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ddejavvu · 6 months

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hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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youryanderedaddy · 5 months

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tw: female reader, captivity, possessive behavior, non - consensual touching, hinted past stalking, hinted non - con, i keep making fairy tale references kfjhks My ko - fi <3

You actually feel calm now, almost at peace - although you can never be truly peaceful in the forest, you guess this is as close as it can get. You flip through the pages of the book, scanning the fireplace with the corner of your eye. It needs more wood, but it still keeps the cottage nice and warm. You tug at your big fluffy sweater - and think about just how domestic, how cozy this scene would be if you couldn't hear his footsteps creeping up behind you. You clear your throat and clutch the book closer to your stomach, trying to ignore him - hoping he'll go away if you pay him no mind. And just like the last few times, he sticks around like mud.

"Are you reading those fairytales again?" Raven calls out mockingly, the click of his tongue teasing your ear. He grasps your shoulders lightly, trying to take a peek at your book from behind the chair. You try to close it, but his hands quickly find your wrists, holding them in place. Now hyper - aware of his chest pressing against your back, you give in and let him look as his body heat spreads to your neck. "Such a pretty illustration, isn't it?" He hums to himself, a fox - like grin ruining his delicate features. When you don't respond, he just keeps going. "The knight kills the monster and rescues the princess." He reads the caption under the drawing, playing curious. "They live happily ever after." He flips the page. "The end." He mouths, averting his gaze.

You clench your fists and try to count to ten before you say something you will regret. You don't know why or how, but just one look at his face is enough to set you off nowadays. And anger is a losing battle - anger has you laying across his knees with your panties in your mouth, muffling your pained cries he likes to pretend are moans as he paints your butt red. So you shut up and bide your time.

"How sweet." The man chuckles with malice, quickly turning towards you just like a snake would curl around an unsuspecting little mouse. "I guess life really imitates art. Just like you and me." He observes with a self-satisfied smirk, reaching to light his cigarette. You hate when he smokes inside the house - the nicotine fume sticks to the walls for hours and you start choking and coughing, but he shows little concern for your heath; not that it's a huge surpirse to you.

"What do you mean?" You raise one eyebrow, hoping to at least take your mind off the nasty, overwhelming smell. If he sees your unease, he doesn't mention it, choosing to inhale even deeper, with his full chest. "You're the pretty damsel in distress." Raven explains calmly, charcoal eyes sinking into your vision like claws. It makes you feel naked, vulnerable - dissected to your very molecule. "And I am your knight." He lets his sharp teeth reflect in the dim light. "I saved you from those pesky insects who kept sulling you." You cringe at the way his tongue piercing drags against his canines. Track - track. "Aren't you glad I removed those obstactles for ya?" He gives you a crooked, sarcastic smile. "I think your hero deserves a little reward for all the trouble he went through just for you."

You blink away the tears as you are forced to remember it all in one breath. The police sirens - the investigation. The blood on your family's threshold. The used condoms hanging on your door for all neighbours to see, and the thousand messages calling you ugly names for months on end.

"You're no hero." You mumble under your breath, digging your nails deep into your palms - desperate to keep your tongue behind your teeth. But he hears you - he always does, and he just nods in agreement, coming close. Coming to take you.

Raven stands before you, hovering over you with one hand on the ashtray and the other tilting your chin up so you'd have no choice but to look at him and him alone. "Perhaps you're right." He admits, taking a puff off his long cigarette and blowing it in your face right after - simply in love with the way your eyes narrow in frustrated defiance as you wave away the thick smoke. "Perhaps I am not the hero, but the monster. The dragon." He laughs to himself, stubbing out the burning fag. You don't know what it is that he finds so funny, but you wish you knew so you could laugh along instead of crying.

He cages you in against the sofa, causing you to press even harder against the soft backrest. The message is clear - you'd let the house consume you before you let him as much as kiss you.

"It fits the story nicely, don't you think?" The man remarks, playing with a strand of your hair gleefuly just like a child would. You assume he derives some sick pleasure from touching you so casually - from caressing you, petting you, holding you. It's not even sexual, but it always shakes you to your core, and maybe for him that's the best part - where you can't go anywhere, but in his arms.

"Huh?" You break from your thoughts, growing confused. "Your analogy." He explains while still all over you. "It makes sense. I fought for you, and I won you fair and square." His eyes light up with the ferocity of a hunter. "I wanted you so I took you like the greedy bastard I am. I have no regrets - and if that makes me a villain, then so be it. I will burn the world down if it means you'd be all mine." His fist wraps around your loose locks, almost gentle, but not quite. There is something unnatural in his smile - you can't help, but imagine blood dripping from his chin. "But there is something your magic tales get wrong." Raven whispers diabolically, snapping his fingers. Everything goes dark - and his coat slips down on the floor.

"W-what?" You ask, shaking like a leaf - both afraid and deadly curious. You try to sharpen your senses, but you remain blind to his shadow - and the way it moves right between your legs, positioning them around his hips. You feel his manhood prod at your pubic bone, and you heart sinks to your stomach. "The ending." Your captor mutters, pushing you on your back, and you curse the electronic chair when it goes all the way down with little fight. "The moment when the cards are on the table..." He all but tears off the first button of your shirt. "And the princess is all alone with the monster. Face to face - with nowhere to go."

His tongue is hot on your neck - you try to push him off, but he pins down your wrists with feral force, growling like a wild beast. "And this time no one is coming to save her."

#yandere #male yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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tomssexdoll · 13 days

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Haii! can you do a dread head tom smut of them fucking at the pool? :3 thank u!

YEEES

Me and Tom were at the hotels pool, we had landed in LA for a tour and had nothing to do all day.

I wore a simple black bikini, sitting on the lounge chairs to tan. Georg had joined us and was playing with Tom in the pool, splashing everywhere and trying to drown each other.

No one was at the pool today, all busy with school or jobs. I was glad cause I was feeling some sort of way..turned on? After 30 minutes I called Tom out, my eyes widening as I saw his body drip with water as he got out, his muscles flexing as he hoisted himself up.

My pussy was throbbing, every step he took closer to me sending me over the edge. "Yes baby" he smirked, towering over me as I sat down, "tell georg to leave...I need you" I whined.

He grinned, "right here? are you sure?" I nodded quickly and pushed him towards the pool, "quick!" he chuckled and ran over to Georg, making something up that made him rush back into the hotel.

As he came over I raised my eyebrow, "what did you tell him?" he shrugged, "nothing too bad, but he'll be out for a bit so it leaves us a lot of time" he grabbed my waist, pulling me over to the hot tub area.

We both got in, the sun starting to set so it wouldn't be as noticeable to staff. I untied my bikini bottoms, placing them on the edge. "Oh baby.." he groaned, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap, pressing his erection onto my bare pussy.

"Put it in" I whined, wrapping my arms around his neck, he instantly obeyed, tugging his swimming shorts off and throwing it with my bikini bottoms.

His hard cock springing out, I could see it throbbing under the water, precum leaking from the tip. "Oh fuck.." I grunted, hovering over his length and slamming myself onto it, filling myself up completely.

"Fuck!" Tom groaned, stuffing his face into my neck, I moved my hips slowly, riding him.

His hands flew to my ass, massaging the flesh with his hands, I picked up my pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, the water splashing everywhere.

"Oh my god.." he moaned, digging his nails into my ass, guiding me up and down his cock, his tip brushing against my g spot repeatedly. I rolled my hips around, his cock fucking me deep.

My hips started to get tired, my thrusts faltering. "Baby..let me take over, ok?" he caressed my cheek, pushing my chest into his and adjusting himself, holding me tightly before he started to pound into me.

"Ohhh fuck!" I whined, nails clawing at his back, his tip now slamming directly into my g spot, my back arching to meet his thrusts. All the worries about someone catching us left, not giving a shit if anyone did, in this moment I needed him.

His thrusts were nothing short of harsh, pounding into my tight hole relentesly, a knot building up in my stomach. "Cum for me baby..fuck.." he whispered in my ear, kissing my neck roughly.

He continued to fuck me roughly, thrusting in and out like a maniac, desperate for release, "g'nna cum..fuck!" he moaned, slamming into me one more time before his cum spilled into me, painting my insides white.

I felt my walls clench on his cock, my orgasm close. "Keep going! Fuck!" I groaned, starting to slam myself onto his cock, reaching down and rubbing rough circles on my clit.

"Holy shit!" I cried out, stuffing my face in his neck as my orgasm washed over me, cumming all over his cock. "Oh baby..you're amazing" he groaned, slowly riding out our highs, holding me close.

After settling down we put our bottoms back on, getting out of the pool and returning back to the hotel room, by now it was nearly pitch black, the sun setting beautifully.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ballhair @bkaulitzlover @estxkios @charliesgoodboy @tomsonlyslut @ge-billsgf

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standfucker · 5 months

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Finding Out You’re Stronger Than Them - Logia Edition (Crocodile)

"Cold Blooded"

Characters: Crocodile

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.2k

CW: smoking, mildly suggestive, reader has body mods

Summary: “Come on, Sir. If you’re so upset about the money, I could give it back. I don’t really need it,” you roll your eyes on the ‘really,’ “but I don’t intend on walking away empty-handed. You understand. Us cold-blooded types get what we want, right?”

-Thanks to @quinloki for beta'ing as my usual beta, @zoros-sheath, got sick. (Love you both, glad you're on the mend, Mama.)

Ao3 Link

Wealth was not Sir Crocodile’s ultimate goal, his burgeoning ambitions far grander than mere riches. But the vast quantity of treasure that had been stolen from him was not something he could ignore. Civil wars needed funding, and with over half of his hoard disappeared overnight–a feat that should be physically impossible–he couldn’t make the payment on the firearms he had shipped out.

He sends a pair of Officer Agents to take care of it, neither of whom report back. In the radio silence, he sends another, stronger duo this time. They also seem to vanish. Fed up, he finally sends his best, Mr. 1 and Miss Doublefinger.

Instead of hearing back from them, Crocodile finds the six bodies of his strongest Officer Agents dumped unceremoniously outside of his smoking room, beaten to shit and unconscious, but alive.

You're waiting for him inside, an unassuming masked figure picking through his humidors like you own the place.

"You picked a beautiful country to play with,” you say without looking up, inspecting an expensive cigar. “I just love the landscape of Alabasta...reminds me of home."

For a minute, he just stares, mentally running through the list of people he knows in the underworld who can both pull off a heist like that and beat his best assassins bloody. Your lavish jewelry suggests affluence, his eye especially drawn to the gold bracelet on your wrist. There’s a huge ruby mounted onto the band that’s jogging his memory in a bad way. You keep talking in the meantime.

"Sorry to invade on your private time. I understand the necessity of a good smoke break, but you wouldn’t grace me with your presence, so I had to take matters into my own hands."

You tuck the cigar behind your ear, take off your mask, and turn to face him. There are some differences from your bounty poster: You’ve changed your hair, and there’s now a gnarled scar stretching diagonally over your face, narrowly missing your eye. But the snakebite piercings are the same, as are the small, transdermal spikes implanted above your eyes, painted gold to represent your namesake.

“You’re the Thief King, Sidewinder,” Crocodile says slowly. Even with the facial scar, you’re beautiful, skin reflecting the moonlight coming through the window.

You smile at his recognition. “In the flesh.”

“It’s rare for you to leave the New World.”

“Seems you've heard a bit about me.” You look surprised at that.

“You’re a Devil Fruit user, but since you prefer to use Haki, little is known about your ability," Crocodile says, and your eyes widen. "Beyond stealing, your motives are a mystery, as you don’t engage in power struggles, nor do you rule any territory. The lack of land means no one knows where you keep your spoils.”

Of course he's heard of you. He knows the shock is an act, too. Sure enough, your expression relaxes into a casual smile. Crocodile bites down harder on his cigar. You’re notorious for targeting powerful people and getting away with it, but he'll be damned if you make a fool of him.

Crocodile takes off his jacket and tosses it onto a lounge chair. Cracking his neck, he starts to approach you. "Here are your options, thief," he says. "You can return what you've stolen willingly. Or, I can peel the nails from your fingers and rip the teeth from your skull, one by one, until you tell me where it is."

“How frightening.” You tilt your head, hands in your pockets as he gets closer. “Whatever will I do?”

He fires his hook at you, left arm becoming sand and extending. You calmly step around it, dodging by a fraction. He withdraws his hook and fires again; you step to the other side. Keeping his arm extended, he sweeps it out to the side to catch you. You duck, bending far back in an impressive show of flexibility, hands never leaving your pockets. He swings the column of sand at your feet, you hop over it. With every dodge, you move closer to him.

“I’m flattered you recognized me despite the differences from my bounty poster,” you say, pausing in your approach. “You, on the other hand, look almost exactly the same as yours. Except…” You look him up and down, seeming impressed. “I must say, Sir, the poster doesn’t do you justice.”

Rage simmers beneath Crocodile’s cool demeanor. He hates how genuine you sound–it feels more like mockery than true admiration to him. Moving faster, he forms a blade of sand with his right hand and hurls it at you.

“Desert Spada!”

You easily match his speed, side-stepping so the blade cuts through the bookshelf behind you instead. It collapses, sending a heap of wood and fine hardbacks to the floor.

“Careful now,” you chide, shining eyes focused on him.

Undeterred, he strikes again, and again, and again. Each time, you dodge effortlessly, moving with a light, fluid grace. It’s almost as if you’re dancing with him–he can see how you earned your nickname. Furniture crumbles behind you as it’s sliced and smashed to pieces. The more he attacks, the more you avoid, the angrier he gets.

Amidst the chaos, Crocodile suddenly realizes you’ve had yet to break eye contact with him, your own eyes slightly narrowed, assessing. There’s a faint smile on your face.

You're playing with him.

That only pisses him off further. He won’t become another one of your victims–Crocodile races through plans in his head as he unleashes another Desert Spada, keeping you moving as he thinks. He won’t let this end with anything but his own gain. He’ll trap you and torture you until he finds out both where his money is, and where the rest of your hoard is stashed.

You’ll regret having ever made a target out of him.

Crocodile fires off both arms at you, hook aiming for your lower half to force you to jump, while his right arm forms a blanket of sand at the ground. When you inevitably land on it, he’ll be able to grab your leg and hold you still.

As he predicts, you jump over his hook and land on the sand–but somehow, for some reason, your feet do not sink in. It’s as if there’s something solid under your feet, letting you stay at the surface. At first, he’s not certain of how you’re doing it. Crocodile withdraws the sand blanket back toward him, aiming to make you trip, but you don’t so much as lose balance, simply walking forward over the sand like there are hidden stepping stones within it.

Crocodile rapidly withdraws his hook, going to catch your neck. You duck again, even doing a little twirl as you do, as if to hammer home the fact that he can’t destabilize you.

Both Crocodile’s arms revert to their usual shapes, and he stares you down. You’re only a few feet from him now. Whatever you did to avoid slipping, it must be your Devil Fruit.

“You’re making an awful mess,” you say.

“Why did you really come to Alabasta?” Crocodile questions. “It’s a long voyage from the New World–there’s plenty of game for you there.”

“I came to see you.” Again, your words carry nothing but sincerity, and you won’t stop looking into his eyes. Your own are sparkling with mischief.

“You robbed me.”

“That was just to get your attention.”

“Careful what you wish for, thief–” Crocodile fires off a sudden attack now that you’re close. You bend back, not fully dodging it, your shirt getting sliced wide open, “–because you’ve got…it...” His words slow as he sees beneath your shirt: you’re wearing lace underneath your clothes, as well as a leather harness. He frowns, trying to figure out what it all means.

“I’m liking the energy, but will you settle down a sec? You’re destroying your lovely smoking room.”

“You attacked my officers.”

“Your lackeys are lacking.” You grin to yourself at your wordplay. “Aside from that blade guy. Mr. 1, I think it was? He was more fun than the others. Couldn’t go the distance, but entertained me for a few minutes. He wasn’t your strongest goon, was he?”

Crocodile’s face twists up in rage, giving away the answer.

“He was? Goodness… Don’t you wish you had someone stronger?” You grin. “Maybe we could help each other.”

“I don’t need your help,” he spits.

“Whatever you say,” you chirp. Then your eyes darken. “My turn now.”

You disappear. A split second later, you’ve grabbed his arm and hurled him straight through his door as if he weighed nothing. He bounces once, then catches himself, skidding backwards as he looks up, but you’re already behind him, grabbing and throwing him right back into the room.

Crocodile lets his form break up into sand, re-forming a distance away to give him a moment to spot you. His head whips left and right; you instead come from above, a brutal axe kick to his head that throws him onto his hands and knees. Pain thuds through his skull, and he clenches his teeth. Every time you make contact, there’s a moment he can’t transform. It’s that damned Haki of yours–he needs to become sand in the time you’re away from him. He dissipates once more, moving in a random direction away. You aren’t deterred at all–Observation Haki, too, it must be– as you’re right in front of him when he re-forms.

“Boo!” you hold your hands up like claws, making Crocodile flinch, and you smile, showing pointed canines. “Come on, Sir. I know you can do better than this.”

He can’t even bring his arms up to block before you punch him, black-fisted, directly in the solar plexus. He gasps, nearly dropping his cigar, body locking up for a moment before his knees buckle and hit the ground. There’s a faint smell of smoke that he realizes is coming from burned spots in the floor–from your feet?

Just what was your Devil Fruit power? If he didn’t figure it out, he might actually lose.

Suddenly you’re sitting on his shoulders, legs draped over his chest. Before he can move, you grab him by the root of the hair and yank his head back so you’ve forced him to look into your eyes. You have the cigar you stole in your mouth. Holding his head still, you lean forward and touch the tip of your cigar to his, lighting yours with an inhale. Then you exhale in his face.

Enraged, Crocodile grabs you by the neck and slams you into the floor. You grunt. He lifts and slams you again, then lifts you one more time, arm extending fast to harshly slam you into the wall. He follows swiftly, tightening his grip. He can’t kill you yet, not yet.

“I gotta say, Sir,” you say, a little strained, still smiling, “you seem to know exactly what I’m into.”

Crocodile brings his hook to your pretty face. Maybe he’ll give you another scar. Your eyes drop down to the sharp tip of his hook, then back up to his. You open your mouth, letting the cigar fall out. Then, slowly, keeping full eye contact, you lick along the hook.

Oh. You have a body mod there, too–a split tongue, each side curving around the hook and sliding up, their tips scraping the point of it. Caught off guard, Crocodile can only stare, feeling his blood surge and his pulse quicken. You smile knowingly.

“Everyone wants to know what it feels like.”

Another one of your tricks. He won’t fall for it, not when he literally has you in his clutches. Your Haki may be powerful, but you’ve made a mistake letting him make contact with you like this. He’ll simply dehydrate you, drawing out just enough moisture for you to cling to life, and will only grant you water when you tell him what he wants to know.

Crocodile focuses.

Nothing happens.

His brow furrows, gritting his teeth, and he focuses again. You stay utterly whole and perfect.

“Why isn’t it working?” you say. “Why won’t I shrivel up? Is that what you’re thinking? Maybe I just can’t stay dry when you play rough with me like this.”

“Once I have my funds back,” Crocodile hisses, “I’m going to kill you so slowly you’ll beg me for death.”

“Come on, Sir. If you’re so upset about the money, I could give it back. I don’t really need it,” you roll your eyes on the ‘really,’ “but I don’t intend on walking away empty-handed. You understand. Us cold-blooded types get what we want, right?”

“What is it you want, Thief?”

“I want you to think of more constructive ways to vent your frustrations.”

Crocodile’s about to stab your face when his hand starts burning where it’s made contact with your neck. Iron-hot, he can’t hold on and drops you. Thinking quickly, he follows it up by bringing a blade of sand down on you while you’re beneath him.

It all happens in a moment: You catch the sand blade. A searing, scorching heat runs through his arm. The sand instantly becomes glass.

Your fingers dig into the glass and shatter it one-handed, your predatory gaze reflected in the thousand falling pieces all around him.

He’s stunned. At that moment, you grab him by the shirt collar and pull him down to your level, close to your face.

“You know, baby crocodiles, before they grow into apex predators, are prey for pretty much everything,” you smile. “Birds, fish, wild pigs… Snakes…”

You throw him onto the ground, the rubble digging into his back, and straddle his chest.

“You may be a threat in Paradise,” you continue, “but you’d get eaten alive in the New World. That’s why you left, isn’t it? Couldn’t hold your own among monsters like Whitebeard.”

Whitebeard. Crocodile grimaces at the mention, still feeling the sting of that loss. You shake your head.

“Now now, don’t feel bad,” you say. “He got me too.” You point to your scar. “Crusty geezer almost took my damn eye out, but not before I robbed him. He’s gotten slow.”

Suddenly, he remembers where he’s seen your bracelet, recognizing it as one of Whitebeard’s rings, one he had gotten decked by in the past. You stole the ring right off Whitebeard’s finger. He stares at you, starting to become aware of the difference between the two of you.

“You can’t beat me in strength,” you say simply, “what will you do?”

You’re right–he can’t beat you in strength. But he didn’t become the Desert King by being the strongest one. No, it’s never been about brute force. Crocodile takes in your shining eyes, your harness and lace, the sultry words you’ve been dropping, connecting the dots.

Grabbing you by the harness, Crocodile pulls you down to him for a kiss, crashing his lips into yours. As he suspected, you immediately reciprocate, parting your lips and licking into his mouth. Your split tongue is a potent distraction, as is your little moan, riling him up more than he expects. Behind you, his unsheathed, poison hook is poised to sink into your neck. You smile against his lips.

A second later, you’ve snapped the hook off its base and stabbed it into his shoulder.

“Heh… Did you think I’d fall for that?” you purr, licking your lips.

“What do you really want?” Crocodile growls.

“You’re far too smart not to have picked up on that by now. Or do you need me to spell it out for you?” You pull the hook out of his shoulder and toss it over yours, licking the blood from your finger. “You want motives? I pick strong targets because I'm bored. Everything I do, I do to entertain myself. But stealing doesn’t meet every need... I’m certain a man of your status is not wanting for company. But I’ve found that monsters like us tend to only feel sated when we’re with other monsters. Catch my drift?”

“So you’re thrill-seeking,” Crocodile says slowly.

“Please. ‘Thrill’ implies my life is in danger. It is what I’m offering you, though,” you smile. “Not that you need to worry, Sir. I won’t hurt you…unless you ask me nicely.”

“You rob me, beat up my men, and you expect me to sleep with you?” he says, incredulous.

“Not for free. I have an offer to make.”

He’s insulted you’d consider him no better than a whore, and spits out his next words.

“I don’t negotiate with thieves.”

“Let’s cut the illusion of rank. Becoming king of this land won’t erase your pirate background. You’re every bit the conniving cheat that I am.” You laugh. “I’ll return your treasure regardless. Chump change like that is meaningless to me. After passing a certain point of wealth, you start dealing in favors instead. So here’s my offer to you: Entertain me for the night. Do a good job, and I’ll join your little syndicate for a while. My power at your whim to use. I’ll let you order me around…” you trail a finger down his chest, “and I’ll behave until the end of our contract, at which point, you’re free to try and kill me again.”

A demonstration, Crocodile realizes as you get off of him. That’s what this all was: a demonstration of power, all so you could get what you wanted.

“If you only wanted to sleep with me,” he says, getting to his feet, “you could have just asked.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you chuckle. “Really, though. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fought me. This wasn’t going to go anywhere until you understood the gulf that spans between us. Now, you know that when you shove me against a wall, it’s because I let you.”

You dust yourself off and stick your hands back in your pockets like nothing had happened, idly kicking a piece of rubble. Meanwhile, the gears are turning in Crocodile’s head. You defeated Mr. 1 in mere minutes, allegedly. You tossed his own self around like it was nothing, and made him look like a second-rate pirate, much less a king. You have both types of Haki and an unknown Devil Fruit… All in all, an invaluable asset to be under his control. He regards you coolly. You’re waiting patiently for his response.

“So what’ll it be?” you say, sensing he’s made a decision. “I get to have a little fun, you get your most powerful minion yet. We both win.”

“How long would you intend to work for me?” Crocodile asks.

“Depends on your performance,” you shrug. “Let’s start with a few months, and after that, well. If you make it worth sticking around…” your eyes half-lid, letting the implication hang. “Sound like a good deal to you?” You hold out your hand in offering. When Crocodile takes it, you give that predatory smile. “I look forward to working for you, Sir.”

“From now on, you’ll call me Mr. Zero,” he replies, then pauses. “...You can call me Sir in private.”

You grin. “Sorry about your smoking room. Really.”

“Nevermind that. I’ll have someone clean it up. More importantly,” Crocodile says, “what's your Devil Fruit? I’m ordering you to tell me.”

“I can amplify the force of friction,” you respond obediently. “I'm an abrasion human.”

“...You certainly are,” Crocodile says. “It suits you.”

“I think you’ll find, tonight, that it suits you too.” You smile, tugging on your harness lightly. “So, when do we start?”

Crocodile pins you to the wall.

You let him.

#one piece imagines #crocodile x reader #x reader #one piece x reader #zen writes

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ghouljams · 8 months

Note

can you please take us back to the beginning? from where it all started?

what did ghost do that made price decide ‘yep, imma ship you out with the horses’ and how did price mention goose before ghost met her.

I have been dying to write some Price and Ghost fic. I wanna do some fae au stuff for them too, but for now we focus on the cowboys. So here it is. Ghost tells Price he'd follow him into hell, and Price asks if he'd follow him to safety too.

"You're not renewing your contract," Ghost has never been keen on beating around the bush. Price is used to that, used to the sharp look in his lieutenant's eye that asks 'what are you keeping off the record and should I do the same?' There have been enough times that they've had to scramble in the dark without the cushion of military contracts, everything less than official in order to achieve the impossible, that he should have expected the look.

"I'm retiring," Price tells him, tugs open the corner drawer of his desk to fish for a cigar. The scrape of wood echoes through his office. Simon fidgets, a short flick of his nails against the pads of his fingers that is quickly stopped by Ghost's clenching fists.

"Retiring," Ghost repeats, feels the word out like he's never heard it before, "didn't know men like us retired." Price hums, clicking his lighter with a growing frustration, fucking military grade bullshit. Ghost flicks his lighter on, and holds it out for his captain. Price takes a moment with his cigar, letting the flame burn just a little long before Ghost flips the lid shut.

"When's the last time you slept?" He asks instead of rising to the obvious, if self deprecating, bait.

"Last night." The answer comes just a second too quick. Practiced. It's a standard question from the psych eval Price knows good and god damn well Ghost's been lying on for years. The kind of scars he's got...

"Really?" Price isn't asking, he lowers his cigar and exhales heavily, feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders, "I didn't." Ghost doesn't blink.

"Don't see how, they just keep makin' the barrack beds more comfortable." He jokes, the deadpan tone a distraction from his underlying agreement. Price would bet Ghost hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years. It won't be any better with him gone.

"Your contract is up about this time isn't it?" Price slides a folder to the side, flips up the edge of Ghost's papers. Same date stamped at the top as his own. It's been like that as long as he can remember. There's never been any question of what was going to happen on that date, except this time around. "What're your plans for that?"

"Renew." Ghost says without an ounce of hesitation.

"Without me?"

Ghost freezes. Price can almost see the gears turning in his head. A new captain, one he can't trust, one who doesn't know who he is or how he works. A new captain that might bring in new people, who might decide he's too much work and have him transferred out of counter terrorism. Who might not let his psych slip pass, who might discharge him for any number of things Price has let go over the years.

Ghost is a good soldier because he trusts him. Someone new? After what happened chasing down Hassan and Makarov, it's anyone's bet how he'll play. Those betrayals still hangs fresh over all of their heads.

"You like animals lieutenant?"

"Animals, sir?" Ghost's head tips forward ever so slightly, the smallest breech in his rigid posture betraying his confusion.

"My wife's family owns a ranch stateside. Would save me the trouble of lookin' for an extra hand if you wanted to change careers." Price leans back in his chair, "Good place to spend your retirement if you like animals."

"When'd you get married?" It's not the most elegant topic change, but it's also not a "no."

"Soon as I saw how shit the barracks were," It's the truth, but it sounds close enough to a joke that anyone else might think it was, "Got a kid too, Goose, you'd like 'er." Ghost grunts, breezing past that one, though Price knows he's carefully filing the information away. Mind like a bear trap that one. There's nothing Price has ever known Ghost to forget.

The two men regard each other across Price's desk. There's a level of trust between them that's carried them to this point, past every roadblock. It's not something that can be built up over night, nor is it one the affords requests lightly. Price has asked a lot of Ghost over the years, both of them understanding that the only way out was through. Now they stand at an impasse. One of them leaving, the other hoping they'll stay.

Ghost doesn't know what he'll be if Price leaves. He doesn't know what he is when he isn't this.

"Simon," Price appeals, leaning forward, "Let me do this for you. Let me get you out before this job kills you. The ranch is nice, it's quiet, you'll have your own place, work. You can sleep there."

Ghost is silent for a long moment, his eyes dark, clouded, as they stare Price down. It's anyone's guess what he's thinking. The conversations they've had- Price knows as well --no better-- than anyone that Ghost lives his life waiting for this work to kill him. He can't bury him again. Can't mourn Simon a second time when he knows he could have saved him. Price couldn't be there last time, but now? Today? He can try.

"I'm not babysitting," Ghost says finally. Price smiles, feels the tight anxiety in his chest loosen a little.

"Who? Goose?" He chuckles, shakes his head, "Doubt you'll get the chance to meet 'er, but I'll make sure she knows not to bother you."

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candyfloss5000 · 20 days

Text

Stillness

Pairing: CX-2 (clone assassin) x AFAB reader

Notes: this is smut yall. The first smut I've ever written so don't you dare bully me 😭 (don't expect a masterpiece). I'm desperate for CX-2 fics so I wrote this.

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

"Cuyir su." His native tongue slips past his lips, a gloved hand grasping tightly at your hip to keep you still after you tried to grind agaisnt him. Be still.

You’re straddling him on his desk chair, he's buried deep within you, rock hard but not moving, just using you to keep him warm while he writes his reports. A shaky sigh passes your lips and you rest your forehead agaisnt his chest that's rid of his cuirass for once, leaving his top half only in his body suit. When he's sure you're not going to move again, he loosens his hold and subconsciously strokes his hand up and down your side, relishing in how you shiver from even his lightest touch.

You lift your head from his chest, only to nuzzle his neck, placing the occasion kiss. After a minute, your kisses turn more hungry. Open mouthed and not afraid to lightly nuzzle your canines into his throat. His hand wonders into your hair, as he tilts his head to the side to provide you better access. He loses himself for a moment and let's you become his every thought.

"Cyar'ika." The hand in your hair tugs you to lean back from his neck and face him. "Be still. I can always just take what I want and leave you to satisfy yourself. Is that what you want?"

You shake your head with a pout. The threat is seemingly empty. The pair of you already have limited time together and you both relish in every second of it. He wouldn't leave you high and dry without knowing the extent of time he'll be away from you next...Would he?

A shudder runs down your spine at the thought, as you wrap your arms around his waist and hide your flushed face in his neck. A low groan rumbles from his throat when he feels you clench down on him.

For a while, you settle. You don’t know how long. He answers a few times when he’s hailed on his commlink, giving orders in the same calm, professional tone as he would any other time. As if he doesn’t have you on his lap. As if he doesn’t have to repress a groan at every involuntary flutter of your inner muscles.

Your hand finds its way underneath the hem of the top half of his body suit, subconsciously raking your nails across his toned abs and feeling how they tense. You know better than to ask if you’re allowed to cum yet, so you do your best not to move, even though arousal is pulsing in your core and you feel so wonderfully slick and full.

The day has taken it's tole on you and you can't help the way your eyelids droop. You drift in and out of sleep, all with his cock still in you. Still filling you to the brim. Beyond his prominent arousal, CX-2 feels a soft pang in his heart at the sight of you so content with him, so peaceful. The assassins takes pride in how easily you let your gaurd down infront of him. Since he has no memory of the man he once was, he can't remember a time where someone didn't fear him or try to make him fear them. He needs you just as much as you need him.

CX-2 is drawn from his thoughts when he feels the soft roll of your hips agaisnt his pelvis. You sigh and nuzzle closer against his neck. The datapad thuds agaisnt his desk and his bare hands - when had he taken his gloves off? - grasp your waist, holding you down to start grinding at just the right angles into your soaked core.

You give a shuddering, grateful moan, suddenly wide awake. Fuck, it feels so good to be so close to him, to have his cock thick and heavy inside you, knowing that no one will ever compare to him. Your assassin.

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

Text

I'm so close to killing the owner of Tumblr. I made a long ass post and I saved it and it didn't go through and I'm trying to contain my anger

Anyways the ask was about Michael having big older sibling reader (they were quiet, calm and kind) and then they died in any way I think is fit and reader was Michael's only hope and happiness and then years later Michael gets taken by the entity and finds reader like the spirit or something.

I think this is very interesting why not.

Dbd! Michael x older sibling! Reader.

Everyone knew who Michael Myers was obviously. But they never exactly knew who his oldest sibling was.

News spread that The Shape had killed everyone in his family except for one of his siblings. Some believed that they got burned to death by Michael although there wasn't any use or evidence of smoke or soot. Some believed they got buried underground but no signs of pre buried dirt or body in the ground. And the most popular belief was they were alive and working with michael as an accomplice.

But you and Michael know better than anyone that none of those are true. You don't help him. In fact he hates it when you try to. Changing your last name was the best thing you've done after that incident years ago.

You work to support both you and Michael. Especially Michael since he suddenly forgets the meaning of self care when you're not around you're the reason why he's always in great shape.

You don't mind your brother's unusual hobby. Maybe you were becoming like him too or maybe you know he couldn't control it and you had no problem with that. But either one doesn't change sibling love Michael has for you, it is as big as the huge pile of bodies he killed in the past. (it's alot)

Both of you weren't that different. You both were quiet and calm. But he definitely wasn't kind at all.

It isn't hard to read Michael when you've basically been looking and reading him when he was born. And he hates it but you know he actually really doesn't. But all of those weren't that important compared to as of right now.

Michael stood near at the crashed blaring alarming car with a body too shaped like yours, drowned in blood. Although a big fire was next to it with his trusty knife clutched in his hand so tightly it looked like it was going to shatter to pieces. He was overwhelmed with emotions. He composed himself and just went to take a closer look, he couldn't just assume it was you in the car crash who coincidentally crashed in front of him. Even though the car also looked identical to yours..

He's just going to check because his curiosity is scratching at his head like untrimmed cat's nails. And when his violent brain realises its not you he'll go back home and watch you as you cook for each other's food as usual.

....

This isn't right.

Why does this person look like you?

He was frozen in place for the first time in his life he felt as if he couldn't do anything. You were always helping and aiding him no? You were the opposite of him, he just destroyed and killed. What was he going to do now? Healing wasn't his kind of thing oh fuck what is he going to do?

Soon the sound of siren and people shouting caught his attention. He was confused and anxious and did the only thing he knew what to do when he did. Kill.

The police and firemen stopped in their tracks slowly realising who they were seeing. They immediately got ready to attack the man. Damn Michael... Must've killed the poor person there.

But they only had a few seconds to comprehend wha was happening. One of them were.. On the ground? And an excruciating pain as more bodies make awful squelching noises as ones body feels more and more heavier.

Michael he... Must get home now. You must be waiting for him as the food is getting cold.

Weird. He was already home. That was quick. But where are you? You're supposed to be sitting in a chair as the dim light above you revealing what you have cooked and telling him "oh Michael you're back, I was waiting for you for so long. Your food is getting cold..!" where the fuck were you?

He stood still for a few more minutes he wasn't even sure if he was thinking.

And then the TV next to him turned on. The words coming out of the reporters words made him want to strangle her to death right then and there.

"as of right now multiple police officers are gathering here as it was claimed that The Boogie man had taken the life of Y/N L/N who was driving an....."

L/n... That was the fake name you legally used. it had to be a coincidence. But why was he feeling so... Sad? Sad? He was feeling sad? Instead of anger or bloodlust he was feeling sad?

Michael didn't like this feeling at all. You were always there to tell him what to do other than kill when he was feeling all kinds of emotions but you weren't here to tell him what to do now. So he had no choice but to kill. It wasn't even Halloween yet but damn the feeling was strong..

No one had known why but September 19 1979 was when Michael Myers had unpredictably struck and became one of the biggest killing spree by Michael yet.

It was later revealed that the person who died in the car crash was surprisingly related to Michael Myers. This new information had now led people to believe that Michael's sibling was indeed an accomplice for him but he no longer found them useful and therefore murdered them and went mad.

Michael wanted to display every single one of these air headed piece of shit's guts in their family's homes. But he was too busy dealing with the new unsettling emptiness inside the home you both lived in. He may go kill again. And again. And again. Just so he doesn't have to hear the annoying agitating skin crawling quietness that made the blood flowing through his ears audible.

It had been a few years. Maybe 3 or 6 he doesn't know. But one thing Michael does know is that he's now a complete mess. It was pretty obvious, his mask dirtied and scratched. His clothes were messy and untidy, his knife was rusty and had dried blood on it.

Now it was October 19. 19th being the day you died and his birth day and month. His Halloween was ruined when he was younger and now you died on his goddamn birth day. God how more unlucky can he be.

Now he was chasing after laurie yet again. But then his vision turned black and it felt as if he dropped to the ground but was somehow laying on his back.

And he opened his eyes and saw peculiar people...

It was a few minutes of a man with a ghost like mask talking his ass off to Michael who wasn't even listening and thinking about how he was so close to getting laurie (I know that ghostface didn't exist before Michael but I don't play dbd and I don't know much about it. </3)

Untill he said something along the lines of- "oh and there's this creepy, quiet but cute ghost named Y/n L/n."

Michael's neck snapped to look at what he thinks is called ghostface, Michael asked himself if he heard that right.

This caught the attention of ghostface as well as the others.

"oh, someone caught your eye I see? I mean I guess it makes sense. They're creepy and quiet like you." ghostface teased.

Michael stood up next to ghostface. Indicating that he wants to know where this person is, now.

"woah, calm down dude! You just heard of them. To be honest I didn't think you were gonna be like this, I thought you wouldn't c-"

Ghostface word's were cut short by The Shape strangling him. Ghostface was struggling to talk, panic visible in his body language. This alerted most of the killers.

"okay, I'll tell you!" and with that Michael had dropped the poor man. And had silently forced ghostface to lead the way.

"that bitch crazy..." Freddy the burnt man whispered to Frank the one with a neck tattoo and a smiley face drawn on his mask who only nodded hoping the blue suited man didn't hear them.

20 minutes later deep into the woods, ghostface has thought of talking to Michael more about the person who seemed to have completely captivated Michael.

"so about the person..." he starts and the man next to him doesn't react. Ghostface takes it as a sign to keep talking about them.

"they don't really talk much but they're kind and all that, but every October 19 and 31st they get all sad and moody and goes somewhere secluded. They once said something about their brother."

And with that Michael starts power walking to the direction they were heading and ghostface yells at him to calm down.

Michael didn't even need to hear your voice or see your face to confirm it was really you on the river nearby.

Here's a lovely clift hanger since I think my vocabulary is slipping off and I have to gain my rich words again. And I think this was going too long omg.

#og michael myers #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers #slasher x reader #dead by daylight #dbd killer #dbd michael myers #siblings #dead by daylight michael myers

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gnpwdrnwhiskey · 6 months

Text

Southern Inhospitality

Pairing - Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

Word Count - 1.7K

Warnings - God, I don't even know. Mentions of food, mentions of tense family gatherings and insecurities, just general Thanksgiving family gathering vibes....oh and also, hopefully Rhett & Scarlett don't mind I borrowed a few lines

Author's Note - this takes place like a year or two in the future of where Dieter and Ava currently are in the main story but it's pretty spoiler free. Big big thanks to @tinytinymenace for sending me this prompt for a first sentence fic thing. And to @wildemaven and @trulybetty as usual for cheerleading me through this lol! 💕

As he stepped on the escalator and descended into the arrivals terminal, he thought to himself, "this is the dumbest idea I've ever had."

Okay, maybe not the dumbest. He's Dieter Bravo, he's done a lot of dumb shit in his life. But this probably ranks right up there.

And Ava hadn't exactly invited him but when they'd talked the previous evening, she had said she missed him and that was pretty much the same thing right?

Besides, she'd sounded so miserable back in her family's clutches, it was like his duty or whatever to sweep in and rescue her. The last time she sounded that withdrawn- well, he doesn't like to think about it, but he'll be damned if they ever repeat it. Time for him to step up and white knight this shit.

He's starting to second guess the whole idea though as the Uber makes its way up the long oak lined drive, the massive magnolia tree taking up the majority of the front yard coming into view before the actual house does.

"Goddamn," he whispers to himself as the car comes to a halt in front of a true southern plantation house- fucking columns, gleaming black shutters, coach lights, rocking chairs and all.

What the hell has he gotten himself into he wonders as grabs his bag from the Uber and makes his way up the steps to the imposing front door and ringing the bell.

He's halfway expecting the door to be answered by a housekeeper or a butler or some shit and is surprised when it swings open to reveal a pre-teen boy in perfectly pressed khakis and a polo.

"Yeah?" The kid says nonchalantly, more interested in the phone in his hand than the actual guest at the door and Dieter catches a glimpse of chipped glitter nail polish as the boy's fingers fly over the keys.

"I'm looking for Ava. Ava Greene? Is this the right place?" He asks, sliding his Ray-Bans down his nose and trying to peer behind the kid into the house. "Or like the right fucking century? They know the south lost right?"

The kid looks up at Dieter and flashes him a mischievous grin and suddenly Dieter sees the family resemblance. At least he knows he's at the right house. Must be one of Drew's spawn.

"The news of the fall of the Confederacy has not yet reached the man of the house. We fear, due to his advanced age and frail condition, such a staggering blow may cause him to expire."

Dieter snorts out a laugh and the kid smiles even wider. "Welcome to Oak Hill," he says with a dramatic bow. "Please, do step inside and join us on this day when we celebrate the most problematic of American holidays."

"Harry! Who's at the door? You didn't let the Jehovah's Witnesses in again, did you??" Ava's voice comes from somewhere further in the house and Dieter finds himself automatically stepping inside as if drawn to her.

"They're actually here for you," Harry calls over his shoulder. "Something about how you've been living in sin with a cad and a scoundrel."

"Haha," Ava laughs. "Very funny, smart ass. Seriously, who's here?"

"Seriously, it's for you. Come see."

The tapping of heels on hardwood flooring comes closer and Dieter thinks maybe he's stepped not only into the wrong century but also into a completely alternate reality- Ava- his messy, wonderful, Converse wearing Ava, in heels?

His gaze starts at her feet as she comes into view and hot damn, she really is wearing a killer pair of pumps, then some long swirly plaid skirt he doesn't have a name for, crisp white button up, pearls at her ears and throat, hair pulled back in a complicated looking up-do.

"Harry, everyone I know is already here...." And then she catches sight of him standing behind Harry and he grins at the surprised expression on her face. "Dieter-- what are you doing here? What about your meeting?"

"I rescheduled. I should've never agreed anyway," he shrugs, reaching out to pull her into his arms and she goes willingly. "I shouldn't have let you come here by yourself."

"I told you it was fine, that'd I'd be fine," she says as she wraps her arms around him and leans into him. "I'm mostly fine."

"You're not fine, look at you," Dieter laughs, pulling away enough to hook a finger in the vee of her shirt, accidentally on purpose undoing one more tiny button and sneaking a peak. "You have a bra on. I didn't even know you owned one."

Ava snorts out a laugh and melts back into him, tucking her face into his neck and nipping at the skin there. "Behave, Bravo. We're amongst civilized company here."

"I'll try, but you do look like every sexy librarian fantasy I've ever had," Dieter whispers into her ear, hands sliding down her back to rest on the curve of her ass.

"You're an idiot," Ava whispers back, holding on to him a little bit tighter. "But I'm so glad you're here."

"Take your sunglasses off," Ava says as they walk hand in hand towards the family room.

"What?"

"We're inside. Pretend you're a normal person and take your sunglasses off."

"But why?"

"Are you high?"

"What? No!"

"Then take them off. Please do not make this any worse than it already will be. When we go in for dinner, sit up straight, keep your elbows off the table, mind your manners and take your sunglasses off."

And with that warning, she escorts him into the belly of the beast.

"We'll have one more guest for dinner," Ava announces to the room. "Most of you have already met Dieter, but I'll leave you to get reacquainted and set another place at the table."

"Play nice," Ava grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek and giving his hand a quick squeeze before scurrying out of the room like the traitor she is.

He can do this. He can. He's an Oscar winning actor for fucks sake. How bad can one family dinner possibly be?

Three hours later he's hating himself for putting that thought into the universe. Turns out it can be so, so incredibly bad.

Dinner itself was fine, delicious even- the turkey was moist, the potatoes were smooth and buttery, the pumpkin cheesecake was downright sinful.

But the conversation has been downright atrocious. If someone had given Conrad Greene a list of topics not to talk about at a family gathering, he's tried his damnedest to hit every single one of them.

He's watched Ava's mother masterfully try to steer them into safer conversational waters time and time again, he's listened to all the praise of Drew and the newspaper he can stomach while Ava's own accomplishments get brushed off as inconsequential and she withdraws farther and farther into herself. Even Harry is not exempt from his great grandfather's ire and he watches the bright eyed kid who'd met him at the door deflate like an old party balloon.

Dieter has always thought his own childhood was shitty, but it's nothing compared to this. Sure, he may have never known his dad and his mom may have ditched him, but between his grandparents and Ms. Rose, he'd never once felt anything less than accepted for exactly who he was. Or pressured to be someone he wasn't.

By the time the table is cleared and after dinner coffees are served, his back is starting to hurt from the damned uncomfortable dining chairs, his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth and his fucking knee hurts from how often Ava has dug her nails in to stop him from saying something he most likely shouldn't.

And he's had about enough. Of all of it.

"Are you staying here?" He leans in to ask Ava.

"No," she shakes her head. "I've been staying at Drew's."

"Great. Did you drive here separately?"

"Yeah, Harry wanted to ride in your Porsche."

"Even better. We're leaving," he announces, pushing his chair back from the table.

"Dieter--"

"We're leaving, Ava. Say your goodbyes and grab your things."

Ava leads Dieter up the side stairs and into the little loft apartment over Drew's garage where she used to live and where she's been staying for the last few days.

"I'm sorry. It didn't....it wasn't always like that," she says as she kicks off her heels. It's the first thing she's said since they left her grandfather's house and Dieter's heart aches for her.

"Ava, honey, you don't have anything to be sorry for. None of that shit is your fault. He's a bitter old man with fucked up ideas of how the world should work."

"Growing up....before my grandmother died....it was different. She tempered him I guess," she shrugs, taking off her pearls and tucking them safely in a little velvet pouch she puts in her make up bag.

"What was she like?" He asks, coming up behind her at the bathroom counter, beginning to hunt for and remove all the pins keeping her hair pulled back.

"She liked to cook and work in her garden, and take Drew and I bargain shopping. She was always smiling or laughing. A little bit mischievous. People gravitated to her. She would've liked you a lot."

"You think so?"

"I do," Ava smiles softly at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "I wish she would've gotten to know Harry, she would've gotten a kick out of him."

"He's a pretty cool kid," Dieter grins. "Clever, quick-witted. You sure he's not actually yours?"

"Positive," Ava laughs, spinning to face him. "But I did spend a lot of time with him when he was younger. Guess I rubbed off on him."

"Hey, that's not a bad thing, you know that, right? You're incredibly brilliant, Ava. It's their loss if they can't see it."

"I know. I'm working on it...."

"And, you know what else?" he grins, cupping her face in his hands and adopting a ridiculous southern accent. "You deserve to be kissed and often and by someone who knows how."

"And I suppose you think you're the proper person?"

"I might be....if the right moment ever came."

"What about now, Rhett?"

"Thanks not your line, Scarlett."

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

"That's not your line either."

"Hey, Bravo....shut up and kiss me already."

And he does.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter x ofc!Ava #dieter & ava #cwams #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro stories

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sailxrmxrs · 1 month

Note

hello i really love your writing! if you're taking requests, i've been thinking about the infinite blue boys in a typical office setting with the MC and what that would be like? thank you!!~

this has been sat in my inbox for SO LONG I AM SO SORRY TO THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS SDKFDGS but!! better later than never right??? right?????? anyway now is the perfect time to finally get around to this bc my brain has been so occupied lately playing sympathy kiss so office based otome is right at the forefront of my mind hehe. it's like it was meant to be. ALSO thank u so much!! i don't think too much about what i write after it's been posted so i forget people actually look at it sometimes sksjfkf TY FOR REQUESTING THIS WAS LOVELY TO THINK ABOUT also incredibly funny looking at the last post of me being like 'i want to get back to writing more regularly!!' as if i didn't slink back into the shadows again for four months this was also the first thing i've written since getting my new keyboard which is really taking some getting used to especially with nails dsklfsg still, enjoy office time gamers o7

♡ leo ♡

Leo definitely seems like the type to bring the energy to his office department, especially on a Monday morning when everyone wants nothing more than to have had just one more day to spend at home before work started all over again for another week. He'd be the only one with a spring in his step as he went about his morning, filling his water bottle, getting situated at his desk. Speaking of his desk, Leo's workspace would be the definition or organised chaos. Post-it notes are scattered across the bottom of his monitor, there's a pile of loose sheets covered in haphazard notes scrawled across them, and there are definitely more than a few pens with no ink left strewn across the desk. They also happen to be mixed in with perfectly usable pens so Leo would have to scramble for a pen when someone from another department came to brief him on a project he was working on. Every time, without fail, he is grabbing pens and scribbling on a notepad until he finds one that works enough to make notes clear enough for him to reference later on. You ask each time why he doesn't just go through and throw away the empty pens to which Leo jokingly scoffs about how he finds the right pens first time every time. He does not.

He's very much the epitome of a work best friend. Someone who will text you on the weekend like 'I know we spend every day sat next to each other but can we hang out together pls'. He enjoys your company okay!! You are very fun and he wants you to know that!! Will find himself getting into a bit of trouble for getting distracted talking about weekend plans with you but can you blame him? It's a Friday afternoon and his brain has logged off. Unfortunately for Leo, despite his brain having logged off, his computer is very much logged in so he has to force himself to keep going for that last stretch of hours between him and the weekend. Will whine and complain to you about how Fridays should be half days which, given Leo's usual demeanour at the start of the week, is an amusing shift in tone. Cut to a couple of hours later and Leo is shutting down his computer the second the clock ticks over to 5pm. He'll swing his chair around to face you, staring you down until you finally close everything down to get ready to leave. Think puppy watching and waiting for you to take them on a walk. Sometimes if you have plans for the Friday evening, he'll offer to pick you up on the way to work to save you the drive too. Also because it gives him an excuse for being late like oh no there was just so much traffic leaving their place I definitely did not stop for coffee on the way here not at all!! He absolutely did but don't worry he didn't forget to pick up your favourite order too~

I think Leo would be a really good motivator in the office too. If a day was going particularly bad, or if a really busy period struck he would be the perfect person to help keep your mood in balance. He's very encouraging for you to step away from your desk. Take a break, have a drink, maybe get a little snack to energise yourself. But he doesn't do it to distract you nor does he overstep any boundaries. He will offhandedly comment on how hard you've been working and make a gentle suggestion that a break is needed. He'd also offer to lend a hand if there was anything particularly pressing that was weighing you down. Try and say no. Try it. Never works. Leo's always happy to help because he knows you would do the same for him and have previously done so in the past when he was newer to the job and hadn't quite gotten his bearings yet. He makes the long days pass by quicker. Truly the best person to work with.

♡ milo ♡

Milo is absolutely that one coworker who keeps to himself a lot and develops this really cool and mysterious reputation. No one really knows what he does for work and no one ever asks him either because they're a little too intimidated to talk to him. It's not that he's had any particularly bad run-ins with anyone else in the office but more so that he no one really knows a whole lot about him. Any conversations about his weekend plans or what he did the evening prior are met with the most normal responses someone could muster. He's going grocery shopping, he's visiting family, he stayed in last night to watch tv. No one knows anything about his life outside of work and no one's bumped into him anywhere but in the office. The only reason people don't speculate that he lives there is because they see him drive in and park in the same spot at the same time each morning. Him keeping to himself isn't really an antisocial thing, but more so that he's there to work so would rather just get on with whatever he has to do with minimal distractions. He's an efficient man and doesn't like people stealing his attention away from any sort of deadline.

Then along comes this slight change in the office layout and suddenly your desk has been moved directly next to his. Surprise had left you stunned for a moment when Milo greeted you that first morning before sitting down and getting himself set up for the working day. He still never offered much conversation, just the usual 'good morning' and 'have a good evening' as you both left the office. It wasn't until you both stayed behind a little late one Friday evening to finish some paperwork before the weekend and he'd stricken up a conversation while walking back to your cars. It was mostly small talk, nothing of too much substance, but it was far more than he gave anyone else. If you ask, he simply answers that until the clock hits around 5pm, he's at work. Once he's left the office building, he's just normal Milo again. It's his way of separating work and his personal life. Honestly, his work/life balance is enviable.

Over time, as you grow closer, he'll start to chat more during office hours. Asking what you thought of a recent episode of a show, if you'd seen the news about an upcoming game. And your closeness wouldn't go unnoticed. You'll get coworkers whispering to you on your lunch break asking to share some information since they'd barely seen Milo speak with anyone else so openly before. You'd always politely decline, telling them he never really shared anything special and it was mostly just work related things—a white lie, of course, but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. Milo would appreciate it too, often voicing his complaints about the busybodies in the office not so subtly whispering about him. He didn't care too much about their speculations of him until they started dragging you into it too. Grumpy Milo grumbling into his coffee cup asking why they cared so much anyway. Who cares who he speaks to at work (He cares. But he won't tell you that).

♡ rory ♡

Rory at any given moment in time will take the opportunity to complain about something that has happened in the office that day. Whether it's someone not submitting documents on time or somebody emailing him with any extra set of tasks on top of his already stacked workload, he will be sending you a string of messages to blow off some steam. The first time it'd happened, you were sitting in the break room enjoying your lunch when Rory slumped into the chair next to you and signed so heavily you thought something terrible had happened and he was barely keeping himself together. As it had turned out, a new intern had done something without running it by anyone else first and caused a particularly big problem. One that Rory's manager decided would be his responsibility to resolve before the day's end. As well as meet his own deadlines for the same evening. To say he was stressed was an understatement. So Rory had taken solace in your quiet presence and let out his frustrations. Once he'd gotten it all out of his system, he apologised for the outburst and introduced himself, realising the two of you had never actually spoken before. He then offered to lend a listening ear for your own work annoyances, attentively taking it all in while you spoke. Once your lunch break came to an end, you exchanged contacts with the promise that you could be each other's dedicated work therapist whenever someone or something had pissed you off.

From that point on, you'd receive the odd message here and there throughout the day from Rory with the latest complaint. At first, it was just a way to get the annoyances off your chests but as time went on, conversations started to meander and before long you were becoming closer and closer. You didn't see each other much while working—only ever in passing if you needed to deliver a document to a different department or if there was a meeting you needed to attend. Your texts were your main point of contact with Rory until he suggested you start coordinating your lunch breaks so that you could actually hang out face-to-face rather than via text message. Coworkers would definitely start to speculate how and why these two individuals from completely different departments became friends or if there was something more to the relationship. Especially considering Rory, much like Milo, was more reserved and didn't really show much of an effort to become friends with the people he worked with. He was amicable enough but kept the colleague boundary up like a wall. Except with you, anyway.

I think Rory would want to extend your work friendship beyond office hours and would start wanting to text you later in the evening but is so nervous to come across as being too forward. He likes to act as though he's a very nonchalant person but he really isn't at all. Especially not where you are concerned. So you'd definitely need to be the one to nudge and initiate more of a friendship between you both. It wouldn't take much. All you'd need to do was text him one Saturday morning and mention how you were planning for a bookshop trip and as if he wanted to come along. He texts back almost instantly with a big 'YES' followed immediately by a 'glad you've finally recognised my superior taste in books' purely to save face for how eager he must have seemed. Would come into the office on the Monday with red cheeks once he saw you in the staff car park and try to sound as normal as possible commenting on how he had a good weekend. For his own sanity, just go along with it. He begs.

♡ alexei ♡

Alexei is the new starter who doesn't have a whole lot of office experience under his belt. He's bright eyed and eager to learn on the job but is also somewhat nervous to make mistakes or ask too many questions. It takes him a little while to settle in and feel fully comfortable with his surroundings but once he does, Alexei starts to really flourish. Once he knows you're happy to answer all of his questions and won't scold him for not understanding something straight way, he will come to you with an entire monologue of queries he wants to clarify. Literally rambles this long stream of consciousness before reaching the end of his list and looking at you all expectantly for your response. Listens so intently while he's perched on his desk chair, scribbling down notes as you run through everything he'd asked. Then turns back to his computer screen with a 'thank you' and then doesn't say another word for like two hours. He'll just be typing and clicking away with this intense focus until you have to tap on his shoulder and remind him to take a break from the screen for a few minutes. Will struggle to pull himself away for breaks because once he's in the zone he is IN. He only really likes stepping away from his desk when he has reached a good stopping point and he absolutely hates leaving a task partially finished.

I don't think Alexei would be a super social person at work. It wouldn't be for any particular reason other than the thought didn't really occur to him? He prefers to take his breaks at his desk because his chair is comfortable enough so the only people he really talks to on the regular are the people he works with directly. Being new, he hasn't had much of a reason to visit the other departments nor has he been brought on to any big projects that would have him meeting and working with anyone else around the office. Even after he's been there for a little while, he's reached a point where he feels awkward introducing himself because he's not exactly new anymore but he also doesn't know a lot of names. Whenever there's an office party or holiday event, Alexei will turn and whisper to you asking who that was or to remind him of a name. He could have had a good ten minute conversation with someone who and not had a single clue as to what their name was. It makes for some funny encounters, especially if it's someone not well liked within the office. They'd strike up a conversation just for Alexei to clearly not know who they are. We love to see it.

After Alexei has been working in the office for a few months and has gotten nicely settled in his job, I can see him being really welcoming to a new starter. In the same way you answered all his questions and helped him along with his training, Alexei would do the same for the new person. He might come across a little too excited with how forthcoming he is with explanations or offers to help out with anything they're struggling with but it's clear that he means well. He's just a little enthusiastic!! Would also start to add little decorations on his desk. He doesn't do anything too special, but he might have a tiny figurine of a jellyfish sat under his monitor and would have themed notepads and matching pens to go with them. If he's going to spend most of his day there, he wants it to feel like it's his personal little corner.

♡ brooklyn ♡

Brooklyn is the high ranking manager CEO businessman who is also one of the most likable people around the office. Despite him always being seen in his signature suits and ties with some sort of important document in hand at any given moment, he was genuinely pleased to speak with anyone working there. He has his moments of being the stern business type, particularly when in stressful meetings to discuss the company's performance for the quarter and their targets for the next quarter. Overall, however, he remains a generally calming presence. If you were his assistant, he'd try to alleviate as much of the pressure of the role as he could. He knew he was a painfully busy man and that you had no end of meetings to schedule, companies to contact for collaborations and partnerships. There was never really an end to your workload for which he felt a tad guilty. Anytime you entered his private office, reeling off the schedule for the afternoon or informing him of a visitor who had arrived to meet with him, Brooklyn is offering to make you a cup of tea or coffee no matter how many times you insist that that's your job, not his. He never listens.

I think he'd take a lot of interest in you as a person too, not wanting there to be this distinct barrier of boss and employee. He would much rather you both felt you stood on equal ground. That mindset had gotten him into some mild altercations in meetings when other company executives had made some sort of snide comment regarding your involvement in the discussions. Brooklyn wasn't going to stand for one of his most trusted and hardworking colleagues to be taken for granted. The strained tension never left the boardroom until a few minutes after the meeting ended and Brooklyn stormed out looking angrier than you'd ever seen him. Would be silent as he poured himself a cup of tea and then give you this serious talk about how if that were to ever happen without him around report it to him immediately. His expression was much sterner that you'd experienced from all your time working directly with Brooklyn, but it was evident that it came from a place of respect. And he explained as much as he leaned against his desk, pinching the spot between his brows as if the encounter had given him a headache.

There had never been any repeat instances following that afternoon, though you had overheard some whispers about the incident. Mostly from people surprised to hear that Brooklyn had raised his voice. Anytime you commented on it while presenting him with new paperwork, Brooklyn would adjust his tie awkwardly, face heating at the lack of composure he'd now exposed to the office. He took pride in coming across in a well-presented and calm manner so this one lapse of his self-restraint made him feel a touch embarrassed each time he was reminded of the event; in those moments he seemed less like the important business figure and more like a close friend you could playfully tease in passing moments between the busy hours. It was a comfortable and welcomed dynamic for the both of you.

♡ tobias ♡

Tobias is without a doubt the office socialite. He's always popping his head into the different departments with a request or to catch up after the weekend. He reminds me of someone I work with who is incredibly easy going and is friends with basically everyone in the office. Tobias can have a tendency to cause disruptions in that his voice will carry in an office room and he doesn't really realise how much of a distraction his presence can be sometimes. He doesn't mean to pull people away from anything important! But he also can't really help himself when it's the middle of the week and he's got all kinds of work adjacent stories to be shared. Will perch himself on your desk and start rambling away about something, not really noticing if you were paying him your full attention or not. It's only after he asks you a question and you noncommittally answer with a vague 'yes' that he'll start whining about how you're not listening to him. As much as we'd like to chat, some of us have work to do, Tobias. When you question him about his own work, Tobias will conveniently remember he needs to be somewhere else, dodging the question entirely and scampering away to a different department. There is usually a shaking of heads that follows after Tobias whenever he dashes off somewhere else—it's always from a place of endearing acceptance.

I can see Tobias being involved in the marketing side of a business. Definitely the one to organise big events and staff parties. He needs someone to rein him in though because some of his ideas aren't quite workplace or coworker friendly. He hears office party and thinks hell yeah time to go wild go crazy but no Tobias please the last time that happened you broke multiple office chairs we can't afford to keep replacing them every time. Would enlist you for help too because you're his favourite person to bother at work. Whether you humour him and play along or tell him to, light heartedly, leave you alone, Tobias will find his way to your desk for some quality catchup time. What do you mean it's Monday and you're busy? He needs to tell you about this movie he saw on Saturday that he thinks should be the theme of the next work event. He's also the type to bring food to your desk too. Will sometimes just buy lunch for you and pry your hands away from your keyboard so that he can slide a salad or pot of pasta into your grasp. Tobias takes lunch breaks very seriously. He'll also get treats for people in the office too! Buys little cakes or chocolates just because. This is part of the reason why everyone likes him so much; can't say no to a man who keeps you well fed.

Despite poking fun at Tobias being a bit more lax around the office, I think he genuinely would be full of solid ideas and he does feel pretty passionate about certain aspects of the job too. His work/life balance isn't perfect in that he tends to prioritise life a little more than he should sometimes but there's little harm in it. He's a very good person to be around if you're the type to get a bit too wrapped up in working. Tobias is NOT letting you overwork yourself. Not on his watch!! He's a surprisingly perceptive person and can very easily tell when you're stressed or not getting as much sleep as you should. Will take it upon himself to text you at the weekend to hang out and have a movie night with him. That way he can make sure you're relaxing and not spending your limited time off working your brain. Will steal your phone directly from your hands if you're staring too hard, eyebrows furrowed, and will replace it with a snack and gently remind you that it's the weekend time not work time. He has his uses sometimes.

#infinite blue x reader #infinite blue #infinite blue leo #infinite blue brooklyn #infinite blue milo #infinite blue rory #infinite blue tobias #infinite blue alexei #hello again how are we doing it's only been *checks wrist* four months #I FEEL BAD I MISS WRITING BUT IM SO DEEP IN OTOME HELL SPENDING MY EVENINGS KICKING MY FEET TWIRLING MY HAIR OVER SILLY OFFICE ROMANCE GAME #anyway play sympathy kiss teehee it is very good #also v open to requests i promise i will try not to leave them stewing for months #but also no guarantees on that one oops #anna writes

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oatmeal-raisen · 10 months

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thinking about sugar daddy!atsumu

sfw

sugar daddy atsumu follows you along on errands just to pay because he loves the way u get a slight blush on ur cheeks when he hands over his card nonchalantly while your still fiddling with your wallet

sugar daddy atsumu saves his coins to put in the piggy backs you leave laying around

sugar daddy atsumu always orders the most expensive bottle of wine or champagne before encouraging you to get the whole menu because your body's his temple

sugar daddy atsumu once sent a flower arrangements every hour while you were at work when he heard you say a male coworkers name

sugar daddy atsumu constantly talks jokes about you quitting your job to be a stay at home wife and maybe one day a stay at home mom (catmom?)

sugar daddy atsumu loves to pay for your hair, nails, etc. to see you confidently strut around wanting to show it off

kinda nsfw

he doesn't try to be a sugar daddy but when he sees a mini skirt or anything lacy he can't help but imagine it hugging your curves in ways that make his pants start to feel a little too tight.

if sugar daddy atsumu sees your eyes linger on a necklace too long he'll make sure to slyly order it as a surprise for a date but make sure to replace it with his hands later in the night;)

sugar daddy atsumu will pull out his phone during water breaks to lingerie shop and ask sakusa what color he thinks matches u best

sakusa: “i don't even wanna think-”

atsumu: “YOUR MY BEST FRIEND HOW COULD YOU EVER THINK OF MY WOMEN LIKE THAT?!?!”

sakusa: “we're not best friends”

atsumu: 😧

sugar daddy atsumu will make you give him fashion shows in all the new to revealing clothes he bought you before immediately bending you over the chair to make sure there all easily assessable

sugar daddy atsumu will tear your panties off and mumble about buying you ten more pairs while placing sloppy wet kisses on your inner thighs

sugar daddy atsumu has every streaming platform so any movie you want to see can be watched with you sitting comfortably on his cock lap

sugar daddy atsumu would fly you to the city he's playing in when you send him a suggestive text

sugar daddy astumu at a volleyball game once paid one of the workers at the concession stands to let you two use the back room because the whole team was in the locker room and he needed a pre game pick me up

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #msby atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #atsumu smut #miya atsumu #atsumu #haikyuu smut #sugar daddy atsumu #sugar daddy haikyuu #fanfic

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starfall-spirit · 3 months

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Summary: Liam and Deigh survived, but only just. So close to meeting Malek, trepidatious feelings begin to bloom from all sides of the trio.

AN: SFW, a little angsty, and a quick write with no editing. Enjoy.

Read on Ao3

Violet

Someone had driven nails into her skull while she was sleeping. That, or she just had the worst fucking headache of her life. Fighting past that pain, she began assessing the deep ache in her muscles, every one from head to toe. All pain aside, it was the bone-deep exhaustion that kept her from trying to open her eyes and process her surroundings. Unfortunitely, all that did was clear sleep's fog from her mind, making room for her recent memories to surface.

Venin.

Wyvern.

Liam.

"Liam."

"Alive. Just barely." A warm hand wrapped around hers. Xaden. "He's in the next room. He made it, Vi."

At that she forced her eyes open, taking in the set of his mouth, his furrowed brow, and the soul-deep worry in his eyes. Eyes that had yielded so little in the time they'd known each other. She and Liam had started to change that, cracking his mask. "Liam's okay." She let out a heavy sob. "Deigh made it. Thank Dunne."

"It'll be a slow flight to Basgiath, but Malek hasn't claimed them yet."

The mention of flying had her reaching down her own bonds, searching for those two threads in her mental archives. "We are fine. There is no need for concern."

Still, Violet frowned. "Andarna?"

"She sleeps. And will continue to do so, entering her Dreamless Sleep. She has reached adolescence," he almost grumbled. "You should be in no hurry for her to wake, Silver One. Focus on your partners. And eat something, or I'll tell Sgaeyl's human to make you."

She huffed, but didn't protest, knowing her stomach was on the verge of announcing it's empty state regardless. Besides, she had other bones to pick at the moment. "How long has this been going on?"

Xaden swallowed. Long before they met, then. Still, his secrecy stung. "I told you I had secrets. If I had said something..." Not knowing what Dain had read beyond Athebyne, the logical side of her understood. Emotions shouldn't have a place in this discussion—No. They had moved past the no emotions and feelings stage out on the parapet. She had every right to be hurt by this. "It's clear the second and third years know what you're doing. Liam?"

She saw it. The flicker of hesitation. The urge to cover his brother's mistakes. "Not everything."

Violet swallowed. "I'm going to see him."

"Violet."

"Believe me, Xaden, this conversation is far from over. But I need space. And I need to see he's still breathing."

Forcing her legs under her, she trudged out to the hall, pushing open the cracked door beside hers—Xaden's she supposed. Bodhi's head jerked up from the book resting in his lap. "Well, welcome back." His lips tugged into something that could almost be called a smirk. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like death warmed over, mended or not."

"Gee, you must get all the ladies with lines like that. I just need a shower, but..." He nodded, face solemn once more. "Has he woken up yet?"

"Twice, though not for long. The toll on his dragon was heavy. In turn, Liam needs rest too. He'll come out of this just fine, Violet."

"Will he? Will any of us? Soleil won't just be a random name on the death role when we get back to the college, Bodhi." He flinched at that. "I'm sorry. That was cruel."

"It was honest. I'll leave you be."

The door snicked shut behind him, leaving Violet with only her own wild thoughts and Liam's breathing. Stepping forward, she let herself take in the color in his face. The exposed skin of his arms and face bare of any wounds. The rise and fall of his broad chest. Steady. Level. He was alive. "Thank Dunne," she repeated.

And with her relief another memory wriggled forward.

It's been. My honor. I love you, Violet. Another sob clogged her parched throat as she slumped into the chair beside the bed, still warm from Bodhi's natural body heat. People say crazy things on death's door. Had he even meant it? More than that, did she want him to? They're relationship had hardly begun, and now knowing he had hid things from her too. How was she meant to love two men she couldn't trust?

The fact remained, she did. Hurt as she was, part of her wanted—longed for a future with Xaden and Liam in it. If they lived, that is. She couldn't be sure she'd see her next birthday with Venin to worry about. Hell, she wasn't sure she'd see Xaden and Garrick graduate before they were killed without question by their own leadership. "Fuck," she hissed.

"Welcome to my world," Xaden said from behind her. The thud of his boots was near silent as he came to stand in front of her, offering a sturdy tray that held a bowl of stew, hot bread, and a glass of water. "You're no good to him wasting away."

"I told you I wanted space," she growled. "Here you are ten minutes later."

"I'll give you all the time you need. After that bowl of stew is in you." Huffing, she gulped down half of the cool water before taking the spoon and scooping up a slice of carrot and broth. "He said something to you before he passed out."

She took another bite, sighing as her headache already began to dull. Despite how open their relationship was among one another, saying those words to Xaden seemed a daunting task. He hadn't shown the slightest tension since their first night as a triad. Yet she hesitated. "He said he was honored to be my friend and shadow. And that he loved me."

"Meant. Every. Word." She jumped, stew sloshing onto the tray before she set it aside to scramble out of the chair and onto the bed. "Xaden can take me to the mat in a day or two if he's got a problem with it." If he had another quip for their wingleader, Violet quickly silenced it, throwing her leg over his waist to straddle him, claiming his mouth in a desperate kiss. She started to pull away when he flinched at her movement, but the pain had either faded, or Liam had deemed it worth suffering if it kept her mouth on his. "Vi," he breathed, flexing his hands around her waist.

"I am so fucking pissed at you both. But that can wait." Taking a deep, shuttering breath, she pressed her forehead to his. "I love you, Liam. As first my friend, now my partner. I love you."

He stroked his thumb along her bottom lip, a slow smile claiming his mouth. "Good."

Looking back to Xaden, she found only contentment in his eyes. They had many broken pieces to pick up, but they also had something precious. Something worth fighting for.

#fourth wing #alternate ending #violet sorrengail #liam mairi #xaden riorson #riorgail #violiaden #violet x liam x xaden #fanfiction #fourth wing fic #canon adjacent #throuple #angst #fluff

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maybenotmei · 2 years

Text

nail polish

there are things studying alone won't teach you. riddle finds that out himself after a gift from cater and a phone call from the prefect. (PLATONIC)

cross posted on ao3! link here

notes: riddle's mom is being all eeehh yk just kinda icky idk in here. yuu uses they/them but riddle assumes u as a guy (but yuu isnt genuinely confirmed to be so . just,,,,) and tons of gender expression confusion and internal conflict NONE OF ROSEHEARTS FAMILY'S BELIEFS BEFORE YUU PHONE CALL REPRESENT MY BELIEFS !!!!!

dedicated to @bucketofforks lets paint each others nails next time love <3

1940 words

the first time he heard about nail polish was when he saw it on his mom.

it wasn't anything special. it was a simple, glossy black nail polish that perfectly complimented all her outfits. it caught the little boy's attention as he looked back on his own nails, noticing how his nails looked different than his mom's.

he wondered if there was any harm in asking. it was a rare 5 minute break time, so there shouldn't be any harm in asking, right?

"mama," he began, approaching his mother. he grabbed her hand, looking at the color of her nails. "why are your nails black?" he asked, looking up at his mom. she chuckled at him. "it's because mama put nail polish on."

nail polish?

"can i put nail polish on myself too?" he asked, wondering if there was any other color he could put on his nails. he never understood what they were, but surely there's far more colorful options he can put on his nails, right? there has to be—

"preposterous! absolutely not! this is only for women," she retracted her hand from the hold of the younger boy's hands, crossing her arms. "and you're a boy. no boy should put nail polish on themselves!" her eyebrows furrowed as she put her palm on her forehead. "5 minutes have been over. study your book as much as possible until page 31, mama will be back."

riddle, at the time, didn't know why she got so mad at the question. as he was on the verge of tears, he went back to the dining table and opened his biology book. what did he do wrong? why is mama upset?

maybe it's for a good reason?

from that day forward, his mom never wore that same polish in front of him.

riddle's birthday came quicker than expected.

august, a warm month. students were walking left and right with ice packs, popsicles, ice cream, and even casting small cooling spells to cool themselves down. as housewarden, it was riddle's duty to not bother with the heat— he casted a cooling spell and walked around the dorm in the same old thick uniform.

quick steps were heard behind him. he stopped in his tracks and quickly turned his head to see a familiar, orange-haired, 3rd year briskly walk towards him. "you're lucky that doesn't count as running, cater." he crossed his arms as the third year slowed down, panting while bending down, bowing.

cater looked up, fixing his composure. "haha- oh, right! riddle! happy birthday!" he handed riddle the red pouch in his right hand as the housewarden held and took it. "if you plan to use them, make sure to send me a picture, kay?"

"ah, thank y— don't run in the halls!" riddle shouted, but cater was already gone.

he sat down on the chair by his desk, in his room. the time was nearing 8pm, and it was a couple of minutes after his party. the table and couch in his room were filled with presents— some were still wrapped by request... he'll open them later— but what really intrigued him was the pouch cater gave him.

it made a clacking sound when moved around or pressed on, and there also seemed to be a plastic bottle inside. he unzipped the red pouch from above and carefully placed the items on his desk.

"acetone... cotton? stamps? ...

...nail polish?"

carefully, he observed the oddly-shaped container. the miniature glass bottle had a white stick pointing up, and its glass was shaped in a rounded trapezoid. there were three colors of it— white, black, and a vibrant red that matched his hair color.

there was also a note inside the pouch. carefully, he placed the nail polish upright, beside the "acetone," and grabbed the note.

...

"heya riddle, happy birthday! i got these for you, tell me if you like it, kay? here's how to use them!"

instructions on how to use?

riddle read the note carefully, looking at the bottles and lifting them up. "apply nail polish layer by layer thinly," he held up a bottle, looking at its ever side. he twisted the white stick, before pausing.

"nail polish is only for women."

...mama said that, right? so why did cater gift him this when he was clearly a guy? is he not allowed— or rather, not supposed to wear nail polish?

makeup, hairstyles, and nail art. riddle hadn't had the chance to choose his own, as his mom controlled each aspect of it. she styled her little boy's hair the same way every day, applied the same products as he aged (not very visibly from the products though,) and forbade him from cosmetics and makeup as they were "only for girls." only during the entrance ceremony did his mom hesitantly put eyeshadow and brown, winged liquid eyeliner on him.

he had always stuck to the ideal that cosmetics were only for women, and under certain circumstances can he only wear makeup.

yet as he went to nrc, tons of his mothers ideals were conflicted as he saw the students of pomefiore. hell, not just pomefiore— everyone, even! most especially vil. why does he, and many others, wear those his mother had forbidden him as it didn't fit his "gender"?

he never had the time to think about those things after his friends had been banned from his home. he had never had time to think about his own "gender identity" either— if his mom called him a boy, he says he's a boy. he pushed away all the thoughts questioning himself if he truly felt that way too. he barely had time to think about himself. he had never had the time to contemplate on anything— he firmly believed that questioning the rules was a waste of time. he had to wear a specific style of makeup every day as dorm head? alright. that's fine. it is as the queen has said.

but why?

he understands it's for his own good. cosmetics would only slow down his progress.

yet...

vil spends hours on his own beauty. his nails are painted an equal, deep shade of purple, while his makeup is complex yet absolutely perfect. no matter how long his routine is, he makes an effort to come early and do things to perfection.

riddle works to perfection.

so why? cosmetics isn't affecting anyone in pomefiore. cosmetics aren't affecting anyone from his observations.

why?

why can't he wear nail polish?

...

picking up his phone, he dials a number.

"prefect, i'd like your opinion on something."

the prefect was not from this world.

they weren't very clear on their gender identity too. all they specified was "i'm not from this world," but if riddle had to made a guess, he would've assumed they were a guy. nrc is an all-boys school, after all.

the prefect didn't seem to mind whatever they were called as— she, he, they, it... it always made riddle wonder about the world they lived in before coming here. was it normal to be comfortable being called or being assumed a specific gender there?

the prefect enjoyed many things too. after the events of what happened with idia, the prefect spent time with vil quite often. sometimes, they'd walk out with colored nails that were darker (or lighter) than their skin tone, and it matched them perfectly— rather, it felt like it didnt even look painted at all. it intrigued him quite a bit— maybe he could do it too?

ah, but it feels weird to him as a guy to buy nail polish.

"haha, riddle, your mom was wrong on a lot of things. i guess i was right when i guessed she was also pretty conservative. unfortunately for the both of us, there are people like that in my world too."

conservative?

"it's as what vil said— beauty has no gender. it's a form of power— and not a sign of "weakness" of your masculinity, or however you want to present." the prefect replied from the other side of the phone. riddle stayed silent, looking over to the set of nail polish on his desk.

"nail polish won't affect your gender identity. it's okay— and if you need help with applying it, call me again, okay?"

riddle fell silent. he sighed, and smiled to himself. "thank you, prefect." he hung up the call and set it aside. he grabbed the bottle of red polish, shaking it, and twisting it open as the instructions said. he was hesitant— and god that smell was awful— but he truly wanted to try this out.

"start from the center," he grabbed the brush and dragged it on his nails, painting from the end to the tip of his nails. "and curve on both sides..."

a little bit of polish fell on his skin.

riddle quickly closed the bottle as he looked through the instructions, checking the part with the words "removal" underlined. "grab a cotton ball and put a bit of acetone..." he grabbed the bottle and cotton, pulled out some cotton and applied acetone to it, "and rub on the nail you wish to remove. if it fell on your skin, rub it with a cotton bud with acetone instead."

...

slowly but surely, he painted his left hand's nails completely.

the vibrant red stood out from his pale hands, making it the complete center of attention. specks of the polish fell on the corners— he quickly rubbed them out— yet all in all, it was good for his first time.

he waited for it to dry before grabbing the bottle with what was called a "top coat" of polish, and followed the same steps on the paper.

it felt... new.

the whole thing was new to him— despite being a 2nd year, he had no clue what and how to do something like this. it was only thanks to cater for the instructions and the prefect for...

...

the prefect... showed him a new perspective that day.

vil too maybe. he told the prefect that, and that led to the prefect telling him too.

he looked at the framed picture of the queen by his nightstand. her nails were painted a beautiful red— some nails had patterns and symbols on them. he turned to the picture of him and his mother— her mother wore a deep, shiny black that made a striking contrast to her skin tone. he never saw her wear the color again after he asked... was it his fault?

"mama," he mumbled.

...

he looked away from the frame and onto his nails once more.

he snapped a picture of the nails and sent it to cater. "is this good?" he texted, and cater's status quickly turned online— and he's already typing...

"omg?!

thats perfect riddle

esp for your first try"

"of course, i make sure everything i do is perfect."

he turned off his phone again and grabbed the same red polish, carefully starting on his right this time. slowly, carefully, and with precision.

maybe one day he'll add some details like the queen. maybe he'd ask the prefect to do them for him next time. what matters now is that he's truly enjoying what he's doing.

all the questions he wishes to ask can be asked later to the prefect or cater. it'll take a while as well to adjust to information conflicting with what he has known for a while, but for now, he needs to let his nails dry a bit.

the first time riddle had painted his nails was on his birthday.

"..."

"thank you, cater. thank you, prefect."

and it won't be the last.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland riddle #twisted wonderland #twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts & reader #cater diamond #vil schoenheit #mentions of vil and cater is a supporting character #really self indulgent. sorry . wrote this in the heat of the moment

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lgwifey · 2 years

Text

JEALOUSY PART TWO

90s!damon albarn x fem!reader

Summary : After the Brits, y/n finds herself bumping into Liam, an unpleasant conversation leading to awkward news articles.

Warning : use of 'f*g' once, not proof read

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

1995

Y/n directed herself through the smoke filled bar. Her shoes stuck to the wooden floors that seemed to have had an entire larger factory's monthly exports thrown onto them and her body was shuffled carelessly through the hot and sweaty crowds.

It wasn't this busy usually, one of the reasons it was one of her favourate drinking places. The lack of popularity of the dingy pub meant that she could go out with Damon without masses of press commenting on their every move. Unfortunatly, she'd forgotten that there was a rugby match on tonight and therefore the place was filled to the brim with what could only be described as 'the classic english man whose probably called Gary or something like that' and dolled up women, most of who she was contemplating asking where they got their shoes, dresses, earings etc. from.

When she'd finally found herself a table, she was sure Damon and Graham would be done ordering. There weren't that many of them out tonight; just her, Damon, Graham and Alex seeing how Dave had stayed at home to spend time with his wife.

A few minutes past and y/n had the pacience of a toddler so she stood up on the semi-circular booths seat and tryed to spot Damon or Graham within the ridiculous amount of people. Alex had nipped into the toilets with some bird he'd found outside so there was little chance of him coming back very soon.

"Com'on babe, where are you ?"

She muttered under her breath as she glanced around the room. She wasn't good at being by herself so this wasn't the most ideal situation for her. Her lip was starting to be bit, her nails digging into her now scarred palm. Soon y/n found herself tapping her long, y/f/c varnished nails on the circular dark oak table. Why the lads where taking so long, she didn't understand.

It got to a point where she felt like just leaving and going home. She couldn't stand being in the low-cut shirt and miniskirt whilst being completely sober, she needed a burn down her throught. She hadn't thought when she was getting dressed that she'd be left this long with her mind. The short, half pleated blue demin skirt was showing off the vast majority of her legs, the original thought of 'this is so cute' now having become 'what if people think my legs are too big ?'. Her long sleeved top was showing off nearly everything, the thin material letting the texture of her bra be seen easily even under the dimed lights. Now her thoughts where racing around like NASCARS and she felt a strong urgh to go home and cry in fluffy pyjamas whilst watching 10 Things I Hate About You.

"Funny seeing you here ."

As if the night couldn't get any worse !

Y/n tilted her to the left slightly finding the owner of the manc accent. She gave a roll of her eyes, her attitude clearly not being read by the over confident man seeing how he moved himself into the booth.

"Hi Liam."

Her teeth gritted together. It seemed that the Oasis singer had been following her everywhere the past few weeks after the Brits. She'd been considering getting a restraint order, but thought that might've been a tad bit too over the top.

Not only had he came into the booth, but he'd sat down about 30cm away from her, parka coated arm flung over the top of the chair and resting a finger-touch away from her shoulder.

"So, how’s the fag ?"

She turned and glared at him. Not only was he straight up insulting her boyfriend, but he was using slurs as well.

"I don't know Liam, how are you ?"

Y/n expected him to get wound up by her comment, what he did was on the very contary though. He just gave a smile, very un-liam.

"Damon's just getting me a drink and he'll be back soon so I suggest you hurry along, wouldn't want to cause trouble."

Liam shuffled closer to the uncomfortable woman, biting his lip hard and letting his eyes drop past her face.

" Y'ur so fuckin' sexy when you use that accent."

She gave him an obscured look. Her accent was normal according to her, a perfectly normal Whitechappel accent.

"Okay ! I'm going now."

Her hands flew up in a fluster when he went to rest his arm on her shoulder, jumping up and quickly exiting the booth, walking in the direction back to the bar through the crowd of sports fans. As she was walking out, she met up with Damon who was stood in the doorway.

"Dames I've been waiting down there for ages, why where you taking so long ?"

The blonde gave her a confused look.

"I thought you said to meet you at the end of the bar, I thought you just went to the toilets do we where waiting here for you."

"Urgh, forget it."

She rolled over the mistake, it was deafeningly loud and even with accustumed hearing due to concert, anyone can make mistakes.

Y/n was holding onto her goosebumped arms, a few fingers with rings hitting the lights from much further into the room and bouncing it off into a stranger's eyes.

"Could we just leave please. I just wanna go home right now."

Damon had agreed to leave without any pursuation needed. All he could see was that his girlfriend was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, he doesn't like y/n feeling that he controls her in anyway so leaving after one drink was the go to decision for him.

The next morning they had both woken up like they normally would. Neither had to deal with a hangover so the day went along usual.

Y/n had almost forgotten about yesterdays bump in with Liam, arising from her bed with a whine directed to the sun pokeing through the blinds.

If waking up to being blinded wasn't perfect enough, the landline started blaring rings across the rooms. Damon, being Damon, was still dead to the world. He somehow always managed to sleep through everything, often dropping off half-way through award shows and leaving y/n having to deal with people by herself, Gray and Alex being very little help seeing how they where usually hammered by the time the half time performance started.

"Hello ?"

Her voice held a harsh tone to it accidentally.

"Y/n, lovely to see you hunny."

The woman became less agitated when Hazel's voice came through the telephone.

"Damon isn't there is he? I just need to speak to him for a moment."

"Yeah 'course, one sec Hazel."

Y/n dropped the phone, leaving it hanging against the wall.

She ran back to the master bedroom, jumping onto the bed, subquency rocking the body awake.

She straddled over his waist, pecking him on the lips slightly before talking to him, lips still against his.

"Wakey wakey hunny bun."

He gave a groan at the cringe that just came out of his girlfriend's mouth, eyes fluttering open slightly.

"Lemme sleep."

He rolled over onto his side, knocking y/n off and onto the crumpled bedsheets.

"Dames, your mum's on the phone in the kitchen."

"What does she want ?"

"Not a clue,"

She pecked his cheek before jumping off of the bed and exiting the room.

"Get up."

Damon soon followed after y/n, having eventually worked up enough energy to move from under the plush covers.

Whilst he slouched tired against the counter whilst y/n leaned over and tryed to hear the conversation.

"Hiya mum... yeah, yeah it's nice to talk to you again too..."

He turned and widened his eyes in y/n's direction, causing a small giggle to bubble from her because of his over-dramatic agony from talking to Hazel.

She watched as his facial expressions slowly dropped, his face becoming numb. After a few seconds he gave a little hum and ended the call.

"No... thanks for telling me mum... yeah love you too. Bye."

Damon didn't say anything useful when he'd hung up, just grabbing his coat and sliding a pair of adidas on before leaving the flat in a rush. He didn't leave her anytime to question his where he was going or what his mum had said which had made him need to leave so quickly, only muttering a stern 'stay here y/n/n.'

As he opened the front door, a outragous amout of cameras where send flashing manic, causing y/n to jump back in shock.

Damon arrived back at home around half an hour later, a look of fury plastered on his face. His baby blue eyes where suddenly replaced with a dark tone and his brow had lines dinted in the middle of them.

Y/n noticed that in his hand held a copy of four different newspapers.

"What's going on Dames ?"

His eyes jumped up, almost as if he'd forgotten she was actually there in the room. The blonde scratched the back of his neck, teeth gritted and eyes clentched shut like he was begging for everything to just stop it's existance.

"Damon !"

"Gray got in a fight s'all."

She rolled her eyes, jumping up off of the couch where she was watching a recorded episode of Red Dwarf and ripping one of the newspapers out of his hand.

Right there, blasted front page was a murky photo of y/n sat down in the booth from the bar in yesterday night's outfit with Liam Gallagher's arm flung over chair back, above her shoulder.

She felt the heat fall to her face and tears start to work their way into her eyes.

The press always did this ! Since Liam had made everyone known of his little crush, which was probably just apart of his tiff with Damon, known to the world, she'd no longer been viewed by the tabloids as an actual real life human being. No, according to all of them she was just some toy to chuck about and cause drama with. She was constantly labled as a groupie who was only with Damon to get to one of his friends and anytime she was even caught speaking to a guy it was pictured and sold off to the highest bidder to corrupt into a heartless gossip article.

She suddenly jumped to speaking a hundred miles and hour.

"You're not angry with me right ? I didn't do anything, I didn't want him to talk to me !"

She burst into tears, both ones of anger, for the press and Liam, and ones of pain, she didn't want Damon to be mad at her.

Damon's eyes softened.

"No, why would I be angry with you ?"

Y/n waved a hand at the picture smacked slap bang center of all four paper's front page.

"Oh love, I could never be angry at you, especially not for being forced into a situation like that."

He pulled her in to a squashing hug, hoping she wouldn't be able to hear his mumbled words whilst she was smothered.

"Gallagher on the other hand, "

#damon albarn fluff #damon albarn x reader #graham coxon #liam gallagher #oasis #blur #90s #alex james #damon albarn #fem!reader #britpop #damon albarn x fem!reader

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