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commander-rahrah · 6 months

Note

Here's my idea that I would love to hear your opinion! Just to let you know this is quite self-indulgent XD What if GN!Reader knew that he was trying to use them from the start? They knew because they're quite familiar with people only talking to them because it's either because they can do something for them or they have something they need! They would still help him since they believe it's something he shouldn't need to go so far to have it. What do you think of it? I'm curious :3

UMMM YESSSS ANON YES! This is definitely something I have considered as well!! Tav isn't a naïve little target like Astarion is used too!

I imagine that Tav/Reader would probably admit to knowing about his plan not long after his own confession scene from Moonrise Towers in Act II. I think it would go something like this ♡♡

P.S.: I absolutely LOVED doing this, and my inbox is literally always open for stuff like this friends! :) It may just take me a hot second to reply!

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“I still can’t wrap my head around this,” Astarion’s voice was a hushed whisper in your ear, the two of you laying next to each other in his tent. You were close, but not touching — you were affording him space, allowing him to make the first move to initiate any kind of touch.

The intimate setting of laying across from each other in his tent was more than you had even expected. The candle stumps sat carefully around you basked everything in a gorgeous, orange glow.

“What do you mean?” You asked gently, your eyebrows furrowed.

“I’d imagine confessing to you in more ways than one… and never once did I imagine it would end like this.” He motioned to the two of you, running a finger tip across your knuckles before withdrawing. His voice was thick with emotion.

A soft chuckle escaped you, “What you thought I’d stake you?”

“Well… yes!” He said exasperatedly, before letting out a breathy laugh himself. Then he shook his head, turning serious, “I was manipulating you. Plotting against my master, with you as my shield.”

Your mouth twitched as you admitted, “I knew.”

“No, I don’t think you understand—“

You interrupted him, your face earnest, “No, Astarion. I do. I knew.”

Realization set deep in his features, his mouth hanging open just enough you could see his fangs, “How long had you known?”

You gave him a half smile, “Since the night you invited me to the woods.”

Your first night together.

“I— that was ages ago!" He sat up abruptly, his red eyes wide, "Why didn’t you say anything? Or better yet— gut me?!"

You sat up slowly, resting on your knees. “People have been using me for my entire life, Astarion. I know what they see when they meet me — a pretty face and nice clothes. Someone who is too friendly, too eager. People have been knocking on my door to ask for gold or sex or an invitation, anything they can get from me… as long as I can remember. Long before I met you."

Astarion was well aware of the mask you could so easily slip on when interacting with others. He hated it when you wore it. But now he understood you had been donning it to protect yourself, as much as he it did for himself too. But he still wanted to stalk and haunt every person who ever made you feel like you were a thing to be used, a means to some end.

Including himself.

Your voice snapped him back to the present, your voice hesitant, "But I had seen through your flirtations for a while now. It’s a force of habit for you, isn’t it?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Yes, it is."

Your expression crumbled, "I may have realized you were using me, but I didn’t realize how sex made you feel. I’m sorry I didn’t realize, I shouldn’t have indulged in that way."

The vampire waved off your apology, but curiosity got the best of him. "Why did you ‘indulge’? If you knew I was using you… if you knew that I'm... this."

You took a deep breath, before looking him in the eye. “Because I also recognized that what you were doing was a routine, a defense mechanism that you had been doing for longer than I’ve been alive. Because you were manipulated and used for your whole life too, weren’t you?"

Tears formed in the bottom of his eyes as he listened to you, but he willed them to stay back. His red eyes blinked furiously as he listened to you, his fingers intertwining together on his lap.

He wished you would hold them.

"You aren’t like your master, Astarion. And you aren’t what he made you to be either. You are a survivor. And when you were thrown off that nautiloid ship and found yourself in this merry party of misfits, you did just that — survive.

So… I let myself play mouse and get stuck in your trap. Just as I turned a blind eye to Wyll's sending stone. Or didn't ask Gale to explain what in the heavens he was doing with the amulet we had found. Because I trusted you, even back then. Cared for you far more then I should admit. But I knew you needed time."

His bottom lip trembled as you continued your own confession. He let his tears slip free as he saw your own break free. They stuck to your lashes and dripped down your flushed, freckled cheeks. Gods, even crying you were beautiful.

"But I regret that I laid with you — if I had known it caused you such pain I wouldn’t have done that. I knew that sex was apart of your repertoire, but I didn’t realize the anguish it caused you." Your face was pained as you admitted that, he could feel the self-loathing radiating off of you.

“It wasn’t all bad — those times with you were some of the most unexpected moments of bliss I’ve had in centuries." Astarion confessed as he grabbed your fingers and held them tightly. "But it still feels tainted, marred from my past with Cazador..."

“I know." You squeezed his fingers back, another silent understanding. "And we do not need to do such things until you are ready, Astarion. I mean it.”

He nodded, keeping his head down as he stared at the blankets you both sat on — willing himself to get his emotions under control.

You tucked your head to look up at his tilted face, "May I?" You asked softly, your hand hovering between you.

He swallowed as he nodded. You reached out slowly with your hand, before your thumb gently swept under his eyes and down the sides of his face, wiping away the tears that lingered on his pale skin. A sigh of contentment left him at your soft, simple touch. No one had ever touched him like that before.

He caught your hand as you went to withdraw it, your hands intertwined with his between you as you kneeled in front of each other.

Astarion was afraid to ask the next question on the tip of his tongue. But curiosity got the best of him. “So if you knew about my plan this whole time… when did you realize you— you’d fallen for me?”

Your entire face brightened as he asked, your eyes shining as you spoke, “Oh, from the moment you held a knife to my throat and barred your teeth.”

His heart soared, climbing up his throat as he almost choked from the happiness spreading through him.

“You masochist.” He laughed, grabbing onto the sides of your face.

“A romantic fool," You murmured as he placed his lips softly onto yours.

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If you enjoyed this, please feel free to check out more of my Astarion x GN!Reader on my masterlist!

#bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion/gn!reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #commander-rahrah answers

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ggoojjoo · 11 months

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kageyama + enemies to lovers🤭

this was fun to write acc, and btw this is set after the timeskip, so its buff and tall kags hihi

the loud music was blasting through the big speakers of the club, the bass vibrating through your body.

you were currently in the club with your friends, secluded from the prying paparazzi. Hinata was behind you, hands on your hips as you danced to the upbeat songs. this didn’t go unnoticed by kageyama, his dark eyes piercing through your skull as you danced with his teammate.

you did it on purpose, he knew that, but why did he feel this way? why did he feel… jealous?

it happened in a matter of seconds when kageyama grabbed your arm and pulled you to the back of the vip-section, closing the blinds behind him. “you’re a whore, you know that?” he whispered against your lips, hands eager to explore the skin under the skin tight dress you were wearing. “rubbing up on my teammates like that.” you giggled in response, broken off by a soft gasp when his hand squeezed the fat of your thigh particularly hard. he pressed his face into your hot neck mumbling, “gonna fuck you like one.”

“go for it, pretty boy.” no matter how much he hated the nickname you gave him, a shiver ran down his spine to his cock. you yelped as he pressed you down onto your knees, cornering you with his hips. smiling smugly, your freshly manicured fingers fiddled with his jeans, unbuckling his belt and pulling them down to his knees. you felt your mouth water at the sight of his thick bulge, he wasn’t even completely erect, yet. “so big,” you whispered, batting your eyelashes at the volleyball player as you palmed at him through his boxers. kageyama braced his hands against the wall he had you pressed against, his dick in your warm hand as you licked and sucked at his tip. you felt him stiffen in your hands, licking the first bead of precum off.

he sighed when you took him between your glossy lips, the glitter particles shining in the dim light. “fuck you,” he sighed, hips thrusting ever so slightly. “i fucking hate you so much,” he groaned, grabbing the back of your head to shove his cock deeper in your throat. at this, you hummed around his shaft, pulling a whimper out of him.

you pulled off of him with a pop, your hand moving up and down on his cock, assisted by your drool and spit. “no, you don’t,” you slurred, smirking up at him.

your words and hands had kageyama trembling, belly tightening in anticipation. “fuck, (y/n), i’m gonna–” he gasped, fucking into your fist. “open that mouth,” he ordered, looking down at you. you did as told, sticking your tongue out and speeding up the movements of your hands. his moans rose in pitch, his high at an arm's length away. as soon as you sucked on his tip, his resolve snapped. both his hands grabbed your head and he fucked his cum down your throat. “fuck fuck fuck–”

when he came down his high, he pulled out of your mouth, cock falling slack against your cum stained chin. “you look so pretty when you cum.” you slurred, caressing his strong thighs.

kageyama chuckled hoarsely, his hand pushing the strands of hair from your face. “let’s go on a date, yeah? just… haa… just you and me.”

@ggoojjoo 2023 | © do not steal or plagiarize

#{ zerda hard hours 🎀 }#haikyuu smut #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama tobio smut #kageyama x reader #haikyuu x reader

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pxgeturner · 8 months

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kiss it better - t.m riddle

prequel to “milkshakes & confessions” told through mainly his pov

an. all of my tom writing takes has the golden trio cast in modern day. i like his era friends like rebastan, abraxas, rosier. i just don’t know enough about them to write in that era. And also it just easier to write them in a modern setting as i can sprinkle in some modern muggle things. also i’m kind of tired of tom calling hufflepuff r “badger” in so many fics, so she has a much cuter animal nickname. also.

warnings: tommi is down horrendously for r. also theo is an asshole in this.

m.list

he sits a row behind her, next to his friends, listening to her giggle at something her lab partner said. He thinks they’re roommates.

theo leans toward him, whispering, “y’know, riddle, i was walking through the halls yesterday, and that one fell and scraped her hand,”— theo gestures first to the partner, then her— “and she takes her friend’s hand, kisses it fucking better. like a pathetic child.”

tom tilts his head. “hm.”

she leans forward, presumably to note one of professor snape’s remarks, tom isn't sure. he hasn’t paid attention in weeks since he read ahead in the textbook.

“you shouldn’t be so rude, she’s a nice girl.” pansy shoves theo’s shoulder.

“she’s a hufflepuff.”

“so?”

“she’s probably making chocolates or writing secret admirer letters for tomorrow.”

“no she’s not. she’s going to be studying divination tomorrow in the library. she asked me if I wanted to but blaise is taking me on a date.”

“why would she ask you to study with her?” theo scoffs.

“because i’m her friend you idiot. where do you think i’ve been eating my lunch?”

“you’ve gone completely mental.”

“that’s you, you absolute wanker.”

tom sees a hufflepuff who hangs around her quite often. he watches them. soon she approaches them, embracing excitedly in a hug. she squeals unnecessarily. she does it cutely.

“your friend is over there,” he says to pansy.

as pansy looks over, the cute hufflepuff girl notices the group of slytherins and rushes over. “hey, pans!”

“hey.”

“guess what?” “what?”

“professor sprout gave me extra credit on my paper! she was very impressed that i knew about the roots of the bone thistle plant because it wasn’t something that we studied.” her eyes are bright with excitement and her hands dance around as she talks. sometimes her ‘r’s come out a bit too soft and sound like ‘w’s. she smiles widely and it shows her lovely crooked teeth. the sheer nail polish she put on last week is chipping and fading at the tips. she’s wearing her favorite lipgloss and shoes. they’re the ones she wears most often. the lipgloss is red and the shoes are platform mary janes. he likes red lips and mary janes. he likes girls that have lisps and imperfectly lovely teeth. he likes girls who fidget and have chipped nail polish. he likes girls who do all those things and are her.

by the time tom tunes back in, the subject has changed.

“you should have tom study with you. he doesn’t understand the arcana.”

she turns to tom. “i’ll be in the library tomorrow evening studying for the quiz on monday. you should definitely join if you need any help. if you do come, you should bring the deck you borrowed from professor trelawney.”

tom hopes she can’t hear his heart beating, and nods. she says something more to pansy. he leaves, theo follows.

“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god, pansy, i hate you.” she giggles.

“all of you slytherins are preying on my downfall.” she glares at pansy, enzo, blaise, and draco.

“we’re trying to help,” blaise snickers.

“by having me make a fool of myself!”

mattheo passes by, and then backtracks. he moves around the sucker in his mouth and chuckles. “this is absolutely rich.” he turns back around, “i’m gonna go talk with my brother.” that didn’t make her feel any better.

...

it’s so romantic to spend valentine’s night hunched over a desk with a tarot deck, pendulum, and a mug of now-mostly-cold tea. of course a notebook is part of the party too. she checks the clock and the surroundings compulsively, worried that tom might not show, but she has no idea what she would do if he did. it got excessive, so she forced herself to stop.

tom finally makes it to the library. he sees her at the table, her supplies sprawled out in front of her. he approaches the table, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. she doesn’t look up, which is fine; tom has plenty of patience. he watches her flip a card and write something into the notebook, and flip another, write something else, periodically sipping from her mug, for five minutes. as she’s about to flip over another card, he uses two fingers to tap the table twice. she yelps, the card leaving her hand and flicking him in the chest. her eyes are wide, and bright, like a bunny.

“hi,” she whispers.

he returns the card. “i’m sorry for being late. a first year needed homework help.” he doesn’t really like lying this time.

“that’s all right! i’m glad you could make it.”

tom nods.

“what kind of things were you hoping to cover?”

“i don’t quite understand why we must take such a useless class. it’s not even magic.”she looks at the table, suddenly interested in her pendulum.

“something wrong?” he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

“i’m, uh, planning on studying divination in university.” oh. “but i know it’s an acquired taste, no biggie.”

“i didn’t mean to offend you. i suppose i should try to understand it. for the class at least.”

“i think i could help with it. who knows, you might like it.”

tom gives a small smile.

“all right, so in a tarot deck there are five arcana.”

“suits.”

“yeah. there’s the four minor arcana: wands, pentacles, swords, cups. the major arcana are the unique cards, like the empress, magician, devil."

he nods.

...

as the two of them are packing up, her bag’s zipper gets stuck. shepulls at it, trying to unstuck it.

“move.” he’s right behind her. she can feel his shirt rub against hers. she slides to the left to give him room. his long fingers manipulate the back of the zipper, quickly freeing the zipper from its thread prison and zipping the bag up the rest of the way.

“pfft, that’s so obvious, why didn’t i think of that? i swear i can be so dumb.” she takes the bag as he offers it back to her.

“you’re not dumb,” he says. “you’re one of the smartest girls in your year.” if she didn’t have such a brain-melting crush on him, she’d laugh. “but you’re definitely the prettiest.”

her cheeks are hot and she doesn’t know what to do. “wow, thanks.” she wants to slap herself.

“there’s a café in hogsmeade that is still open, do you want to go get a drink?”

he just asked me on a date. it is a date, right? “won’t we get in trouble for being out past curfew? pretty much everyone is back already.”

he leans in close to her, fixing a strand of her hair. “relax, you’re with a prefect. nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“let me drop off my bag first?”

...

the two of them talk about everything-- and nothing-- all at once. he pays; she tells him he shouldn’t’ve. he says, “don’t worry, bunny,” which makes her blush once again. once the order is ready, he is the one who goes to pick it up. when he gets back he places a brown pastry bag on the table with her drink. he sees her eyeing the lemon poppyseed scone. she tells him he shouldn’t have, and he says it wasn’t a problem. she insists they share the pastry.

she talks about her family, he tells her about his. the two of them share stories of his brother being a distraction. both of them recommend books to the other. her hands keep brushing against each other as they pick off pieces of the scone. tom orders another. the barista makes a last call for drinks, and he orders her a decaf lavender latte, because he can’t have his girl sleepless, now, can he? she stays until closing, not wanting to leave the bubble she’s created here, with this sweet boy.

before they head out into the frosted air, he zips up her jacket. as they walk back to the castle, he holds her steady. going uphill, the two of them reach a particularly slippery stretch of sidewalk that wasn’t slick on the way over.

“if i fall, you’re buying me dinner as compensation,” she tries to joke. she feels like she’s two seconds from being flat on her face, but tom isn’t wavering at all.

“oh, of course, and i’ll kiss any bruises better as a bonus.” that makes her quiet real quick.

she survives the hill, slightly disappointed that she didn’t slip. once they’re back in the castle, he even walks her to the hufflepuff dorms. “i’ll see you tomorrow, bunny,” he whispers in her ear. he takes note of the smell of the shampoo she uses.

he returns to his dorm, and theo is still awake. he’s at his desk, finishing an assignment. “you studied divination with her,” theo states.

“yes.” tom starts to change into something more comfortable.

“you took her on a date.” “yes.”

“do you think you could love her?” “yes.”

“i knew it.”

“how?”

“you stare at her. not like how you stare at other people. your expression is fairly neutral, to be fair. but you look slightly peaceful.”

tom makes a soft hum. “then why do you hate her so?"

"i don't"

“you don’t?”

“i wanted to get a reaction out of you, you golem of a man.” tom hums again.

“goodnight, nott.”

“goodnight, riddle.”

as tom is about to turn out his lamp, theo speaks once more. “don’t break her heart, tom. she’s a nice girl.”

and while tom doesn’t answer, he thinks about how he’d try his hardest to never make those beautiful eyes shine with tears.

#my writing #tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x fem!reader #tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader #tom riddle x you #wizarding world #tommi my love

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snorky · 7 months

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Ride Into The Sunset, Would I Lie To You? Well I Got Somethin' To Say

Hey y’all! Sorry for not posting a story in a while, I have some works in progress and lots of ideas! I’ve been extra busy in my personal life so I apologize. I thank you all for your patience and support! This story is about cowboyish Arber Xhekaj (I saw a pic of him in a cowboy hat and I couldn’t help myself) and the title is based on “Hang ‘Em High” by My Chemical Romance. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Arber Xhekaj x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Slight angst, Mentions of ex-friends with benefits?, (Let me know if I should add anything)

—

Loud, upbeat country music filled the dark-lit bar, jam-packed to the brim with bodies all pressed up against one another. It was a particularly busy Friday evening, where the entire city seemed to pour into the bar more with every hour after sundown. Voices all talking over one another, the stench of beer and whiskey hanging in the air, and a feeling of trouble lingering.

Montréal wasn’t sketchy by any means, it was loud and lively, just like any other city. But it was the people. Even if it was just one person though, it still seemed like he lived through others. Little fragments of him scattered all around the city.

She wiped down the counter, allowing the next patron to be seated and served. “Next! I’m taking whoever is next!” she shouted.

A man dressed in all black sat down, his cologne so faintly recognizable, and it stung her like a sharp memory. She felt his smirk. She knew every detail of his stupid smirk, even with her back turned to him.

“Hey, angel.” He placed his hands on the countertop. “Didn’t know you were workin’ here tonight,” he sighed. “If I did, I’d dress up a little nicer for you.”

She turned to look at him, setting the rag down on the counter. Looking into his eyes, it didn’t seem like he was going to want to lose tonight. He was here with a plan, an idea that he constructed himself.

“Don’t call me ‘angel’ Arber. You know how it is now between us.” She gave him a stare before turning around, grabbing a glass to serve him a drink. “Now, how may I help you today?”

Arber looked her up and down, the memories of their past flowing back into his mind. All the heated touches, all the longing stares, every single one of their memories. Some were under the scorching summer sun, the ocean crashing against the shore. Some were under the moon-lit night, the city quiet beneath his apartment.

“Just a neat whiskey, darling.” He drew the last part out, looking up at her. Their eyes locked, a fire burning inside of him. “Take your time,”

She took a breath in, her gaze fixated on him. He looked older now. Darker. More handsome, but she didn’t want to admit that. Although they had only grown apart a few months ago, he seemed more tempting now than ever.

“Alright, neat whiskey coming up for the gentleman.”

As much as she wanted to hate him, or even, as much as she did hate him, she needed to earn an extra tip or two that night. A little sugar-coated lie wouldn’t hurt. Because he wasn’t a gentleman, no. The way he played dirty didn’t help. The way he wouldn’t listen to her didn’t help.

Her hands drifted to the glass and a towel to wipe it down, before setting it down on the counter before Arber, his eyes watching her every move like a hawk. She poured some water into the glass, then poured the whiskey into it, the amber liquid swirling with the water.

He motioned for her to come closer to him with his two fingers, and to his surprise, she leaned closer to him. His hands slowly went up to her cowboy hat, and adjusted it on her head ever so gently.

“There you go, lookin’ like a proper cowgirl now, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear.

She felt a chill run down her spine, her face heating up at his words. It was stupid from how easily he could melt her in his hands like this, but he enjoyed every bit of it. He let out a light chuckle as she walked away to serve the next customer, his gaze fixated on her.

Oh how he hated when her attention was on another patron though, her smile more genuine, her eyes more bright, and what he hated the most, was that she talked to him more sweetly, sugar water dripping from her tongue.

He just missed her so much. He longed for her voice, her sweet gestures that she would give him, even though he didn’t ask for it. She was the most caring person in the room no matter what, even if they were just friends.

Taking a long sip of whiskey, he turned around and looked for his friends who came with him. Without a familiar face in sight besides hers, he got up off of the stool, and made his way to the dance floor, his boots stomping on the ground with each step.

The music continued to flow through the air as if the tension in the bar was nonexistent, humming tunes of acoustic guitars, harmonicas, and gravelly voices. He danced smoothly, his steps solid and precise, the heel of his boot tapping against the ground to the beat of the song.

She’d be lying if she said that he wasn't tempting her. The way his large hands grabbed the front of his belt. The way he looked so concentrated with his tongue poking out between his lips. The way his strong arms flexed underneath his shirt when he danced. She kept her gaze on his figure, those slight shadows that seemed to flow through the dark, and she observed his every move.

Arber looked up, his eyes locking with hers from across the bar, seeing her attention focused intently on him. He smirked, that wickedly enchanting smirk, knowing that he had her focus in his grasp, and she was under his spell. His gaze was focused on her reaction, and he loved how she seemed to tense up with each of his movements, each and every step of his.

He shot her a wink that sent butterflies fluttering in her body, her face flushing with warmth against her will. Thank goodness for the dim lighting in the bar. She didn’t want to be seen like this, her strong exterior faltering just because of him.

But she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Arber was just, too tempting. He was like a mirage of cool water on a hot day. A false paradise to a thirsty creature.

She turned her attention back to the patron in front of her, apologizing briefly. “I’m sorry about that ma’am, what can I get for you?”

“No need to apologize.” The woman smiled sweetly. “Just some water is alright for me.”

She nodded her head and turned around, filling the glass with water, and set the drink down in front of the patron.

As the music came to an end, Arber glanced up, hoping to catch her in his sight. To his disappointment, all he saw was an empty bar, filled with patrons, but no sight of her. He sighed, wiping his palms on his jeans and adjusting his hat.

“Looking for someone, sheriff?” a voice spoke behind him. It was a voice he could recognize so easily, a voice his heart knew by memory, no matter how it could’ve ended.

“Didn’t expect you to see you on the dance floor, sugar.” He turned around slowly, his strong figure bold and overwhelming.

The memories came rushing back again, his eyes glimmered with the same sparkle from when they first met at a party. That one late summer party in September in someone’s backyard where there was laughter, banter, and lively music buzzing in the air. That one late summer party in September they met each other.

“You don’t seem to expect much, Arber.” She looked at him, gazing at his facial features.

He looked at her confusedly, wondering what her words meant. “What’da’ya mean, sweetheart? Callin’ me stupid?”

“Didn’t mean that.” She placed her hand gently against his chest. “Meant that you don’t notice the little things that add up, the deep details,”

Arber leaned in towards her touch, his attention fully on her.

“Just meant that,” she paused, “you always never asked for anything.” Looking up at him with warmth, she noticed something in him.

And just like that, they were back at the party when they first met. He remembered her eyes that seemed to sparkle under the fairy lights, her soft and sweet smile that made his lips smile in return, and her contagious laughter that made him blush. He remembered how he walked over to her as she was grabbing a drink from the cooler, her lovely sundress amplifying her beauty, and introduced himself to her with a simple handshake.

It was a fuzzy memory, his words blurred in his mind, not knowing what he said or even talked to her about, but he knew for sure that he almost fell for her right there. Almost.

Arber didn’t want to hurt her. He never did. He wanted to treat her right. She was too precious to him. Although they had never met before this, he knew about her from mutual friends. He heard stories that sounded like fairy tales about her, how she always carried a gentle smile, a kind heart and soul, and warmth wherever she went. He didn’t believe it at first, assuming that his friends just really liked her. But then he understood.

“I never asked for anything because I wanted to treat you right,” he spoke softly, his hand gently cupping her face. “I never wanted to have it end up like this.”

She leaned into his hand, savoring the warmth of it, memories drifting back to her. She missed him and she knew it damn well. She missed how he held her on the stormy, restless nights, how he laughed at her jokes, how he cared for her tenderly when she was sick that one week. “It’s okay, Arber.” She whispered.

“It really isn’t though, I hurt you and it’s so painfully obvious,” he sighed, his voice cracking.

The bar was now emptied out, chairs up on the tables, silence ringing in the air, and the majority of the lights turned off. It was just the both of them there, close to one another, just like that one September evening.

“Listen to me.”

He looked at her, taking off his cowboy hat and holding it to his side.

“It wasn’t your fault, we both got busy and changed a lot. Life happens.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Silence stood between them again, and yet they still stood close to each other, afraid that if they let go, they would be apart forever.

“How about I take you somewhere tomorrow?” he asked. “Somewhere that I could treat you right and we can catch up with your favorite meal?”

“Oh, so you already know me, Arber,” she laughed as they both walked out of the bar, the cool breeze rushing past them.

“Just wanna know you a bit more. And proper this time.” He smiled. She was going to see that smile more often.

#hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #arber xhekaj #arber xhekaj fic #arber xhekaj x reader #arber xhekaj angst #montreal canadiens #arber xhekaj imagine

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lulublack90 · 2 months

Text

Prompt 7 - Phase

@jegulus-microfic March 7 Word count 727

Previous part First part

24 hours earlier -

James was reading up on everything he could find on Basilisk's and other magical serpents. When an owl appeared tapping on his bedroom window, he let it in, instantly recognising the squat little owl as Peter’s. A wave of guilt hit him. He hadn’t seen Peter in weeks. He’d been so wrapped up in taking care of Sirius and worrying about Regulus and Remus he hadn’t spared much thought for his other friend.

He took the note from the owl.

Hey James,

Long time no see. I’ll be at Cups and Saucers Tea Room in Diagon Alley at 4 pm if you’re around and fancy a catch-up.

Send a note back with Jupiter.

Peter

James hated that stuffy little tea room, but it was one of Peter’s favourites, and they didn’t go there often. He quickly scrawled an answer for Jupiter to take back and went back to his reading, looking forward to seeing his friend.

At five to four, he apparated into Diagon Alley and walked the short distance to the tea room. It was a narrow storefront with an absurdly large spinning cup and saucer on the front above the door.

James pushed the door and entered. A delicate bell tinkled as the door knocked against it, and a bored young witch stepped out from behind a curtain and greeted him with a dull monotone.

“Welcome to Cups and Saucers. How many in you’re party?”

“Er—two. I don’t know if my friend is here already.” He tried to peer around the host, but she unhelpfully blocked the entrance into the tea room.

“Right this way, sir,” She droned and turned, leading him to a small two-person table.

“James,” Peter called from the opposite corner.

“Oh, that’s my friend over there.”

“Whatever.” The bored witch had already wandered away back to her curtain. James went to sit at Peter’s table.

“I hope you don’t mind. I just ordered the afternoon tea and thought it would be easier. It has a really nice selection of sandwiches and cakes.” Peter chatted excitedly. James gave him a wide smile.

“Sure, Pete, sounds great.”

They didn’t have to wait long before their order was brought out by the bored witch.

“Here you go, enjoy boys.” She beamed before skipping back into the kitchens.

“Wait, what?” James looked towards the curtain and the kitchen door. Her strange behaviour didn’t seem to phase Peter at all.

“Twins,” Peter said as he helped himself to a cucumber sandwich. “So, how’s things? How’s your mum?”

“Oh, you know as well as we can be with a war on.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Mum’s fine, misses you. You should pop in and see her when you’re free.”

“Yeah, I miss her too. I’ll try and see her soon.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while while they made their way through the food.

They talked about pranks they’d pulled at Hogwarts and memories from when they were even younger before they’d met the others, and it was just James and Peter. Peter seemed to want to talk about those times more and kept steering them back to those memories whenever James brought up Sirius or Remus.

“Remember when we used your mum’s best tea set to collect frog spas from the pond? I thought she was going to disown you.” Peter laughed, spraying crumbs from his lips.

“Yeah, she’s never quite forgiven me for that one. She has to keep it turned the other way in the cupboard so she can’t see the chip in the lid.”

The cheery witch came out with their bill once they’d finished, and James paid for everything, refusing Peter’s pleas to at least let him pay half.

“No, no, my treat.” James insisted. He added a couple of extra Galleons as a tip, hoping to make the hostess smile.

They were just putting their coats and scarves on when Peter casually said.

“How’s Sirius doing? Not checked in with him for a while.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Bit bored, but he’s fine.” It was only after the words left his mouth that James realised what he’d done.

“That’s good. I’ll have to find some time to go see him and Remus as well.” He chuckled. James didn’t think the smile quite reached his eyes but shook off that feeling. It was only Peter, after all.

Next part

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ivestas · 1 year

Note

bro,,,your last ghost one,,,,head full, big thonks

what if hound!reader never went looking for simon because she thought he was dead?? or better yet, she DID look, so vigorously in fact that her superiors at the time maybe misinformed her of his death, even going as far as planting fake evidence??👁👁

also im thinking about old nicknames..,.,hitting him with the "si-guy" or "'mon-mon the man" or smth 💀

can’t say goodbye to yesterday

PART TWO TO ‘HEARTS ALIGNED’

Summary: You were deceived by the same people you fought for. You discuss it with Ghost.

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2022 version), childhood friends, smoking, canon divergence of both the game and the oneshot, barely edited, death, lowkey konig x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: anon, you're genuinely such a GENIUS!!!! those thonks fr are gold bc now my head is full of thonks too hehe---this post will hopefully extend those clever thonks and added more???

You were sitting against the wall while Ghost was laying in his cot. The night had grown old, but you refused to leave him—that won’t happen again, not now, not ever.

You were on your third cigarette, the smoke having long since coated your mouth in a thick layer of cheap tobacco and newspaper. Ghost didn’t seem to mind, laying on his side, watching you with tired eyes—more so watching the cigarette.

Extending it forward, your head tipped to the side. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“No. I should be sleeping.”

“You’re eyeing my cigarette though.”

“Just lost in thought.”

“About smoking a cigarette?”

He huffed. “No. Just...” he sat up now, the cot straining under his movement. “You’ve changed. And you also haven’t—and you haven’t told me why you didn’t search for me.”

You frowned.

“Jus’ tell me that. Tell me why. I don’t give a bloody fuck if you were just too lazy too—”

“Smoke with me and I’ll tell you everything.” Your voice was strained.

Emotions were high, tension was thick, maybe it was foolish to think that would just dissolve by planting yourself in his room. You weren’t kids. This wasn’t just a blow-up about something dumb, and you hated it. Because at least when you were kids, the arguments were insignificant, the worst that could happen is you calling him a ‘booger-brained idiot’.

This was real. This brought true hurt.

You were thankful when Ghost finally nodded, getting up and sitting across you on the floor. Despite sitting criss-crossed, he was huge. He towered over you. König would often shimmy away, giving you a little space—he’d bend his body downward in a vain attempt to dwarf himself.

But Ghost sat tall. He stared right at you and lifted a hand.

You gave him the cigarette.

You watched as he lifted the balaclava a little, setting the end at the bridge of his nose. It was just a small sliver of his face, but fuck did it strike you right at your heart.

His face was all firm lines—carved and rigid, with the lightest scar running along his lips.

Simon—smaller, younger Simon—had a round face. Soft cheeks, a crooked smile, unscarred.

You looked away to the side at the hard concrete wall, back pressed against it.

A waft of smoke hit you, then a finger lightly tapped on your hands.

You turned. Ghost was lifting the cigarette to you.

Taking it, you murmured a quick thanks before taking a puff out of it yourself. Ghost tugged down the balaclava once more.

“Why didn’t you search for me?”

“I did,” you responded simply. “It was when I was younger. Naive. More trusting. You know, I searched for you every moment I got—thought you still went by ‘Simon Riley’. Even went as far as to go to the superiors and ask all nicely—told them, ‘he’s the son of that piece of shit drunkard, the one who you constantly kissed up to.’” You laugh though it’s devoid of any humor.

Ghost only watched, listened, eyes flicking between the cigarette and your straying gaze.

“They—they told me you were dead. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. ‘Simon Riley was killed in action a few years back’ one of them had told me, all sad-like and frowning. ‘He was a good soldier.’” You scoffed. “No fanfare, no tricks, they just—they said you were dead. Showed me a document or two, I hardly fuckin’ remember, I just... I tried to forget. Not to care.”

Your hands were shaking. You didn’t know why. Your heart was silent, so was your mind, but your body—it was moving on its own. As though shedding a deeper feeling your own mind couldn’t process.

“So can you imagine my surprise when, just a few months ago, a man named ‘Ghost’ happens to be registered as ‘Simon Riley’ in their files? I couldn’t believe it, thought there was another Simon Riley whose from the UK, but I was curious. So... yeah. I ended up in KorTac ‘cause I heard rumors 141 was gonna come along and do some mission together.” Again, you laughed. “Then I saw you—and fuck, did I tell you how much you’ve grown? You look so different—actually can I say something weird?”

“Yeah.” His eyes met yours.

An unfamiliar smile formed on your lips. “It... it makes me happy, seeing you with that Scot, all grown, and... it’s hard to put into words, but it makes me feel proud. And it also hurts like a bitch.”

He hummed. “Could say the same.”

“Then say the same. I want to hear it, Simon.”

“It makes me feel proud, and it hurts like a bitch.”

You snorted. “Ass.”

He reached for your cigarette. You handed it to him. “So... does that clear things?”

“Yep,” he tugged his balaclava off this time, pushing the cigarette between his lips. He’s handsome. “Shoulda guessed you’re too much of a gullible dumbass to find me.”

“You piece of—keep talking shit and I’ll kick your ass!” You reached for the cigarette. He moved away from your reach, a shit-eating grin now plastered on his face.

“You kickin’ my ass? I’d like to see you try, pipsqueak.”

“Don’t test me mon-mon.”

He glared. “Mon-mon?”

“Sorry, wait, mon mon the man—my bad, nearly forgot the whole damn title.”

“Keep callin’ me that and I’ll be the one kicking your ass.”

“Not gonna listen to a guy named si-guy.”

“Shut. Up.”

You laughed. It was dumb and childish—not even that funny, frankly—but something about Simon frowning all seriously brought it out of you.

A moment later, the frown disappeared, and Simon handed the cigarette back with a little smile.

Bonus headcanons (post oneshot):

When you two were kids, you often took the role of the mature one to reign in any dumb ideas that Simon schemed, though you’d participate in them moments later.

The roles have reversed now: you are the dumbass and Ghost tries his best to keep it under control.

The moment you’re near Ghost, a little layer of your cold exterior melts a little and you allow yourself to drop your guard a little and be loose-lipped—though, in public or with the guys, you tone it down a little and still address him as Ghost.

In private though? The names are everything except for Ghost.

Si-guy, mon-mon the man, syphilis, Simon says, se-si-so-fum (fe-fi-fo-fum), etc.

Half the time the names just don’t even correlate with his and he quickly just got used to it.

No one really notices the change between the two of you except for Soap, who takes note of the small glances the two of you exchange like it’s a secret language that could only be communicated between you guys.

He even noticed the small brush of your hand against Ghost’s shoulder after a particularly difficult mission and he returned it moments later.

He has no idea if your friends, lovers, or just like?? Related maybe?? even if it would make ZERO sense for that to be the case.

In regards to König, Ghost would be protective.

He wouldn’t be shy to voice his thoughts against the relationship because he’s seen how monstrous König could be on the battlefield and worries that he’s just hiding that ‘true persona’ of his for whatever reason.

Also because he’s possessive; he’s convinced himself he’s just looking after you but he doesn’t like the idea of you straying away again but this time for some other guy.

He also doesn’t know if he likes you romantically or not: he likes you, but he has no idea if the strength comes from a romantic pull or if it’s just platonic. He just wants you close.

Also, both of you know each other’s tells; old habits die hard, and the tells you both had of discomfort from childhood still exist to this day.

Simon would go quiet and have a very specific stare that just kind of... glazes over. It’s dissociative.

You’d gently pry him out of that state with uncharacteristically soft words, making random observations or jokes.

Whenever you're in a similar state, he'd just sit beside you and kind of lean in—he might just straight up grab your hand and squeeze if no one is nearby.

Overall, to any outsider, you guys would just appear to be comrades with the same layers of cold and bile, but in reality, you guys have history.

Despite the time that had passed, you'd still call each other the best of friends.

You're satisfied with that, but Ghost is unsure if he wants something more.

Until then, he'll just shoot König glares until he figures out what he really wants.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#fr thank you anon this is SO GOOD.#i literally put everything down to write this #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader

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sweet-lover-girl · 1 year

Note

i really need abby x short gym rat gf, bc all i see is abby x super fem or defenseless reader and i’m a gym rat tooooo

Ooo okay!

I hope you like it Anon! I wrote this so late at night but when I got your ask I just HAD to try and write something out!

This is short and sweet buuut, I hope you like it never the less! Enjoy!

You were punching the punching bag as hard as you could and as fastly as you could. You were letting out some steam from the long day of patrol without your girlfriend with you, as she was on a different patrol team today and usually she would have changed the teams so you were both on the same patrol team—but with you also being one of Issac top soldiers, he needed you somewhere else today.

And Abby had yet to get back from her patrol when you had gotten back from yours about an hour ago, so you figured you would hit the gym. You loved working out—that’s how you and Abby meet! With you being a new at WLF and had no friends at the time, you always found yourself at the gym for company. Enjoying watching people coming and going, watching them work out and train hard.

Abby knew every face at the gym, she was just observant to her surroundings, and she happen to notice you when you first went to the gym. You were working on you legs at the time, starting off with a warm up set of squats, that got her attention. She hated herself for being so perverted and just staring at your ass—but it looked so good in your black thigh high tight shorts.

You could feel the sweat dripping off you as you felt your wrapped hands throb from even hit you landed on the bag, just really letting out some steam. Huffing and puffing as you acted out dodging a hit and slamming your right fist into the side of the bag—making it swing to your left.

“Well shit, who pissed you off today?”

You heard her smug voice call out as you stood up straight and grabbed the swinging bag.

Panting as you place you hands on your hips, you turn around and see Abby leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a large wolffish grin.

“Hm, well first and foremost, I was forced to work with idiots today without my girlfriends help—which just made me miss my girlfriend even more. Then when I get home she’s not here yet, so I just figured I would let off some steam.”

She let out a chuckle as she stood up uncrossing her arms and walked over to you, watching as the sweat dripped down you chest and abs, some of it soaking into the seam of your sports bra and the rim of your shorts; but what she really noticed was your arms.

“Damn baby girl, your arms are looking so good lately.” She said as she stopped and stared.

You giggle as you lift up you arms and flexing for her, sending a wink her way as she blushed with a goofy smile on her face.

“Thank you, my wonderful lover gave me a few tips to try out and I think their working.” You said as you let your arms fall down.

“Those were some great tips she gave you..” Abby said under her breath as you swore you could see hearts in her eyes—just from starting at your muscles.

She finally looks you know the eyes and walked the rest of the way to you, leaning in to give you a hug, making you hold your hands up to stop her. You just got a rather interesting look from her making you giggle again.

“I’m soaking wet babe, you don’t wanna hug me.” You said as you wipe your forehead with the back of your forearm.

“Oh yeah? You nice and wet for me?” She said with a silly smirk, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you turn away to grab you water bottle.

Abby takes the chance and runs up behind you—hugging your waist and lifting you into the air as she spins you around, making you let out a loud laugh and kick your legs. She finally puts you down and gives you a real hug from behind, burying her face into your neck and placing a gentle kiss there as she slowly rocks you back and forth—swaying the both of you as you lean your head back so she has more room to work with, placing one gentle kiss after another.

You sigh as she does this, time just stopping for you as you two stand in your own little corner of the universe. Just the two of you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson/reader #lovely people #anon ask #wlw #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #lesbians in love #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson/you

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davidfarland · 2 months

Text

David Farland’s Writing Tips:

A Few Words on Career Management

I hate to say this, but even before you begin writing your first book, maybe you should be thinking about career management.

As you begin your writing career, one of the very first questions you need to ask yourself is, “Is there a large enough audience for my first book so that it could help launch a career?” or “Is this really the genre that I want to be writing in for the next twenty years?” or “If I wrote this book, who would be my agent or my publisher?”

You don’t want to get bogged down with such niggling details, yet you can’t totally ignore them, either.

A few years ago, a good friend excitedly told me about a book he had begun. He told me the premise, and I asked him a question: “Do you want to keep writing books after this, or are you willing to let this one book your career?”

You see, the author was intelligent and passionate—a great combination for a writer—but the book he described had no audience. If he wrote it, he would be writing it for personal therapy. I’m all for that—writing something because you feel you have to write it, or because you simply enjoy it—but I think you need to be realistic, too. If you want to make a living from your writing, you have to develop a story that people want to read.

So he wrote the book, and with great delight soon announced that he had found a small publisher. The book came out and got nice reviews. It even was a finalist for a major award.

But two years later he wrote me a note which said, “I should have listened to you. I spent a year writing and promoting that book. I sold exactly 52 copies. Of those copies, 51 were sold to families and friends. The last one, I have no idea who bought it. With such dismal sales, no one is interested in my next book. A publisher suggested that she might buy a novel from me, but only if I wrote it under a pseudonym.”

That’s one danger. You put a lot of work into a project and then discover that you have to start over, using a different name.

Now, that’s not the end of the world. Many successful authors have had to re-brand themselves, recover from a bad start. But think about this: the average writer takes about seven years from the time that they begin writing to the time that they gain enough skill to get published. They typically spend another seven years from the time that they begin publishing to the time that they become successful.

Do you really want to add a few more years to that because you’re making career management missteps? How many times do you think you can screw up before you’re done? Do you want to write a bad novel—or a bad series—and then have to start over again?

You can write a book and sell it, but publishing a “small” book can give you a false sense of victory. Yes, you put everything into writing a book and got it published, but in doing so you won the battle while losing the war.

But there is another problem. One young would-be author once asked, “How do I write the bestselling young adult novel of all time?” I gave her a hard look and wondered, “Do you know what you’re asking? Do you really want to be that famous?”

So we sat down in my office and strategized. I told her how to write for the audience she wanted. We brainstormed the setting, the characters, and premise. We talked about how she would get her agent and her publisher. We strategized when she would put the book out and how she would promote it. She wrote the book and reached her goal.

Then came the put-downs from jealous authors. (Guess what, if you get a lot of success, you’ll also get a lot of abuse from other authors.). She got put-downs from irate parents who seemed to purposely misread the books. I heard stories of how fans swarmed her hotels on tours, and ruined a limo she’d rented. One cab driver told me that the author had crying jags while he taxied her to the airport.

Is that the career you want?

Personally, when I started in this business, I realized that I didn’t want to be rich and famous--just rich. I’d like the money, but I don’t want the notoriety.

Unfortunately, the fame may be tied to the job. I keep trying to figure out how to disentangle the two. So far, I’ve done an excellent job of avoiding both too much wealth and fame.

So, what are effective long-term strategies?

You need to decide who you are as a writer, first. What kinds of books do you want to write? How are they similar enough to others so that you know you have an audience? How are they different enough from other writers’ work so that you can build a reputation and a following?

Then you have to consider how you’re going to publish them? Will they be self-published or traditionally published? Why?

Once you ask that second question, you may find yourself tumbling down a rabbit hole. If I am going to self-publish, how will I promote my works? If I am going to publish traditionally, who is the best publisher for me and how do I get them?

You can worry far too much about things that you may never have much control over.

I think you see that worrying too much about such things could impede your work. You do need to consider career management, but can’t let the details run you ragged.

I used to have a schedule for brainstorming career moves. On Monday through Saturday I wrote. On Sunday evenings, I would consider my career objectives and meditate upon how to meet them—but first thing on Monday morning, I’d set my concerns aside and get back to work.

And now, back to writing!

For more on David Farland's Writing tips, visit https://mystorydoctor.com/writing-blog/

And you can also click here to get your David Farland Daily Meditations.

#writing help #writing advice #writing tips and tricks #writing tips #author

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silens-oro · 2 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x f!Reader

AN: Here is an excerpt from the first part of my Hangman series titled Vertigo that I will be posting relatively soon 😌

Content Warning: Mentions of sex, nothing graphic.

•

“Can I get four Buds, sweetheart?” Hangman flashed you his signature dazzling smile with the request. You had to hand it to yourself; the amount of self restraint you were displaying by not immediately launching yourself over the bar and strangling the bastard at just the mere sight of Jake’s stupid, stupid face was something you didn’t even know you possessed. The fact that he felt like he could just waltz back into The Hard Deck like he didn’t play the long con to inevitably hump and dump you before disappearing for six months without a courtesy “have a nice life” nearly set you over the edge.

To anyone else in the bar, Hangman’s team excluded after witnessing it with their own eyes, they wouldn’t have thought either of you were interested in one another. Of course there was the usual flirting found in this type of establishment; you flirted for better tips and Jake flirted with anything that had tits and walked on two legs.

You -not once in your entire adult life- had ever given guys like Jake Seresin the time of day -and for good reason. What changed for you to go back on your own ground rules? I’m sure you could take a wild guess.

The phrase ‘opposites attract’ was so clichéd, and you hated to think on it a second longer than you needed to, but that’s exactly what your “relationship”with Jake was. It started out with friendly teasing while he spent his free time in the bar, and that slipped into more intimate banter, which then moved on to Jake slipping into you…

It was a slippery slope.

“What can I get you?” You asked the patron to the right of Hangman, completely ignoring the pilot. The customer shifted his eyes between the two of you, clearly feeling the growing tension, and cleared his throat before ordering a couple of drafts.

“$12 even,” Setting the glasses on the bar top with a smile, you offered to start a tab for him. The man nodded and handed his card over before scurrying off to his friends to avoid whatever was happening between the both of you.

“Come on, babe,” Hangman brought a hand up to his heart and gave her a pained look. “You wound me.”

“Not enough to keep you out of here, apparently,” The glare on your face was enough to make Jake’s cocky grin slip just the tiniest bit as you stuffed the credit card in the bar’s rolodex with a little more force than necessary. You leaned yourself on the bar in your elbows and pointed your trusty bar key threateningly at the pilot. “You want a drink? Get it from Jimmy,” You tilted your head to the 76 year old barkeep who was puttering around at the other end of the bar pushing a yellow mop bucket around and definitely not making drinks. “Or Penny, if you can find her.” Penny actually had the night off, but you weren’t going to let Jake know that.

Moving on to take the order of the sailor to the left of Hangman, you didn’t wait for him to respond. Hangman groaned and fixed you with a look.

“Don’t be like that! We had fun!” You placed the pint of beer on the bar and the man handed over a ten with a wink. “You know how it is,” Jake said with an innocent shrug.

“All set, sweetheart,” The man said with a charming smile. “Give me a holler if you need me to take care of this for you, ma’am,” His eyes shifted to Jake assertively, then back to you.

“Thank you,” You replied sweetly to the man and returned his smile with a dazzling grin of your own just to irritate the pilot in front of you. The stranger swept his eyes over Hangman once more to size him up before shaking his head and scoffing lightly before taking his drink back to his buddies.

“What the hell was that?” Hangman asked, absolutely beside himself. “You know that guy?” He gestured his thumb over his shoulder.

“Do I know who?” You replied dumbly, getting an absolute thrill out of this. Hangman’s jaw dropped ever so slightly.

“Really?” He had the balls to look mildly irritated with the bartender. “What the hell did he think he was going to do?” You grabbed the empty glasses a few spots down from Hangman that had recently been vacated by a group of girls, but stopped in front of him on your way over to the sink.

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” You asked with your best customer service voice and smile before setting the drinkware in the sink.

“He was flirting with you,” Jake stated, but it sounded like more of a question than anything else. You groaned and turned around to face Hangman with a very dramatic roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, that’s how it goes here. You think you’re the first person in the Navy to bat their pretty eyes at me? Flash their pearly whites? Ha!” You took a checkbook from a freshly vacated area on the bar and placed the cash left in the black book into your tip jar next to the register before continuing to serve the other customers. You made one more stop in front of Jake, your eyes cutting straight through him. “You’ve never been my only option here, nor my best one, Bagboy.” Your tone was like ice, sending a chill down Jake’s spine. Then it’s of it was making him second guess coming up here to bother you. “Remember that.”

#jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin imagine #top gun imagine #top gun one shot #top gun: maverick #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #wip wednesday

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the1975attheirverybest · 1 year

Note

blurb request hehe matty helps george dye his hair because charli usually does it but they are on tour so she can’t do it, maybe buzz it as well idk you do youu !

Awwwww this is so fuckin cute I have to at least attempt it. Idk if it’s shit or not but here it goes.

—

Matty stood over the the sink brushing his teeth and going over the changed set list in his head. He bent down to spit and turned the faucet on.

“‘Scuse me,” George absent-mindedly squeezed in next to him, bumping his hip into Matty’s as he got closer to the mirror.

Matty frowned, looking up at his friend with a mouth full of toothpaste foam and giving him a vaguely passive-aversive, ‘I’m literally standing right here’ shrug. “Oi! The dressing room has literally five other mirrors you can use.” Matty spoke once he’d rinsed out his mouth.

George rolled his eyes. “Then you go use another one.”

Matty’s lips parted. He was getting ready to explain to his friend that this one was obviously the only mirror that happens to be attached to a sink, and thus the only correct choice for a person who’s brushing their teeth, but it was just too exhausting a debate, plus, he could tell that George is too distracted to be listening, anyway. “What’s the matter, then?” He found a towel to wipe his hand on.

“What?” George attempted to keep listening to Matty’s voice in the background as he ran his hands through his air with a frown on his face.

“Why have you got that look on your face?”

“It’s this fuckin hair.”

Matty stood up on the tips of his toes, hovering over George’s shoulder to take a look at what seemed to be occupying his attention. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s not the right shade anymore. And it’s growing.” George directed his response at Matty’s reflection in the mirror.

“Generally what hair tends to do.”

“Well, I hate it when that happens.”

“So, get it done then. I don’t understand the issue.”

“The issue is,” George sprinted over to his bag, pulling out a box of hair dye. “I’ve got this. But I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Why not?!” Matty took the box from him, checking out the instructions.

“Well…umm, Charli usually helps me get all the right spots that I always miss, and….do you see Charli anywhere?”

Matty burst into laughter. “THAT’S your issue?”

“Oh, fuck off! Should’ve have told you. Whatever. Just- just give me the dye thing and I’ll sort it out.”

Stifling his giggles, Matty tore the box open. “Alright, fine, I’ll do it”

“What?! No! What makes you think I’d let you-“

“Mate, it’s just box dye. Relax. I’ve done it before.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have. Do you remember the pink hair? And the blue? And the green? And the blond? Pretty sure there as purple in there somewhere. Or maybe that was just a faded color…”

“Gabby did that.” George reminded him.

“Only the first couple of times! I did the rest. And your hair’s shorter than mine anyway. Makes it easier.”

Matty looked around for items he could use. “Hold on. I’ve got clippers somewhere. Let’s ummm…get rid of the extra inches.”

“They’re Ross’s.”

“Nope. Mine. You think Mr. Supernaturally perfect hair would use something that makes a whirring sound on that beautiful head of his?”

George considered his options for a moment. It was either let Matty run wild, or find a professional in the two hour free period in their pre-show schedule. So, he gave in. “Fine. Alright. But if you fuck this up”

“Then we’ll just make you completely bald” Matty laughed as he imagined it.

“Matty!”

“Im kidding! Jesus. Relax. I know what im doing.”

“I certainly hope you do.”

***

“Alright! What do we think? You’re looking fresh if I may say so myself.” Matty stepped back admiring his hand work.

George squinted into the mirror checking himself out form different angles to make sure that Matty hadn’t missed anything. “Yeah. Yeah. Looks fine. Thanks.”

“We’re not done yet. I’m going to need you to sit down for this next bit.”

George finally cracked a smile. “Alright, hobbit. Let me get a chair.”

“For the LAST fuckin time. My height?! Normal. You??? A GIANT!”

“Whatever makes you feel better Smurf.”

“Okay, fuck you. Just for that, I’m coloring your hair blue.”

“You can dye my hair the wrong color. I’d still be taller than you.” George chuckled.

“Sit in that chair and shut the fuck up so I can get working on my masterpiece. You bully Charli like that when she does your hair for you?”

“No, cuz she’s perfect.” George mumbled, a tint of sadness in his voice.

“Awe. That’s weirdly sweet.”

***

“Do I- wanna know?” Ross asked as he walked through the door.

“Oh, nothing nefarious. Just dyeing George’s hair.”

Ross rushed over to them, gasping and covering his mouth with his hand as he looked down at George’s head.

“What? Fuckin hell, Matty! What? What’s he done to my head?” George whipped his head to the side to look at Ross’s stunned face. Cause Matty to grumpily mumble something about art or accuracy or something.

Ross stepped back laughing and tilting his head back. “Nothing, I’m just fuckin with you.”

Ross stepped up close again, watching Matty’s work with an intense, focused gaze. “It’s kind of nice actually. He’s really into it. It’s like he’s coloring one hair at a time.”

Moments later, the dressing room door opened again and Adam walked in. “Jesus Christ. What’re you up to?”

Ross turned around briefly. “Come have a look. Matty’s doing George’s hair.”

***

“Right, then.” Matty mumbled to himself. Setting down the remaining dye and taking a deep breath. “And then, Matty looked at his creation and saw that it was good!” He yelled out, making his friends giggle. “So? Thoughts? Perfect, yeah?” He grinned widely. “Smells too strong.” George grumbled. “Well…I can’t do anything about THAT. That came from the manufacturer.”

“Did you get the spot behind the ear?” George turned to the side to see his own profile in the mirror.

“Yes, George.” Matty rolled his eyes.

“And the sides?”

“Wait, you wanted the sides done, too? Bro, you should’ve said something!”

“What do you mean I should’ve said something, it’s implied in the- you’re just messin’ aren’t you?”

Matty giggled. “Course I am! Why would I leave anything out? Stop second guessing my work. It’s all good. I promise!”

***

“Alright!” Matty yelled out when he heard George hop out of the shower. “Moment of truth. Drumroll for the drummer please!”

Adam and Ross banged on the coffee table dramatically. As Matty counted down.

“3…2….1… TA- DA!”

George jumped out in his underwear revealing his perfectly dyed her.

Ross clapped, obscuring Adam’s sweet compliments and Matty whistled loudly.

“George. Sexy. Beautiful. Stunning. Who’s your hair artist?” Matty laughed. “You simply MUST give us his contact info.”

“Piss off…”

#matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald

47 notes · View notes

dejwrites · 2 years

Text

DEBT, CHAPTER SEVEN

➣ warnings: yakuza boss!toji fushiguro x black coded reader, mentions of sex, mentions of sex work, profanity, gang violence, yakuza au, baby!megumi, drug mentioned, alcohol usage, drug usage, stripping, naoya being naoya, ➣ chapter summary: y/n's meeting at work leads to an afternoon with her favorite boys.

➣ tags: @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @thicksimpx @ihateliyah @galaxness @ceeriusly-dumb @stephanythedramaqueen @littlemochi @babe-im-bi @todo7roki @whatdidhesayyyy @hellavile @imperatorkhaleesi @caribbeanwifey19 @etaerealboy

[ masterlist + previous ]

YOU HATED MEETINGS AT WORK. It was always the same rules being talked about. Don’t steal other dancers' favorite clients. Make sure you stay hydrated and eat. The same rules could have been sent in the mass group chat full of all the strippers. However, you and your co-workers did get paid when you had meetings like this. The majority of the things your manager was saying were going into one ear and left out of the other. You were texting Toji, who was going on and on about how he thought it was important for you to know hand-to-hand combat to be able to protect yourself, now that you officially knew who Naoya was. Even though you've had to backhand slap a coworker or two for trying to steal your tips, you weren't exactly an expert in hand-to-hand combat. You knew that there would be a time when Toji or the others wouldn’t even be in the same room as you, and you should know how to defend yourself.

So, here Toji was setting up some training with Nanami tomorrow morning. You hated to admit that when you first saw Nanami, he was extremely intimidating. He has the ability to make you squirm in your seat with one look. The way he articulated his words could have had you thinking that he was a figure in the political industry, but he was actually a member of a yakuza gang. The way he carried himself was even better. You were extremely curious. What else is there to know about Nanami Kento?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice that you haven’t heard in three days. When your head shot up, your breath hitched in your throat and your heartbeat quickened. There Naoya stood talking to your manager as if he was your boss's closest friend. boss. With quickness, you're texting Toji.

“Your cousin is at my job”, the text message said. “What should I do?” You quickly added.

You watched as the text bubbles appeared on your phone. You could feel everyone staring at you as you were about to send Toji another text. It felt like your heart was bouncing around in your chest and watching the text bubbles disappear and soon seeing that Toji had just read your message caused your heart to drop in your stomach. When you locked your phone and looked up, Naoya was giving you a grin. “It’s nice to see you again, beautiful.” He would say. “I told you that I enjoy playing games, so if spending three days trying to find you helps make this game fun, then so be it.”

You forced a smile on your face as you went up to touch your neck. A move you found yourself doing a lot lately considering that you had to explain to Toji that Naoya had your necklace. “Looking for this.” He held up the diamond necklace and you instantly stood up to grab it but he inched it out of your reach.

“Not so fast!” He said. “Let me take you out shopping.”

Your eyebrows raised at his comment. All eyes that were in the strip club were on you two. “Shopping?” You questioned, head tilting slightly.

“Mhmm, you did say you wanted the best gown. I know a boutique that can give you that.” Naoya explained.

Shit, the charity ball. You were so worked up over your necklace being gone that you realize that you forgot all about the charity ball. You didn’t even mention it to Toji. “And I want the finest jewelry and shoes also.” You added with a smile.

Your task to seduce Naoya was going to be longer than you expected. Naoya would smile at you before he’s holding up the necklace. “Whoever gave you this could have done better.” He bluntly admitted while he helped you put the necklace back on.

You bit your tongue holding back the remark to defend Toji’s honor. You adored the necklace. It was a genuine gift from the guy you were growing to care about. Naoya insulting it felt like he was also insulting you. You watched as Naoya extended his arm for you to grab, which you were quick to latch on like a pretty sugar baby getting flaunted around.

“Y/N’s done for the day, be sure to pay her for all of the time you wasted of hers,” Naoya told your boss who would only nod in fear as they watched Naoya guide you out of the club.

Expecting to see a personal driver waiting outside, you were met with Naoya’s jet-black Maserati car. The windows were tinted so darkly that you couldn’t even see the inside. When you got into his car, Naoya closed the door behind you like a gentleman. The once expensive scent you smelled when you were near him during the pool party once again trapped you. You had to get used to his scent, especially when it was much different than Toji’s. Both men had the scent of money—as if they spent hours counting yen bills as a thing on their to-do lists. However, Naoya had a more sultry scent. Making it obvious that a woman was once latched onto his arm while he sipped the most expensive bottle of wine.

You didn’t have much to say to him, but he was destined to break the silence beyond the JHipHop song that hummed out the speaker.

“I know the owner of this boutique, she has styled me before countless times,” Naoya says as he was driving.

Now, you were taking in how he drove. One hand on the steering wheel, his seat not that far from the steering wheel, but just enough space for him to be comfortable. For him to receive a lewd blow job from whatever pretty girl that was in his car. “Is she styling you for the ball? You want us to color coordinate?” You questioned.

“Yes, she is. I do want us to color coordinate.” Naoya says, “But whatever color you want to wear, I look good in any color.” He makes a sharp turn into one street that was filled with luxury stores and boutiques.

“Mhm, we’ll see about that.” You bluntly say.

WHEN YOU AND NAOYA ARRIVED AT THE BOUTIQUE HE KNEW THE OWNER OF, it was the same boutique that Toji brought you to. You just knew that the workers would be oddly confused, and you hoped neither of them would bring up your association with Toji. Considering how high-class the store was, you were hoping that they had seen many faces come and go and that they would forget you. But with each step around the boutique, pretending like it was your first time seeing each item, the one cashier Emiko that helped you last time noticed who you were. You made complete eye contact with her before she averted her eyes back to neatly put the diamond bracelets in the case.

“Mr.Zenin, it’s so nice to see you!” A voice boomed as they exited out the back of the store. Their expensive red bottoms clicked against the shiny floor with each step they took and there a woman with brunette-colored hair stood greeting Naoya. She greeted him with a kiss on each cheek and a smile.

They didn’t greet Toji like this, you thought to yourself.

“What can I help you with today? You always bring such stunning women in here every time,” The woman gloated as her eyes then landed on you completely speechless. “Oh my! Oh my! What’s the occasion, Mr. Zenin? Please tell me.” The woman begged with such an excited tone.

“It’s a charity ball, this lovely lady said she wanted the best. So I came to the best AKA you, Emi.” He gave the woman a charming grin before he let his body fall on the plush seats that Toji once was sitting at when he took you shopping.

Emi would click her tongue as she waltzed over to you. Her eyes scan your body as if she was some doctor. She circled you letting out a low hum before her lips parted to speak, “I’ll be right back. Girl! Please go get them some champagne for our guests.”

“Her name is Emiko.” You spoke out and Emi just shrugged without care before disappearing in the back.

You watched as Emiko scurry to the back also to fetch some champagne as Emi told her to do. Naoya’s eyes looked at you as his eyebrows raised at you, “You’ve been here before?” He asked.

“Yes, I have a couple of things from here.” You admitted as you took a seat next to him. “Seems like you bring a lot of women here to be a man of standards.” You did air quotes on the standards part.

“If I’m going to have a woman on my arm, I’m expecting for her to not look like a constipated nun.” Naoya sighed as he grabbed the glass of champagne that Emiko poured for the two of you.

You watched as Emiko bowed, “Please let me know if you two need anything else.” She says before walking away.

“And you said you wanted the best of the best, this lady designed a dress for the prime minister’s fuckin’ wife. She is the best.” Naoya gives you a grin. “I need every man in the room seething with jealousy when I walk in.”

“But why me though?” You scooted a little closer to Naoya. The two of you now sitting close enough for your thighs to be touching his that was spread apart like he was the king of the world.

“Why not you?” Naoya countered. “You’re gorgeous and seem like you know more than you’re letting me know.” His eyes looked down at the necklace and then at your face.

“Emiko, please change our sign to close and ensure no one comes in,” Emi demanded as she was tugging a rack of dresses out.

Your lips parted to argue against Naoya’s words, but Emi cut you off. “At first, I was going to design a new dress because I have this beautiful yellow fabric that I believe will contrast your skin complexion very well…Miss…” her voice trails off searching for your name.

“Y/N.” You said out loud.

“Miss Y/N, yes! However, I remember this one dress that looks like you can fit it. It’s delicate, soft, white..” She went rambling on about her creation. “It reminds me of an angel, a beautiful angel. A Zenin angel.” She says out loud as she unzips the cover-up the dress was in and she took it out.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head seeing how beautiful it was. The words Emi used to describe it were as true as ever. It was completely breathtaking, from the white silk fabric that covered up the lower half of a person’s body to the top part that was dazzled in shiny white pearls. Emi clapped her hands to get you out of the fashion daze you were on. “Now please darling, let’s go try this on. I’m sure Mr. Zenin can’t wait to see you in it.”

“I know she’s going to be beautiful as ever,” He pointed out as he sipped at his drink.

You gave him a sly smile before standing up and letting Emi drag you into the changing room. The same particular one you were changing in when Toji took you shopping. You stripped out of your clothes before carefully putting on the dress with the help of Emi. You could hear her impressed hums and low squeals of excitement with each movement you made in the dress. As you admire your beautiful frame, you couldn’t help but smirk at yourself. You were beautiful from head to toe. Your boobs fit perfectly in the top portion of the dress as if it were tailor-made just for you. The silk lower half of the dress hugged every curve perfectly.

“I don’t even think I need to do much tailoring,” Emi said as she was walking around you similar to what she did earlier. “It’s perfect for you, love.” She says. “Hmm, it’s just missing a little something.” Her finger tapped at her chin in a thinking stance.

You opened your mouth to ask for the price of it, but Emiko came rushing in. “Miss Emi, I tried to stop this guy from coming into the store but he just charged in. I uh—I’m sorry.” Emiko ranted.

Emi rolls her eyes before she’s leaving you alone to admire your beauty once again. You were going to take a couple of men's breath away with this dress. You let your hand glide down your body before eventually hearing the loud commotion outside the dressing room. You didn’t want to remove the dress without the help of Emi, so you lifted the end of the dress before following the sound. When you exit the dressing room area, there you see Toji clutching Naoya's expensive button-down shirt by the collar. His eyes glared at Naoya as if he wanted to shake him like a rag doll.

“Do it Toji! Hit me! You always were the one with the temper when somebody outsmarted you. I was right all along, I knew she was friends with you. What type of nonsense are you fuckin’ on?” Naoya spat rudely as he shoved his older cousin back.

“I should break your jaw right now. How about that?” Toji asked as he took steps forward.

Emi and Emiko were trying to defuse the situation, but that was no help at all. You took a couple of steps forward clearing your throat as loud as possible to gain their attention. “How’d I look?” You gave a lil slow twirl before flashing both Naoya and Toji a smile.

It was as if your presence calmed both of them down. You would take a couple of steps forward, “Toji, I’m pretty sure he knew once he kept my necklace. I think it’s time we all just sit down and talk.” You explained.

“I don’t want to talk to this fuck face.” Naoya and Toji said at the same time.

You rubbed at your temple letting out a sigh. “Emi, we’ll take the dress. Mr. Zenin will be paying for it. I’ll come back another day if you want to make any adjustments to your liking.”

Emi would only nod before smiling, “Please Emiko go help Y/N take off the dress. While Mr. Zenin and I handle the transaction.”

When you removed the dress, Emiko was sure to place it neatly back on its hanger and in the cover-up bag it was in. She placed it on the rack after labeling the tag to confirm that the dress was bought by someone. When you exit the dressing room, Toji and Naoya are still bickering, even after Naoya has paid for the dress. When you approached them, you would clutch your purse before speaking, “It’s a cafe down the street because we need to talk some things over, set some boundaries. Let’s go, my boys. But first, apologize to Emi and Emiko because of your behavior.”

Naoya and Toji gave you a look while you crossed your arms over your chest waiting. They muttered their apologies claiming that they both will be sure to send donation money for their inconvenience today. You left the boutique with each man by your side. Bystanders would assume that the two men next to you were like your bodyguards just waiting to snap at anyone. When you stopped at the cafe, you would stop at this table outside that was sitting right near this beautifully grown cherry blossom tree. You would motion for Toji and Naoya to sit before standing up again, “I’m going to go get us some drinks. Any specific things.”

“Just coffee.” Toji said as he slumped in his seat.

“Same thing as you,” Naoya said as he gave you a charming grin.

“Of course, you’re such an ass kisser,” Toji uttered as you were walking inside the cafe.

You would order the drinks and yourself a pastry and also tell the worker where you’ll be seated. When you returned outside, Naoya and Toji sat at the table, quiet as ever. You could hear the birds chirping happily as they were flying around. You let out a sigh as you sat down, “So, I don’t think both of you should be so hostile towards each other. Especially over me, it’s not worth it.”

“This goes beyond you.” Toji firmly stated. “Just Naoya being Naoya. Not being able to keep his hands in his own jar.”

“It’s obviously about Y/N.” Naoya rolls his eyes. “She doesn’t belong to you, Toji.”

“Well, she doesn’t belong to you either, Naoya,” Toji responded.

“Not yet.” Naoya's lips curve into a smirk and you could see the corner of Toji’s lip twitch in annoyance.

“Fellas! Please stop, let’s get down to the business. Naoya, do you know this man?” You slid your phone across the table showing a picture of your father. It was one of the most recent photos you have of him.

“Of course, he paid off his debt in full and—“

“Using my fuckin’ money,” Toji uttered under his breath.

Naoya rolls his eyes at his cousin before speaking, “And I think this guy I know has him. He had paid a little more than he owed and I wanted to return it to him.”

“Return it? You not keeping it is very off-brand for you,” Toji said.

“Oh come on Toji, I have a little heart somewhere in here,” Naoya rubbed at his chest before snickering. “I think he owes this man I’m tracking money though. Sorry to tell you this my beautiful Y/N, but your father is most likely dead.”

You sighed at his words before you watched a worker place the order you made on the table. “I figured. He was always borrowing money somewhere, I just don’t know what he would need all this money for,” You uttered. “Who's this man?”

“I’m suspecting he’s the head of the Endo yakuza gang,” Naoya said as he sipped his frozen frappuccino drink. “I've been trying to figure out who's the head of that gang for months now.”

“It’s always been rumored that Endo yakuza have always been headless, for years though. Why start having a head now?” Toji asked as he leaned forward, getting comfortable.

“That’s the same question I was asking myself. I just want to find out who because they have their lousy prostitution ring in my district. I feel like he’s doing it on purpose to attempt to get me in trouble with the cops. I may not be the biggest feminist, but I would never stoop low to making women sell themselves to put extra money in my pockets.” Naoya said.

“He could always see if you’ll say anything. If there’s no head, there has to be a representative that shows up at the meetings we have. It’s a known rule to not do business in people districts without their permission, we drill that in each other’s heads every meeting.” Toji explained.

“Thank you! This leads me to my next theory of using this beautiful woman as my eye candy for this charity ball the possible head of the Endo yakuza will be at.” Naoya perked up in excitement.

“No.” Toji firmly said.

“No?” Both you and Naoya questioned.

“It’s too risky, I can’t have her getting hurt. If she gets hurt, I’m going to hurt you.” Toji bluntly admitted.

“I’m not going to let her get hurt. Plus, I think it’s fair game if this move could help us find her father. This guy could have her father, dead or alive. I have photos of the two together.” Naoya explained. “Plus, she already agreed to the favor.”

Toji looked at you, he didn’t know you already agreed on it. He realized that the dress you had on in the shop was the dress you were wearing to the ball. He let out a sigh, “Okay, but you can’t let her out of your fuckin’ sight.”

“Of course, I’ll just handcuff her to me.” Naoya sighed in annoyance. “We’re going to steal the show Y/N. The most beautiful woman in Japan and the most beautiful man in the Zenin family lineage.”

“You guys seem to not question the fact that this man could be running a prostitution ring if he is confirmed to be the head of this gang and he’s able to attend balls with freakin’ politicians.” You finally said.

Toji and Naoya grew quiet as they waited for you to continue.

“I don’t know, maybe I’m overthinking this but I just find it weird. It just makes you wonder how many politicians could know who he actually could be,” You sighed before sipping at your frappuccino.

You would glance around your surroundings and just as you glanced up, you saw this man on a cellphone sitting in the back of a Benz truck in front of the cafe. The windows were rolled down considering how nice it was out. You weren’t wearing that many layers and some skin was showing today, but the eye contact you made with this stranger as he was on the phone showed that even with your last minute put together of an outfit—you had his attention. From his hazel-colored eyes to his nicely shaved smooth face. His sandy brown hair fell perfectly without him even trying. The most noticeable feature was the scar that lined upon his neck as if someone tried to snatch his life away but didn't cut deep enough. He wanted you to have his attention. He flashes you a grin before rolling the windows up after someone left the cafe to hand him a coffee. Then the car disappeared down the street as it drove as quickly as possible.

Why did that man look so familiar?

“Do you have a picture of the guy?” You asked. “The one you suspect of being the head of this gang?“

Naoya would pull out his phone and go into his photos app. He slides the phone to you, “The one in the middle.”

Your eyes looked down and you attempted to mask your emotions. That was the same guy you just saw parked in front of the cafe.

But he also was once a very loyal customer to you at the strip club when you first started.

#toji fushiguro x black reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk au #toji x reader #black reader #x black reader #anime x black reader #꒰ ა ♡ ໒ ꒱ — scheduled post.

265 notes · View notes

minervadashwood · 2 years

Text

Scars and Stitches, Chapter 25: Still Up the Night Daryl X PlusSize!Reader (she/her)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Series Masterlist | Daryl x Reader Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter Summary: You spend some much-needed time alone with Daryl. Word Count: 2,200 Chapter Warnings: Jealousy. Make up sex?

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Still Up the Night

You found Daryl by the firepit of your small camp. He was hard at work, sharpening the tips of crossbow bolts on his whetstone. As you approached, you saw his shoulders tense. So, you gently put your hand on his upper back.

“Just me,” you said.

Daryl grunted.

You began massaging his shoulders, but he only seemed to grow more tense.

Abruptly he said, “What’d Rick want with ya?”

Daryl had noticed you with Rick: holding on to his arm, letting him touch your shoulder, you crying as Rick held you close. When just a few hours ago, you’d told Daryl you were fine, that you didn’t need him fussing over you.

Maybe he wasn’t good enough to take care of you any more, maybe you’d realized Daryl failed to keep you safe, failed to protect you.

Jealousy gripped him then as it did now. Maybe after everything, you and Rick were more than friends. Maybe things between Rick and Lori were over, and things between you and Rick were just getting started.

You said, “He was upset about Lori and the baby.”

Your touch on him—at first soothing and comforting—now felt like a cage, like a lie. He shrugged and pulled away from you then sat motionless in the camping chair as you took a seat on the ground beside him.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you said. “I got stuck in my own head.”

Daryl resumed working silently, hoping you’d tell him why you had been crying, hoping you weren’t keeping secrets from him.

“Rick helped me sort some of it out.”

Daryl glanced at you through tendrils of his hair before quickly looking away.

“It’s just,” you gestured vaguely with your hands, “I don’t know. I feel like all I do is make you worry.”

How was he fucking this shit up already? Was it wrong to worry about you? Was it wrong to take care of you?

You touched his knee, but he couldn’t look at you. He just stared at your hand while you spoke. “Sometimes I’m not going to be okay. And you can’t fix it.”

“But Rick can?” he blurted, clutching both his whetstone and bolt to keep himself under control.

You flinched away from him, making yourself small. “Is it wrong that I just needed a friend? Every time I told you what I was going through, you blamed yourself. And then I ended up just feeling worse, because I was bringing you down with me.”

Daryl threw his implements to the ground. “So, it’s my fault you wanna be with Rick now?”

You jerked your head to glare at him. “You think I want to be with Rick? What the hell, Daryl?”

Daryl scoffed and stared in the distance.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

He clenched is jaw, his face hot with envy and rage. He turned his gaze away, staring in the opposite direction of where you sat.

He felt your hand slide around his leg and grip his calf. “Daryl, we just hugged, that’s all. I’m still yours.”

Daryl sniffed, glancing at you then away again.

He listened as you picked up his tools and set them aside. Then you kneeled between his legs, placing your hands on his knees. “He gave me some advice about what happened out there. That’s all.”

You inched forward, and now he felt your hands on his thighs as you raised up and put your weight on your hands, getting even closer to him.

Your growing proximity (his need to also feel connected to you) forced him to finally meet your gaze.

“I’d never let Rick kiss me. Never let him hold me as I fall asleep. Never let him touch me the way I let you.”

Daryl gazed at you, fixated on your eyes and mouth, wanting to trust you, but at the same time hating himself, telling himself you deserved better than him.

Your face drew closer, so all he would have to do was grab you to kiss you, to claim you as his and his alone.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you stared at his chest. “I love—I love…the way you take care of me. Even if I’m stubborn about it.”

“I love takin’ care of ya,” Daryl found himself saying, the words tumbling out without his approval. Then he ignored entirely the hateful voice in his hand as he put his hands over yours. “I like that you’re stubborn.”

Your eyes softened as you smiled at him in relief. “You know I only want you, right? There’s no one else I want more than you, Daryl Dixon. You’re the only one for me.”

His heart hammered away. He gripped your upper arms, pulling you up, closer to him, to his mouth.

You kept talking. “I don’t ever want to give you more to worry about than you already do. I know it’s a pain looking after me.”

Daryl breathed heavily. “Ain’t a pain.” His eyes flickered to your lips and back. In a rough voice, he said, “I’m gonna take care of ya like I promised. And yer gonna let me.”

It was not a question so much as something he needed to do.

You tuned doe-eyed and innocent. You bit into you bottom lip and nodded.

He forded the small distance between you, slamming his mouth on yours, then pulled you up and onto his lap. He grabbed at your neck and hair, determined to lay claim to you.

In between kisses, he told you, “You are mine.”

“Yes,” you breathed against his mouth. “Yours.”

He paused kissing you entirely and grunted. “Look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

“No more goin’ out like that. Walkers is fine, never against people. That happens again and you stay where I tell ya.”

He felt you tense. “But—”

“You can still protect the group. But that shit that happened today? It ain’t for you.”

He smoothed a hand along your face, remembering how shaken you were, how it had nearly broken you.

“You just can’t do it, ya hear? Yer good at a lotta things. Killin’ ain’t one of ‘em.”

You bit your bottom lip and blinked at him. After a moment, you whispered, “Okay.”

Relief flooded through him. He was not used to telling you what to do, but you must have trusted him, or at least understood why he demanded it from you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. “Get up now, and we’ll get to bed.”

You rose, seemingly on shaky legs, and while you were unusually shy, Daryl was more than ready to take charge, to give you what you needed: for him to be in control of you, for just a little bit.

"Is everyone inside?" you asked.

Daryl held you close against him as he led you to the tent. "Couple of 'em keepin' watch, but yeah."

"And we're staying out here?"

"It's up to you," he said, unzipping the tent. "But later. For now, you don't gotta think. Jus' lemme take care of ya."

As soon as Daryl zipped up the tent, he was on you. His solid frame right next to you was something you desperately needed, something to cling to after this long, horrifying day. With furious kisses and fumbling hands, he rid you of your clothing, and himself of his, until you were both bare and clutching at each other. Your hands were squeezing at his back as you let him do what he would to you. He gripped your jaw with both hands, angling your mouth to his as he desperately kissed you breathless.

Soon he was urging you to the mattress, and you found yourself lying on your back, anticipating his hands and mouth on you again.

Instead of joining you at the head of the bed, however, he settled himself between your legs. His rough hands skimmed down the sides of your breasts, then along your obliques, over your hips, and to your large, soft thighs. He held tight to them but not painfully so.

Then he kissed your big tummy, like he couldn’t get enough of pressing his mouth to your soft, inviting flesh, every touch of his lips loving and exciting. Each kiss left a spark in its wake, growing in intensity as he moved downward. And as you took in the sight of stern-faced, unflappable Daryl kneeling between your legs, you began to forget everything outside of this tent.

Soon, his hands slid under your knees, urging you to bend them slightly and open your legs wider. Daryl’s mouth left your belly to ply kisses to the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, first the left, then the right.

You threaded your fingers in his hair, soft whimpers escaping you as his delicate kisses got closer to the throbbing ache at the apex of your thighs.

He gazed up at you, his head hovering just above where you most wanted his touch. "Gonna taste ya, Darlin'. Only want ya thinkin' about how my mouth feels on your sweet pussy, alright?"

You nodded, forcing away ugly thoughts to hone in on the physical sensations Daryl was causing, the raw anticipation of where he would go next.

"That's my woman," he smiled and smoothed a hand on your round belly, rough fingers like a salve on your hot, needful skin. "Lettin' me take care of ya and not complainin' for once," he smirked at you.

Your heart melted at his teasing. It meant this was okay, that you'd be okay, that maybe you and Daryl were okay together.

Suddenly Daryl gripped one of your thighs and squeezed. "Yer gettin’ lost in your head, angel. Stay with me."

You sighed, bringing your thoughts back to the here and now. "With you, baby. I'm here."

He kissed your belly. "Good."

Then, in his next breath, Daryl put his tongue on you.

It was warm and wet, and so very gentle. He took a few experimental laps at your clit, and when you moaned in response, he tried more, tasting, licking and sucking until he found just the right way to have you moaning and clutching at his hair.

Then he put a finger inside you, quickly finding the spot deep within and curling his digit to hit the spot perfectly. When his mouth and finger began working in tandem, you really did lose your mind, moaning and crying his name.

The exquisite sensations built and built, coiling you tighter in the most delectable way, and then you were on the precipice, saying "Yes, Daryl. Right there, baby." A second later you came on his hand and mouth, vocalizing your release while Daryl took to kissing around your clit and saying "Good job, Darlin'. Jus' let me take care of ya."

You heard him, but despite the pleasure he'd wrought just now, he felt too far away. You released the grip you had on his hair and tugged at his shoulders.

"Need you up here, Daryl. Want to see you."

He looked longingly at your cunt, and gave your clit one more, slow, long lick before climbing up the bed and lying beside you.

You turned to him immediately, cupping his cheek and kissing him, tasting yourself on his mouth.

He pulled you against him and threw his leg over your hips, then angling himself so that his hard cock was teasing your clit and cunt.

Daryl rested his forehead on yours. "Ready for me, Darlin'?"

You gripped the back of his neck and nodded.

Daryl roughly turned you onto your back, and before you could make sense of things again, his cock was inside your waiting pussy. You both groaned at the joining, looking deeply into each other’s eyes as time stood still in this perfect moment.

Then, Daryl said, his voice hoarse, "Wanted to do more for ya, but ya feel so good. Not gonna last long, angel."

Still staring into your eyes, he began pumping slowly, each thrust bringing tears to your eyes with the intensity of his gaze and movements.

Quickly you were on the edge again, clutching at Daryl's back, raising your hips to meet his increasingly quick thrusts, and then you came, and so did he, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, whispering your name as he released himself inside you.

He started kissing your neck, your jaw, making his way back to your mouth.

"So fucking perfect," he told you. "And all mine."

"You're mine, too," you reminded him, holding his face between your hands and forcing him to look you in the eyes. "Don't ever doubt it again."

He nodded. Then he slid out of you and again laid on the bed beside you until finally he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't care who it is," he mumbled. "Anyone else tries ta be with ya like this, I'll kill 'im."

The thought of being with anyone but Daryl scared and sickened you, especially after what Randall had said.

"And I'd let you," you told him.

I will continue to try updating once a week, but I'm going to omit leaving specific dates. I barely got this one out on time, and the anxiety it gave me...let's just say not conducive to writing.

That being said, please do reblog and leave comments. Help me combat my self doubt!

See you next time. 💜

Next Chapter

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Taglist: @green-eyedladywrites @haleypearce @phoenixblack89 @takeabreathdeath @livingdeadblondequeen @sweetpeapod @ravenwings73 @fuzzy-paintnda @missbeeentertainment

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list! ==============

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #twd #twd fanfic #plus size #plus size reader #plus size fanfic #mdop #minerva writes #dd/xm #scars and stitches

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cinemassance-oneshots · 2 years

Text

Recalcitrant - Paul Dano’s Riddler (Chapter 3)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma, obsessive and posessive behavior, and male masturbation

I kept looking at the clock. It felt that time was going by slower than usual. No matter how exhausted I was, the thrill of my first date in a really long time kept my mind awake. Well, actually, I wasn’t entirely sure if it was a date or not. Should I have asked him if it was? Maybe he just wanted me as a friend. Before I continued down my spiral, Bonnie broke me out of my thoughts.

“What’s got you in a rush today?”

I glanced over at Bonnie. I looked away and continued to refill the condiments. I tried my best to keep busy to keep my nerves at bay.

“I have a date tonight—well, I think I do.” I did my best to suppress my smile.

Without a doubt, I was super excited. I am nervous, though. I don't have an off feeling about Edward or anything like that, but it’s because I haven’t had a good history when it comes to dating. If anything, I'm more self-conscious about the whole thing.

“Oh, hun, that’s exciting,” Bonnie exclaimed. “Did Martinez finally ask you out?”

I knew Bonnie meant well, but I did get tired of her speculation that Martinez and I would be something more despite me constantly telling her we were just friends. He’s a very nice man, and I respect him for being on the force. I knew he was in it for the right reasons, unlike Smith. I knew Smith was in it for power and control; I wouldn’t be surprised if he were corrupted either, in all honesty.

“No, it’s with Edward.”

I looked up at her as her mind contorted to place a face with the name. Then the realization set in, and it clicked.

“Oh, that shy boy with the glasses?” I nodded before she continued. “That's not surprising at all. He only really talks to you when he comes in. Dorky looking but cute.”

I chuckled at her brief description of him. He had a “dorky” quality, but I didn't mind. It made him more adorable, in my opinion.

“Just know if he tries anything he shouldn't, he’ll have me to deal with.” I smiled at her protectiveness. Sometimes it's hard to comprehend how well my relationship is with Bonnie. She's never completely judged me, but she doesn't hold back on stating her opinion.

“I appreciate that, Bonnie. But, like I said, I don’t know if it’s a date or not, so we’ll call it a friendly hangout until further notice.”

She gave me a bright smile before walking away to do something. I looked back at the counter as my thoughts wandered. I had no expectations for tonight. Growing up, I realized it was better to have no expectations for anything; that way you won't be disappointed if it doesn't go according to plan.

Usually, life never went according to plan. I would be an expert in that field. If life went perfectly for me, I wouldn’t have to work two jobs, barely scraping by in this hell hole city struggling to get my degree. No. If it were perfect, I’d be successful, and cover stories people needed to know about.

The rest of my shift dragged. The business was steady; it wasn't anything too chaotic nor too dull. It felt tedious. I mainly just hoped to make a decent amount of tips that day. Bonnie told me I usually did since I was still young and had a pretty face. Then she went on a ramble explaining that she didn’t mean that as if I wasn’t a good worker. I never took anything she said negatively. She’s one of the best influences I have had in my life.

When I walked home, I rushed. It wasn't because I wanted enough time to get ready for my date, which I did, but you never wanted to take your time walking alone, especially at night in Gotham and more so as a woman. I hated that this was a reality for me and many others. Crime rates were rampant in this city.

I've seen some of the reports on the news. Even though the city now has the Batman, a masked vigilante, for about a year, Gotham’s crime rates remain high. He may instill some fear, but it isn't enough to keep the criminals silent.

The Batman was an interesting topic for people here. We've had a fair amount of debates in my journalism classes discussing him. There are a lot of people who think he's amazing and others who think he's a psycho hiding behind a mask. As for me, I think he's the small shed of hope people like me need.

Without some form of order, chaos continues to spread like wildfire. A never ending cycle that only brings destruction and an inevitable end to civility.

I let out a deep breath as I entered my apartment and locked the door behind me. I dropped my keys and bag onto my small kitchen table. It's not like I ever had people over, so it was suitable enough for one other person and me, if necessary.

I organized my place a little–more like as best as I could. It wasn't messy since I didn't have many belongings, but I gradually felt more aware of the possibility that Edward could come into my place after our hangout.

As I got ready, I realized I didn't know what to wear. What if I dressed too casually? What if I dressed too formally? I knew if I overthought it, I wouldn't settle on anything.

Sirens filled the streets when my phone started to ring. I picked it up before smiling once I heard the voice on the other end. It was Edward.

“I'm, um, here. Downstairs,” he nervously spoke. Somehow it was reassuring to know he was equally anxious. I felt less alone.

“I'll be out in a moment,” I replied. Butterflies filled my stomach. I clutched my purse in my hand as I headed downstairs, inching closer to him by the second. With each step, my heart beat faster.

I didn’t know what to expect once I saw him. He dressed relatively similarly to how he looked coming into the diner. His hair looked like it was cleaned and brushed more than usual.

“Hi,” I greeted with a smile as I closed the building door. I opened my bag to put my keys in it before looking back at him. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” he softly replied. “You—you do too.”

“What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked him as we started to walk. A small part of me wanted him to reach out and hold my hand. Logically I knew it was too soon and made no sense, but my heart still desired it.

“Do you like the movies?”

I lightly chuckled at his question. He looked at me as if he had made a huge mistake, and worry filled his eyes. I looked at him reassuringly with a smile.

“I love the movies. I haven’t gone to see one in a really long time.”

“How come?” he questions, genuinely curious.

“I barely have the time,” I started to explain. “Plus, I’m behind on what movies are even out right now. I mainly remember the theater always having horror movies as options. Is that still true?”

“Yes.” He looked over and saw me slightly disappointed. Honestly, I wasn’t a big horror movie person. They never appealed to me and made me uncomfortable, especially when I watched them alone. But I’m not alone this time.

“We can do something else if you don’t like the idea of a movie,” Edward added.

“No, I like the idea of seeing a movie again. I’m just not a big horror movie person.”

“Oh…”

“But since it’s both of us, it’s fine,” I reassured him with a small smile. That seemed to put him at ease again. I didn’t realize how nervous I was since all my focus was on him.

Once we arrived at the cinema, we went to the box office to see what our options were. Unfortunately, the only options we had were two horror movies. I still don’t get Gotham’s obsession with horror when we lived in a highly criminal city where horrors were constantly around us everywhere.

Edward asked if I had a preference, but I shook my head. I told him I was content with any of the options. Sure, I wasn’t a huge horror film person, but I could manage.

He paid for both of our tickets, which was very sweet of him. I told him I could pay for my own, but he insisted. I thanked him again while we walked inside.

We didn’t get any concessions. He did ask if I wanted anything, but I figured I wouldn’t be able to stomach anything once the movie started. I couldn’t handle very gory themes in movies, and it looked like it might be one of those. So, to be safe, I decided not to fill my stomach up with contents that might fight their way back up.

Once we sat down, he looked at me. He seemed nervous again and uncertain.

“Are you sure you’re okay seeing this? We can watch something else.”

I looked into his eyes and shook my head. It is endearing he wanted to ensure I was fine with the movie choice.

“It’s okay.”

During the movie, a scene came on that terrified me. Without thinking, my hand grabbed his on instinct. Before I realized and could pull it away in case it freaked him out, he gave my hand a comforting squeeze. He leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“It’s only a movie. It’s not real.” His breath is on my skin, sending a warm feeling throughout my body. “They can't hurt you.”

He didn’t let go of my hand. I leaned in closer to him and pressed my head against my arm. I knew he was there due to him holding my hand, but pressing closer to him gave me more comfort that I wasn’t alone.

After the movie, he walked me home. We talked some on the way. It didn't feel uncomfortable when it was silent between us, which was nice. Most silences between another person and me are usually very uncomfortable.

When we reached the entrance of my apartment complex, I turned to face him.

“Would you like to come up? I can make us some coffee, or I have tea.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” I replied, referencing the night he walked me home after my late shift. Edward gave a small nod.

We walked up a few flights of stairs to my floor and then to my apartment. I admit I was a bit anxious for him to see my place. I didn’t have many people over, so I hoped it looked at least decent. My textbooks, assignments, and notes were splayed all across my table.

“Sorry, it’s a little disorganized,” I apologized as I walked over to my table to tidy it up a bit.

“It’s more organized than mine,” Edward softly reassured. I stacked my belongings up and grabbed some of them to move to the side. Without hesitation, he followed and grabbed the rest of the stack for me.

“Oh, thank you. You can just set it on top of the others.”

“Do you like your classes?” He asked me as we walked back into the kitchen area. It was a small apartment, so the kitchen halved as the living room.

“My journalism classes are interesting, but they’re all a lot of work. It’s honestly a struggle to manage everything. Anyways, I can brew some coffee, or I have some teas.”

“Tea is fine.”

I put the kettle on the stove. We sat at the table as we waited for it to boil. I’ll admit it was peculiar to see Edward outside the diner, much less in my own home. I’ve been so used to seeing him sit in the same spot at the diner for weeks that I never pictured him in other environments.

“How do you manage?” I pushed some of my hair behind my ear as I took a deep breath and shrugged.

“I just do what I can and hope for the best,” I candidly responded. “I don’t get much sleep, but I want to finish this degree as soon as I can. This place is small, but it isn’t the cheapest and neither is the tuition. I use what I make at the diner for bills and what I make at the Iceberg Lounge for tuition. It’s a lot, but it’s ok.”

“It’s not okay if you’re exhausting yourself.” There was a slight edge to his voice. It sounded like he was mad. I don’t think he was mad at me but more so about the situation. “You shouldn’t have to do all of that.”

“It’s just for the time being.”

“Do you not have any family that could help?” I didn’t expect the topic of family to be a discussion possibility for the night.

“I, uh, don’t really have a family,” I cleared my throat.

“I’m sorry.” I could tell he regretted asking. He didn’t know my family was estranged. The water started to boil, so I stood up to pull some mugs out of the cabinets.

“You don’t have to apologize. It wasn’t something you were aware of,” I said. Before I continued, I turned to him and held up the teas I had, which were Earl Grey, green tea, and Oolong. “Which tea would you like?”

“Earl Grey.” I nodded as I put the others up and opened two tea packets for us.

“I don’t discuss my family with anyone,” I started to explain. I poured the hot water over the tea bags in the cups, allowing the water to change color. “My dad left when I was young. I barely remember him. My mom didn’t handle it well, so I removed her from the picture when I was old enough. I haven’t talked to her since.”

I placed one of the mugs in front of him before sitting down with my own. I finally looked up at him to see him looking back.

“Sorry,” I looked away.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to cut her out of your life.” His understanding and validation felt comforting. Sometimes I would wonder if I did the right thing, and now I have consolation.

“Do you have any family?” I asked, trying to get the focus off of me. I raised my tea to my lips and blew on it to cool it down slightly before taking a small sip.

“No,” he shook his head. His hands were clasped around the cup, soaking up the heat. “My parents died when I was young.”

“I’m so sorry.” I felt horrible for him. I didn’t want to imagine a younger Edward growing up in a horrible orphanage. I wanted to console him.

“Don’t be.” We sat there in silence for a few moments, drinking our teas and trying to think of something we could discuss.

“Why did you become a forensic accountant?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Numbers make sense to me. I like puzzles.” I smiled. He liked puzzles. That’s good information to know. “Do you like riddles?”

“Riddles? I’ve never given them much thought. I’ll admit I haven’t done a lot of puzzles or anything related to those in my life.”

“I can introduce you to them,” he said. “I-if you want.”

“That sounds fun.” I could tell that made him happy. I looked down at the table with a smile on his face. We talked for a while until he noticed how late it was getting. He would have liked to stay longer but said he wanted me to get a decent amount of rest. It was nice how much he cared.

I leaned against the door as he stood in the doorway to leave. I said I didn’t have expectations for tonight, and I agree I still don’t, even though this night would surpass the expectations I theoretically would’ve had.

“Thanks for a great evening, Edward,” I told him. “It was nice taking a break from everything with you.”

“Me too.” It felt like he wanted to say more, but he was still too nervous.

“Be safe getting home.” He smiled at that and nodded. I leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek like I did last time. “Good night.”

“Night,” he barely got out before I closed the door. A smile stayed on my face as I went to clean up. The way he held my hand during the movie. He’s so awkwardly adorable.

I sat on the couch after setting my alarm for the morning. I usually fell asleep on the couch doing assignments, so I’ve made it a habit to set my alarm before I sit down. My eyes felt heavy. I don’t remember getting much work accomplished before I went unconscious. All I remember is thinking of Edward before I fell asleep.

< ? >

Finally getting alone time with her was more than pleasurable. I gradually got closer to having her myself. Being patient was hard, but it would pay off.

I loved the way she grabbed my hand during the movie. A gruesome scene came onto the screen, followed by a jumpscare when she did it. I wouldn’t have minded staying in that moment forever with her needing me.

“It’s only a movie,” I told her. “It’s not real. They can’t hurt you.”

I wanted to tell her nothing, and no one would ever hurt her. I wouldn’t allow it. I’d kill anyone who ever tried to hurt her.

Rage filled me when I found out about her family. What kind of father leaves his daughter at such a young age, especially to an abusive mother? She didn’t explicitly say her mother abused her, but I could tell. I’d make her mother pay for her crimes.

She wasn’t as innocent as I originally believed, which made me want her more. Her trauma tainted her. I wanted to alleviate her trauma. She deserved a better life. I can give her that.

I preserved moments with her in my mind. She should be admired like art, but she needed to be my personal art. No other man deserved to look at her.

Introducing her to riddles and puzzles was something I was extremely looking forward to doing. Open up her mind to new possibilities. Introduce her to my first love.

I couldn’t wait for her to see the world as I did. I couldn’t wait for her to see how I was going to change the city for her and me. Gotham was a filthy place full of corrupted people. People who even corrupted her when she didn’t deserve it.

When I returned to my place, all I could think about was her. Her hands felt calloused yet soft in my own at the movies. Her body felt warm pressed against mine. I couldn’t deny the sensation the thoughts sent down to my cock.

Images filled my mind. The thought of her hand wrapped around me, stroking me. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock out with pre-cum coming out of the tip.

My hand wrapped around it. As I closed my eyes, I imagined it was her’s instead of mine. Her soft lips pressed against mine as she gave me a handjob. Her hands working skillfully, drawing me closer to the edge by the moment.

I’d imagine her saying filthy things to me about my size and asking if it felt good. I’d wrap my hand around her throat, feeling her pulse intensify underneath it as I asked her who gave her the right to have a flighty mouth like that. She would tell me no one before I told her to get down on her knees.

She’d look up at me with those gorgeous eyes of her’s as I told her to give me a blowjob. She’d be eager to please me. Her mouth would wrap around my cock, taking it as far as she could. Gurgles escaping her mouth as I hit the back of her throat. Her hands would wrap around the rest of me that her mouth could reach.

My head fell back as the euphoric thoughts and feelings took over me. I moved my hand faster as I imagined fucking her throat. My hands would pull her hair back as I got ready to throat fuck her. I buck my hips faster into her mouth, reaching the back with each thrust and making her gag.

I let out one more moan before cumming in my hand. I gave a few more strokes to drag out the high. I reached up with my other arm and wiped the sweat that formed on my forehead.

I went to wash myself up. I couldn’t wait for my fantasies to become my reality.

#The Riddler #the batman 2022 #paul dano fanfic #paul dano #paul dano riddler #paul dano riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #paul dano riddler x reader #riddler fanfic #dano riddler fanfic #riddler x female character #paul dano's riddler #danonation #Paul dano riddler smut #riddler smut

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crownamedblue · 1 year

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Names are So Fuckin Weird

(And that's pretty fuckin cool)

I wrote a while ago about names, but, after recent inspiration, I've found I still have so much more to say. This isn’t about the classical or modern definitions of someone’s true name (the answer involves ancient egypt, voodoo, and the church), nor is it about what someone’s real name is. No, today I want to talk about the function of a name, and the strange side-effects not written on the side of the bottle.

This first bit of inspiration has been– let’s say– “borrowed”. To be fair, I am almost entirely sure that the very same bit of inspiration has been stolen from somebody else entirely, but alack & alas, such is the way of writers. I digress. Imagine, if you will, a pencil. Focus on the pencil, on its ridges, the unevenness of the exposed wood reaching up to the graphite tip. The pale arches, giving way to a garish yellow paint. At the bottom: an eraser mostly gone, mostly stale, mostly useless. This pencil’s name is Steven. Say Hello to Steven, Class. Still with me? Imagine Steven. Imagine someone ripping poor Steven out of your hand and snapping it against their knee, like Steven is nothing, means nothing. It hurts a little bit, huh? Hate to break it to you friends, but Steven is an imaginary pencil. You are a little bit upset over a made up, nonexistent piece of wood. But it wasn’t just a pencil, was it? It was Steven the pencil. All that because I gave it a name.

There’s a book I highly suggest that you read. It’s a reiteration of old fairy tales, including two gay princes, a black snow white, a ghostly beast, and a street-smart Ursula convincing Ariel that maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t throw her life away for a boy (the book is called Beasts and Beauty: Dangerous Tales by Soman Chainani). It is an excellent read, and it made my Tales Dark and Grimm obsessed inner child absolutely ecstatic. It also features a retelling of Rumpelstiltskin with good ol’ rump being none other than the Devil himself. The story still stands, still makes sense, because to give something a name is to classify it, to place it into a box, to give it a beginning and an end. Let me explain. Consider, if you will, two different tests. One of the tests you have been studying for, and you know for a fact that it will be incredibly challenging, and you might very well fail. The other test, you’ve been informed by a reliable source, is far easier, but they refuse to tell you what it’s on. You’re still going to pick the harder test. Perhaps you’d prefer a different analogy entirely. You’re in a forest and you can see two paths before you. One contains a lion, a tiger, and a bear (oh my), while the other is completely covered in darkness. Through the darkness you can see three pairs of eyes, three sets of gnashing teeth, and hear the footsteps and clawing of wild, hungry animals. Down the second path could also be a lion, a tiger, and a bear, or it could be three bears, or it could be three rabbits pretending to be bears, or it could even be a scooby-doo-esq contraption scaring away hikers. You don’t know, you can’t tell, and so you’ll choose the thing you can see, that you’re familiar with. There's a common turn of phrase that, funnily enough, ties this back to Dangerous Tales: better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. The Devil is essentially a symbol of all things dark and evil and malicious, it’s effectively a title or a catch-all. The Devil is whatever you want it to be and everything you don’t, it is fluid and omniscient and all-powerful. To give it a name is to define it, to place it into a box. Naming something tells you the subject of the second test, it solidifies the shadows into a pulley system and a wireless speaker. The Devil is unknowable, but Rumplestiltskin is a little red man with more magic in his pinky than your entire body. That being said, he’s still a man, and all men die eventually.

Consider again the paths and the beasts. Knowing that the path covered in darkness contains the beasts changes nothing. You still need to go down the path. It does, however, allow you to take action. You cannot act against something without first knowing what it is, or at least giving a name to it: you can only act against what you can describe. Consider the difference between being sad, being depressed, and being clinically depressed. Each of these have similar symptoms, and each can simply be described as “being sad”, but if someone is unaware that they have clinical depression, they can only try to fix their own sadness. One cannot cure clinical depression with comfort food or puppies. This doesn’t always work, of course. Sometimes things are unavoidable, and knowing just what they are, naming them, does not make it any better, or allow one to take action against it. For example, knowing that you’re on the neurodivergent spectrum, ADHD or Autistic or wherever you fall, doesn’t let you take action against that thing. Sure you can form coping mechanisms, learn to mask, take pills to let you focus, that sort of thing, but you’re only fighting the symptoms: you’re still on the neurodivergent spectrum. The proper naming of something, at the barest of minimums, brings closure. Conversely, the misnaming of something instead brings about dissonance. Pulling from a previous example, a clinically depressed person knows that they are more than just sad, even if not yet diagnosed (with the exception of denial). When the wrong name is used, someone personally intimate with the thing can tell, even if they don’t know what the proper name is. This is most commonly seen as when you forget someone’s name and start to guess: you can tell that each guess is wrong, even without actually knowing what the right name is. This effect doesn’t even have to be with people’s names, it could be the name of a tool or even just a word. I’m referring to, of course, that time when the word is just on the tip of your tongue: that sense of dissonance when you start just listing out synonyms and that sense of closure, that rush of satisfaction when you finally get it right. Even if it is a solid hour or two later and the good vibes are crushed by frustration before the good vibes even hit you.

I don’t think people really spend a lot of time dwelling on names as a concept. People definitely think about names, as in what to name their child, what to name themselves, if someone can rename themselves. We can sort of see some consideration of concept in that last one, but it’s closer to conscious, mostly morality minded, and, I’d posit, purely philosophical, as opposed to often unrealized reaction. To clear up confusion summoned by superficial, supposedly superfluous, and altogether avoidable alliteration, we don’t really think of names as their own entity. They’re a means to an end, a way of addressing something. Just as pronouns are a shortcut so you don’t have to say the name, names are a shortcut so you don’t have to explain the entirety. You can just say “Blue” instead of having to say “the annoying living bisexual stereotype who simultaneously thinks far too much and far too little of themselves”. That idea of a name is what people really think about: the more functional practicalities as they intermingle with one’s conscience and sensibilities. However, for whatever reason, names are much more than that, to the point that they seem to hold a power in and of themselves. I think that’s pretty cool. Sorry about Steven.

^^ this is the post that Steven is from, and I was right, it was also stolen

#names #crowfeatherquill #my writing #all this only applies if you're neurotypical #which I am not #oops!#oopsie!#pack bonding #denial

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