#it's perfect it's brilliant it's stupid it's everything

[catsnuggler]

Shocker of shockers, but the folks who know salmon seasons, know where the watering holes and rivers are, know how to grow crops with little to no annual rainfall or irrigation, built sturdy homes that weathered well, know how local animals sound and how to imitate them and hunt them effectively, could tell nutritious roots from deadly poisons, could make life-saving poultices from plants that seem innocuous to the untrained eye, whose ancestors lived there thousands and thousands of years just might, you know, maybe, possibly, small chance, just uh, theoretically speaking, know a thing or two about how to live and, furthermore, not die, in their own homelands. You know. Just saying. Maybe. Just a thought. Just throwing it out there.

#the more history I learn the more bizarre the doctrine of discovery and white man's burden and all that bullshit is #like not only is it evil #it's incredibly confusing #we really thought- #no. not thought. people still think this. #we really think we know better because we learned how to make steel before them #and because we have guns #we really think that those two things make us the only people with brains? #and we still think that even after the numerous times we would have starved here if people didn't take pity on us? #we still think that after the donner party were given deer to eat but shot at the people who offered it #then proceeded to ignore the deer and continue being cannibals? #we really think we're smarter? #not to like. 'noble savage' everything though #just trying to emphasize that indigenous people are people #and like all people they're on the whole pretty brilliant #with moments of failures moments of stupidity of cruelty etc people are imperfect and perfection doesn't exist #I guess what I'm saying isn't 'these people are so noble' but 'these people are good and decent'... #...and when compared to uh. you know. conquistadors and 'explorers' and whatnot... #'good and decent' looks pretty gosh darn noble

[watchmegetobsessed]

GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME

A/N: can't believe i actually wrote this, but yaay!! i did it!!

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

SUMMARY: Harry has been in love with Y/N since forever. Unfortunately the plan he comes up with to win her over leads her to meet the man she eventually would get engaged to...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

“This is literally the worst plan I’ve ever heard.”

“No, it is brilliant!”

“Brilliantly stupid,” Niall retorts, staring at his best friend who is standing in front of the tiny mirror they managed to squeeze into their dorm room. Harry runs his fingers through his unruly curls, settling them in a messy, but organized way before grabbing his jacket and phone. 

“Why would it be stupid? It will work out perfectly. These speed dating things never work, we will have a round with each other and I will prove that I’m the perfect guy for her! Easy!”

Niall can’t help but bark out a laugh from his bed.

“Yeah, that’s a cool fairytale, but have you thought of everything that could go wrong?”

“Nope, because nothing will go wrong. Don’t piss me off, I’m about to win over the girl I’ve been in love with my whole life. Why are you being so bitter?”

“I’m just… not sure this is the best way to do it,” Niall sighs.

“It’ll be fine. I have to go now. Wish me luck!”

And with that he is out of the small, cramped room. 

Harry is quick to forget about Niall’s warning, in his mind, it’s the perfect plan. He begged Y/N to come to this speed dating event held on campus for a week before she finally agreed. He’s convinced there’ll be no one he should be worried about and he has thought about what it will be like when he will be sitting in front of her, how he will charm her and finally step over the lines of friendship and head towards something more. 

It all played out well in his head. 

He meets her by the café that’s the location of the event. She is already there, wearing a flowy dress with a denim jacket over, she is not too dolled up, but he can tell she spent quite some time in the bathroom probably before leaving.

She looks breathtaking. 

“Hey there,” he smiles widely as he walks up to her. “Ready?”

“Not really,” she huffs out a short, nervous laugh.

“Come on, it will be fun!” he smirks, opening the door for her, catching the scent of her sweet perfume as she walks past him. 

They come here often between lectures, now the tables are lined up straight, two chairs by each of them with notebooks and pens waiting to be used during the speedy rounds. There are a handful of people lingering around already and soon enough the place fills up and the event starts. Harry and Y/N end up sitting a couple of tables away from each other, so it will take about five rounds for them to meet. The host of the event explains how it works: every round is ten minutes long, either people get five minutes to tell the person across from them about themselves. At the end of a round they can exchange numbers and carry on with the event or they can decide to step out of the line and carry their conversation on. 

Harry is confident as he waits for it to start, while Y/N seems nervous as she examines the men sitting in front of the line of women. The bell that signals the start and end of the rounds rings and everyone focuses on the person sitting across the table. 

One round, two rounds, three rounds go by, Harry tries his best to focus on the girls he talks to, but he is just too excited to finally get to Y/N. She is now just one table away from him, only one more girl before he finally gets to take the chair in front of her. 

The round ends and it’s time to move to the next table. Harry is collecting his notebook and pen when he sees two figures stand up from the corner of his eyes. He turns to his right and sees Y/N standing up from her table along with the guy she just talked to in the last round. 

Harry’s stomach drops and his jaw hangs open for a moment as he watches the two of them move to a table on the side, she is laughing and the guy touches her arm as they exclude themselves from the rest of the daters. 

Harry is frozen, panic settles in the pit of his stomach, then someone nudges him to move and he is forced to carry on while the table she was sitting at before is now awfully empty. 

He was not expecting this. This was not part of his plan, he was supposed to be the one to sweep her off her feet, not some random guy. He forces himself to carry on with the rounds, but he can barely focus, he keeps looking back at Y/N, but she seems quite happy to be talking to the guy. 

It feels like forever until there are no more rounds and everyone is free to chat with whoever caught their eyes. Harry is tempted to go over to Y/N, make the guy leave and claim her to be his. But all he can do is just watch as the girl he���s been in love with forever falls for someone else. 

It’s his personal hell. 

Hours go by and they are still talking, but Harry can’t watch it any longer. He sends her a text saying he’s gone back to the dorm and to text him when she is home as well. When he walks into his room Niall is about to ask how it went, but just one look on his face is enough to figure out the plan did not work. 

He lies in bed wide awake for hours and then her text finally arrives.

Y/N: Back in the dorm :) thanks for asking me to come, it was awesome! I’ll tell you about Oscar tomorrow Xx

Oscar. Harry didn’t want to know who she chose over him, but now he had a name and even though he knew nothing about him, he hated the guy. 

With a heavy heart he drops the phone to his night stand and stares at the wall until the Sun rises. 

Harry has read over the menu at least five times by the time Y/N walks into the restaurant finally. It hasn’t been that long since the last time he saw her, he can still feel that stinging feeling in his chest every time he sees her he’s felt in the past years. 

“Sorry, finding a parking spot was impossible,” she huffs as she reaches the table, he stands and they share a short, but tight hug.

“It’s fine,” he smiles. 

“Have you ordered?” she asks, grabbing the menu Harry’s been staring at the last ten minutes. 

“No, not yet.”

He watches her read through the menu, though they both know she will order the same thing she always gets, no matter where they eat. The waitress comes and takes their order and when she’s gone they are finally focusing on each other. 

Meeting up has been harder since they finished college two years ago, even though they live in the same city. Harry has been working at a label the past year and Y/N secured a great position at a firm after graduation, so they both have been quite busy.

Especially Y/N, because her and Oscar moved in together after school was over. They’ve been dating for almost two years then, so it was a logical move, but it didn’t make it easier on Harry, who’s been silently suffering since that stupid speed dating event he will forever regret asking Y/N to go to, because her and Oscar have been together for almost four years now, happier than ever, twisting the knife in his chest every time he has to see her being happy with someone else. 

“Ah, it’s been such a crazy week,” she sighs, leaning back in her seat. 

“Want to rant about it?” Harry smiles at her softly.

“Well…” Her lips curl upwards as she takes a deep breath before peeking up at him. “It’s not really something I want to rant about, because… It’s quite good news.”

Harry is just about to ask her to elaborate when she holds up her hand in front of him and it takes him a couple of seconds to put the picture together. But when it finally sinks in, he almost throws up.

There’s a shiny diamond ring sitting on her ring finger and the cheesiest smile is stretched across her face behind it. She wiggles her fingers as Harry’s lips part while he silently fights for his life to hold his not too uplifting feelings and thoughts bottled up. He succeeds, because she doesn’t realize just how much he is struggling. 

“It happened last weekend, I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to tell you in person,” she enthuses, turning her hand so the ring is now facing her, the beaming smile should make Harry happy, but he can taste the awful bitterness again he’s been swallowing back for so long. 

She goes on to tell him every detail about the proposal, how romantic it was, from what Harry hears it was just how she imagined, but he is still frozen in shock, his eyes glued to the diamond on her finger. 

“So, now I’m a bride!” She finishes her speech, but as she looks at Harry her face falls. “Oh my God, I’m such an asshole!” She covers mouth and Harry’s stomach drops, thinking that his expression gave him away. “I’m telling you about my engagement when you are probably still not over the whole Wren thing.”

Wren? He almost asks her who Wren is, but he realizes that she is talking about the last girl he dated. Things ended a few weeks ago, but he already forgot about it, because it was the same as before. He couldn’t bear being with someone who wasn’t Y/N. 

“Ah, no, no…” he manages to speak up finally, gulping harshly. “It’s fine. And… congrats!” The smile on his face would probably not fool her, but she is too lost in her pink clouds. 

“Thank you! And there is one more thing. It will sound stupid,” she giggles, before continuing, “I don’t really have any girl best friends, I’ll have just a few bridesmaids, but… I want you to be my maid of honor?”

Harry is staring back at her with parted lips, her words playing in his mind on repeat.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but Harry, you are my best friend and I want you there, by my side. So, what do you say?”

Blinking, he fights the part of him that wants to stand up and walk away. Because she is asking him to watch her marry someone from the front line, to assist her on her big day when he has imagined himself being the man she would one day walk down the aisle to. But now this image will be different and ruined forever, because she is marrying someone else. 

For a moment he is back at the speed dating event. He thinks about how he should have just told her how he felt instead of that ridiculous plan that brought her together with Oscar. Maybe she would have rejected him, but at least he could say that he tried. Now he has to put up with the pain of his heart breaking over and over again, all because he couldn’t man up and tell her he’d been in love with her. 

Exhaling slowly he licks his lips before nodding his head.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m happy to… I’m happy for you. I’ll be there for you.”

Harry had nothing against weddings. Up until it was the wedding of the woman he loved and he wasn’t the groom. 

As Y/N’s man of honor he couldn’t exclude himself from the planning process. Choosing decoration, cake tasting…. dress shopping… he suffered through it all while he had to come to terms with his unpleasant fate. 

Now it’s the night before the big day. The wedding is held in a botanical garden, there’s a small hotel connected to it, that’s where the guests are staying. It’s the perfect venue for the perfect wedding. 

Y/N is in her suit with her bridesmaids while Harry is in his own room. His suit is hanging on the door of the closet next to his bed, haunting him about what he will have to witness tomorrow with a smile on his face. He already thought of ways to get himself out of it, but he knows there’s no excuse good enough to miss Y/N’s wedding. 

His phone chimes on the nightstand with a text and when he looks at the screen Y/N’s name appears in the notification bar.

Y/N: come overrrr maid of honor!!

Then another text follows.

Y/N: we have champagne and I need my best friend here!!!

His thumbs linger over the keyboard, trying to come up with a reply, but then she keeps texting him, begging him to go over and he breaks. With a groan he puts on a hoodie and grabbing his keycard he heads down the hall to her suit. 

What welcomes him there is exactly what he was expecting. It’s like a sleepover, the bridesmaids are drinking and dancing around, Y/N is wearing a cheap veil on her head that’s attached to a tiara, wearing matching PJ’s with the rest of the girls. 

“Harry!” she beams when he is pulled into the suit by two girls, right into the middle of their little party. 

Y/N runs across the room and hugs him, she almost loses her balance, but he catches and steadies her with an arm around her waist. 

“How much champagne have you had?” he breathes out a short chuckle.

“Just a little,” she giggles. “Hey, I want to talk to you about something, come on.”

She takes his hand and pulls her into the bedroom, closing the door to have some privacy from the laughter and music outside. Her wedding dress is laid out on an armchair in the corner of the room, an open, pink suitcase by the bed, clothes flowing out of it. Her presence is all over the room and he wishes he could see these traces in his own home too. 

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches her grab a lip balm from her bag. She applies it and then keeps it in her hands, playing, fidgeting with it. 

“You seem worried,” he voices his thoughts. 

“No, I’m…” She sighs, looking up at him. “It’s natural, right?”

“What is?”

“That… I’m scared.”

“Of marrying him?”

“No, just generally. It’s a big step,” she shrugs. “I always dreamed of my wedding and now it’s all happening, I’m just… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot, but it’s all part of the ride, right?”

She is trying her best to sound calm and collected, but Harry knows her better than anyone and can see through the mask. He knows she is having doubts and though these thoughts could be normal, Y/N is never one to doubt her decisions, so her current fears are definitely raising his concerns.

And his hopes as well.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Y/N just shrugs. “Did Oscar do something to make you question it all?”

“No,” she chuckles, but it’s more bitter than genuine. “He is amazing, really.”

The stinging feeling returns in Harry’s chest, but he just keeps listening to her.

“I just… I don’t know, sometimes I question if we were meant to be. It’s all been so easy and convenient and maybe it’s just all the books and movies, but I imagined… more.”

It’s like the tiniest light is now forcing its way through the dark, thick walls Harry has built up around him, a glimmer of hope that maybe he still has a chance to make it right, that he hasn’t missed his chance. 

“Don’t marry him then,” he says, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“What?” she chuckles. 

“If you’re not sure, then don’t marry him.”

“Harry, I won’t call the wedding off. I love him.”

She turns away, but not before he could catch the look of doubt in her eyes, crystal clear, telling him this is the moment he missed all those years ago. 

He stands up from the bed and there’s a second when he almost changes his mind, but he has to do it or he might lose his mind forever. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

She stills, her back facing him. 

“I love you too Harry,” she says. “You’re my best friend.”

“But I’m in love with you.”

She doesn’t answer for so long he starts to think she didn’t even hear him, but then she slowly turns around with an unreadable look on her face and he decides to continue. 

“I’ve… been in love with you for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like not to love you. I know it’s not ideal to tell you this right now, but I feel like if you’re questioning whether you should marry Oscar or not, it might… that maybe you’re…”

She’s still silent, just staring back at him, not giving away any emotion or thought. 

“Y/N, you can still call it off. I-I will be by your side and if you want to try and—”

“Stop.”

“I know it’s scary, but I love you and I would do anything–”

“Harry, stop!” she raises her voice and it finally gets him to stop talking. Clenching his jaw he takes a step backwards. 

Y/N exhales shakily, Harry is still unsure what she is thinking and the words are begging to keep bubbling from his mouth now that he started talking, but he swallows them down. Shaking her head she takes a step closer to him.

“You… Harry, I…” She is trying to find the words and Harry starts talking again, but he is cut off rather fast.

“I swear we–”

“You have the nerve to pour all of this onto me on the night before my wedding? Right after I tell you about my deepest fear?”

Now it’s clear to him. She is mad, her eyes are throwing flames, but he’s confused, this is not what he was expecting.

“Y/N, I just–”

“You just thought that choosing this vulnerable moment was the perfect timing to tell me you’ve been in love with me all this time?! What were you expecting, huh? That I would throw myself into your arms giggling and confess my love? Call my wedding off?”

“I-I’m… I don’t…”

“I can’t believe you! Get the hell out of here!” Turning around she wraps her arms around herself, breathing heavily. Harry reaches out and touches her shoulder, but she jerks away instantly. “Get out!” she screams. “And don’t even think about showing up tomorrow!”

Harry is in shock, denial, completely destroyed as he stares at the back of her head. He wants to beg for her to forgive him, to forget everything he said. He would rather suffer by her side than lose her, but he knows he has no choice now. 

He walks over to the door, looks back one more time, but she is still turned away, her body shaking. He opens the door, the music floods into the room from outside and he walks out without a word. 

He returns to his room, packs all of his stuff and under the shining stars, he drives away, barely seeing the road through his tears. 

Anne’s backyard looks magical this time of the year. The blooming flowers, the bright green grass, it’s a beautiful scenery and Harry would love to bask in it normally, but now he is just blankly staring ahead of him. 

It’s been a week since he confessed his love for Y/N at the worst possible moment and lost her forever. He has no idea who ended up being her maid of honor after his departure, he turned his phone off and hasn’t turned it on since. He would rather claw his eyes out than see all the wedding content from their mutual friends. He’s been hiding at his mum’s since then. 

“Tea?” Anne’s chirpy voice asks from the sliding doors.

“No thank you,” he answers. Anne sighs and he hears her footsteps, but he doesn’t look her way.

“You know you can’t hide here forever, right?”

“If you want me out of here just tell me that.”

“You know I love having you here as long as you want, but you’ll have to face reality at one point.”

“I’m hiding for a bit more, thanks.”

Anne sighs again and Harry hopes she would just let him be, but also knows she likes to say what’s on her mind.

“You know she was mad at the timing and not your feelings, right?”

“Mum…”

“Y/N loves you, romantically or not, she loves you. She might have to get over how you chose the worst possible moment to tell her you love her, but she will come around. And when it happens, you better not still be a mess.”

The sliding doors close behind her and he is left alone with his thoughts again. He hates how right she is, but it still hurts. 

Groaning he marches up to his room and digs his phone out from the depth of his suitcase. Turning it on the notifications start flooding in, texts, emails, voicemails, he is skipping most of them until his eyes catch one particular thing. Then another and he slowly starts to put the picture together and he fears he is about to have a heart attack.

The wedding never happened. Y/N didn’t marry Oscar. 

He drops his phone as if it was on fire and starts packing right away. He needs to get to the bottom of this, he needs to know if it was because of his confession. Even if she screams and cusses him out, he needs to find answers. What’s the worst that could happen? He is already on the floor, there’s only up from here.

How is it that no one knows where she is? 

Harry has been trying to track her down since he arrived back from the UK, going from one friend to the other, but no one knows where she’s been hiding since the catastrophic almost-wedding. Everyone is saying the same thing? she packed her stuff from the place she’d been sharing with Oscar, left and no one has seen her since. She just sent a few texts to her parents to let them know she’s alright, but that’s all. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath as he heads back to his home, completely lost about where she could be. 

He is trying to come up with other ideas as he is climbing the stairs up to his apartment. He slides the key into the lock, too deep in his thoughts to realize that it’s unlocked at first, but when he does, he freezes, then practically runs inside. 

He spots the familiar pink suitcase first, then hears the footsteps and a few moments later Y/N appears down the hallway. 

He is trying to find the right words, but nothing comes out his mouth as he is slowly walking closer to her. 

“I still had your spare keys,” she says quietly. The anger he last saw from her is now gone, she looks so small and broken and all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let her go. But he knows they need to talk first.

“Have you been here all along?”

“Yeah. I promise I didn’t read your diary.” She cracked a joke, but her weak laugh doesn’t fool him.

“It’s fine. How… How are you? I know you didn’t…”

“I didn’t marry Oscar? Yeah. And I feel like shit.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you then, I was an idiot, you were right. I chose the worst moment, used your vulnerability and tried to use it to my advantage. I am so sorry.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Of course I regret. My timing was incredibly awful and disrespectfu–”

“No, not the timing. That you… That you told me.”

He clenches his jaw, thinking of what to say, but he decides he needs to be honest with her and with himself as well.

“I don’t regret telling you. I’ve been keeping it a secret for a very long time and it needed to be said. I’m not expecting you to forgive me, let alone… consider giving me a chance, but I just want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Was there any other moment when you wanted to tell me before?”

“The speed dating event,” he answers right away. “I had this ridiculous plan that you would find me the best match and I would… finally tell you how I’d been feeling. But then…”

“Oscar,” she breathes out.

“Yeah, Oscar happened,” he smiles bitterly. 

She closes her eyes and he wishes he could read her mind, but he is just waiting patiently for her to process everything. Then she looks at him and finally starts talking.

“I thought you wanted to go there to pick up someone. I didn’t want to go, because I didn’t want to see you flirt with other girls.”

“What?” he whispers.

“I told myself I needed to get myself over you, because you’d never want me. Oscar was nice and funny, but… deep down I always kept comparing him to you. I hated myself for that, because he was so amazing, so caring and loving, but… not you.”

Tears start rolling down her cheeks and he can feel his throat closing up as well.

“I was so mad at you that night. You let me… go through with all that just to tell me you’ve always loved me the night before my wedding. I was angry and I felt like I was played with.”

“That was never my intention.”

“I know,” she nods. “When I calmed down I knew I couldn’t get married to Oscar. I went over to your room in the morning, but it was empty. I wanted to go after you, but I also needed some time to think.”

“And… where are you standing right now?” he asks as he walks over to her, but he’s still not touching her, giving her the chance to move back.

She never does.

“Do you still love me?”

“Y/N, I will never stop loving you.”

“Okay, good,” she breathes out. “Because love you too and if you–”

She doesn’t get to finish, he grabs her and kisses her like he should have all these years ago, like he wants to erase all the bad, the almost-wedding, the suffering, the miscommunication, nothing matters now that they finally met each other at the right time and place. 

“Isn’t it funny?” she breathes out against his lips.

“What is?”

“That you wanted to tell me you love me at a speed dating event, but it took you the longest fucking time to actually confess. It was anything, but speedy.”

He can’t help but laugh, because she is right, it’s comical. 

“Don’t they say good things take time?”

“Mhm, sure,” she grins, pulling him down for another kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Vaggie: “Babe, you have an amazing brain, love everything going on in there-”

Charlie: “Thank you!”

Vaggie: “-but we need a LITTLE bit of organization or we’re NEVER gonna remember what great ideas you had five minutes ago.”

Charlie: “Wait, what great idea did I have five minutes ago???”

Vaggie: “I don’t know. You scribbled it on a napkin and there’s like, five hundred of those scattered around our room.”

Charlie: “Aw shoot.”

Vaggie: “Some of them are folded in the shape of swans?"

Charlie: "Nnnoooo I've been trying so hard not to DO that so much!!!"

Vaggie: "It’s, pretty impressive honestly.”

Charlie: (huffs) “Okay. Fine. Maaaybe you’re right. Maybe I might have a slight, uh, organizing thoughts problem.”

Vaggie: “No worries sweetie, I have a solution.”

Vaggie: (dramatically steps aside) “BAM!”

Charlie: “OH OH VAGGIE! YOU GOT ME METAL BOXES~!”

Vaggie: “They’re filing cabinets.”

Charlie: “OHHHHH!!!”

Charlie: “…..”

Charlie: “How… how do we activate the filing cabinets?”

Vaggie: “You put your ideas in folders, label the tabs on the folders, put them in a drawer, and label each drawer. Then when you’re looking for something you just open the drawer and-”

Charlie: “Bam?”

Vaggie: “Bam. There it is. The brilliant ideas of Charlie Morningstar.”

Charlie: “As organized by Vaggie, her amazing wonderful super smart and beautiful girlfriend!!!!!”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “I don’t think looking good has anything to do with organizing…”

Charlie: “Hmm, you still are though, miss good looking. Annnnnd it DOES have a lot to do with what I’m thinking about right now.”

Vaggie: “What’re you thinking, Charlie?”

Charlie: (grins)

Vaggie: “…really? Right here, in front of our new cabinets?”

Charlie: “Heheh. I like it when stuff is ‘ours’~”

Vaggie: “Why do I get the feeling the first recorded thoughts of Charlie Morningstar are gonna have to be filed under ‘for our eyes only’.”

Charlie: “Your smirk would have to go there too then. But does this mean it’s a good idea!?”

Vaggie: “Definitely.”

Charlie: “WOO! Kisses kisses kisses-”

Vaggie: “AFTER we’ve cleaned up all these napkins. AND have neatly folded the ones that aren’t already swans.”

Charlie: “Wh- but- but there’s almost five hundred of them!! The kisses-?”

Vaggie: “One kiss per every fifty napkins, how’s that sound?

Charlie: (pouting) “Insufficient kiss ratio.”

Vaggie: “Sorry, but as much as organizing your brain turns me on, the storm of paper in here is kinda a total mood killer. No way I can focus on anything with this mess everywhere. So. Start cleaning.”

Charlie: “I’m starting to think writing on napkins was my worst idea yet…”

Vaggie: “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been paper airplanes again.”

Charlie: “THEN I could’ve just thrown them all out the window! Be free! Fly!!! Shoo! Let me make out with my girlfriend in peace!”

Vaggie: “Ha!”

Charlie: “…. Vaggie. What if we-”

Vaggie: “Charlie no.”

Charlie: “Oh come on! Swans can fly!”

Vaggie: “Not when they’re fancy origami ones that we’ll just have to clean up later anyway.”

Charlie: “Feh. Stupid ideas on stupid napkins.”

Vaggie: “Would one kiss per every two dozen napkins make you feel better?’

Charlie: “Yes.” (deep sigh) “But I’ve only folded ten.”

Vaggie: “Perfect, I’ve done fourteen, so that makes two dozen.”

Charlie: “Wh-”

Vaggie: “Kiss ratio completed.”

Charlie: “It’s based on our combined number???”

Vaggie: “Why not. You like it when stuff is ‘ours’, don’t you.”

Charlie: “….yesthankyouiloveyouonekissplease.”

- a few several many moments later –

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “I’m suddenly getting the idea that… those were way more than one kiss.”

Vaggie: “I don’t care and wasn’t keeping count. File it under ‘Vaggie can’t multitask for shit’.”  

Charlie: “Mmm, ehhh. I think we just need a ‘Vaggie has AMAZING focus while kissing, but specifically only on the actual kissing’ folder instead.”

Vaggie: “Are you trying to get me to kiss you again.”

Charlie: “Is it working?”

Vaggie: (shoving napkins in her hands) “Here. Fold.”

Charlie: “I’m filing that under a yes~”

Vaggie: “Charlie. Fold. NOW.”

Charlie: “Hm-hmm-hm-hmmm~” (folding at lightspeed) “My newest great idea is that we should get even MORE filing cabinets.”

Vaggie: “Oh for-”(throws aside napkins) “-fuck’s sake-” (gives up and kisses her again)

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #charlie morningstar #vaggie #incorrect quotes #silly headcanons #pry the idea that vaggie introduced her brainstorming girlfriend to the wonderful world of folders and files- #-and color coded sticky notes- #-out of my cold dead hands

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic is a Roommate AU!

(872 words.)

James is slowly going mad.

No, not even slowly. He's fallen straight into madness, and he doesn't know how to save himself.

When Sirius asked if one of his course mates, Remus Lupin, could move in for a while, of course, he said yes. Remus had been going through something, and James is always happy to help. Not only that, but Remus is bloody brilliant. He went from being shy, fairly withdrawn, to a hilarious, witty person who James is happy to call his friend.

Sirius clearly doesn't just want to call Remus his friend.

James doesn't think he can watch the two of them practically undressing each other with their eyes at breakfast, accidentally reaching for the same thing and blushing like idiots while they apologise, or trying their hand at fucking awful flirting. It's getting painful, the clear fact that they've fallen for one another right in front of them, while they dance around it like they've never been certain of anything less in their lives.

To be perfectly honest, James is starting to wonder if he should just lock them both in a room and-

"S'fine, I don't care," Sirius' voice cuts through James' thought process as he steps out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. James looks up just in time to watch Remus following behind him hurriedly. So quickly that he almost walks directly into Sirius when he stops and turns around to face him. "I'm not carrying you through the project just because you forgot you had shit to do, though. You can do your part later."

"When have I not done my work, Sirius? Christ, at this point I thought you'd trust me. I already apologised for forgetting!"

"Mhm, and I've already said I don't care. Go have fun on your date, Remus," Sirius says back, just a hint of bitterness settling in his words. It really does sound like he cares.

Remus must be thinking the same thing, because he walks out without saying another word. Sirius immediately heads to the fridge, dropping his head against the door and letting his shoulders slump with a sigh.

"Oh, Sirius, you're a fucking idiot," Sirius groans to himself under his breath. James chuckles.

"Agreed."

"Jesus buggering Christ!" Sirius jumps a mile, practically falling into the counter as he whips his head around to face James. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Long enough to watch that trainwreck," James answers simply. For some reason, Sirius seems to decide that it's the perfect time to play dumb.

"What d'you mean? It's fine, Remus is just..."

"Going on a date," James fills in. "With someone who isn't you. Which, by the way, is really bloody stupid of him, so at least you've got that in common."

"No, that's not- I don't..."

All James needs to do is arch an eyebrow, and Sirius' shoulders slump.

"Okay, fine, yeah. I really like him."

"No, really?" James asks sarcastically. At Sirius' unamused look, he keeps talking. "Sirius, I'm not being funny, you should see the way he looks at you when you're not looking. Or even when you are, actually. I'm surprised you haven't seen it! You should have asked him out months ago."

"God, I've really fucked it up, haven't I?" Sirius groans, scrubbing a face over his hand. "I wanted to tell him ages ago, I swear! It's just, he-" Sirius drops down into the chair opposite James, eyes fixed on his hands. "He was going through a lot, and then I was asking him if he wanted to move in before I knew what I was saying! How am I meant to tell him anything when he's living in the same flat as me? That could go so wrong, James. I could literally ruin everything!"

Okay, James is at a loss for words. That's... a lot, and Sirius is clearly stressed out. He opts for reaching across the small table and squeezing Sirius' shoulder. Before he can say anything comforting, though, a rustle comes from the door. Someone's trying to get in, and if they have a key, they're really struggling to use it.

Sirius walks over to the door with a confused frown, pulling it open to find Remus, key held out and a stunned expression on his face. James watches the two of them hesitate in front of one another for a moment.

"Remus? What-?"

Before he can say another word, Remus expression fixes to one that James can only describe as determined, before he surges forward and connects his and Sirius' lips. Sirius staggers backwards for a moment, caught by Remus hands sliding around his waist as he reaches his own up to the nape of Remus' neck.

James doesn't know whether or not he should be averting his eyes. Thankfully, they decide that for him, Remus pulling away and starting to speak hurriedly.

"I got halfway down the street and realised that I was being so fucking stupid. I really like you, Sirius. I have for so long, and I guess I thought maybe a date would help me get over it but, God, all I wanted to do was come back here and see you, so..."

Okay, so they're both idiots.

Still, by the look on Sirius' face, he has a feeling that they're finally getting their act together.

#this almost turned into a looong oneshot #it just made me so happy to write lmfao #wolfstar #sirius black #wolfstar oneshot #marauders #remus lupin #remus x sirius #young marauders #moony x padfoot #atyd marauders #marauders oneshot

[slavicdelight]

METANOIA

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader

Summary: Metanoia - the journey of changing your mind, heart, self and way of life

Warnings: slightly ooc Tom, pureblood ideas, hits of murder

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

Tom Riddle was a name recognized by everyone at Hogwarts. The infamous Slytherin Head Boy commanded respect from every student and even from professors, thanks to the aura surrounding him. However, what most people didn't know, or perhaps didn't care to notice, was that there was something sinister lurking behind his captivating gaze and mannerisms.

His friend group, constantly present by his side, consisted of members from the most well-known pureblood families. Tom considered himself superior to them because he possessed the blood of the noble Salazar Slytherin. By the age of 19, he had already committed horrifying acts, such as opening the Chamber of Secrets during his 5th year, resulting in the death of Myrtle Warren. He also murdered his remaining family around the same time. Furthermore, he created Horcruxes in order to reach immortality, which was one of his goals and the initial step towards becoming the greatest dark wizard in history.

Tom was a skilled manipulator. He had the ability to hide his true emotions, always putting on a mask of politeness. In addition, he was brilliant and could be described as an over-achiever. Tom thoroughly planned everything and never allowed setbacks to hinder him. There was only one person who saw right through him - Dumbledore, the person Tom despised the most in the entire school.

Tonight, Tom was strolling through the hallways of Hogwarts, carrying out his patrols as a Head Boy. Although it was generally a mundane duty, it had its advantages. One of them was being out after curfew without anyone questioning it. The corridors were dimly lit, so Tom had to cast a spell to produce light to see clearly."Lumos." he muttered, before continuing on his way. It appeared to be another uneventful night, where nothing of particular interest occurred.

As he was heading back to the Slytherin dorms, someone bumped into him, causing both teenagers to fall to the ground. "I'm so sorry," said a girl who appeared to be about the same age as him, possibly a year younger. He was about to reprimand her for running into him and give her detention for breaking curfew, but then he looked at her and was instantly captivated by the most beautiful pair of eyes he had even seen. They were warm and welcoming, but what truly enthralled him was their enchanting violet color, which sparkled under the light emerging from his wand.

"I should've watched where I was going," continued the witch. He cleared his throat and gave her a cold stare, trying to hide his intrigue. "Why aren't you in your dorm? It's past curfew," Tom questioned the girl. Another surprising thing was that he had no idea who she was. He only noticed the Ravenclaw emblem on her robes, indicating that she was a member of the eagle house. The Slytherin prided himself on knowing almost everyone at school, from students to professors, yet he didn't know her. How could someone with such captivating eyes escape his attention? "Oh, right. I got caught up in the library and forgot about the curfew," she explained. "I'll go straight to bed." With that, she tried to pass him and walk away.

She wanted to end the interaction as quickly as possible, knowing that Tom Riddle was trouble. Despite his perfect student persona, she sensed a hidden darkness beneath the surface and wanted to avoid getting involved. "Now, now. I can't possibly let the witch with such incredible eyes leave without knowing her name, can I?" he asked, causing her to freeze. "I fail to see how my name is of any interest to you, Riddle. I would prefer you not knowing it and allowing me to go.”

Tom didn't expect his charm not to work, but he hid his surprise. He wondered if the girl was brave or stupid, perhaps both. She didn't know that she piqued his interest, and that was something dangerous. "It hardly seems fair that you know me, but I don't know you, don't you think?" He took a step closer to her but didn't predict what she would do next. "No, I don't," she said, while taking a step back and bolting in another direction. The Head Boy simply stood there and let her get away. 'Let her run,' he thought. 'I shall find her anyway.' And with that, he continued on his way to the dorms.

The next morning, during breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall in search of her. Tom tried to be discreet, but his best friend, Abraxas Malfoy, noticed. Abraxas was his most reliable follower, someone Tom could trust. "What are you looking for, Riddle?" he asked. The boy with raven hair turned to glare at him and said, "It's none of your business, Malfoy." He was becoming increasingly frustrated that the witch from the previous night was nowhere to be found.

Finally, the girl made her entrance, walking into the hall accompanied by another girl. They both headed towards the Ravenclaw's table and took a seat. He couldn't help but gaze at her. It was as if she sensed his gaze, as she turned and looked directly into his eyes. Their staring contest continued until Headmaster Dippet began greeting students and wishing them a good day.

After finishing his meal, Tom made his way to the Potions classroom, his first subject of the day. He enjoyed this class, despite Professor Slughorn being a bit overwhelming. Tom was the professor's favorite student, excelling in this class just as he did in every other. He was an exceptionally talented wizard.

It turned out he shared the class with the violet-eyed witch. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. He took his usual seat and waited for the Ravenclaw student to enter, which didn't take long. She sat two rows ahead of him, accompanied by a boy he recognized as the Ravenclaw's seeker. Shortly after, Slughorn entered and the lesson began. Today, they had to brew an advanced potion called the Elixir to Induce Euphoria in pairs. As always, Tom was the first to finish his potion, with the help of his partner, Rosier. The potions professor, impressed with their work, allowed them to leave early. Tom decided to wait outside the classroom to talk to the girl who had sparked his interest and learn more about her.

As the girl walked out, he quickly grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the abandoned broom closet across the hall. She protested, but wasn't strong enough to break free from his grasp. Tom pushed her inside and blocked the entrance.

"Hello again," he said, noticing the anger on the girl's face. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" she yelled, attempting to escape from the classroom.

"No, I don't think I will," Tom replied. "What do you want, Riddle?" she questioned, gritting her teeth. Her captivating eyes locked with his, and he could swear they had the power to melt a man. But he was no ordinary man, and he wouldn't allow that to defeat him. "I already told you what I want," he started, before she interrupted, "and I already told you that you won't have that." The girl had some nerve, he had to give her that. "Listen, darling, either you tell me your name yourself or I'll find out on my own. But I would prefer to hear it from your beautiful lips.”

"And what?" she spat, her eyes narrowing with a mix of defiance and fear. "Will you force it out of me?" If looks could kill, he would already be six feet under. Tom's lips curled into a malicious smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You'll soon discover that I can be very..." He paused, relishing in the anticipation he was building. "...persuasive." The words hung in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. As he observed her reaction, he couldn't help but notice the subtle trembling of her breath, a sign that his presence and words were affecting her.

“If I tell you my name, would you stop pestering me about it?” she asked not looking into his eyes. Tom grabbed her chin and forced her head up, just enough for him to see her eyes. The Slytherin just nodded and took a step back. “Fine. My name is Y/N” she finally answered and moved past him, heading straight for the door. As Y/N was walking away she heard him say “Such a beautiful name, for someone with such extraodrinary eyes.”

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine as she left the broom closet, the encounter with Tom Riddle leaving her unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just opened a door to a world of complications. Her day continued with classes, but her mind kept wandering back to the mysterious encounter with the enigmatic Head Boy.

Days turned into weeks, and Tom's fascination with Y/N only deepened. He started to make subtle attempts to engage her in conversation during Potions class or whenever their paths crossed in the hallways. Y/N, however, remained guarded, careful not to reveal too much about herself. She sensed danger around Tom, but there was also a part of her that felt an inexplicable connection, an undeniable intrigue that kept her from avoiding him completely. She didn’t like it, preferring to stay away from the drama that would undeniably follow her once she got too involved with the boy.

As time passed, Tom's pursuit became more relentless. He would show up unexpectedly in places where Y/N was, asking about her interests, her family, and her background. Y/N, althrough in the beginning sheltered and slightly annoyed, soon found herself drawn into conversations that danced on the edge of forbidden topics, and Tom, turn, discovered that there was more to Y/N than met the eye.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Tom found Y/N sitting by the Black Lake,reading a book . He approached her cautiously, and for the first time, his demeanor seemed less calculated, more genuine."You're a puzzle, Y/N," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I can't quite figure you out." Y/N turned to look at him, her violet eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. "Maybe some puzzles are meant to remain unsolved," she replied cryptically. Tom chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Maybe so, yet here we are. Both of us puzzling each other. But I do enjoy the challenge." he admitted. "And you, my dear, are the most intriguing challenge I've found at Hogwarts so far."

As the weeks turned into months, their interactions became more complex. Y/N found herself reluctantly drawn to Tom's charisma and intelligence, while Tom, discovered a more vulnerable side of himself. He couldn't quite understand why Y/N had such an effect on him, but he was determined to find out.

Their dynamic took a turn one evening in the Hogwarts library. Tom, managed to convince Y/N to join him in exploring the restricted section. As they looked through ancient tomes and hidden spells, Y/N couldn't ignore the growing tension between them. In the quiet space of the library, Tom leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "There's something about you, Y/N," he murmured, his breath sending shivers across her skin. "Something that both intrigues and unsettles me." Y/N looked at him curiously and asked “What is so unsettling about me?”. Tom only looked at her and leaning closer said “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

As they continued their meetings, the lines between friend and enemy slowly became blurred. Tom’s past and his ambitions started to rub off on her, making her question everything. But she wasn’t weak and wanted to stay true to the right side. She wasn’t about to go down the same path as the Slytherin boy, and wanted to make him see that it was wrong. Little did she know that the choices made in the upcoming months would shape the destiny of the wizarding world.

As the weeks unfolded, Y/N found herself in a dangerous position. The more time she spent with Tom Riddle, the clearer it became that he was wavering on the edge of darkness. His thirst for power, his relentless pursuit of immortality, and the shadows of his past painted a grim picture. Yet, among all this darkness, Y/N saw moments of vulnerability, moments where the mask slipped, revealing a fractured soul. Y/N couldn't ignore the pull she felt toward Tom, a pull that went beyond fascination. Beneath his charming facade, she noticed loneliness that mirrored her own.

One evening, as snowflakes danced outside the castle windows, Y/N found Tom alone in the library. The fire cast a glow on his face, making him appear more handsome than ever. Y/N hesitated but she knew she had to ask the next question. "Tom," she began softly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you." He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "Ask away, Y/N."

"Why are you so afraid of letting people in?" she inquired, her voice gentle but filled with genuine curiosity. Tom's eyes moved towards her, she could see suffering behind them. He took a deep breath before replying to her."People often betray and are fake in order to get what they want from you. After they get it, they leave and never come back.” Y/N took a step closer, closing the distance between them. "But it's also lonely, isn't it? To carry the weight of responsibilities on your shoulders without anyone to share it with."

Tom's mask wavered, revealing the boy beneath the facade. "Loneliness is a small price to pay for greatness," he stated, but a small amount of doubt could be seen in his eyes. "Maybe attaining greatness isn’t meant to be done alone." Y/N suggested. "Maybe it's in the connections we make, the people we let in"

In the days that followed, Y/N continued to challenge Tom's perspective. She introduced him to the joy of laughter, the warmth of genuine friendships, and the beauty of simple moments. As the walls around his heart slowly crumbled, Y/N became a beacon of light in his world, a reminder that there was more to life than power and darkness.

One evening, beneath the sky covered in stars, Y/N and Tom found themselves strolling through the Hogwarts grounds. Tom, usually composed, seemed uncertain, as if something was bothering him. "You don't have to be alone, Tom," Y/N whispered, her words carrying the weight of sincerity. "There's goodness in you, which you only have to choose." For the first time, Tom Riddle looked genuinely conflicted. The darkness within him warred with the flickers of light that Y/N had ignited. He was standing on the crossroads where the choices made would shape the future.

In the quiet of the night, Y/N extended her hand, a silent invitation to choose a different path. Tom hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers. And in that moment, the boy who had been consumed by shadows took a small step toward the light, changing the course of history forever. The journey towards redemption would be a long one, but with Y/N by his side, Tom Riddle was confident in succeeding. He realized that greatness could be found not in the pursuit of power but in the capacity to love and be loved.

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

A/N: let me introduce you to my first ever Tom Riddle imagine. The obsession I have with this man is unhealthy. Anyway let me know if you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the support ♡

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #harry potter #chamber of secrets #lord voldemord #voldemort x reader #abraxas malfoy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter x reader #tom riddle fanfiction #hermione granger #ron weasley #wizarding world #harry potter fanfiction #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #dark magic #dark lord #tom riddle imagine #hogwarts houses #slytherin #ravenclaw #albus dumbledore

[ughthisisntright]

Lap of Luxury | Sugar Daddy!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: As a young woman without much income, a joke of a job, and an unfortunately expensive taste, your curiosity one evening leads to a string of events far out of your control.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is 23, Bradley is 40), suggestive themes (no smut), fluff

Word Count: 4,635

“Babe,” your best friend slurred. “You need to get on Seeking Arrangements! These guys- they just buy you stuff! And give you money!”

Another conversation about your not-so-much of an income, splitting a bottle of wine with your best friend, and her insistence on helping you has devolved into this. Discussing a sugar daddy arrangement from a site for older folks. You couldn't imagine a worse way to spend your night.

“Aren't they, like, old?” You ask with a sneer. Your friend just laughs it off.

“And rich!” She squeals. “You’d never have to work another shitty job again! C’mon just try it!” She grabbed your phone from you and fumbled with it to download the app.

“Ugh, what’s your password?” She showed you the screen where the app store was asking. You hesitate before typing it in and allowing her to do the rest.

“Okay first thing’s first,” she places her hand on your knee, mostly to steady herself. “Never use your real name. So you're going to be…”

She starts typing on the phone, probably using her galaxy brain to come up with something truly brilliant. And by brilliant, that means ridiculous.

“Genevieve,” she states finally. You don't hate the name, but it's not yours. You made a mental note to change it when you're sober. “Everything else will be the same. And…”

She starts scrolling through your camera roll. You'd have freaked out but really, there wasn't anything there she hasn't seen already. She taps on a photo of you she took a week ago at a vineyard the two of you had visited (on her dime) and handed your phone back to you,

“Voilà! Welcome yo Seeking Arrangements,” she grinned at you. You looked down at your profile and sighed.

“Now what?” You ask flatly.

“Find someone!”

“How? I don't know how to use this!”

“Ugh, you're so boring sometimes…”

Thus began a hunt for the “perfect man” to fund your broke self’s habits. It was all a drunken blur from there, and you passed out on your couch after about two hours of playing around on the app. You had no idea there were so many men willing to give their money away to young women with no regard. But it was working out in your favor.

-

You woke up the next day with a pounding hangover, cottonmouth and your phone on 5% battery. Your friend was nowhere to be found - as usual after drinking binges like that. You mentally kicked yourself for allowing it to go this far but, realistically, you didn't care to go into work today anyway.

A quick text to your boss and a shaky walk to your bedroom to plug your phone in preceded your chug-fest in the kitchen. Drinking straight from the tap wasn't fast enough, but it would suffice. You groaned as you finished gorging yourself on your borderline acceptable tap water, went to the cabinet, and pulled out your bottle of painkillers. You popped two extra strength tablets and washed them down with yet another healthy gulp of water.

You walked back to your bedroom and laid in the quiet dark on your bed. Just as you closed your eyes, your phone buzzed. Once, then twice. You pick it up to see you have missed messages from men on that confounded Seeking Arrangements app. You groan and set the phone down again, remembering just how horribly drunk you got last night. Drunk and stupid, it seemed. You hear another buzz and pick up the phone in frustration, unlocking it and then scrolling through the messages and threads you'd started last night.

Genevieve. What a stupid name. You quickly changed it to your name and kept scrolling through. You deleted many of the threads, only stopping on a few men who were even remotely close to your age bracket. All tech startup guys with nothing better to do than wine and dine young women into their panties. Typical.

You’re about to delete the app when you see one face in particular that doesn't piss you off like the rest. You open your conversation from the night before to find it was pleasant, not sexually charged, and genuine. You smile briefly before clicking his profile picture. He’s handsome, too handsome. What’s the catch?

You open his profile to see his age, what he does, and where he is. He’s forty, lives nearby in San Diego, and is an aviator for the Navy. The military thing would have been a turn off if the conversation you’d had didn't look so… refreshing. You scroll to see his net worth - nearly one million. Unheard of among these other men. He must be well-off.

You scroll more and see he’s very close by. A block away. You excitedly - but cautiously -  type a message to him.

You: So sorry, I fell asleep. I think it's wild you’re still single at your age. How doesn't that mustache pull women nowadays?

You bite your lip and quickly turn the brightness down on your phone, the blue light making your migraine worse. You see him typing and your heart flutters.

You can't believe this is happening. How did you let your friend talk you into this? Were you crazy? Desperate? Or just lonely? You watched the bubbles on screen appear and disappear as the man on the other side of the screen typed his response to you.

The self-loathing part of your brain told you he was figuring out how to turn you down gently. Tell you you're too young for this, to go find someone your own age, chase your dreams, and whatever other sentiments he could think of. You wanted to hear it, but you also didn't. This was all too much.

Until it wasn't.

Bradley Bradshaw: No worries, sweetheart. I see you're nearby - let me come get you and treat you to brunch. Mimosas?

-

You stood outside your apartment with your cutest outfit on, though to someone like Bradley, it could be considered… revealing. You didn’t have much, hence the entire reason your friend had convinced you to join that stupid app in the first place. Regardless, you stood waiting for Bradley to come pick you up for your impromptu brunch date.

Could you even call it a date?

Your mind swam as you stared down at the photo of him on the app. He was handsome, yes. You just weren’t sure if this made you one of those gold-digging, shallow women who you were sure were all over this app. He looked as though he’d spent a lifetime laughing, living. The wrinkles you could see that weren’t airbrushed out of this photo seemed deeply set. A good sign that he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the other guys you’d apparently spoken to.

Was this just a giant ass mistake?

What if he was just another one of these guys looking to fuck a younger woman and then give her some hush money? Or even expensive gifts in lieu of hush money? You didn’t want to be the dumb trophy on some older man’s arm. And that was when it hit you - you actually liked Bradley. It was just a small crush, of course, you’d hardly known him. Hardly even spoken to him. But from the little interaction you’d had he seemed like the genuine article.

Before you could psych yourself out any more, you heard the low rumble of a classic car getting closer. You popped your head up to see a bright blue classic Ford Bronco headed your way. Your eyes lit up - having an affinity for classic cars - and you simply prayed that this was Bradley coming to get you. 

The car came to a stop right in front of you, and the aforementioned Bradley was looking out the window at you with a grin. He pulled his aviators down the bridge of his nose and looked you in the eyes. A genuine kind of look on his face that had you melting inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said kindly. “Are you ready to go?”

You nodded wordlessly and shoved your phone into your small purse. Bradley jumped out of the Bronco and approached you. He was incredibly tall, compared to you, and he didn’t have this dominating presence that you kept thinking he would have. No, he was like a giant teddy bear - someone you could imagine curling up with at the end of the day and getting nothing but hugs and kisses from.

“You’re even more adorable than that picture on the app, you know,” he tilted his head sweetly to one side. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, though you weren’t sure if he would notice.

“I-I’m happy I’ve surpassed expectations,” you croaked. “God, I’m sorry-” He chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m nervous, too, sweetheart,” he admitted kindly. “Let’s get to where we’re going and we can be nervous together.” He took your hand and led you to the passenger side of the Bronco. He opened the door for you and helped you get up into the seat. He waited until you were situated before closing the door and walking coolly to the other side and getting into the driver’s seat.

“I hope you don’t mind. I chose a more secluded spot than I normally would,” Bradley admitted as he pulled away from the curb. “Not because I’m embarrassed, but just because I’d hate to have people I know giving me shit.”

“I completely understand,” you say softly. “I would die if someone I knew saw me doing this… Whatever this is.”

“I’d say we can put off putting a label on it until we’re sure, yeah?” Bradley looked over at you with a smile. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

“I love the sound of that,” you said sweetly, looking at him with a smile.

Soon, you arrived at a small brunch joint on the outskirts of the city. Bradley had assured you he’d never seen his buddies here, and you assured him that your friends are too broke to afford this kind of place. Sharing a laugh, Bradley cuts the engine and gets out of the Bronco. He walks to your side and helps you out before linking your arm with his.

“I’ll treat you right, okay?” He said sweetly as he walked you in. You only smiled in response and allowed him to lead you inside. He gave his last name coolly to the hostess and she ushered the two of you to a more private booth at the back of the restaurant. Bradley pulled your chair out for you and let you sit first. What a gentleman. He took his seat across from you and removed his aviators.

Those eyes were mesmerizing. Beautiful brown that you swore had little flecks of gold in them. You could get lost in those eyes if you weren’t careful, so you quickly picked up the small menu and looked it over. Yikes. You for sure wouldn’t be able to afford this.

“So, I can tell this is not something you usually do,” Bradley said softly. “Me neither, if I’m honest.”

“Honestly? My friend made me do it. We were… Drinking last night. And she convinced me this would be a good idea.” You admitted candidly. “I didn’t know what to expect.

“Hah! Sounds exactly like what my friend did to me,” he admitted right back. “I forgot the app even existed until you messaged me last night. Then, I just got this… feeling. Like, if I let this slip by, I’d regret it the rest of my life.”

“Hence, why we’re sitting here having brunch together,” you finish for him. “I have to admit, Bradley, you don’t seem like the type to go for… younger women. You’re mature, put together, and seem like a zero-bullshit guy.”

“Yeah, well, the Navy sort of beats that into you,” he laughs softly. “Women are usually deterred by the military thing. They automatically think you’re looking to get married, or they think you’re active duty and are going to lose you. So they don’t even bother trying.” He looks up at you. “I’m just trying to find someone to spoil. Someone to care for, and someone to care for me right back.”

You appreciated his honesty. You liked skipping around the nervous chatter, the lies, the embellishments. This was a far cry from some of the dates you’d been on in the past - boys pretending to be men that they’re not. Bradley clearly went through that when he was your age. And he clearly realized it doesn’t work long-term.

“You’re saying all the right things, Bradley,” you chime. “I just want you to know… I’m not after your money or whatever else it is you have to offer me. I’m not sure what I’m after here, but I’d like to explore this. Whatever it ends up being, or not being, I’m interested to see where it goes.”

You’re surprised to hear those words coming from your mouth. An hour ago you were just about ready to call this whole thing off. You were sure this would make you lesser than; lump you in with all the other desperate girls your age just looking to get rich and not work for it. But, honestly, you didn’t care about money - your friend did. If this all worked out, if Bradley ended up being more than just a Seeking Arrangements date, you’d have to thank her for being such a gold digger.

Oh, the misery.

"I do too, sweetheart,” Bradley said sweetly. “No pressure, no fakery, no stress.”

-

Brunch went exceptionally well. Bradley told you stories from his time in the Naval Academy, TOPGUN, and even a few missions you were pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to share. He told you about his parents and how he followed in his dad’s footsteps. He told you about everything. He was a man who’d lived. You couldn’t grasp, still, how a woman his age wouldn’t want him.

You shared stories from your years in college, your job, and from your childhood. Absolutely nothing compared to the nearly twenty years he had on you. You felt silly telling him about yourself, but he was genuinely interested. He asked so many insightful questions, held your hand, and maintained eye contact. You thought maybe, just maybe, he was falling for you.

You’d be remiss if you didn’t admit you may be falling for him, too.

When the bill came, Bradley snatched it away from you with a mischievous grin. You playfully pouted at him and he just waved you off. He took his wallet out and slid a credit card into the book and held it until the server came back. Clever little devil.

“I told you I’d spoil you, sweetheart,” he mused. “This is me spoiling you. But, I should warn you. This is only the beginning.”

You grinned at him and nodded, relaxing back in your seat. He was just so cool. His entire demeanor, his attitude - devil may care kind of air about him. You enjoyed his youthful aura, especially since you knew he was not quite as youthful as he used to be. It was truly a breath of fresh air.

The bill was paid, you’d successfully drank three mimosas, and Bradley was looking at you with stars in his eyes. He walked you out of the restaurant and to his Bronco. He looked down at you once the two of you were on the passenger’s side. Brushing some hair from your face, he smiled softly and pulled you just a touch closer.

“Well, I’m dying for your review, sweetheart,” he said with a grin. “Did I live up to expectations?”

Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden. Did he? Did he? You’d just spent three hours chatting with a man nearly twice your age about his life, your life, and genuinely enjoying each other's company. And he wants to know if he lived up to expectations? You smiled widely, no longer able to conceal the excitement you felt in your gut about this.

“Very much so. I’d even be so bold as to say you’ve surpassed them,” you took his hand in yours gently. He responded by squeezing your waist a little tighter.

“Then,” he said in a lower tone than he’d used earlier. “You wouldn’t find it uncouth of me to do this?”

Before you could even think of a witty response, his lips were on yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. Your initial shock washed away quickly as your lips pressed back against his. He was gentle, nothing extravagant, nothing lying beneath the surface - just a kiss. His hands slid around your back and upwards, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands found purchase on his large biceps, squeezing as he drew you nearer.

Like in the movies, you felt an instant spark. Little electrical pulses all over your lips, your cheeks, and wherever he touched you. His hands seemed to be made for you. They seemed to know exactly how to hold you, how to caress you, and how to make you forget all except him and this moment.

And all too quickly, he was pulling away from you. He looked down at you with gentle eyes, a small quirk of his lips. You stared back up at him with your mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He brought his hand up and swept his thumb over your bottom lip. You almost had to squeeze your thighs together to relieve the mild ache that warmed your core.

Bradley let out a soft chuckle and opened the door for you. Like earlier, he helped you into the Bronco and then got in himself. He started the vehicle and started driving away from the restaurant. Your mind swam with the possibilities. He could be your father, but you wanted him. You wanted him to be the man in your life. Just from this one little encounter. You were sure you wanted him.

It really was like the movies.

You noticed eventually that you were nowhere near your apartment, or his. In fact, San Diego wasn’t around you at all. You’d traveled north, and then west. To a small little shopping center away from town. You looked at Bradley curiously and he met your gaze as if on cue.

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “I’m taking you to the beach. But you need a bathing suit. And, honestly, so do I.” He grinned at you and pulled into a parking spot. Just great! He was already blowing his money on you. Part of you felt guilty, but the other part of you - the part that was still listening to your friend - wanted to see this all through.

He pulled you into a store that sold probably the most revealing swimsuits for the most outrageous prices. You cringed every time you looked at a price tag even though Bradley had assured you nothing was too expensive. Finally, after looking at a one-piece suit that was anything but “one piece,” you pulled Bradley to you.

“I cannot let you spend this kind of money on such little fabric, Bradley,” you pleaded. He simply smiled down at you and nodded.

“I understand completely,” he looked around at the options and narrowed his eyes. “Let me find something worthwhile then.” He kissed your cheek and walked off to search for a suit for you. Dumbfounded, you stood back and watched for a second. Then, without even thinking, you started looking for one for him to wear. Like some kind of girlfriend would.

You picked up a red pair of trunks, the shorter kind that have come into style recently. You weren’t sure if these would make him look younger or just plain silly. You didn’t really care, though, you wanted him to wear them. You figured this would be a good color on him.

When he eventually found you again, he had his hands behind his back. A shit-eating grin on his face, you’d notice. You held up the trunks you’d chosen for him, a small smile on your face.

“How are these?” You asked sweetly. He nodded in approval and then brought a one piece suit out from behind his back.

Your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw it - bright red, just like the trunks you’d chosen for him.

You let out a genuine laugh and smiled up at him. He pulled you in for a quick kiss before taking the trunks from you and walking to the register to pay. You followed behind him but quickly tucked yourself against his side at the counter. He’d picked up a pair of aviators for you, a couple of towels, and some sunblock. Once he paid, he took your hand and led you out of the shop.

“Let’s change into these before we head out. I wanna get right into it when we get to the beach,” he handed you the swimsuit and gently pushed you in the direction of the bathroom. He went to the men’s room to change, and you changed as instructed.

When you arrived at the beach, you were in awe at how gorgeous the scenery was. Not a person in sight, either. Perfect, you thought. Bradley hauled you to the sand like a little kid and laughed at your protests.

“The water is fine! Come on, let me see that suit I got you.” He pinched your sides and tickled you into submission. You shoved him off of you with a wheezing laugh and tore your clothes off to reveal the swimsuit. His eyes traveled down your body in a very uncharacteristically obvious way.

“Wow, sweetheart,” he grunted. “Red is definitely your color.” He took his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He was surprisingly muscular for someone his age. It added to his charm, you decided, that he was able to stay in such great shape. “How about me? Red a good color on me? Someone my age?”

“Yeah, actually. Those make you look at least ten years younger,” you teased. He laughed and watched you take off towards the water. He followed behind you and let his feet get wet from the waves.

You, on the other hand, were the young sprite who was going deeper into the water. You let the water lap at your thighs before traveling out a little further. The cool water felt amazing on your skin, even better with the sun beating down on you. You closed your eyes and let the waves rock you from side to side. You surely could get used to this.

You suddenly felt hands on your hips, a firm grip. You jumped slightly before turning around to come face-to-face with Bradley. The sun made his eyes sparkle just as you’d predicted in the restaurant. You looked at the age on his face and sigh softly. It’s not as obvious in the sun. Not something you expected.

“You forgot something,” he said softly. He propped the pair of aviators he bought on your face and gently pushed them up the bridge of your nose. He poked the tip of your nose with a boyish grin. “Perfect.”

“You’re gonna let me get a sunburn, too?” You chide with a poke to his ribs.

“Oh, never,” he said with a scandalized look on his face. “Here, turn back around.” He produced the bottle of sunscreen and smirked.

You turned around without hesitation. You felt his hands all over your back as he spread the sunscreen around your skin. He rubbed up and over your shoulders, kissing them gently when he was finished. He traced your spine on the open back of the swimsuit he bought you. You shivered ever so slightly when his hands brushed your skin so gently. He worked the sunscreen into your neck before gently turning you back around and working it over your collarbone. You saw the hesitation in his eyes when he went to drag his fingers lower, but your lack of protest replaced his hesitation with determination. He massaged the sunscreen into the swell of your breasts slowly. Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The familiar ache between your legs returning.

He moved on to your arms and the tops of your ears. He then put a silly little stripe of it on the bridge of your nose, making you giggle. You took the bottle from him and repeated the gesture on him. He grinned proudly and pulled you close again. His lips crashed onto yours in a hungry kiss, more intimate than the last.

You knew then that you could get used to this.

-

You grinned widely and charged at Bradley, jumping into his arms. He laughed and caught you with ease, spinning you around as you wrapped your legs around him. He playfully tipped you backwards so your hair brushed the water. Your squeal of excitement rang out clear as day, making him smile brighter than you’d seen.

He pulled you back up and you buried your face in his neck. His skin was slick with sweat and sunscreen, and he smelled still like the subtle cologne he wore. He held you securely against him, never daring to drop you.

You pulled your head back and kissed him again. It came easier now, kissing him. It was more exciting, less anxiety-inducing. You liked the way the walls had been dropped and the affections came easier. He gladly kissed you back, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. A soft, more needy than intended whimper left your lips at that.

Instead of scaring him away, it only spurred Bradley on. His hands cupped your rear possessively and he carried you back to shore. And you knew where it would go from there.

He set you down on one of the towels and crawled over you. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he explored your skin with his mouth. Your hands slid up and into his hair, whining softly as he ravaged you with that perfect, experienced mouth.

“I need you to know, sweetheart,” he grunted. “This isn’t a one-off.” You tilted your head, sweat on your brow.

“I’m going to take you out, bring you home, make you mine,” he explained further. “I’m not ready to let you go yet. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” you breathed. “I’m not ready to let you go yet either.”

“Good,” he said before kissing down your stomach, dangerously close to your aching cunt. “Because I don’t want to go too fast.” He kissed back up your stomach and to your lips.

A pitiful little moan left your lips in protest. He chuckled softly and looked down at you.

“We have time,” he said simply. You wrapped your arms around him and laughed softly. His lips connected with your collarbone before he lifted you back up.

“Let’s order something and eat dinner here. Sound good?” He suggested. You nodded with a grin, kissing his cheek. As he was busy ordering something for dinner, you looked down at your phone for the first time since that morning. You opened it up and looked at your conversation with Bradley on the app. You bit your lip and closed the app. Then you took a leap.

You deleted the app.

Bradley was the only one you cared about among the list of men you’d chatted with. And in a stupidly short amount of time, you started picturing yourself with this man. This real man. He turned to you and smiled as he spoke on the phone with the place he was ordering from. The look on his face when he looked at you was enough. This, eating dinner on a secluded beach, was enough.

Tagging people who may enjoy: @roosterscock @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @roosterbruiser @beardedladyqueen @seresinsweetie @sebsxphia

#rooster brain rot goes brrrrr #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #sugar daddy bradley #sugar daddy rooster

[baldval]

Hiii! How are ya? can I request Valentino x reader who works for vox? But not only do they work for him they have created a anime and game for it under him? So like they’re a well known manga artist type ting? So yeah they’re not a nobody basically

if not that’s fine! Have a good day/night dear :)

ART DECO PART 1!₊˚⊹♡

characters: valentino x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: curse words, mentions of sex, making out, suggestive content.

a/n: i might do a part 2 if you guys like this!!

series masterlist!

You're bored.

To the exterior eye, working for THE Vox may be a dream. Cash, cars, designer clothes, big fancy functions filled with important hell-people and overlords. It sounds perfect.

It isn't. Between stupid rivalries, betrayals, and VERY dramatic bosses, being one of the top content producers for Vox is smothering work. But you'd rather have that than being nothing. At the very least, being so close to the Vees grants you protection.

This evening, you discover yourself at yet another 'emergency' call from Vox. Something something about losing views and how this most be the radio demon's fault. It's the 4th time this week.

You arrived at Vox's place, yet you can't really see him anywhere.

"Umm... Velvette" the girl looks up at you from the couch, unbothered.

"Watcha need sweetheart?" she moves her eyes back to her phone.

"Do you know where Vox is? He kinda called me on emergency basis? I'm not really sure what he need though."

"I have no idea where that shithead's been. He didn't even go to the last meeting with the overlords." She rolls her eyes. "He had to send me."

"Oh alright so no idea." You feel frustrated.

"You could of course ask Val"

"Did anyone say my name?" You smell him before he enters your eyeline. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood. He smells expensive. Not the faux, gawdy expensive like most men within Vox's circle, but truly extravagant.

"So dramatic." Velvette mumbles, eyes still on the screen.

You feel him before you turn around. He’s warm, and broad, and the crisp white material of his dress shirt is pressing into you. You gasp quietly at his boldness, praying that Velvette doesn't notice how close you are to him.

Valentino.

Vox's second in charge. Both an overlord and the owner of the largest movie studio. One of the greatest assholes in Hell.

The man you’re hopelessly in love with.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You truly hadn't meant for this to get this far.

Initially, it was sex. Brilliant, mid blowing, earth shattering sex.

Until it wasn't.

Now, it's late night phone calls and clandestine meetings and holding hands and apartment hunting and kisses on the forehead.

Now, it's genuine.

Vox would murder you if he found out.

You'd be shunned. Everything you'd worked for. Everything you'd created. Suddenly you don't exist. It's all Vox's.

If there was one thing you liked about your deal with Vox was the fact that he allowed your things to be yours.

People knew what you had created and they knew it was created by you.

You didn't want to lose that.

Essentially, it'd be worse than hell, which you're already in. So why do you keep finding yourself considering it?

You’ve never been loved like this. So total, so complete, so all consuming. So unconditional.

And it's true that Valentino has nothing to lose. If Vox finds out, he won't be affected at all.

But he keeps it a secret.

And you're pretty sure you know why.

You wake up to kiss him all over his face. You dance within the kitchen, as he spins you around in your socks. You see how he stares at you when in a meeting, analysing your face.

You ran into love headfirst, impulsively. Would you have slept with Valentino that night, well over a year ago, if you'd have known this is how it'd turn out? You're not sure. But all you know is that, right now, the risk is more than worth it.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"You with me, sweetheart?" he mumbles into your ear, warm breath raising the hairs on your neck.

"Yeah, Val," you murmur back, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face. "I'm here."

"Where did you go, huh?"

His fingers travel down your neck, drawing little figures on your back.

"Just daydreaming," you answer.

"About what?" he asks teasingly, caressing your skin in delicate movements. Back, forth. Back, forth. He's making it difficult to concentrate.

“You,” you whisper discreetly. He you loud and clear. “Always you.”

He needs to kiss you. God, he needs to kiss you. He needs to grab your face and smash his lips to yours, consequences be damned. He wants to pick you up and twirl you around and scream "look at the woman I love!"

Instead, his fingers tighten around your waist. He looks around carefully before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear. Then, he moves to stand in front of you. To anyone else, it looks like two colleagues having a conversation.

"You look so fuckin' wonderful in that dress," he tells you, his voice bound with sincerity and admiration. His eyes are raking up and down your frame. The heat of his gaze making you warm.

"You don’t look so bad yourself," you tease. That’s an understatement. His suit fits him like a glove, perfectly tailored to all of his curves. It’s all crisp edges and careful lines. He’s wearing the cufflinks you got him for his birthday, the ones engraved with the both of your initials. The letters are small, tucked away on the underside. No one knows they’re there – your little secret.

Valentino winks at you as you stand up, going to take a step forward, but a hand on your arm stops you.

"Vox was aking where you were. The meeting already started, come on." Vox's assistant acompanies you towards Vox's office.

As you walk through the lobby you whisper to Velvette.

"No idea he was in his office, huh?" perhaps you were trying your luck, but in all honesty, Vox had pretty much as much respect for Velvette as he had for you.

"Do you think I care where that asshole is? I'm not his nanny." She talks back, louder, so that you can hear her as you enter the door.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

There's a pull between you and Val. It's like a magnetic force, dragging you together no matter where you are , or what you're doing. You're feeling it within the dull board gatherings. You feel it in the dull 'Vees Team' gatherings. You feel it at the functions he’s reluctantly invited to by Vox. You feel it now, as you try not fall asleep at Vox's words of how you all should double the work and double the content. He says that as if animating was that easy.

You allow your mind to drift away, dreaming of what awaits you later tonight. You can picture it perfectly. You and Val, curled up in bed, his penthouse bedroom illuminated by candlelight. Glasses of wine discarded on the night stand, sheets thrown across the mattress, legs tangled together. Skin pressed to skin, warmth seeping into your bones. Gentle melodies filling the room, the man underneath you humming softly into your ear. If this is hell, you’ll think. then it might just be better than heaven.

The second you get out of the meeting, you feel his eyes on you. Heat prickles over your skin, goosebumps rising. It's kinda like a 6th sense, this quiet communication between you. You capture his gaze and wink, and you swear you see him blush slightly. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and gestures in the direction of the door. You get the hint, and follow him, trailingly behind subtly.

You reach the corridor and look around, but Valentino is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, you feel a warm grip grab your hips, pressing you into the wall.

"Been holding up to urge my hands on you all night," he mumbles into your ear.

He's trailing his fingers up and down your sides. You can feel him, hot and difficult behind you, groaning as he bites at your throat. He kisses the hinge of your jaw, and after that your cheek. It's forbidden and it's provocative and it's so tender it makes your knees wobble.

"Come to my room," he begs. "Vox is so distracted with that Radio Demon that he won't realise."

The offer is tempting. So, so tempting. But there's currently so many people in the Vees' house. Any of them could see you enter the same room… suspicions arise. As easy as it would be to just say fuck it and tell everyone, your survival instinct tells you it wouldn't be the best idea. You want to stay in this little bubble of warmth and love and trust a little longer.

You want to stay happy a little longer.

“We can’t,” you whine. “Someone might notice.”

"I don’t give a fuck," he replies.

"Of course you don't."

"You shouldn’t either."

You want to disagree, but the way he’s moved his hand to sit at your throat while pressing himself into you is making it hard to think.

"Live a little, baby," he teases, nipping at your ear.

"Fine! Fuck, fine. Let’s go before I change my mind."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes blink open, sunlight streaming through the sheer window ornaments. You're resting comfortably on Val's chest, both of his solid arms wrapped around you. You yawn languidly.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Oh. That. You check the clock on the nightstand, realising that it’s only 7am. On a Saturday. Who’s knocking on the door at 7am on a Saturday morning?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck, is the noise getting louder? You push Valentino carefully, waking him up.

"There's someone banging at your door," you whisper.

He groans and untangles his legs from yours. He puts on a pair of boxers, and moves towards the door.

You listen intently, curious to know who’s trying to gain Valentino’s attention so determinedly.

The door swings open.

"Vox?" he questions, and you can almost hear the fear in his voice.

“Hey Val. Did you see where the fuck y/n went to?”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel headcanon #cursed cat alastor #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #the vees #valentino x you #valentino headcanons

[ystrike1]

Taming a Corrupted Slave Man - By Purple Village (8.5/10)

Love is off the table. Everything is a lie. Constant mind games. It's exhausting. Our protagonist is kind of a sociopath but I get it. Being the only woman with healing powers in the country is crazy stressful. The problem is everybody is crazy, and all of the love stories here end in blood. There's a surprise twist yandere too.

Aren is the only daughter of a very special family. Literally only the current king knows she has healing powers. It's a rare thing. Her family gets tons of royal cash because her existence is so convenient. She's VERY sheltered and her father loves her VERY much. He refuses to have more kids, because he loved his wife who died in childbirth. He spoiled his special daughter too much.

She dies at the hands of her fiance, Duke Daiman. He's a strong, brilliant Knight...with a heart condition. She cured his heart, because she fell for his good looks at first sight. Daimen took advantage of her. He is a genius with royal blood. He uses her family money to attempt to usurp the throne. He also brings in a lover named Lillian, because he thinks she's that stupid. He thinks she will let him have a lover, because she's so lonely and she loves him so blindly.

Her father died in war. Her fiance is all she has.

She stands up for herself.

She says she will not let another woman in.

She attempts to break off their engagement, and he stabs her in the back.

Why?

Well, he doesn't want her to marry into another family. She's too useful. Her healing powers are too valuable. If he can't use her no one can.

His lover smirks while she dies.

Aren basically wakes up evil it's wild. She values her servants. She adores her father utterly. She will not let him die in war. The law dictates that a man from every family must go to war, so she decides to adopt a "brother" into the family. A meat bag to be used so her beloved father may live. There's not even a whiff of romance.

Aren knows who the most talented swordsman is.

She goes out to pick him up.

It's a slave named Cassadim. He became a royal servant under the Crown Prince in her past life. He was known for his unreal beauty and his savagery in battle.

Aren feels a little guilty for like a second, but she uses the royal money she has to buy him. From then on there is zero remorse. Her father knows, by the way. She literally tells her father he should adopt a fake son to use, if he's still not willing to remarry. Aren and her father are both actually interesting because they're "nice" on the surface, but if you annoy them...well...bye? Aren is against(?) traditional slavery. Kinda. She doesn't like torture. She intends to let Cassadim live well as her brother. As a noble. If he doesn’t die in battle he will lead a charmed life...but omg buying him to take her dad's place is soooo messy. Evil ice princess dang.

(Also Cassadim was used for "night services" as a slave, so she does save him from that. She NEVER does anything sexual to him. She also uses her powers to fix his scars, and health issues that piled up when he was an arena fighter. He's getting a pretty good deal. A healthy body. The possibility to survive as a noble son. Yeahhhh. Slight problem though. SHE NEVER TELLS HIM. HE DOESN'T KNOW HE'S A WAR HORSE UNTIL IT HAPPENS. AH! but by then he is willing to die for the family so I guess...the plan worked...)

By the way nobody knows Aren is a healer. She of course steps in to save the prince.

Cassadim doesn't know EVERYTHING, but he knows. He doesn't trust Aren. He's totally right to be suspicious. He also uses her. He mistakenly thinks the King is the one who destroyed his home country. So he uses knowledge he gets from Aren's medical book collection to create poison. He goes to the ball with her.

He poisons the prince, Leon.

And now he's in love....not really. Leon thinks Aren is the most perfect and convenient wife. She says no and he gets pushy. Cassadim finally gets jealous. He likes living with Aren and being her brother on paper, but he doesn't know how to feel about her getting married. He starts to act immature for the first time. He has been spoiled, on purpose, by Aren. This is the way she wants him to be. Clingy. Protective. Willing to die for her.

She tells him she knows everything. She knows he poisoned the Prince. He did it because HE used to be a prince, but his country was burned to ash.

The King didn’t do it.

Duke Daiman's father did.

How convenient.

Aren jumps on the chance. She convinces Cassadim to go against the Duke with her. She pins the blame for the poison on the Duke too. Her revenge is perfect...Cassadim snaps for the first time. He accuses her of being a seductress. A liar. Someone who will never care about him as much as he cares about her.

He's sort of right. They fall in love later, but Aren is totally obsessed with revenge for half the story.

He actually attacks her.

Things get tense.

Then we get the classic yandere ramblings. Yes, after years of "love" Cassadim loses. He is putty in her hands. Unable to stand the thought of her getting married or even sleeping next to someone else. He starts begging her to use him when she has "urges", because he doesn't want another man to do it. The Prince, and actually lots of people, start to comment about how weird he is. His worshipful love is an open secret.

Aren grabs her last puzzle piece. Tol. A slave that was tortured by Daiman and his butler. Aren does a great favor for Tol. His tongue was cut out. She grows it back for him. Tol is grateful and he agrees to lie for her. Someone must be blamed for the poison incident.

The plan is:

Aren pretends to be a foolish girl in love with the Duke, who visits him in prison.

She will then claim the Duke encouraged her to commit treason and hide signs of his crime.

Tol will pretend to be a witness, as he has been a slave in the ducal house for a while.

She unleashes the plan when Daiman thinks he is safe. When he's out of prison with an alibi, at the Prince's royal birthday.

It goes off without a hitch. Daiman freaks out and has a seizure in front of everyone. Then, all of his enemies know about his secret weakness. If he doesn’t go to jail that's fine. One of his many enemies will take advantage of that weak heart of his.

Aren gleefully laughs about how she easily could have been his savior. He had the LITERAL ONLY MAGICAL HEALER in his grasp, and he chose to abuse her.

He falls from grace, and even the prince acknowledges how scary Aren is.

Plot twist.

Daiman was obsessed with Aren in their shared past life. He cut her off from the world. He kept her his secret and he coveted her power and he was madly in love...but he was a bad yandere. He was not openly affectionate. He enjoyed controlling every step of her day. He knew she loved him unconditionally, so he made her chase him and beg for his love when she was lonely.

He brought in Lillian, a random woman, purely to make Aren jealous.

When Aren lashes out for the first time ever Daiman stabs her because he sucks, and he doesn’t want her to leave him. He didn’t want Aren to hate him. He just wanted her to be lonely whenever he wasn't around. He stabs her the second she falls out of love with him.

Lillian desperately tries to seduce him to save her own life, but Daiman cruelly torments her before he kills her too. He blames Lillian for ruining his perfect Aren.

Cassadim is a little less crazy. He gets the right to wed Aren after he does well in the war.

The audacity.

.

#Taming a Corrupted Slave Man #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #otome isekai #otome games

[writeslikeanaria]

sebastian sallow is a munch. a stupid, braindead, lovesick munch. (18+ smut)

it doesn’t take much to convince him to meet you in the undercroft after dinner, claiming that you’re just “needing a little extra help with the crutiatus curse” and it doesn’t take much to convince ominis that he needs an early night, and to stay away from their usual meeting place.

it starts off as business as usual. it’s cute how much sebastian is enthralled with the dark arts and perfecting spells. it only takes a couple batters of your eyelashes for him to wrap his torso around yours, his front pressed against your back, as he gently coaxes your arm into the right position for the spell. he looks so cute, biting his lip as he watches you cast, eyes widening as sparks blast from the tip of your wand.

“good job!” his tenor voice drawls, unaware of how your pressing back against him, cleft of your arse brushing over his ever growing bulge, sin on your mind.

your eyes match those of a doe’s, smiling sweetly back at sebastian. “thank you for being such a brilliant teacher. you’re so good to me.”

the praise goes to his head, as you knew it would. silly sebastian, head clouded with the sickly sweet tone of your voice, and the gentle words you speaks. it’s as if you really do think he’s a brilliant teacher.

when the words get to his dick, that’s when he’s on his knees for you. sitting atop a box, legs spread, sebastian sits greedily at your cunt, lapping at it like a starved man.

he’s sloppy, but you don’t mind. it’s his enthusiasm that gets you so riled up. hands threaded through his brown curls, you tug harshly at his hair, reminding him just who’s on top at the moment.

not that sebastian cares. he would be happy if he died between your thighs. his tongue lays flatly against your pussy, licking stripe after stripe, wetting your area like a rainstorm. it’s only after you get bored of the teasing do you stick your nails into his scalp, a little painful punishment. not that he gets it much. he’s your good boy.

“none of his.” you hiss, voice still just as seductive. “make me cum.”

and that’s what he does, wrapping his lips against your clit and sucking hard. you feel your orgasm coming to the brink, and you hum delightfully. sebastian knows exactly what’s about to happen and he brings you closer to the brink.

when your orgasm washes over you, he doesn’t take a breath, just dives in and slurps everything you give him. he feels lucky to be honoured with the job of pleasing you. he just hopes you don’t notice the wet patch through his clothed crotch.

you notice, not like you’d say anything. you’d be a hypocrite. you hope sebastian doesn’t notice your perfect spellmanship next time you perform the crutiatus curse, a curse you perfected moons ago.

———

i haven’t written in so long omg

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #fanfic

[bethagain]

I wanna talk about Ed’s apology to Izzy.

I’ve seen some consternation about it, but I thought that scene was absolute perfection. 

I love how Izzy’s opening lines show us his state of mind. He wants to be on speaking terms with Ed again, but he doesn't especially want to admit it.

He didn’t mistake Ed for Roach. That’s not even remotely believable. And although we’re clearly meant to think Izzy’s a bit drunk, if you look at the rate he’s been drinking he’s probably got a huge tolerance for alcohol. Otherwise he wouldn’t be upright. 

The script could have given Izzy some other way to insist he wasn’t trying to talk to Ed. “I didn’t see you there.” “I’m looking for sharks.” What he did say is even better, because it’s got an insult built in: “I thought you were someone I actually wanted to see.”

And Ed, who should be mortified, who should be on his knees begging forgiveness, slips right into talking to Izzy like they’re friends again. “Something’s wrong. Feels like a storm’s coming but I can’t see it.” 

It’s something you’d say to someone you’re comfortable with, someone you trust to weigh in. I think some fans wanted to see Ed open with an apology, but Blackbeard doesn’t apologize for things and Ed’s still figuring out how. Instead, the script gives us Ed avoiding the subject: If they don’t talk about it, maybe what he did can be swept under the rug. 

And Izzy’s going to let him do it. He tells Ed he thinks he’s being stupid about the storm, sure. A good first mate calls his captain on his bullshit. But he also passes over the bottle, and Ed takes it. Two comrades drinking together, drinking because life as a pirate is hard, drinking that much because they are tough men. They don’t have to talk, talking isn’t what they do. 

We’ve seen in both seasons that Izzy is used to taking Ed’s abuse. It’s been baked into the story. We’ve been told about Ed the brilliant pirate leader and Izzy the loyal first mate but what we’ve seen is twisted: Ed still brilliant but unstable, Izzy keeping him in line. Izzy trying to break away and failing, Ed taking him back every time. They are best friends and they are terrible for each other, and that is their frame.

But then! Taika and Con are both so good with the facial expressions. We can see the discomfort flickering across Ed’s face. Everything about this interaction has been set up so he could get away without apologizing. And I think that’s how the hurried “Sorry about your leg” hits as hard as it does for me, leaves me feeling something here has changed.  

And the scene confirms it: Even that small phrase is so huge that Ed’s got to run away as soon as he says it. 

And then, look at that tiny smile on Izzy’s face. That “fuck off” is almost happy. As the audience we know that wasn’t the apology Izzy deserved, not by a long shot. But in the frame of the story? It might be enough to set the two of them right again. 

#ofmd #meta #izzy hands #ed teach #ofmd season 2 #ofmd season 2 spoilers

[beanghostprincess]

Zoro trying to wingman sanuso into dating because their longing for each other is disruptive to his daily routine, only he is completely shit at it because his idea of romance is the unhinged bullshit he has with Luffy. Nami figures out what Zoro is trying to do after 2 months and manages to get Sanji and Usopp together under a week and then Zoro continues suffering because them dating is just as bad as Sanji sighing wistfully after Usopp every hour of the day and Usopp getting distracted by Sanji's legs during bathtime and slipping and almost cracking his head open. Now they just run around calling each other petnames and Sanji handfeeding Usopp food and sitting in his lap and it's making him cringe

This is perfect. Absolutely amazing. Anon, I'd love to kiss your brain.

Zoro is so done with them. He's always been really close to Usopp, so now that he has a crush on Sanji, he's the one dealing with it. It's fucking awful. Because Usopp keeps saying (lying) that he doesn't like Sanji. Then, Zoro goes to Sanji and asks if he likes Usopp and he lies too, because why the hell would he confess his feelings to fucking mosshead of all people? And Zoro has to deal with Usopp being head over heels for the cook every damn day (like, literally, looking for excuses to talk to Sanji. Spending the time in the kitchen with him. Always talking about him when Zoro is around. Flirting with him in the most obvious of ways. Fucking up in battle because he's focused on Sanji. Etc). But the pining isn't the only issue, because there's more. Sanji keeps flirting with women and Usopp is always devastated when that happens or unreasonably angry at everything, frustrated. And Zoro is the one who has to deal with it because for some fucking reason the sniper decided one day that they were best friends and Zoro accepted because he's stupid (and he's regretting all the decisions he made two years ago). Sanji is also fucking annoying because he keeps swooning over Usopp like a dog in heat and he's oh, so in love that it physically hurts to watch. Like, quite literally hurts because he keeps holding himself back from treating Usopp the way he treats his crushes and the frustration always goes to Zoro and they always end up fighting again and again and again. And don't get him wrong, Zoro likes to fight with Sanji. That's their whole thing. But he needs his own personal time too.

So Zoro's like "Fuck it. If these two are not gonna get together on their own, I'll do it myself". But, as you said, his whole concept of romance is really fucked up because his love for Luffy is completely different and the way he shows affection is way more complicated than what Sanuso does. Zoro has the brilliant idea to put both of them in danger so the other will save him, for some reason. It never ends up well and he's the one saving them in the end or he ends up fighting Sanji once again. It's getting even more annoying now. So you can erase "saving each other" from the list, because Zoro does not know how to make plans and it always ends up horribly wrong or with them saving themselves. Then he tries "possessiveness", but ends up erasing that too because unlike him (who's always all over Luffy) both Sanji and Usopp end up having depressive episodes every damn time Zoro says the other likes somebody else or puts that idea in their heads. Fucking idiots with low self-esteem. And so Zoro's like "maybe I can just go and put them in a dark room together" but Sanji apparently is fucking frightened of the dark and Usopp doesn't know how to get out so it's pretty much both of them having panic attacks until Zoro helps them out. And, idk, maybe he even tries to put messages in Usopp's food so he thinks Sanji's the one who wrote them! But he always ends up mistaking the dishes and he doesn't even know how to write stuff with food so it either ends up looking horrible or in the hands of somebody who isn't Usopp. Etc, etc, etc. He's so fucking done-

Nami notices because, unlike him, she isn't stupid. And she gets them together extremely quickly. And it's as easy as:

Nami: Hi, Sanji-san, are you busy tonight? Sanji: Of course not, my dearest! For you, I'm always free! Nami: Awesome! And you, Usopp? Usopp: Huh? Yeah. Well. I think so? Why? Nami: Great! Well, I am busy. And I had this reservation at this really expensive restaurant on this island? It would be such a waste of food, right Sanji-san? Sanji: Of course, my angel! I would never! Nami: Why don't you two go together? Usopp: Wait- What? Nami- Nami, hey- We talked about this don't- Sanji: You don't wanna go with me? :( <- Saddest wet cat face ever Usopp: Of course I do! Who said I didn't?! Nami: Perfect! It's a date, then! Usopp: A WHAT? Sanji: Nami-

And she just- She just fucking leaves without a word.

It turns out surprisingly well... For Sanji and Usopp, of course. Things just get worse for Zoro.

Because it's not only the fact that Nami won't stop reminding him that she was the one who got them together and he wasn't even able to do it. But on top of it all, Sanji and Usopp become the clingiest, sappiest, most annoying couple in the whole world.

He now has to deal with Sanji feeding Usopp and sitting really close at lunchtime. Usopp being extra dramatic and loud when telling stories to impress Sanji and dancing around with him. Sanji cooking all of Usopp's favorite meals at least once a week. Them always making out during bathtime and being extremely touchy. Usopp leaving notes around for Sanji that Zoro always finds first. Sanji fucking yelling all the time to call for Usopp. Them kissing mid-battle or being extremely distracted by each other. Even when they're sitting together as a group, they're sitting on top of each other.

It's disgusting. Not because Zoro hates love or he's cynical or whatever, because he's obsessed with romance. He just hates the fact that they're so loud about it because his perception of love is just so personal and intimate when it comes to Luffy and- And he likes Usopp. He really loves him a lot (platonically). And Zoro doesn't want him to get hurt. The thought is stupid because, despite their rivalry, he trusts Sanji with his life. But it's just weird.

Then I think one day Usopp is having a rough moment. Or perhaps he's the only one who hasn't woken up yet. The point is that he's on one of the bunk beds sleeping and Zoro thinks it's time to check on him. But then he goes into the room, silently enough for neither of them to notice, and stays for a moment on the door staring at the whole situation. Sanji's kneeling on the side of the bed, caressing Usopp's hair and kissing his face and just whispering things Zoro can't hear but knows he isn't meant to hear anyway. And so he walks away and thinks, well, maybe he's been wrong all along and they do have that sort of intimacy. Just in a different way.

And then Luffy comes to him fucking yelling his name and embracing him completely in the middle of the deck (where everybody is) kissing him all over his face and screaming about how excited he is to spend their day together on the next island.

Zoro just has to laugh. Maybe he doesn't have any right to complain about PDA after all.

#i have no fucking idea how the hell this ask ended up being this whole thing #i have to thank anon for the idea bc i loved it as you can see #i am so dramatic i always end up writing whole fics eiddsdukfbsukd #but i just love the concept of sanuso and zolu paralleling each other #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso #monkey d. luffy #zolu #nami

[finniestoncrane]

Almost There

Capullo!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 4k commission: eddie desperately trying to get someone to like him, but failing a bit miserably before he starts succeeding, as he was always bound to 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: whiny/desperate eddie, teensy bit of angst

With a sigh of resignation, Eddie looked out of his window on to the streets of Gotham below. People, like ants, below the feet of a God they didn’t even know they worshipped yet. But he could take very little joy in that usually comforting fact, as he knew there was one ant of great subordination who refused to bend to his will. And that was despite knowing everything he could offer them in exchange for their undying and unquestioning devotion.

No amount of anything he had would fix this situation. This was him now. He was stuck. Edward Nygma. Stuck. Stuck on a puzzle, on a question, on a task, for which there seemed to be no possible outcome for. Or at least, not one that he deemed reasonable, not one that he would be happy with. Which, after all, in the mind of the Riddler, was not the correct answer at all.

The phone he clutched in his hand was quickly tossed onto the nearest surface. It was just a hopeless distraction at this point. A symbol of futility. Of his seeming failure.

Eddie’s fingers were getting tangled in his fringe. The greasy strands of his usually neatly swept back shock of red hair were getting caught as he twisted and pulled at them. Teasing at them nervously, he paced around his pre-furnished, and entirely impersonal, apartment. Looking at the extravagant wall clock he sighed and groaned, letting it form a soft growl as he ripped a few extra strands of his hair out in his closed and trembling fists. He was thankful for the thick, soundproof walls in this building. It meant he could talk, or groan, or yell, to himself as loudly as he wanted without fear of anyone hearing his plans. Or his pathetic whining.

“How long does it take someone to answer a text? Is she really that stupid? And if she’s that dull and so incapable of typing a message out, do I really want to be associated with her?”

His self-serving insults regarding your intelligence only helped to make him feel worse about himself. You were perfect. Beautiful, but in a way he’d never really seen before. Interesting, more so than any other woman he’d bothered giving the time of day or willingly chose to get to know. And you weren’t stupid. In fact, you seemed scarily competent and able to hold your own against him. Which he hated.

Another thirty seconds of anxious pacing, as he wondered what could possibly keep someone busy for this long. It wasn’t as if you could have anything important to do. Or anything more important than responding to his message. You weren’t him, after all. He was the busy one, the important one, the mastermind genius that had barely had time to focus on anything but himself. What could possibly be distracting you?

With a finger raised almost comically in the air, one floating light bulb short of looking like a caricature, Eddie shouted out.

“Unless! Unless… she’s really not as stupid as I thought. And… all this… is a clever ploy! Oh! Oh-ho-ho! That is… well, that’s frankly almost brilliant. I hate to admit it, but credit where credit is due, I suppose.”

He picked up his phone from where he had tossed it, laying on the polished marble surface of the sideboard he hated so much but refused to give up, as he’d been assured by the realtor that it was something a woman would appreciate. And of course “a handsome bachelor such as himself would definitely be looking to entice a woman”. He was glad that realtor was dead.

Gripping the soft velvet on the back of the sofa, he leapt over it, landing with a thud with his legs up on the cushions, head leaning back on the soft pillows as his red hair spread messily behind him. And he held his phone steadily in his hands, trying hard to exude confidence, even falsified, just to give himself something to cling to.

Behind him, the large, floor to ceiling windows gave view of the sunset, which was slowly stealing the remaining light from Gotham and sinking it once again into complete, dangerous darkness. And as that beautiful sight disappeared, wasted entirely on Eddie, he typed a quick message out, one that he felt sounded casual, despite it being agonised over in his hyperactive mind.

“Hey, you get my text? Maybe you missed it. Maybe you missed it on purpose. I’m on to you, baby ;)”

He paused for a moment, reading over the words on the screen with a twisted expression of disgust.

“Hm… maybe not baby… at least not yet.”

Deleting the final word, he read the text again. And then again. And then once more, before he decided to delete the whole thing. Throwing his phone to the floor with an exasperated grunt, he realised that you might have been watching his little ellipses, the telling dots that screamed “HERE COMES EDDIE! TYPING ANOTHER MESSAGE! LOOK HOW DESPERATE HE IS!”

Up until recently, everything had been going exactly his way. He’d scammed his bosses, embezzled expertly from the company that owed him everything and had until that point given him nothing, and bought himself a luxurious and ridiculous apartment that he had wild dreams of turning into a bachelor pad, with endless parties that revitalised every night with new guests and new drinks and new experiences. Money hadn’t quite been enough to buy him the necessary friends or women, however. Although, when he thought about it, technically his money had bought him the company of several pleasant enough women. But it felt like an offence to him that he had to pay for their services, to beg, essentially, for their affections, and then had to add on an extra few if he wanted to have them pretend to listen to him as he talked to them. By his calculations, women should have been falling for him. They should have been paying him for the opportunity to be talked at. He was Edward Nygma! He was intelligent, he was handsome, and now, he was wealthy.

Realistically, there was an obvious solution here. And an easy one at that. He could go out, flash some cash, and find the first suitably pretty girl who reacted positively to his shtick or his flaunted wealth and take her home. But that routine had gotten old, it felt like those cheap sudoku puzzle books you could buy at the corner store. Easy, too easy. Though he might be loathe to admit that to anyone, given that he felt it was part of his reputation, his lore, his borderline misogynistic use of woman as a status symbol as an essential aspect of his character by this point. In his illusions of grandeur, and his misinformed concept that everyone knew who he was, he felt like everyone knew that about him, this staple of his personality, especially the girls at the clubs he frequented when his loneliness became intolerable. What Eddie wanted in a woman reflected his desires for the entirety of Gotham, and eventually the world. He wanted immediate adoration with nothing in return. An endless willingness to please him. And key, above all: subservience. Complete and utter subservience.

So why was he all of the sudden chasing someone who refused to give him the time of day? Who couldn’t even reply to a text with due diligence? He mused out loud, pondering this interesting conundrum, before he spoke his assumed answer.

“The… challenge? Maybe?”

As he spoke the answer to his empty apartment, he realised the confusion within him. One part of him knew the answer, the other too stubborn to learn it or accept it. He supposed it was the right answer though. It made sense, after all. Everything had been too easy lately. Very little ever posed a threat or a challenge to him anymore. And life had, unfortunately, become boring. Perhaps the fact that his plans and dreams were falling into his lap made him question whether or not he was actually achieving anything. This one act, going against the grain, against everything that he was, and wanted, to his core, felt like the first time he had actually engage his brain in something. And that was good practice, because sure enough, when his greater plans were in motion, he would have to be well-versed in thinking on his feet. Especially if he wanted to outwit the GCPD and his future, pointy-eared nemesis.

And of course, besides all of that, he was Edward Nygma. There wasn’t a puzzle he couldn’t solve, no challenge he couldn’t eventually meet. The last thing he was going to do was let some ungrateful woman get him down. No way. Even if it took all of his determination and might, and every ounce of his brain power, which as previously concluded was not really up to much else at the moment, he would have you.

With a renewed, and somewhat misplaced, sense of confidence in his abilities, something he found hard to admit had even been diminished in the first place by your ridiculous behaviour, Eddie typed a simple message. Admiring it before sending it as though it were a piece of minimalistic art. A masterpiece. One to be looked on by the ages.

“Hey.”

That was enough. And quite frankly, it was all you deserved right now after your negligence and rude behaviour. He would let you come running to him. Let you get intrigued by his casual interest. You could – no­ – you would come to him. As he sat, grinning smugly at his self-congratulatory pride, his phone pinged. The small chime was enough to make him jump, his heart thumping as it missed a beat, a strange sense of arousal that surged through him at the mere suggestion of you paying a tiny iota of attention to him. And as he picked up his phone, he muttered to himself.

“A response already! See, Nygma, you know what you’re doing.”

Looking at the screen of his phone, his grin was immediately forced down by the immense emotional gravity into a large, comical frown, his brows scowling as he read the brief message you had decided to grace him with.

“What do you want?”

Seething, and through gritted teeth, Edward hissed into the empty apartment.

“Oh, you little…”

He managed o stop himself before he said something even he might have regretted. But still, enraged by your lack of interesting and your crude wording, Eddie felt his fingers tense around his phone painfully. Any more pressure, or strength in his slender body, and he may have cracked the device in half. Relaxing his digits, he typed a quick message in response, pleased with himself, but still deeply upset with yours. If that’s how you wanted to play it, then you could get ready to be met with a formidable opponent.

“Sorry, might be the wrong number. I have two girls’ numbers in my phone right now without names yet… which one are you?”

That would show you. False competition for his attention might engage you better. If you thought there was even the most slender, most remote chance, that you might not get to be with him, then it might encourage you to a little bit more receptive. Or at least, slightly more polite. But your response, coming incredibly quick, only served to snuff out that idea.

“I’m the one you should delete and block.”

“Fuck!”

Eddie tossed the phone once more, letting it land with a thud on the soft carpet on the floor as he rolled over on the sofa, burying his head in the cushions and letting out a variety of grunts and groans, though mostly mewling and pathetic whimpers. After a suitable amount of time spent feeling sorry for himself, and trying to convince his own ego that the backfiring of that particular approach was down to your difficult personality, he rolled back over. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he tugged nervously at his hair again as he tried to reason with the silence.

“Come on, Nygma. Solve the puzzle. She’s a Rubik’s cube, and you need to get your fingers all over her, twist her the right way until she makes sense.”

With an exasperated sigh, he reached to the floor and picked up his phone. There was a chance, he thought, that being himself might, for the first time ever, work when dealing with a woman. After all, it was foolish to keep trying the same methods and approaches, madness to think it might yield different results. Something completely different, something out of left field. A shock factor. It might just be the thing to loosen you up.

“Perhaps…”

Delighting in the idea that perhaps he was the solution to the puzzle after all, he typed out a new message. Very flirty, very cheeky, and typically Eddie all over.

“Oh!  It’s you. I’d recognise that attitude anywhere. Spicy. Off-putting. I won’t be deleting you, so what do you want your name to be in my contacts? Would ‘babe’ do?”

You were typing already. Hook, line and sinker. He had you, and even if you were only replying in order to tell him off, at least you were communicating with him. It was better than nothing. And it meant he might have another chance before you decided to block him.

“Absolutely not.”

“Ok then. What about ‘cutie’?”

“If you think ‘cutie’ suits me, then I think you still have my identity mistake.”

“Ok, fine then. If we’re going for descriptive accuracy, how would ‘Stone Cold Bitch From Hell’ suit you?”

The back and forth stopped. There was no immediate response from you, and panic began to settle in Eddie’s chest. If this backfired, it would take a lot to come back from it, effort he wasn’t sure he was ready to put into even a committed relationship let alone a hook-up with someone he barely knew. Even he might not be able to rescue this situation from the hole he had dug for it. Maybe, he should have clarified it was a joke. Text you back immediately with a smile and a laughing emoji. After all, not everyone was as intelligent as he was, and the nuances of his humour did often go unrecognised or misconstrued, through no fault of his own obviously.

When his phone finally pinged, Eddie held his breath as he looked at the screen, his skin dimpling and his hairs standing on edge as he waited for the disastrous consequences of his actions to rear their ugly head.

“Actually, that one kind of suits me. Maybe you’re a bit more perceptive than I thought you were. And don’t get excited, because that really isn’t saying a lot.”

With a smug grin washing over his face, Eddie elected not to respond any further than sending you one solitary winking face. That would do, for now. He had to take it slowly, even still. Weeks of pandering to you, of trying to be someone else. And now, finally, he found out that you were one of the rare few who responded positively to his true self. A woman of refined taste, it seemed. But he was still wary, cautious.

As he got himself ready for bed, he thought back on how much time he had wasted so far on you, trying to convince you that he was perfect for you from behind a façade that you clearly had no interest in. He’d learnt the lesson, yet again, the hard way. Be himself.

“Be yourself, Eddie. That’s how you’ve won everything you have so far in life. Who can resist your charms? I mean, come on!”

He grinned wide into the mirror above the sink, shooting himself a quick wink, sly smile spreading further. He brushed his teeth quickly, spitting into the basin before focusing his attentions back on his reflection, picking at his teeth and combing back his hair before stopping to pose in front of the mirror. He flexed his almost non-existent muscles, self-obsession and illusions of grandeur once again assuring him he had the body of an Adonis, and then he laughed.

“I am genuinely almost jealous of her. She gets to be with this! Hoe wonderful for her. I truly am a gift.”

Thoroughly enamoured with himself, he took his self-satisfaction and headed to his bed to celebrate it in the disgustingly lewd way only he could. And, surprisingly, beyond the thoughts of how wonderful he was, he was thinking of you as he congratulated himself over, and over again.

And he was still thinking of you in the morning when he woke up. It had been a long time, concerningly so, since someone other than himself, or that ridiculous vigilante with his tight-fitting costume and penchant for leather, had been able to steal the focus of his attention. The excitement at the novelty of the situation had him giddy as he got out of bed. Purposefully ignoring the pull of desire to check his phone for any notifications, he opted to primp and preen first. The longer he held off checking, the longer he could live in ignorant bliss of the true, and potentially heartbreaking, outcome.

“Schrödinger’s booty call…”

He winced at his own joke, the thought of it distressing him. What if that’s all he could get out of you, in the end, after all of this?

“OK, but do I really want more?”

Yes was the answer to that, although his empty apartment could hardly scream that back at him. This was beyond a quickie, a one-night stand with someone he found physically enticing. He had deeper feelings for you, maybe only slightly underneath his callous and crude surface. But they were definitely there. What they might amount to in the future even he couldn’t be sure of yet. But all he knew was that once with you would not be enough. Not for the trouble he considered himself having gone through for you.

Finally dressed and smothered in his obnoxious cologne, Eddie turned his attentions back to his bedroom as he left the ensuite to find out whether he had a reason to live this morning. And if you hadn’t replied, his plans to destroy Gotham would be enacted far sooner, spurred on by your cruelty.

Luckily, however, for the citizens of Gotham and Eddies own ego, given that with so little preparation he was sure to fall flat on his face if he commenced his grand scheme so early, he had one message and it was from you.

“Nygma. That’s right, consider yourself lucky that I remembered your name. You’re good with computers, yes? I seem to recall you bragging about it.”

“Ha ha! I’ve got you now!”

A typical ploy! How many times had he asked for help from someone, which he never needed given he was the smartest and most competent person who had ever lived, just to get closer to them or to spend time with them? Far too many for him to count. He was very aware of what you were trying to do. And he was more than happy to play ignorant, to play along and give you what you so clearly wanted.

On the edge of his seat, quite literally he realised as he shuffled back into the centre of his bed, his fingers tapped quickly, furiously, as he replied to your message.

“Obviously, of course I am. It’s kind of my thing. Although, you obviously knew that.”

Was he too smug? Maybe… But you clearly liked him. It was impossible for you to deny it now. It was only a matter of time before he lured you into his web and kept you there… willingly of course… unless…

Eddie’s more villainous daydream was cut short, thankfully, by the slight vibration of his phone against his palm, a tingle sent through him like an electric shock as he took a breath and looked to his screen, or looked to his future.

“Great. Is this guy any good? I need someone to fix my laptop and he looks competent.”

Attached to your words was a screenshot of some less man, the Computer King he was calling himself, who was offering extortionate prices for no doubt shoddy, subpar work, regardless of what it was that you needed.

Were you joking? He couldn’t be sure. It could be an effort to make him jealous, retaliation for his own efforts the night before. It felt as though you were goading him into offering himself up on a platter, detailing his skills and positive attributes like you were interviewing him for the job of “gracious boyfriend”. And that just wouldn’t stand, not even…

“It would stand though. Only for her. But still, irritatingly so…”

Laying back in his bed with a soft thump, he clutched the phone to his chest, reminiscent of how he had been the night before, and so many other moments leading up to this one. You were in his head, and he could feel you slipping into every other facet of his being. But still, he was slightly pissed off with your constant back and forth, your cold attitude, flaunting the concept of communication in front of him and then snatching it away cruelly with the suggestion that you’d be giving it to some other, lesser, man.

Fed up, and already annoyed at this early hour, he typed a droll message.

“Yep. He’d be good enough for you, anyway.”

With a falsified grin that faded into a genuinely emotional frown, he placed his phone down and went to the kitchen to grab some coffee. He managed to convince himself he’d done the right thing. Pretending to be proud of himself, he sipped slowly, a dramatic “ah” at the end of each slurp as he continued the farce. Who he was performing to, he wasn’t even sure himself. But given that he spent most of his time in solitary isolation, self-congratulatory arrogance with the aim of tricking himself into feeling comfortable was the least strange thing he did alone.

When he realised he hadn’t heard his phone chime, though, he began to feel tense and nervous. He was fidgeting, tapping the edge of his coffee mug with his fingers, shaking his leg, his foot bouncing on the ledge of the breakfast bar. One moment of, albeit in his mind rightfully placed, anger, and he’d undone his weeks of hard work.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot.”

In a rare moment of self-reflection that bordered on a breakthrough, Eddie considered his life as a whole, and how many things had actually gone right for him. The years of slaving away at a job that didn’t respect or value him, his tortuous formative years filled with bullying and excommunication from every social group he had tried to enter, his lack of luck in social situations with anyone he dared to interact with, his formidable and deeply unloving parents. The possible, but likely inevitable, end to his great schemes when the vigilante of Gotham decided to crack down on him. Surely, all of these amounted to an understanding that Eddie might just not be lucky, or made for good fortune. Or, could it be that Eddie was the problem? That he was the common denominator in all of the unfortunate things in his life?

It was a self-hating thread that he rarely pulled, for fear that his entire existence would become unravelled. But then, a glimmer of hope as he heard the chime, finally.

Tripping over himself in a bid to reach the phone as quickly as possible, he read the message wide-eyed and hopefully.

“I don’t want to regret this, Eddie. You seem to not understand. If I get another guy to look at my laptop for me, then I can meet you for a coffee while he works on it. You seem like you might be adequate entertainment for an hour. And besides, I feel like hating myself today. So?”

Eddie’s wide smirk pressed into his cheeks as he sighed dreamily. With any luck, you’d be willing to commit to hating yourself every day if he could just make sure this date went well. And since he had already managed to get this far with you, he assumed his natural charms would see him the rest of the way.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #zero year riddler #zero year!riddler #capullo riddler #capullo!riddler #riddler smut #x reader

[daenysx]

Okay so

Modern Aegon fake dating but the uh oh feelings are real and things get hot 🥵

thank you for this request, i hope you like it!

my masterlist

princess treatment

modern!aegon ruins your fake dating agreement by falling in love with you. nsfw.

you drive aegon targaryen insane.

your little smiles, your hands on his hand or on his back, your soft hair falling gracefully on your neck and shoulders, and you calling him 'my love' all the fucking time.

as if you're actually in love with him.

his brain is blurry when you two are around other people. the fake dating messes with his head, he has to remind himself that this is not an actual relationship. your little acts of love are not real.

he was the one offering it. he offered you to pretend, only when you are around people especially around your family members. both of your families have important places in the business world. his father viserys is your father's business partner and this requires aegon and you to meet at several occasions.

this is where it all begins.

alicent had enough of aegon's girlfriends, or actually the girls he slept with and left. because of aegon's careless actions, alicent had to prevent the press from writing about his acts which would bring the family a bad reputation. well, worse than their reputation now at least.

it was also the day when they meet aemond's girlfriend. alicent loved the girl, she almost treated her like a second daughter. aegon had to try not to throw up every time he saw aemond's proud smile. "why can't you be like your little brother? i'm sick of these behaviours aegon, i'm sick of your stupid actions and all those girls i had to convince not to speak badly of you!"

he couldn't stand another thing aemond bested him at. he couldn't stand hearing alicent's usual disappointed words that made him sad and furious. he should find a proper girlfriend to be with all those stupid events and stop his family's snarky comments at everything he does.

he saw you that night. standing next to your big brother, obviously bored and intolerant. you tried to smile at people talking to you but those smiles were all fake. aegon found out that you had a terrible argument with your father earlier that night about your boyfriend. you broke up with that boy because your father didn't approve of him. you didn't look heartbroken, instead you looked angry and vengeful.

he approached to you later that night when you were standing alone and he tried to convince you into his brilliant fake dating plan. we can be with anyone we want, we only have to pretend when we have to, just be careful not to be seen with them when you're not with me. and you agreed.

the plan had worked. targaryens and your family were quite happy with this new relationship. it affected the opinions of the people in their business in a positive way. even alicent seemed to be proud and happy with aegon.

aegon should be happy.

but aegon isn't happy. he is mad at himself for ruining the plan's actual purpose. he is mad at you for being so perfect. you are a great actress, you actually made him believe that he is somehow nice and lovable. the moments when there is no one around are the worst. aegon has to face with the truths, and the truths are cold and lonely. aegon hates the truths.

he tries to be the perfect-fake boyfriend. he opens all the doors for you, always asks if you want something, walks with you in the room with his hand on your waist, and calls you little endearments.

everyone except aegon is content with the way things go. the families are already happy but you also seem happy with the fake dating thing. you make all the good appereances in public and you have the secret freedom to be with anyone you want.

"i'll meet with cregan after the event tonight."

aegon tries to be cool as he watches you perfect your make up for the upcoming event. "stark? come on princess, you can do better than that."

you smile. "i don't want better, i want him."

aegon feels his blood boil. he smiles but the smile is broken. he knows cregan stark will be a temporary boyfriend for you because no man could ever do with your princess attitude, right? they couldn't stand it and they would leave. it's all that happened 'til now.

"what about you? are you seeing someone?"

he has stopped being with other girls since he accepted his feelings for you. he tried to be with them for the hope of forgetting you. it didn't work, it actually made him more desperate, so he stopped.

"no, not really."

you nod, apply your red lipstick on your lips. fuck that lipstick, it looks perfect.

the event goes smoothly. what worries him is the end of the night. you let go of his hand when you're sure there is no one around. you get into your car and leave him there, to meet cregan stark.

hours of agony pass until he's got enough of it. he drinks one glass of whiskey then he leaves his apartment.

he drives to your house, doesn't even know why. he wants to do something to get him out of this stupid misery. he wants you to know that he fucked up the plan and fell in love with you.

he stops when he sees you in front of your house. with cregan stark. stark leans in to kiss you and aegon loses it. he knows he has no right to say anything, you are not breaking any rules but seeing you with another man is hard. too fucking hard.

you pull cregan to yourself, the door is open and you lead him inside. you don't break the kiss as you walk in. aegon has to do something, the images of you and stark in your room, on your bed haunts him. he walks to your house and knocks on your door. he doesn't care if he'll embarrass himself. that one glass of whiskey gives him the slight courage and he keeps knocking.

you open the door, your red lipstick smeared through cheeks and you look fucking glorious. he wishes the image in front of him to be for him.

"what are you doing here?"

he lifts his head, looks at your questioning face and tries to think of an answer. then he sees stark standing behind you, trying to understand what happens. the moment he recognizes the remnants of the lovely shade of your lipstick on his lips, aegon feels his heart clench with anger.

"get the fuck out of here." aegon says, calmly to cregan. you look at him in disbelief.

"excuse me, who gives you the right to come at my home and tell my guest to leave?" your tone is cool and dangerous.

"remember our agreement, princess? that agreement gives me the right. i won't say it one more time, get the fuck out of here."

he sees the look on cregan's face, clearly the man would fight aegon with a single word from your mouth. instead cregan looks at you and asks a silent question.

"i'm sorry cregan, let's end the night here. i'll call you tomorrow."

he nods, and throws a scary look to aegon as he walks out the door.

"and you. come in and tell me what the hell is wrong with you tonight."

aegon follows you inside, closes the door. he tries to calm down, to not say anything that will annoy you further.

"cat got your tongue? tell me, why are you here?" you ask.

"i wanted to see you."

"and you thought coming over to my house in the middle of the night and saying get out to my guest is the right thing to do? perfect."

aegon shooks his head. "i don't want him near you."

"aegon, you have no right to say that."

"it doesn't change a thing. i don't want him near you."

you stare at him. "you have a thing against cregan?"

he chuckles darkly. "princess, i have a thing against any man who breathes around you."

"what is that suppose to mean? are you drunk? if so, please stop talking now because i don't want to hear anything you say without thinking."

he shakes his head. "i'm not drunk. i mean everything i say. i don't want any other man near you, i don't want their filthy hands on you, i don't want them to have a taste of you. is it so hard to understand?"

"are you insane? of course it's hard to understand! what we have is a simple arrangement. why are you saying that right now?"

"because i ruined the arrangement! i ruined it. i-i fucking broke it. i couldn't stop. i just couldn't stop myself."

you ask calmly this time. "what happened, aegon?"

"i fucking fell in love with you."

the words leave his mouth and you can't help your tears. they make their way on your cheeks and you make a little noise.

aegon can't believe his eyes. why are you crying now? did he upset you that much? guilt crawls in his chest and he can't breathe for a moment.

"why are you crying? wh-what is it?" he asks in a broken voice.

you inhale and try to stay strong in front of him. "you can't just come here and tell me you love me, when i try so hard not to accept my feelings for you just to keep the arrangement safe."

does he hear it correctly? do you say that you have feelings for him? can he actually be this lucky?

"what did you say? you-do you love me? but you said you want stark."

"i lied. great actress remember?"

"so, you love me?"

"you're a fucking idiot."

he weakly smiles and comes closer to you, holding your teary cheeks and presses his lips on yours. it's a desperate kiss, full of longing and love. aegon doesn't know how to show his love properly, so he just follows his instincts. he kisses you for minutes, kisses your face, your forehead. he holds you in his arms and smells your hair.

you wrap your arms around him, still crying and obviously shocked. you try to keep yourself steady even if it feels too hard. all this time you tried to keep your own feelings hidden just to keep your perfect couple image safe and now aegon has the nerve to tell you he is in love with you. you are not sure if you should be happy or angry.

"i'm so mad at you right now." you say after your tears slows down.

"be mad at me tomorrow and i'll explain everything. but now, let me take care of you. let's forget everything for a night, princess."

you nod, leading him to your bedroom. he helps you take off your dress and your heels. you go to bathroom and clean your make up, he takes off his clothes as well. you come out of the bathroom wearing a robe, all clean and relaxed now. he kisses you again, this time he feels you relieved and he smiles.

he lays you on bed, your hair looks like a goddamn crown on your pillows, all shiny and pretty. "what a beautiful princess."

he kisses you, takes off your robe and there is nothing underneath. the sight of your soft skin welcomes him and he is quick to press kisses on your body. his hands stroke the flesh of your thighs as he kisses your nipples. he decides to take his time, to be soft for you. because that's what princesses deserve.

he kisses all the way down to your lower abdomen. he looks up at your face, flushed and expectant. he kisses your clit and you push yourself to him. he kisses it again, again and again. it's swollen with need and aegon feels himself getting harder for you.

he brings his fingers on your cunt, slowly touches your entrance and lets the wetness there coat his fingertips. he starts rubbing your clit, kisses your belly. nothing he does is painful, all of it feels perfect. like a fucking princess treatment.

he rubs your clit with a soft pressure, teasing your entrance and not giving you what you actually want. "aegon, harder. do it harder."

he smirks. "i don't think this is the right attitude for a princess. you should say please to get what you want."

"hmm, no. not all princesses are delicate and gentle. you should've knew about that."

his smile broadens. "my mistake, then. tonight tell me anything you want and i'll give it to you. we can talk about the princess attitude tomorrow."

"can't resist me?"

he shakes his head. "fuck, no."

he rubs your clit harder, his thumb circles it and he puts his two fingers inside. you clench around him, ask him to do it a little harder and he obliges. he has no choice. no choice against you.

he makes you come on his fingers. the orgasm gives your muscles relief and you smile. you kiss him after he licks his fingers and you taste yourself on his lips. you take off his underwear and his cock rests against his stomach.

"come, lay down for me." you say coolly.

he does as he's told. you sit on his thighs, start stroking his already hard cock and make him close his eyes under you.

"that's okay for you?" you ask.

"anything you want is okay for me."

you position yourself on his cock and start moving on top him. he lifts himself closer to your body for a moment, tries to help you adjust. you hold his hands as you move, your muscles clench and you moan softly. you keep moving for a few moments and then decide have a little fun.

"aegon?"

"hmm?" he is so lost in his pleasure.

"my legs are tired."

"is that so? well, i can't possibly be a man who lets his princess move in pain now can i?"

he changes the position and now you're under him. he starts moving a little faster, tries to find a pace. "that's it, fucking perfect. not gonna last."

you wrap your arms around his neck, stroking his hair. you moan for him, his name falls from your lips. "my love."

he fucking loses it then, moves faster inside you. "call me that again."

you arch your back as he carries you to your peak. "oh, my love."

he kisses your lips in a passion that you've never seen before. it only takes three more thrusts and he pulls himself off you, comes on your belly. he makes sure you're alright after your second orgasm that night and puts his head on your chest.

breathing sounds fill your room, he leaves the bed for a moment and grabs a clean towel from your bathroom to clean you and himself. you look sleepy now, he is quick to return to bed next to you, pull the covers on and holds you on his chest.

"so, are we not fake dating now?"

he smiles. "we are definitely not fake dating after how you've made me feel now, princess."

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x you #modern!aegon #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader

[returnsandreturns]

i wanted to write dirty humiliation pwp but then i realized that matt, frankly, could never

“Foggy, I really don’t think I can do that,” Matt says, softly.

“Oh, okay,” Foggy says, quickly, flushing. “It’s fine, I didn’t really want it that much anyway and–” 

Matt interrupts him with a kiss, framing Foggy’s face in his hands. 

“I’m not judging you,” he says, shifting closer on the couch to take one of Foggy’s hands and hold onto it tightly, “and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting that but I just can’t say things like that about you. Has anybody else said things like that?" 

"Mostly just my brain," Foggy says, smiling. “What would you do if they did?” 

“Have a nice long talk with them,” Matt says, coolly. 

“Are you talking with your fists?” Foggy asks. 

“I’d never tell you,” Matt says, kissing him again, “so don’t worry about it.” 

“We get looks sometimes when we’re obviously being a couple,” Foggy says, trying to think of the best way to say it, “that I interpret as. . .questioning why I am with someone like you. That could just be the aforementioned brain pulling shit, though.” 

“It better be,” Matt says, looking adorably concerned, but smiling when Foggy uses his free hand to trace the lines between his eyebrows before sliding fingers into his hair. “Fog, do you believe any of that?” 

It feels like Matt’s just objectively out of his league in almost every single way and it’s hard to imagine that Matt doesn’t realize it, even if he can’t see him. Foggy didn’t exactly set off his weird hotness radar sense like the handful of beautiful women he’s dated. 

“Do you really think I’m attractive?” Foggy asks, feeling incredibly stupid about it. “I mean, my stunning personality, sure, but–you’ve always been able to find the hottest girl in the room. That’s not what happened with us.” 

“. . .I didn’t even know I was attracted to men at all until I met you,” Matt says. “By the time I worked all that out, I was too afraid to ruin everything and lose you if I told you what I really wanted. You know that.” 

“But if we didn’t know each other,” Foggy says, “and we were in the same crowded room, would you seriously pick me out?” 

“Yes,” Matt says, immediately. 

“I love you,” Foggy says, laughing, “but I don’t believe you.” 

“Foggy Nelson, I fell in love with you the second you opened your perfect mouth,” Matt says, firmly, taking him by the shoulders so Foggy has to look at how serious he is. “I’d pick you every time.” 

“. . .Matty,” Foggy says, softly, moving in to wrap his arms around Matt and kiss him. They trade kisses for a few long moments before Matt makes a soft noise and pulls back.

“I’m still talking,” he says. 

“You’ve persuaded me, sweetheart,” Foggy says. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Matt says, “and brilliant and funny and, if anything, I don’t deserve you with all–” 

“Hey, hey,” Foggy says. “You don’t get to be mean to yourself either.” 

“Okay, fine,” Matt says, smiling. “You have to know you’re my favorite person, though. And also, I know that–size is a part of this whole thing sometimes and I just need to remind you that your dick is–significantly bigger than mine.” 

“I don’t know about significantly,” Foggy says, laughing, going easily when Matt gently pushes him onto his back and climbs on top of him. 

“Let’s check,” he says, happily.

#mattfoggy #my fic #daredevil #the original one would have gone on my third actual secret ao3 account lol #also i think foggy could actually pull off doing it lol but that's something else

[meownotgood]

new year's kiss. / hayakawa aki x gn!reader, fluff, aki kisses you the minute the clock strikes twelve.

ten, nine, eight...

"hey, c'mere for a sec."

the cold night air brushes against your skin, cool and sharp in your nose when you breathe it in. it tickles the hair on the back of your neck, it leaves goosebumps on your arms. smoke blows in your direction when aki stamps his half-burned cig out onto the balcony railing, and the familiar smell of his rich cigarettes wafts into your lungs. he flicks it away quickly and reaches for you in the dark.

one hand comes to grip your side, while the other holds your cheek, his fingers cold, his touch feather-light. aki exhales a long, shaky breath. he looks at you softly, he holds you closely. the stars reflect in the deep blue of his eyes, and his gaze is filled with something you can't understand.

seven, six, five...

the lull of the city fills your ears: people counting down in the street, the idle ambiance of cars as they pass by. in the corner of your eye, through the balcony's glass door, you can see the television in the living room. it's still on, and the screen is flashing in big, colorful numbers, the clock counting down to the end of this year.

"... aki?"

four, three, two...

aki wipes the tears from the corners of your eyes with his thumb. he leans in a little closer, his warm breath fans out over your face.

there's something he needs to do, and he's needed to do it for a long, long time.

all of the secret glances, the hopeful touches, the times he's wanted to tell you how he feels but he just can't manage any words. all of the moments where he's seen your heart break when he was the one who was supposed to be holding it dear. all of the times he's wiped your tears just like this and wanted more than anything to promise to give you better so he would never have to see you cry again.

he's constantly doubted himself and tried to forget this, tried to live like he can move on, but he can't help but love you as effortlessly as he breathes. a whole new year has begun since he met you, and after all this time, you still occupy every space inside his fragile little heart. it beats with yours like without you, it wouldn't.

in this moment, aki wants to say so, so much. he wants to tell you he's sorry for not having the guts to do this sooner. he wants to tell you how deeply he's fallen, how everything he's ever done for you was never a coincidence, how he's thought about this more than he'd like to admit, and it's stupid, he knows it's stupid, but you're the most lovely soul he thinks he's ever come across.

but he's running out of time — hell, he ran out of time months ago. he doesn't have a chance to say any of that, just time to act. one opportunity to change the direction of this new reality, and it starts now.

as fireworks are sent into the sky with a whiz, aki whispers a reply against your lips: "I want to start this year off right."

one.

and then, they're going off, exploding into brilliant pops of color and light and sound, and as they illuminate the sky, aki is connecting with you in a perfect kind of kiss.

he's dragging you closer, you're leaning into him, your chest is swelling, your heart is pounding. the world melts away to devotion, to the promise on his soft lips and the prayer in his trembling hands. aki is alive again, finally. and you're the match that lit the flame.

the fireworks stop, and aki pulls away for a moment, just to breathe. he kisses you when they go off once more, and then again, and again. the pop of a firework, and then his lips on yours. the shimmer of sparks, and then his palms cradling your face like it's precious, your hands tangled in his hair, all while you kiss to make up for the times you went without in the year before this one.

he only pulls away when the sound of the fireworks has completely ceased. it's several minutes into the new year now, and when your eyelids flutter open, vision restablishing, aki greets you with sparkling eyes, and with a smile that glows.

"I love you." — aki says it like it's familiar, the words tumble from his mouth with absolutely no hesitation. "I love you, god," his finger traces your lips, they're still warm from his kiss. his head falls to lean on your shoulder, his arms wrap around you in a tight embrace. "I love you."

you return his hug, and in his ear, you mutter a quiet, sweet, I love you too, aki.

it feels good to finally say it. it feels even better to hear you say it back.

aki holds you like this for a long while. his breathing evens out, deep and steady. the city is slowly enveloped in silence. you hold him like you don't want him to let go, and so he doesn't.

last year started with aki not even knowing your name, and now you're everything to him, now each syllable that makes up the idea of you is always in his mind and on his tongue. he didn't know the sound of your voice, and now he's memorized it like a favorite song. he didn't know the feeling of your lips, and now he thinks he could never forget it.

with you here beside him, aki has hope that this year will be better than the last. he'll spend it showing you just how much he adores you.

you pull apart, eventually. aki takes your hands into his and squeezes them tightly.

"happy new year." aki rests his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes, he sighs deeply. his bangs tickle your skin. the moon and the stars are now your only audience. "I can't wait to spend the rest of this year with you."

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki hayakawa x you #aki x you #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #aki hayakawa fluff

[theminecraftbee]

“So I’m beginning to think I’m the problem,” Impulse says, and given Bdubs didn’t even know he was there it makes him jump a bit.

“Hey! Don’t sneak up like that! We were just playing a death game, don’t go standing in my blind spot!” Bdubs shouts, pointing as he does.

Impulse snorts. “I think you’d recognize someone stabbing you in the back either way. I know I would.”

Bdubs scowls. “Hey!” He’s ready to defend himself—he’d have you know he didn’t stab nobody in the back this time around! He was loyal to Cleo and Scar until the end, no matter how many jokes about Etho they made! And, you know, just because he wanted Etho to be with him too—wanted TIES back because so screw him maybe he regrets Team BEST a little—wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted—

Bdubs pauses. Bdubs closes his mouth again and thinks.

“What do you mean, you’re the problem?” he says, instead of any of that.

Impulse shrugs lightly. “I mean, this time, it wasn’t you who betrayed me. No clocks involved at all, just good-old-fashioned letting down my guard. Stupid me, right?”

Bdubs frowns harder. “That’s stupid,” he declares.

“I killed you by the way,” Impulse adds. “I know it was unclear. I was excited about it.”

“Oh, yeah, I know, I figured out afterwards, really rude of you, you know, I was fighting someone else. Basically kill stealing. I’m impressed. Good job.”

Impulse blinks. “Thank you?” he says.

“You’re welcome!” Bdubs says.

“You were supposed to—”

“You aren’t a problem, you’re a solution,” Bdubs says, finally having figured out his response to the earlier statement. “Oh, by the way, Mom carved some new stuff on your clock. She called me her favorite.”

“None of what you just said makes sense,” Impulse says, frustrated. “Don’t you get it? I finally got back at you and I’ve realized that fine, I don’t need to blame you for stabbing me, apparently it’s my fault!”

“Hey! Don’t take away my brilliant decision-making skills! I stabbed you in the back perfectly on my own, thank you very much. And I stabbed no one in the back this time. I—I—you made it to the top two for team BEST you know! I mean, TIES? Don’t ask me questions.”

Impulse stares at Bdubs for a while. Bdubs stares back. He’s very handsome. Perfect to go with someone like himself. They were the most handsome soulmates, back when they did that, and now—

“You know what, I’ll never understand you,” Impulse says.

“That’s good. I’m trying not to allow that. People are looking right now and I’ve gone to great effort to hide everything that makes me understandable, this go around. I think what’s in my head should stay secret.”

“This was pointless,” Impulse says. “Why did I come over here? This hasn’t made me feel any better at all.”

“…I could give you a clock,” Bdubs murmurs.

Impulse laughs, and laughs, and laughs at that. Bdubs doesn’t think it was very funny, but to tell the truth, no matter how much he’s acting to hide the thoughts he would hope no one saw, he doesn’t find it very funny either. He just finds it sad.

Some things are just sad. He hates it.

He hates this.

He hates it.

It was a lot easier when it was easy not to care.

“You’ll get them next time,” Bdubs says. “You got me.”

“Hah,” Impulse says, wiping his eyes. “I guess I did.”

#limited life smp #impulsesv #bdoubleo100 #a bee fic #wrote this instead of what I am supposed to be writing don’t kill me fellow bloodpact members #anyway I think they should talk about this but this turned into bdubs desperately deflecting instead #so here that is