tears, cheeks red as his necklace, as much as you could tease him instead you pull him by his neck to peck his lips lightly,

“I do love you, Ace.” You repeat on his lips to make sure he knows. The last thing you would ever do it play with his emotions like that.

Ace let out an airy chuckle before kissing you again, this time more firmly, holding you close as if your were ganna disappear in thin air.

“I…I love you, too….I’m sorry I—“

“Mmmhm NO more apologies just kiss me your lips are very soft and warm.”

Ace laughed at your kisses, pulling you on top of him not wanting to let go. His heart felt so warm feeling you, this was probably the first time in a long time he had a genuine smile across his face.

“Thank you for loving me, y/n..”

“Thank you allowing me to love you.”

#one piece #TimikosAce #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece x female reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #ace x reader #ace x female reader #ace x y/n #ace fluff #ace scenario #ace imagine #ace one piece #one piece ace

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noah-liketheboat · 1 year

Text

I’ve recently begun using a wheelchair. Here’s the scoop.

I also started using forearm crutches even more recently but we’ll get to that in a second post bc this one got too long

I got my chair for $325 on OfferUp. It’s a motion composites Helio A6, and it has some fancy cushions on it. All in all I got it like 88% off of original price and it’s in pristine condition. Well, it was, until I brought it home and within 24 hours my cat scratched the (pink!!) paint job and put holes in the cushions. Thanks Misty. It now lives in the back of the car for its protection.

I put a clip-on cup holder on it and purple/white spoke covers. It’s pretty sick.

I use my wheelchair instead of walking/standing probably 30-40% of the time.

Personally

Oh my god it’s helped so much. I have so much more energy. I don’t flinch when I stand or walk. I can wait in line for food. I’m not dizzy, embarrassingly sweaty, and spacey just from standing in line anymore.

Because the previous owner spent literally $1,000 on special cushions (seat and back), I have the comfiest seat in any room 96% of the time. 10/10 would recommend. It helps with the back pain too obvi but first and foremost it’s so comfy.

I can go to the zoo. I get into the zoo for free because college but I can’t ever go because I can’t tolerate walking and standing for so long. But now I can go to the zoo!

I have more energy at the end of the day to participate in household chores and life. Before this, all my time was spent either in school or trying to recover enough to go to school again. Even doing my homework was difficult because of the fatigue, let alone date nights, hobbies, cooking dinner, sweeping the floors… it caused a lot of tension between me and my partner as well as my general being miserable.

Very steep learning curve. Very steep strength curve.

The ramp to my math class isn’t a steep grade but it’s long. When I started using it, I had to wheel up backwards. I got out of breath very easily and my shoulders were always aching something awful after going between classes. Now that hill is quite manageable and I only have sore shoulders if I’m going really fast or really far.

Wheelies. An unexpected but important skill. One that I am not good at. It took me weeks to get my wheels off the ground at all, but once I did I had a huge improvement and quickly was able to get my wheels ~6 or 8 inches off the ground. I still can’t sustain it though. I use them to go over bumps and get started up awkward ramps sometimes.

It’s been an amazing improvement to my life. I’m more independent, in less pain, happier, and more energetic. I should’ve done it earlier.

Observations:

People are weird. They talk to me more. Like, strangers ask me how my day is going in the elevator, people make small talk when they hold the door. This isn’t necessarily negative, but it is weird.

Kids stare. Adults also stare but they try to hide it. I don’t mind when kids stare though. They’re just curious and unaware.

I’m always a little nervous to ever stand up or walk out in public in case someone either thinks it’s a miracle and starts praising the lord or like hate-crimes me for “faking.”

When I wheeled in to all my classes after spring break, my teachers and seat mates were all instantly “oh my god what happened are you ok???” It’s a little awkward to explain that it’s just nerve damage that’s been getting worse.

People usually say “I’m so sorry” or “I hope you get/feel better soon!” And it’s like. I know their intentions are good, of course, but I don’t want people to be sorry! This has been an amazing life change for me! Also I’m not getting better, certainly not any time soon, and conversation gets awkward after that.

I think when I tell people it’s not really a “get better” thing, I think they at least subconsciously think it’s terminal or something?? Like. I’m not dying of nerve damage. I had nerve damage before spring break too. It’s just I finally decided to do something besides suck it up and hope I can make it through the day.

My campus is not as accessible as I once thought. The main culprit? UNLEVEL SIDEWALKS. They are the bane of my existence. My right arm will be pumping like my life depends on it and my left will be almost doing nothing. And then later when I’m doing the other way it’ll be the opposite.

There’s no ramp on the other side of one of the buildings I walk through to get to class. That was awkward.

There’s also a lot of cobblestone-type walking areas. Not only are they hella bumpy to wheel on, but they’re old and not well maintained. The cracks between slabs and the potholes can and will eject me from my chair if I’m not careful.

Funny story #1:

I rolled into the disability center on campus to take a test, as per usual (extended time and testing environment accommodations) and they had me wait while they got everyone else seated, which was weird, and then the testing coordinator came over to me and sat down next to me and was like “heyy how are you?” And I was like “I’m good, I’m good! Ah, well—*gestures to chair* yknow.” And she goes “Yeahh of course… so is this… new?”

Is it new??? Ma’am you see me every three weeks on the dot for tests, and every time for the past two years I’ve walked in on my own two feet, and today I come rolling in as I’ve transgendered into a vehicle. Yeah it’s new!!

Don’t worry I didn’t say that. I said “yeah, well, kind of. The chair is new, but the reasons aren’t. It’s just helping me a lot and my life is easier with it.” or smthn like that and she was like “oh ok good cool great”

Anyways, she just needed to tell me essentially that she would have me take my test at a height-adjustable table. Same room, same everything. Just instead of sitting in a test cubby I’d be at what’s essentially one of those standing desks. I was all nervous just for her to sit me at a table I can crank up and down like an old car window.

Funny Story #2

I’m rolling across the courtyard(??) in front of the library where they were having one of those random college of business things with tents everywhere. You’re aware. Just trying to get to class.

I hear “Hey! Excuse me, hey!” from behind me and I turn my head to see a girl frantically waving me down running across the grass. Naturally I’m intrigued.

She gets to me, a little out of breath, and then goes “Would you be interested in playing tennis?”

I look down at my chair. I look back up at her. “Ah… no…”

She was talking about adaptive tennis. Which I could’ve guessed probably but I was caught so off-guard and I was real confused.

She invited me to join the adaptive sports program/club thing, which is headed by a disabled professor but run entirely by able-bodied students (who get a class credit for volunteering with the organization, essentially). I told her I was really new so probably not, but I was willing to look into it. She gave me the professor’s email and I sent him an email like “hey one of your students flagged me down to talk abt adaptive sports but I’m shit at wheelchairing so probably not but I’d love to meet up and chat and get to know more about the program and stuff.”

It’s been a month. I haven’t gotten a reply or acknowledgement or anything.

All the stuff I can find about the program is obviously directed towards able-bodied students wanting them to volunteer or take the class. The Instagram has a post with each student in the class getting a slide with their lil intro and stuff. The professor only appears in group shots. At any rate I’m not that invested.

Personal Relations

Abled ppl when I told them I’m getting a wheelchair: oh no!! I’m so sorry!! What’s wrong!! That’s awful!! :((((

Disabled ppl when I told them I’m getting a wheelchair: omg that’s amazing I’m so happy for u :)

One exception to the able bodied trope: my youth group Bible study, surprisingly. I was sharing that I was really feeling a lot of turmoil about my decision and all that jazz and they were like “just do it. you already know it’s the right choice, and ur strong enough to do it” and they all “oohed” and “ahhed” when I rolled up with it next week. 10/10 queens.

My wheelchair has caused so many personal relationship issues in my life. So many.

Suddenly everyone’s a medical expert in me specifically. Everyone besides me knows what’s best, and what’s best is not a wheelchair. People who used to ask me what was wrong with them when they had a tickle in their throat or fell on their foot funny have apparently become scholars on complex hashimotos, nerve damage, neuropathy, and any and all suspected other conditions I may have. I wonder when they had time to do that, since they still don’t know how to care for a simple kitchen injury.

When I point out that the alternative to the wheelchair is constant+worsening pain and ask them if that’s what they think is best, these overnight medical experts get all huffy and don’t have an answer.

I have done extensive research about all my diagnosed conditions and possible ones over the course of many years. I’ve been in and out (mostly out) of at least a dozen doctor’s offices and done several rounds of different types of PT. I also live in my body 24/7. One of my earliest memories is of waking up my aunt at night during a sleepover because my nerve pain wouldn’t let me sleep. I wasn’t any older than 4. Back then the only words I had were leg cramps and growing pains.

I didn’t know my pain was abnormal for a long time. I’m good at hiding it. I’m good at “pushing through.” I experienced severe medical neglect, to the point of it being life-threatening, for nearly 2 years in the TTI and I was punished any time I tried to advocate for myself and my needs or really even talked about how I wasn’t physically well.

Basically I gave up trying to truly tell people how bad my quality of life was when I was about 16 because I wasn’t believed and I was often punished and/or had it used against me.

Nevertheless, everyone (read: my partner, my parents, and my partner’s parents) in my life thinks that I’m terrible awful wrong bad lying etc. for using the chair.

I’ve been using it for ~2 months and this is the first week my partner hasn’t argued with me about it or made an unnecessary comment. #1 worst thing they’ve said is that I’m “neglecting half of my body” by not walking 24/7. Oooh that made me mad. I do my PT almost every day, I stretch every day, I know exactly what almost every ache and pain originates from, I check in with my body constantly throughout the day. But I’m “neglecting it.” Not to mention that after my second appointment my Doctor specifically said he wants me using the chair until at least June.

My partner was originally very supportive, but then they talked to their mom and suddenly everything changed and they are borderline vindictive about my chair. Their mother is a Doctor, true, but most of her career she was a PICU nurse and also knows exactly nothing about my medical history except that I’m allergic to pecans and walnuts. Oh, and their dad has a friend who cured hashimotos by going gluten free, so obviously I’m just not trying hard enough or smthn. ((I’ve been almost gluten free before. No change.))

I cried every week about their attitude towards/comments about my chair except for this one. Every time I felt confident about it I would remember everything they said and my shoulders would physically slump. But no matter how many times I brought up how hurt and uncared for I was feeling, it ended up with me crying and them being either the same or more solid in their beliefs.

My therapist is a saint.

On the brightish side, my family and partner have finally begun taking my health and chronic issues seriously. I went to the Doctor two weeks after I got the chair and got started on a new medicine (a loop diuretic if anyone’s curious).

My mom keeps asking if I’m “better yet” and it’s really hurtful for some reason? She wants to know all my improvements, but when I start to say how my chair has helped so much, she cuts me off and says “no I mean the medicine.”

I am on the lowest dose they make, and I only take it every other day. I haven’t lost any weight since starting it (loop diuretics work by flushing excess water out of your body via peeing every twelve seconds, and this leads to weight loss. It’s estimated I’m carrying ~30lbs in water weight). Again, it’s been nearly two months. I’m the pissmaster 9000 every other day.

My mom at some point said she just “can’t accept that I’m in a wheelchair at 20.” My brother in Christ, what does that even mean? I’m not even using it full-time, or even the majority of the time.

I’ve had a follow up with my Doctor since I started but he kept me on the same dose even though I told him I haven’t lost any weight. Cest la vie.

He did tell me he wants me using the chair until at least June, and if all goes well he’ll start me in (another round of) PT, and it sounded like he wanted me doing decently intensive PT because he asked if I was in school in June and said it was good I wasn’t. If I go to PT, the chair usage advice will be passed on to them.

This post got far too long. I’ll split my crutches experience into a separate post and link it here once it’s up.

The chair herself. Yeah it’s in a bathroom don’t worry about it.

#wheelchair #disabled #mobility aid #wheelchair user #disability pride #ableism #disability #adaptive #new wheelchair #pimp my ride

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the-casbah-way · 1 month

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i never ever cry in front of anyone ever but there was this boy i was OBSESSED with in primary school when i was like seven years old because he was the fastest boy in the class and he had cool spiky hair and i always thought it was a crush until i came out and realised it was gender envy of some form and today my friend out of the blue told me that i look like him and we looked at his instagram together and i actually do. i look almost exactly like him. and i cried like an absolute wanker because i’ve been so miserable my whole life being perceived entirely the wrong way and i went home today and looked at myself and realised i look like the boy i always wanted to be when i was a kid. and whenever i feel bad about myself i get to remind myself that i look like him so i shouldn’t feel bad because back then i couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to look like this. and t will only make it better and even though the idea of starting it is still so scary to me i keep having moments like this that make me realise how good it’s going to be even if some of it will suck. i always focus on all of the ways my transition has gone and will go wrong and i forget that it’s going to go right in a lot of ways too

#i remember what this boy looked like when he started getting spots and what he sounded like when his voice started breaking #and it makes me so excited even for the parts of t that everyone says are ‘bad’#my identity is so much more binary than i tell myself it is. i play it down because being a fully binary Guy who wants to be purely masc is #a lot harder to break to my mother who is devastated even at the thought of me being a masculine woman #i’ve been pretending for a while that i’m more ‘in the middle’ than i really am because of that #but moments like this always remind me that i know exactly what i want to be and what i want to look like #and it’s the exact opposite of everything my mother wants me to be #this shit is going to be Hard. and i don’t expect my mother will stick around the further into my transition i get #which is so unbearable to me that i try not to think about it. i just can’t go back into the closet even for her #i was trying to force myself to do that before xmas and that’s what made me attempt and end up coming out to her #but i didn’t tell the full truth i just said i hate being feminine and i hate being a girl #i couldn’t bring myself to say the rest and i don’t know if i’ll ever say any of it to her #i wish i had a therapist so i could talk about all this as i’m working through the beginning of transition but. oh well

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luxurybrownbarbie · 8 months

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how do you learn to like finance?? I’m in the trenches doing my investment banking stint and I can’t believe I dreamed about doing this in college. Does it get better?? When does everything start to suck less? Or is this a sign I’m in the wrong field?

Not to make myself sound like Scrooge’s long lost daughter, but I really like money. I find it legitimately fascinating.

I like numbers, I like not doing the same thing every day, and I like talking to people, so it was either finance or consulting, and the finance salary won out.

(And I know people love the whole, “No amount of money is worth your mental health!” schtick, but for me, having money is like… probably the core pillar of my mental health. I’ve never been a part of the “I took a pay cut and my mental health got better!” ministry. No, this is not healthy, but we move).

That’s just some context for you, before you read the rest of this answer.

Generally, things start sucking less around year three. But that’s also when they reward everyone who managed to survive. 💛

I think you have to break down what you’re really struggling with. If the things you hate are intrinsic to the job, like insanely long hours, terrible work/life balance, or “difficult personalities” (read: assholes), then I would say you’re in the wrong field. Those things never really get better, and you’ll burn yourself out if you keep hoping for it.

But if your issues are that you’re feeling unfulfilled, underutilized, out of sync, doing way too much admin and not enough actual work, or not fully grasping why you’re doing the work you’re doing, then you should look for the opportunity to change what you’re doing before leaving the field entirely.

And remember, no one is expecting you to be there forever. Realistically, they’re hoping to get 2-5 years out of you before you move on. What they want is that when you do leave, you leave with positive connotations and a ton of connections, so they’re able to use that connection to you to eventually make even more money.

You should absolutely be moving around within investment banking to find the area that best fits you, because they really don’t want you to be (overly) miserable. A miserable banker doesn’t make good money. What they want is for you to leave with positive feelings and a ton of connections, so when you move, they’re able to use that connection to make even more money.

You don’t have to stick anything out beyond what you think you’re capable of! It will never be a 9-5, but it will not always suck. And no matter what, you won’t be hurting anyone if you decide to gracefully bow out. But explore your options first! Exiting finance is easy, returning is much harder.

#corporate barbie™#answered #.

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avatar-anna · 2 years

Text

The Professor

summary: you and harry are perfect strangers

words: 4.8k

tw: none

PART IV, PART V, PART III, PART II, PART I Series Masterlist

December 2021

New York sucked.

It was loud and dirty and gray. It was full of menacing industrial buildings, all metal and barely any plants. You couldn’t see the stars.

You lived in New York, but it wasn’t your home, you didn’t want it to be. Moving away from Cambridge was a decision you regretted almost as soon as your plane landed, but you were too proud to go back, and you didn’t want to relive painful memories that were still too fresh; you already would never be able to forget anything you’d said or did with your perfect stranger, physically being where it all happened was simply too much.

The only thing that made living in New York worthwhile was your job. It was more fulfilling than enjoyable, something you weren’t sure what to make sense of. You were still teaching, at an Ivy League university, no less. Your main focus was criminal psychology, teaching a class geared towards prospective candidates for the FBI or the police. You yourself weren’t an agent by any means, nor did you want to be one. You just wanted to teach and help people.

You kept up your videos, but you stopped doing questions at the end of a lecture. It was something unique that you’d done at Cambridge, and you didn’t think your new students in New York would care anyway. You could tell they saw your class as a means to an end, another rung on a ladder in order to get where they really wanted to be.

It was safe to say that you rarely left your new apartment, which was bigger than your Cambridge home and paid for by the school. It felt empty, bare, the only things in it being the essentials and a nice cat tree shaped like a castle for the Emperor. He wasn’t too pleased by the move either and you needed to get back in his good graces.

Sometimes you read or rode your bike in Central Park, the only place that you truly liked in New York, but most days you only had the energy for classes and feeding your cat.

Month after miserable month went by. You hardly slept, you read books, but you didn’t have the same passion as before, you were practically wasting away, but you didn’t know what to do to stop feeling this way. You remembered telling him in June that you wanted to embrace life, to try new things, now that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

It wasn’t until Winter Break that you started to turn your life around. You were sitting alone in your apartment on Christmas Eve, drinking wine straight from the bottle and watching some reality dating show—a key routine in your new life that you also hated—when you got a phone call.

“Hell—”

“You’re really going to abandon your mother on Christmas?”

“Christmas is a holiday desecrated by capitalism that promotes buying things you don’t need for people you don’t really like. And on a completely unrelated note, your gift should be coming in the mail.”

Your mom gasped, but you weren’t really paying attention to her, your eyes watching the drama unfold on your television screen instead. “—never heard you talk like this! Are you even listening to me?”

“I feel like I should say yes, but…no, no I’m not,” you said, which only caused her to wail and yell at you more.

“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? I always tell my friends how wonderful you are for taking care of your mother, and here you are, showing me disrespect I don’t deserve! This is not the daughter I raised—”

“You didn’t raise me,” you muttered, eyes widening in surprise when you said the words aloud, that you said them at all.

“Excuse me? How dare you speak to me—”

“Do you know what filial obligation is?” you asked, cutting your mother off, not caring at all to hear what she had to say. You had no idea what was currently possessing you, but you decided to go with it. Not waiting for an answer, you said, “It’s this concept in ethics where children are morally obligated to take care of their parents, just because they’re your parents. It was created by a bunch of Greek philosophers and a lot of people seem to like it, but you know what I think? I think that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“Y/n, what on earth has gotten into—”

“And I’m not the only one who thinks so. A lot of people think that the philosophers didn’t take into account abusive parents or, you know, the fact that no child actually asks to be brought into the world,” you said, completely cutting your mom off. You could tell you were slurring a bit, and that you probably wouldn’t be saying any of this if you were completely sober, but you were on a roll, and once you started, it was hard for you to stop.

“Parents don’t deserve anything for raising their kids. That’s their job, that was your job. I don’t owe you anything. I paid off the loans you took out to get rid of me, I bought you a house when you told me it was the least I could do for getting me where I am today, but in reality, I didn’t owe you a thing. I’m not going to thank you for my achievements anymore. I did this. Not you, me.

“You’ve always seen me as something, not someone,” you said, taking a shaky breath. “And I can’t—I can’t have you in my life anymore. Please don’t call me again unless it’s to apologize.”

“Y/n, don’t you dare hang up this phone so help me—”

You took your phone away from your ear and hung up. You thought it would be more satisfying to officially go no-contact with her, especially because that was a decision you made while you were on the phone. But you just felt…normal. You were still drinking wine from the bottle, you were still watching trashy reality television, and you were still alone. You’d always been alone, but now it was more apparent to you than ever.

What was he up to?

It wasn’t the first time you thought it, and though you knew you could easily look it up and know what Edward/Harry was up to in seconds, that wasn’t how you wanted to know him. Being left in the dark was partially your fault, and you knew that running away was a rash decision, but what could you do about it now? He probably wanted nothing to do with you when you ran off with only a letter taped to your door. You didn’t regret your decision to leave entirely, you did what you thought was right in the moment. But there were times where you wished you’d given him a chance to explain.

You hoped he was happy, that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he was happy.

Getting up from the couch, you trudged to your kitchen. It was much bigger than your last one, stocked with fancy appliances and a large fridge. You didn’t know what Columbia was thinking when they gave you this apartment. It was much too big for just you and the Emperor, and you didn’t plan on having any visitors, well, ever.

“I could learn to cook…” you mumbled, eyeing the pristine stove that had only been used for making tea. Looking around your apartment, you began to think. You might’ve had regrets about how you ended up here, but that didn’t change the fact that this was your home now. You’d taken a big step in standing up to your mother tonight, and you wanted to keep up that stride. All the chance-taking and the urge to try new things died when you found out about Edward/Harry, but it was starting to take root again. The life you weren’t living wasn’t really a life, and you wanted to start living again.

Picking up your cat, you scratched him between his ears. “Things are going to start changing around here, Mr. Trajan,” you said, to which your cat just meowed. “Starting with…a new brother or sister?”

-----------------------------------------

May 2022

You still weren’t in love with New York, but you didn’t absolutely hate your new home. At the very least, it was starting to actually feel like home, and that was definitely an improvement. You had your cats, you knew more than just people at the university, and you could cook spaghetti, something that had bested you for years. You didn’t understand how people eyeballed cooking it just right, but after signing up for a cooking class, you finally managed.

The first thing you wanted to do was tell Edward/Harry. One night he’d asked you if there was anything you couldn’t do, and that was what you came up with.

-------------------------------------------

“Well, cooking in general, but pasta is my greatest adversary.”

Edward tossed his head back and laughed, but instead of feeling embarrassed or like he was making fun of you, you giggled along with him.

“It’s a good thing we’re friends then, Doctor, because while I do not have multiple PhDs, I can make a mean plate of spaghetti.”

“Friends?” you couldn’t help but ask. You didn’t really have those. You waved to your neighbors when you saw them and your students told you to have a good weekend when they left your class, but friends were a scarcity in your life.

Not even missing a beat, Edward said, “Of course. I don’t stay up late talking about Russian novels with strangers.”

“We haven’t discussed any Russian novels ye—Oh my gosh, you finished Anna Karenina! What did you think?”

----------------------------------------

You thought about him a lot, of course you did, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to reach out, not quite ready to do so and too scared he would be angry with you if you called. So you wrote down your experiences in letters, telling the only real friend you’d ever had about all the new things you tried and the places you discovered in New York. You never sent them, you wouldn’t even know where to send them if you tried, but it felt better when you felt like you had someone to talk to about it.

There were things you couldn’t bring yourself to write down or say, even though you knew he was never going to read these letters. And there were times when you stopped writing to him too, feeling like you didn’t have to tell him every little thing you experienced.

Now it was summer again, and you were wandering. Aside from all your new experiences, one of the things you liked to do was just walk anywhere and everywhere. You liked to people watch and look at different buildings and uncover all the history within their walls.

Tonight you were walking around a place called Elmont. There were lots of coffee shops and parks and people who walked their dogs or jogged on the sidewalk. It was definitely different than the busyness of Manhattan, but you liked it. It was quiet, quaint, had a nice charm to it. Or it did, and then all of a sudden there were huge crowds.

There was an arena nearby, which was what you assumed the sudden hoard of young women were here for. Curious, you followed them to see what all the fuss was about. The arena was technically for a hockey team, and you didn’t want to assume anything, but the people lined up around the venue didn’t look like stereotypical hockey fans.

You were trying to decipher who went to an arena with feather boas and sparkly pants. Having had enough people watching for one night, you decided to head home for the night. You’d started watching a cooking show and challenging yourself to replicate the dishes the chefs made. “Come on, Trajan, Ms. Winter, let’s head home.”

Before you could turn around, though, someone was calling your name. Your first instinct was to run in the opposite direction, cat pram in tow, but you stayed put, watching curiously as a woman in a sparkly teal dress and cowgirl boots ran over to you.

“I thought it was you!” she said when she finally reached you. Her cheeks were red from running, the hair that was framing her face sticking out in different directions.

While fabulously dressed, you had no idea who this person was, or why she seemed to know you. You never forgot a face, but just to be polite, you asked, “Are you one of my students?”

She laughed. “Ha! God no, I could never, but I watch your videos all the time.”

Oh. You still filmed and uploaded your educational videos online, but no one had ever recognized you in public before. You never paid attention to how popular your videos were or if people liked or didn’t like them. Your editor took care of all of that, and all he ever said was things were going well.

“Thank you,” was all you could think of to say. It was then that you saw the microphone and camera crew with the young woman. Was she some kind of reporter? What was going on here?

“And who are these?” she asked, looking down at your cats huddled together in their pram. She pointed her little microphone in your direction, urging you to answer.

“That’s—That’s, um, Trajan, and that’s Faye Winter,” you said, pointing to each cat. You adopted her around New Year’s, and she was the perfect addition to your new approach to life. At first, you worried the Emperor would be jealous of his sister, but he actually took to her quite well, and now you were a happy family of three.

“Faye Winter? Like from Love Island?” the girl asked.

You nodded, shifting from foot to foot. “Yes, it—it has no educational value, but I think it’s quite entertaining.”

She laughed, harder than you thought your comment warranted. “That’s probably the best way to describe it.”

You laughed nervously along with her, gripping the handle of your pram the longer the camera stayed trained on you. It had taken a long time to be comfortable behind a camera to film your videos, but being filmed somewhere that wasn’t your office or by a camera that wasn’t yours was completely different. But you didn’t want to be rude to the young woman, who looked so excited to be talking to you, so you swallowed your growing anxiety and sayed put.

“I love your outfit by the way,” you said, hoping that taking the focus off of you a little would help.

“Thank you! I had to get especially dolled up for tonight.”

“Is that what all these people are here for? Is there some kind of concert or something?”

“Dang, Professor, you really know how to humble this man, huh?” she said. You decided not to correct her on the fact that you normally went by “Doctor” and waited for her to explain. “Harry Styles is debuting his brand new album tonight, and I’ve been tasked by his team to hand out free tickets. You interested?”

Harry. This was Harry’s event. Breathing suddenly became a lot more difficult. He was here somewhere. Roaming the halls of the venue just meters away, getting ready to perform. He always talked about his super secret project. This must’ve been it.

You were curious. Of course you were curious. But were you ready? He’d hid this part of his life from you for reasons you couldn’t fathom, and now you were being given the opportunity to see it all up close.

“Um…” You didn’t know what to say, and the cameras were only making you more nervous. “I don’t think I can bring my cats,” you finally managed to say. Surely they wouldn’t be allowed inside the arena.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” the young woman said, her smile warm and inviting despite how awkward you were. “So what do you say?”

“O—Okay.”

----------------------------------------

You now understood why all these young women were going crazy.

There was, of course, a scientific explanation having to do with endorphins being released into the brain and things like that, but the short answer was that Harry was simply marvelous. And it was Harry on the stage. Edward was someone you were pretty sure only you got to know, this person on stage had a presence that was undeniably infectious, and a lovely voice to match.

You remembered telling him once how you never really listened to music all that much, but you liked the songs he performed, liked the way he seemed to truly feel each word he sang and connected with the crowd, a crowd that you were apart of. Not that he had any idea.

There were also things you noticed, parts of the conversations you two had that somehow wound up in his songs. No one would’ve noticed but you, but you were pretty sure he knew that. He sang about your late nights together, only now you could hear how he truly felt, how smitten he was those nights on your couch talking about books and music.

Hell, the entirety of “Matilda” was most certainly about the relationship you had with your mother, and though the lyrics weren’t verbatim what Edward/Harry had said to you when you shared all of that with him, the sentiments were the same. You didn’t know how to feel about the song at first. He was the only person you’d ever spoken to about those things, and now it was in a song for anyone to hear.

But the song that felt the most like a sucker punch was one he called “Little Freak.”

It was abstract to the average listener, but you understood everything he was saying in the song—delicate points of view, gifts wasted on him, how he disrespected you, never seeing his birthmark. It felt reflective, like he’d written the song shortly after everything fell apart, and hearing how sad the song was made you feel even worse about the situation. He sounded…in love, which seemed impossible. You’d only known each other a few months, was that enough time to develop feelings, to say that you brought blue lights to dreams?

The song brought you back to the night he stayed in your apartment, the things that happened and the things that you wished happened.

------------------------------------------

“My bed’s just in there.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Please, I insist.”

But he insisted that you take the bed. You were at a standstill. Both of you ready for bed, but neither of you actually settling down to go to sleep. He kept refusing your offer to take the couch, but it didn’t feel right to you to just have him sleep on the couch. It wasn’t very comfortable.

Underneath all of that, though, was the very strong urge to sleep next to him.

You’d never had any kind of guest stay the night, but this wasn’t just any guest, this was Edward. The man who said you were beautiful and enchanting. Just thinking about his compliments made you feel all fluttery.

“You could—You could, um, could stay with me,” you said, but the last part was barely above a decibel.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Your cheeks flushed pink, but you took a deep breath and repeated yourself with more confidence than you felt. “I said you could stay with me. If—If you’d like. It’s a small bed, so I don’t know how comfortable it’ll be, and the Emperor has a tendency to sleep on top of me sometimes so I don’t know how he’ll feel about—”

“Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like me to sleep in your bed with you tonight?” he asked.

You nodded. “I think I would like that.”

“You think or you know? I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said.

He could tell you were nervous, and maybe even thought you were a little unsure. But you were sure. You wanted this. Nothing more than sleeping, but you wanted to be close to him.

Stepping close to him, you reached your hands up. “Can I?” you asked. He nodded, and your fingers gingerly pulled off his face mask, revealing the bottom half of his face bit by bit. The first thing you noticed was facial hair, then freckles, then a beauty mark, then pink lips. Your fingers just barely touched the top of his cheekbone, but it was enough to make him close his eyes. “Oh wow.”

“Hm?” His eyes were still closed, letting the pads of your fingers graze across his jaw and cheeks.

“You’re quite stunning,” you said, feeling a little breathless.

Edward blinked his eyes open, a small grin forming on his face. The first time you’d ever seen his smile. He had dimples and pearly white teeth.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“My turn?”

You nodded, letting Edward, peel your mask away the same way you’d done to him a minute ago. It was all very intense, the whole thing leaving you dizzy.

He drank you in with each little bit of your face that was revealed, the same way you had. His eyes roved over you, his hands lightly gripping your chin. You’d never had anyone look at you so intensely before, but this moment felt too precious to stop, not yet.

“I think I might be dreaming,” he breathed.

Smiling, you turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand. “Not yet. You have to sleep first.”

Edward grinned wider than before. “How silly of me. Lead the way.”

-----------------------------------------

You’d never felt as safe or content as you did that night. It was part of the reason you felt so betrayed when you discovered he’d been lying about who he was. You’d practically bared your soul to him the few months you got to know him, and you realized it had been a mistake. He’d never been as open as you were, and you felt like a fool.

And now here you were, watching him perform songs that sounded so personal, that felt like all the things you never realized you wanted him to share with you in the privacy of your townhouse until now. How could he share with the world and not with you?

Wiping a tear from your eye, you realized that it was time to go. The show wasn’t over, but you couldn’t stay, it hurt too much, and you felt like you were being betrayed all over again.

Luckily the young woman that provided you with the free ticket wasn’t sitting with you. You didn’t want any questions about your early departure, you just needed to get home. You walked back the way you’d come, flashing a badge to a security guard who showed you to the small dressing room where someone’s assistant had been kind enough to watch the Emperor and Faye Winter for you. After you gave the assistant a lame excuse, you took the pram back and left the arena as quickly as possible.

Walking away from the venue, you felt a weight crushing your chest. The same pain you felt when you found out who Edward/Harry was a year ago hitting you like a punch to the gut. In a daze, you somehow made it onto the subway and back to the streets that would eventually lead to your apartment.

Pulling out your phone, you dialed a number you hadn’t used in a year but couldn’t bring yourself to delete from your contacts. It went to voicemail obviously, but you wouldn’t have called if you knew there was a chance he would pick up. When you were instructed to, you began to speak.

“Hello. I don’t know if you still have this number saved, but it’s Y/n. I—I went to your concert tonight. A woman in a lovely sparkly dress gave me a free ticket while I happened to be walking by the arena you’re playing at right now, which is crazy when you think about the probability of that happening, which is practically—”

The call ended, cutting you off. It occurred to you then that you needed to stop hesitating and talking about statistics and focus on what you needed to say. You called him back and started again.

“Hi, me again. I just wanted to tell you that I saw you tonight. Saw you perform, I mean. You’re very good. I’m not sure how I feel about some of your songs and their inspiration, but that’s not really why I’m calling.

“I’m calling because I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have run off the way I did, but I was just so incredibly hurt that I couldn’t stay. I left you a note, which you hopefully read so I don’t have to re-explain all of that. So, I’m—”

Rolling your eyes and silently cursing his voicemail, you called him one last time.

“Last time, I promise, and then I won’t bother you again,” you said. “I’m just really sorry for how everything turned out, but it seems like you’re doing well, and I wish you all the best. Maybe I’ll—Maybe I’ll see you around. I know the Emperor would like that, he misses you quite a bit. Bye…Harry.”

You hung up after that, wondering if that was even his number anymore. Shaking your head, you tried to put him from your mind. You’d said your piece, and now it was time to move on.

--------------------------------------

“Okay, so that wraps up our session for today. Please make sure to stop by office hours if you have any questions about the final. It is cumulative, and I’ll be going over the whole semester the next few days. And don’t hesitate to send me an email if you need to schedule an individual appointment.”

Everyone at their desks began to pack up their things, a low rumble of conversation taking over the lecture hall. Before anyone left, though, there was a voice.

“What about the question?”

You were only half listening, talking to a student about their final grade. “Sorry, what was that?”

“If I ask a question, I get extra credit. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

That seemed to get everyone’s attention. Those who were halfway out the door paused at “extra credit,” others stopped packing up their books to see what you’d say. You, on the other hand, froze at the voice. Now that you were paying attention, you recognized it, and were suddenly stuck in place.

“Is that true, Dr. Y/l/n?” the student you’d been speaking to asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

“Um…” How were you supposed to answer that? You hadn’t done it all year, and now he’d gone and shared that with your whole class. “I suppose.”

That low rumble got louder, everyone rushing back to their seats and raising their hands, eager to be chosen. Some students were already throwing out questions for you to answer, but when you managed to gain control of your classroom again, his voice carried from the back of the lecture hall to you.

“Do you know how to cook pasta?”

You frowned behind your face covering. He thought he was being cute, or cheeky, as the British liked to call it. He thought he’d get you by asking a question he already knew the answer to. Or thought he knew the answer to.

“Yes, I do,” you said, still frowning. It didn’t look like he was frowning behind his own mask, though. If you knew him as well as you thought you did, you would go as far to say that he was grinning. “Alright, go home, everyone. And get studying.”

There were protests from students, one of them even pointing out that no one knew the person who asked the question. But since finals week was next week, nobody stuck around. Except for him.

He came over to you, hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. Seeing him in front of you was a weird experience, like nothing had ever changed, even though everything had.

“Hi,” he said, that charming grin gone now that it was just the two of you. He sounded nervous.

You’d yet to look him in the eye, looking the rest of him over instead. Little clip holding up his hair, sweatshirt that you now knew was his own merchandise, a pair of athletic shorts and running shoes. He looked like any other graduate student attending university, but that was most certainly not the case.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he said, and when you still didn’t respond, he tried again. “Please?”

You looked at him then, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. You’d forgotten how intense his gaze could be, and as he pinned you with a stare, the only thing you could say was, “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @remuslupinwifee @majasophieanna @michellekstyles @wolwolsighs @harrystylesrecs @cwiphswmwasohmm @his-only-angel-1989 @screaminganddying @mxltifxnd0m

#harry styles #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

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sadboytournament · 7 months

Text

ROUND ONE

Propaganda

Ja'far: My favourite sad adult man. He is physically unable to catch a break. There are so many things I could give here, his tragic backstory as an assassin which is sadly never explained in much detail (but this is magi and I’ve learned not to expect too much), despite this it clearly has a strong impact on his character thought the series. Like the persistent self worth issues, and how that relates to his unhealthy work-life balance, he’s never really not had a job. There are occasionally points when good thing happen, only for them to be immediately followed up by tragedy. Rurumu is the perfect example of this, she genuinely cared so much about him and ended up adopting him and it was so sweet, but god forbid he’s allowed to be happy so everything goes wrong and she end up dying (which makes him two for two in the dead mom department). Not to mention his relationship with Sinbad and how their last conversation was Sinbad lying to his face and leaving him. The poor guy doesn’t even get a happy ending, he’s just waiting for Sinbad to come back, he has no personal goals or hobby’s, Sinbad was quite literally his home and reason for living, but now he’s gone. I’m so bad at expressing my feelings about this guy, just because there are so many and it’s so complicated. Magi honestly sucks in a lot of ways but the way Sinbad and Ja’far are written is absolutely fantastic, they were always destined to end poorly but it still hurts to watch their relationship fall apart the way it did. I haven’t even mentioned the fall of the first Sindria which was a whole thing, two of his oldest die in front of him, only form him to find out afterwards that his adoptive mom and another close friend have also died. He was 14 at the time, he had so much going on and just had to pick up the pieces afterwards. It’s such a shame we were never shown the aftermath of the whole thing it would have been so interesting! But again this is magi, most thing are pretty disappointing. There are probably other things I could go on about, but I can’t remember them and this is a bit long.

Marius Pontmercy: I'm still sad about him losing round 1 last time.True sadboy behaviour. The Les Mis = Sadboys argument still stands, and also uh. His friends die. You know how it is. In the musical he sings a whole song about how empty the chairs and tables are without the homeboys. Truly a travesty.

#tumblr tournament #the sadboy tourney #ja'far #magi: the labyrinth of magic #marius pontmercy #les miserables

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dimepdf · 1 year

Text

★ 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. + 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. Joel couldn't help it, he was infatuated with the way you looked, and he would think about you so vividly that it would keep him up to the point of tossing and turning in his bed at night.

─── ☆ notes. I have been stuck in a bit of a funk for awhile, which kind of stinks because a lot of my writing really doesn't reflect how I’ve been feeling lately. I hope this brainrot parts ways with me very soon, but in meantime here is a totally down bad ventfic. | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

─── ☆ length. 2.9k (24 min read)

Because he had grown up as a single parent, Joel liked to think he had been built with a natural bullshit detector built in.

Having been thrown into the lifestyle of unexpected parenthood by raising the little mischievous girl that was his daughter Sarah for 12 years of his life, he learned the highs and lows that came with raising a child with little to no moral compass.

He had to learn that it was best to go through life being stressed about absolutely everything while also being prepared for everything; that was just his life motto.

It came from the years of hiding the very real emotions he had hidden under his true exterior, from the love of his life leaving him with a baby to somehow floating through his 20s.

Keeping his screws tight and pushing through without taking any handouts from the people that would peer at him with pity in their eyes.

Joel was the type of man to never talk about his troubles to bottle up all his emotions, nor had he ever talked about anything that bothered him outwardly.

Not even to his little brother Tommy, who had certainly made it his mission to lift Joel out of the funk he had always seemed to find himself in.

Joel knew that his lifestyle wasn't that hard, he felt blessed to even have the amount of support and family that he did have left. Sure, he had to live from check to check, but that was the same for most underpaid workers who lived to achieve the American dream.

So, like most, he just sucked it up and did his best to keep his mouth shut and to go about his day as drama-free as he possibly could.

Joel didn't think that he was living a miserable life. He felt it was better to be constantly on edge, knowing the trouble Sarah would get into every time he turned his back to the girl.

In fact, he had many things troubling him in his life, silently adding more and more to his plate as the days unfolded beneath him.

The newest addition was about how he was just on the brink of losing the second job that Tommy had helped him get too, and that just added to how he was supposed to keep a roof over Sarah’s head if he wasn't able to get paid enough to keep food in the fridge.

the last thing Joel wanted for Sarah was for her to feel forced to pick up some slack around the house, knowing her idea of help was using her bad sticky fingers habit.

Remembering how just last spring, when he had let it slip that they might have to cut back on leaving the lights on.

Joel had a rude awakening the next morning to a lengthy lecture over the phone from Sarah's principal about how the little girl had gotten caught scavenging through her classmate's backpacks.

Learning that his daughter was busy pawning anything that she could get her hands on after school wasn't something Joel expected to hear.

So as much as he wished he could give up at times, Joel had made it his mission to raise Sarah so she would not feel like she had to lift even a finger, teaching her that with a bit of hard work, even bigger awards would come.

Though the completely different side of his life, Joel would be busy swatting Tommy away like the pestering little brother that he made himself out to be.

"You just need to get back in the game.” Tommy would insist boldly on wild the suggestion, claiming how Joel wouldn't be so high-strung if he had an actual lady friend to keep him company the nights he had found so difficult to keep his bed warm.

It took a lot of convincing after some years for Joel to finally just bite the bullet, agreeing to go on a few double date nights with Tommy's guidance.

The younger sibling was personally assigned as his overly charismatic wingman, making it his task to saddle whichever poor woman he laid his eyes on across the bar to squeeze next to them for the night.

Many women have met the unfortunate fate, most coming up with an excuse to part ways after they failed to crack Joel from his awkward shell.

It was a constant cycle of nothingness, and the older man returned home at night alone just in time to tuck Sarah into bed. Date after date, Joel had just about given up on seeking out "the one", just in time for the universe to throw him another thing to add onto his plate: new annoying neighbors.

You weren't even allowed to introduce yourself before your dog had made himself at home and snuck into Joel's backyard through the hole in the gate he keeps putting off fixing.

Your little pooch kicking up dirt all over his patio and chewing up all the toys Sarah had left outside that he could get his little paws on, the little girl scared at the sight of her prized dolls all chewed up in pieces, screaming as if she had witnessed a murder happen right in front of her own eyes.

The last thing he had wanted to have to do right after getting off work was chewing out some insolent dog owner for not being to keep a watchful eye on their pet.

Just as he was about to beat down your dog and give you an earful, he halted once your front door had swung open and had been welcomed by the sight of you.

Stumbling a bit over his words, you had managed to piece together the issues, seeing Joel had your dog by its collar and Sarah's look of absolute heartbreak holding pieces of her toys still in hand.

An apology was the first thing you introduced yourself to your new neighbor as your dog was returned.

You explained how you just turned and made the mistake of thinking that the gate that separated your two homes would be enough to keep the puppy out of trouble. You were even kind enough to replace some of the toys Sarah had lost as a nice peace offering.

the two of you even getting closer, giving Sarah something to do over the long weekends, the little girl would slip out of the house to go next door to come to pester you to hang out for the day.

Joel hadn't complained much seeing Sarah become so close to you, though when it came to talking to you himself, his stiff personality would always get in the way of forming a proper conversation with you.

Just being around you made him so suddenly nervous, wanting to have at least some type of friendship with the woman that his daughter found such a delight to be around without turning into some stumbling and bumbling fool.

The situation had only seemed to become even more embarrassing the moment that Tommy had been added to the equation.

It was as if Tommy could read every little expression and problem that was happening in Joel's mind like it was some type of sibling telepathy spilling everything that was clouding his older brother's mind.

It only took one look at how Joel looked at you to finish the entire puzzle piece, and before you knew it, Tommy was setting Joel up to fix the leak in your sink.

Being the best wingman he could be, Tommy took Sarah out on one of their rare movie nights with a wink and a wave to Joel, leaving just the two of you alone for the moment in hopes of something unfolding without any intrusion.

Unfortunately, the rest of the evening alone wasn't as smooth sailing as he had thought it to be, with Joel thinking he was practically torturing you by wriggling into your life in a manner somewhat like an annoying tapeworm.

Joel liked to think of himself as a bit of a gentleman, giving you as much respect as he could while you two were alone in your home. Though he would never admit it, since his last relationship ended, he has grown to have an awkward relationship with any female that isn't his daughter.

His overbearing awakeness comes between holding an actual conversation with you and still learning how to utter the words "no thank you!" as if he were some nervous child.

Like how he couldn’t tell Sarah no every time she would ask to stay up just a few more minutes before her bedtime (those minutes usually leading up to hours) or how every time one of his old flings would come knocking on his front door just magically appearing mostly likely from Tommy's influence on his doorstep holding up some food dish he knew was filled with something vile enough to sit untouched in his fridge for the following week until he would secretly passing it to your dog.

There was another issue that had Joel dodging your eyes—a sudden wave of shame always seemed to follow at just the mere thought of bringing a woman home, knowing there would always be the possibility of you peering through your front curtains and seeing him kissing up against someone else at his doorstep.

Let alone having to explain to both you and Sarah the type of relationship that he had with said woman, it was more than enough anxiety to make him back out of hooking up as a whole.

Joel just couldn't do relationships.

And heaven knows it wasn’t anyone else's fault but his own. It all just makes Joel feel like such a shit person for constantly comparing all the women he has met to everything you do.

Feeling like he was leading all the poor women on, knowing that his heart was completely somewhere else and that no amount of people that he would talk to or hook up with would amount to the emotions and feelings he had for you.

He just couldn't do it.

Not with any of them at least.

Joel was convinced he was a bad person from the moment Tommy and Sarah had left, and he could not stop imagining the very adult things that you both could have been doing instead of fixing your plumbing.

There was just something about your presence that seemed to be so alluring, so intoxicating, to the point where Joel just had to get to work quickly, wanting to fix your sink as fast as he possibly could just to have something to do with his fidgeting, nervous hands.

Squatting down with a grunt to get a better look at the pipes, you had filled the silence with your own sense of conversation, full of that new adult stress that had you bouncing off the walls worrying about finding an ear within Joel, who would on occasion speak up with his own blunt sense of advice.

You were so similar to him, and Joel just loved that about you, and it was scary how he had found someone as troubled as he was.

Not only that, but you were also freaking pretty. It was strange because he had never felt the way he did in such a long time.

You were pretty in the weird way that would make him so nervous to be in the same room as you, how he would stumble his sentences, and how your conversations would always fall awkwardly silent.

Not knowing how to talk to you because he would be too busy trying not to stare or say the wrong thing.

Joel couldn't help it, he was just infatuated with the way you looked, from your glistening brown skin that always looked so soft to the touch to the curls and coils in your hair that looked like it would feel like small little clouds or sugary spun cotton candy in between his fingertips, he wanted so badly to just reach out and touch it—to touch you even.

It was all so wrong, the way he would think about you so vividly that it would keep him up to the point of tossing and turning in his bed at night.

Joel had let your one-sided conversation die down in the air, assuming that your attention had been pulled to something more interesting than watching him work. The last thing he had expected was for you to have noticed him struggling with the stray longer hairs that poked his face.

Making your way over to his side of the cabinets, he hadn't even noticed you leaning down next to him until he flinched at the tap of your fingers against his, trying to grab back his attention.

The position in which you had stood beside him was a heart-hammering sight. He was peering up at you with his mouth slightly gaping.

Joel swore that the way that the kitchen light had glewed through your curls made you seem like some kind of angel trying to bless the sinful thoughts he was having.

The moment wasn't short-lived, watching your hands hesitate before reaching to use one of the scrunchies you had around your wrist to pull his hair away from his face into a small ponytail.

After that exchange, Joel swore that the rest of the day just seemed to continue on with his body moving on autopilot all the way until he was back home resting in his bed.

Just the mere memory of the moment playing over and over in his mind on a loop, laying in his bed with an untouched erection as if he was some sort of pulsing like he was an out of control teenage boy that just discovered what jerking off felt like.

Joel was convinced that his dick was just sort of broken until now. Sure, he would get the occasional morning wood.

Nothing could compare to the feeling of pure arousal that had clouded his mind and left him feeling brick hard, and the worst part was that it was all your fault.

He couldn't believe that he had gotten so spun up about you, thinking about how your fingers had combed through his hair, how those same hands would feel if you just tangled them in his locks and tugged just a bit harder.

His thoughts trailed farther on their own, how your full lips would feel pressed against his own, how they would look all glossed up and wrapped about his dick.

How your voice would sound whimpering out his name under him, having you laid spread out naked in his bed within his own four walls.

It was all your fault for how you had smitten him so easily, with his mind being so fogged that he could barely think about anything but you as he touched himself.

How you had dared to be so much prettier than any of the other women he would meet on Tommy's double dates—which was such a fucked up thing to compare you to—you just had such a personality that made Joel feel so flustered to the point where he ached to have you in his embrace.

to have you close enough that all his senses were taken up by you—how badly he wanted to be held by you, to be smothered in your arms, to bury his face against your chest and melt into an embrace until he smelled like you.

Joel felt like he had to be sick, he had to have fallen ill over the course of meeting you.

It was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with about how just the mere thought of you would make him so hot and heavy.

It was almost agonizing how distracting you were to him at night, the wandering thoughts of you leaving his cock aching against his thigh.

Joel wouldn't even realize he was palming himself through his sweats, recalling how you had practically ruined the entirety of his trajectory. He was already tugging down his joggers, and his hand was crawling under his waistband.

The selfish and completely deprived thoughts would flood his mind at the moment he wrapped his hand around his length.

His hand jerked at his hilt as the other combed through the knotting hair at the base of his scalp, trying to ground himself from the tension that started to knot in his stomach.

The selfish act of pleasure would continue on with no end, all he could think about was how good you were making him feel without even being in the same room as him.

How badly he wanted to press trails of kisses up and down your body, leaving dark little greedy marks against your plush skin.

Joel imagined seeing all of you, all your naked curves and folds, how your plump thighs would look pressed against your chest, how big his hand would look pressing against your stomach pudge.

He was a fucking mess.

His fantasies of you playing out in his mind had him biting his knuckles to keep quiet as he couldn't remember if he had locked his bedroom door or not, and the last thing he needed was Sarah rushing in and killing the mood.

The thin walls don't keep him from unloading all over his hands and pants, bent up strings finally being released with a strained groan parting from his lips as his muscles twitch and his mind finally gets released from the horny rotting intrusion for just a moment he’s floating on a cloud of bliss.

God, how he hated the heart thumping feeling that followed, the minute everything would come back and click into place realizing what he had done and the troubled feelings he had for you.

Joel was convinced he was never going to be able to wrench his heart from your hands anytime soon.

🔖 @adison-smart27

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