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finniestoncrane · 2 months

Note

Ik this is sorta late depending on time zones and this ask being cheesy as hell but what would the Riddlers do for Valentine's Day with reader? Something cheesy asf? Or not celebrating it at all? I wanna know I'm curious as hell now

Valentine's Date

Riddler Headcanons gosh i rushed so fast to get this done today!! luckily, it was a blessing as work was SLOW! so here are the boys and how they would celebrate valentine's day in my mind because i am down bad for them all and live in a fantasy world where they would all try and do something nice for you 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: suggestive stuff but it's mostly fluff!!

young justice

i can almost guarantee that if you're spending valentine's day with him, it'll be the first one he's had with a partner

so he is pushing the boat out. or... as best as he can... what with the nerves

he wouldn't do something too extravagant, not too fancy or big. that would only increase the number of people he might embarrass himself in front of

he's far more keen on taking you to a quiet, unexpected but comfortable restaurant with quiet music and only a few tables, so he can talk to you and hear you properly

he'd buy you a single rose, hire the violinist to play a song by your table, your favourite tune

no dancing, he's got two left feet, but he will reach across the table and hold your hand, stroking it with his thumb and looking into your eyes

and when he takes you home, he'll walk you to your door and offer you a shy, reserved kiss

whether or not you pull him through the door by his tie and ravage the poor beast is up to you

unburied

he wouldn't actually ask you out for valentine's day

he'd give you a rant about capitalism and how it's a made up holiday and that you should keep your calendar clear anyway just in case he decides to do an ironic date

you'd think his goal was to embarrass you, in fact, because he's showing up to your house with a little remote control and blasting your favourite song out of every speaker system you own

"hey, sh... don't ask how i know your favourite song or how i got control of your devices. just... stop thinking about it. hey. hey! you're thinking about it... don't think about it, sh you're too pretty to think about it. let me think about it, i'm smarter and prettier"

dinner isn't anything too special either. takeout pizza on a rooftop in gotham somewhere. it could be romantic though, and it would be to someone desperately in love with him like you

listening to him talk about light pollution, asking if you want to hear some riddles about constellations, pointing out the various places he's hid from his enemies

it's not traditional by any means, but it is oddly romantic. dinner, music, time alone under the dulled stars. maybe that was his plan all along

gotham

oh we are going WHOLE HOG here for valentine's day!! you know he's an old romantic, a sweet and gentle soul

so don't think for a moment that you'll be seeing any other people that day, your attention will be solely focused on each other

he's sent, uh... someone has sent in some miscellaneous threat to your workplace, so luckily for you(!) you're not required to go in! SO SURPRISE!! he's here to make you breakfast

and then a brief walk down some of the quieter streets, where he might be brave enough to ask if he can hold your hand

once you're at his apartment, you're in for some respectable but tension filled cuddles on his sofa while you watch some classic romance movies

and then he's making a beautiful three course meal for you both! pressed tablecloth on his little dining table, roses in a conical flask, candles in test tubes (is he stealing these from work?)

he'll feed you little bits of food, wiping your face with a napkin, staring into your eyes dreamily

and then the night will end with a perfect and very polite kiss that you'll wish wouldn't end

telltale

he knows how to do romance, he's been around long enough. it's more a question of whether he can be bothered to celebrate

but he'll pull himself together and act the perfect gentleman for you, regardless of how tired he is after a day of committing violent/cyber crime and being oddly agile for a man in receipt of a state pension

(a fact which will come in handy at the end of the evening...)

he'll start off the evening with the traditional gifts. a box of expensive chocolates or candy, perfectly suited to your dietary requirements of course. and a bouquet of flowers. not roses, but your favourites. he knows they'll make you happier

he's not one for being out in public, what with the whole "is he dead" thing, so you'll be dining in BUT to make it special, he has hired a discreet personal chef to provide the food for the evening

slow, quiet jazz playing in the background, just you, him, and the waiters he has hired and has threatened under extreme violence to keep their mouths shut about this particular shift

could it get any more romantic??

arkham

bless his heart but this eddie is forgetting that it's valentine's day until you're handing him a card, grasping it between his dirty fingers, smudging the soft pink colour with grimy fingerprints

then, you'll endure a fifteen minute long lecture about why you should have at least had the sense to warn him in advance, or to remind him, since you know how he can be

and when he's done, he'll be pushing you out of the room, getting rid of you so he can "finish his important work" and only then can you consider "doing something for this silly holiday"

really, he's just looking for an excuse to get you away so he can work on your very last minute present without you seeing

which of course, he'll present to you as though he had been pretending to forget all along

"i made you this, it's a symbol of our relationship"

it's the remnants of a neon question mark bent into place to resemble a heart. and there's hot glue still drying on it. and a screw stuck to it

but it's the thought that counts, and the thought is there! after all he loves you enough to have lied and put aside his important welding or whatever to haphazardly craft the lie

dano

for him, valentine's day is about showing your love for someone. because you can love them every day, but this is an excuse to make a display out of it

so expect a myriad of gifts, food, perfumes, vouchers, jewellery, stuffed animals, flowers, a handmade valentine's card

enough that it makes you guilty (and enough that you wonder if he really has just been saving all his salary instead of spending it on... furniture or therapy)

then, the personalised activities! most of which involve you doing his quiz all about you and your relationship with him, solving several riddles that lead you to a hidden compartment in the wall of his bedroom (weird.) where he's stuffed his poems to you (sweet!) which he will then recite to you, stuttering over the words and blushing the whole time

but it's not enough for him, he wants to shout it from the rooftops, show the world how much he loves you and appreciates you

he's had all this love bottled up for so long with no one deserving to give it to! let's just hope it comes out in a healthy way...

btaa

he's swooping in to your apartment very late at night

"it's only 11pm, it's still valentine's day mi amorrrrr"

look, he's very sorry that he wasn't able to spend the day with you, and that he's incredibly late to the dinner you had planned

but he's a busy little criminal, he has so many things to do AND he had to do it all by himself because he gave miss tuesday the day off so she could go on a date of her own and-

oh see! you've changed your mind now, no longer grumpy, because he was actually doing something kind for someone else

he really is a generous soul, emphasised by the fact that the reason he was late was because he was pulling off a perfect heist in a jewellery store uptown

so... did you save any leftovers for him? or is he going to have to return this beautiful ring/watch/necklace he bought you?

twojar

he's a curveball, like seriously give you whiplash kind of valentine's date

you think it's going to be a very standard evening, after all there you both are in black tie best, sipping expensive champagne, him talking about himself while you try hard not to stare at his tits

but when the meal is finished, he goes to pay in secret and then rushes you out into a car with tinted windows, and it's lucky he can get you so hot and flushed and eager that quickly, since it's not long before you arrive at the next spot

a strip club

which is? i mean not a traditional valentine's day date location, but it could be very hot

and he's booked one of the private rooms for you both, so at least you won't have to hide your blushing cheeks from the rest of the guests

but it becomes very obvious that there isn't a dancer coming to entertain you, and you worry that he expects you to get up there and put on a show, which would be a disaster because you haven't planned anything and-

"happy valentine's day"

ah. of course. why would the world's most self-absorbed man think you would want anything else for valentine's day than a private strip tease from him

and he's annoyingly very right in that assumption

btas

he absolutely does the most! and the most is often cheesy and dorky and therefor a million times more precious

the kind of guy who would buy you a rose for every day he's known you, regardless of how many days he has known you

the kind of guy who gets those little personalised lego figures made of you and him, or gets a plushie of him to give to you so he'll always be near you (and you know he's putting the personalised message in if he gets it from build a bear)

he knows your favourite starter, main and dessert are all from different restaurants, so he's made the reservations at all three with plenty of time for romantic rides in the back of cabs between each stop

it's important he has plenty of time to cover your neck with kisses, and for you to tell him how adorable he is

and then, because he is the cheesiest but in the best way, it's more than likely he'd use valentine's day as an excuse to propose to you, so he's down on one knee under the cloudy gotham night sky to ask you to marry him (and you're obviously not going to say no)

zero year

he doesn't do valentine's day, what a waste of time! he's nice enough to you the rest of the year, why should there be one day where he has to do something extra fo-

oh? oh! oh ok, if it means you have to do something for him too, then he's down for it

yes... that sounds like a wonderful excuse to get up to some mischief... (it's concerning how evil his little face looks when he's supposedly considering activities for the most romantic of holidays...)

although, why bother going out somewhere on a date, it's such a waste of time and effort

he has to keep his energy for more important things, and speaking of... he can think of very few ways to spend an evening that are better than taking you into the bedroom and sharing an exchange of giving for a few solid hours

no need to wear something nice, it's only going to get stripped off

no need to get him a gift, you'll be giving him plenty

and no need to eat something, he'll make sure you don't leave hungry, trust him

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler #btas riddler

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jeonqkooks · 10 months

Note

a fluff drabble ; 37 & 50 w the supernova couple:(

ways to hold the sun | jjk

SUPERNOVA SERIES MASTERPOST

pairing: jungkook x f!reader prompts: "you wrote me a song?" + "this isn't adrenaline, i want to spend the rest of my life with you." rating: PG genre/warnings: established relationship, idol au; fluff, itty bitty angst (for the supernova peeps?! shocking :o); kissing, implied smut, jk rides a motorcycle, unedited bc yolo 🤷‍♀️ word count: 1.8k note: thank you so much anon for sending in this request!! i'm almost a year late to this but like i always say, better late than never right? lol. anyways, this request gave me the chance to wrap up their story with a neat little bow. i can't believe this is the last thing i'll write for supernova :( this series will always be one of my personal favorites and i'm so emo that i'm ending their story with this drabble. but, they'll always have a special, special place in my heart and i'll always love them <3

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

How do you hold the sun?

The answer is simple.

You hold him with two arms wrapped around his waist - tightly, because it feels like he holds your life in the palm of his hand. In more ways than one, he does.

You hated that motorcycle that he loved so much, calling it unsafe even though he isn't reckless at all. He may be a daredevil sometimes, and the most adventurous compared to his hyungs, but Jungkook would never neglect his safety. He returns home to you every day, that's always his number one priority.

He'd convinced you to let him take you out on his motorcycle today, to this spot he knows just outside of the city to watch the sunset together. You'd been against the idea at first, but it was a losing battle and you were all too aware of it. Once he'd whipped out a pout and big puppy dog eyes, you knew you'd cave.

Now, as you sit behind him, holding onto him like a koala as the bike moves smoothly along with the wind, you're glad that you'd agreed to let him do this. The city grows smaller, and it feels like all of your worries seem more and more insignificant - manageable, like something you could easily overcome - by the second, until the whole skyline can fit into one single frame.

It feels nice, hiding in plain sight. The ridiculously chunky helmets that sit securely on your heads shield you from any and all outsiders. You can squeeze him as tightly as you want even at the red lights, and he can hold your hand without the fear of being recognized. To anyone else, you're just two lovebirds and a license plate. Two people in love. It's the most normal thing in the world.

When you arrive at your destination and he takes off his helmet, the radiance of his grin almost knocks you off your axis. It's ever-bright, filled with so much happiness that could make you cry for some reason. You'll never understand how a person can be the entire universe, so wonderful and spectacular and magnificent, but he is. He always will be.

There's that one poem that you hold close to your heart. Sometimes, when you retrace the words in your mind, you think it must have been written for you and him. "We deserve a soft epilogue, my love," it reads. "We are good people and we've suffered enough."

You aren't sure if you're a good person, but as he kisses you with so much love that must rival any other love in all of history, you think you do deserve a soft epilogue.

Your mother often says that good things should be repeated three times.

You and him.

How do you hold the sun?

You hold him with your fingers intertwined with his, a soft smile on your face, and dozens of polaroids scattered across the floor.

"Just one more," Jungkook says, reaching for the purple Instax again.

"Stop!" you laugh, lightly pushing him away when he tries to point the lens in your direction. "You've said that twenty times in the last two hours."

This is a new hobby that he's taken up. Ever since Hoseok gifted him the damn camera, it's all that Jungkook has been doing. To say that he was obsessed would probably be an understatement. He snaps photos of everything and nothing, of his meals whenever you draw a heart on his plate with the mayonnaise, of the crescent moon outside the window at night, of himself as he makes silly faces at the camera.

But most of all, he takes photos of you.

He keeps so many of them in his wallet that the stack of polaroids dedicated to you is thicker than all of his cash, which is to say that there's a lot. He keeps one in the pocket of every coat, because he said every time he reaches inside for warmth and finds a piece of you there, it makes him smile and forget that he's even cold at all. You'd nearly melted when he told you that. It was so earnest and pure that it almost made you feel guilty for ever thinking there'd come a day where the adoration he had for you could fill anything less than the sky.

"Please?" Jungkook pouts, before pulling you closer and kissing your cheek sweetly. "I need just one more for my new coat."

At this point, it's not a matter of having enough polaroids for his coats anymore. It's a matter of having enough coats for his polaroids.

You roll your eyes with playful endearment, but you allow him regardless. It shoots pure serotonin through your veins when he grins. He lets go of your hands to hold the camera, immortalizing the grin that you mimic, a contented sigh leaving him as he takes the shot. He tells you he loves you afterward, like it's such a privilege to be able to have you at all.

No one ever warns you that when the sun holds you back, your heart will feel so full that it might just stop beating altogether.

How do you hold the sun?

You hold him with your face tucked safely in the crook of his neck, his arm around your body, rubbing odd patterns on your bare back.

You're both calming down from the hour-long session of twisting around in the sheets on a lazy Sunday morning, your only witness being the sunlight that creeps in through the slit between your curtains. Jungkook hums a tune that you're unfamiliar with, and the soft vibration of his chest almost lulls you to sleep again.

"What song is that?" you mumble, your eyes fluttering close.

"Your song."

"Hmm?" You don't quite register what his answer, you already have one foot in dreamland already. "My song?"

"Wrote it for you."

And suddenly, just like that, you're wide awake.

He presses an absentminded kiss against your hair, like this is all just common information.

"Huh?" You push yourself up to prop your upper body on one elbow, looking down at him with a slight frown. "You wrote a song for me?"

"Yeah," he chuckles at your reaction. His other hand that isn't touching your back comes up to brush your hair away from your face, tucking it delicately behind your ear. If you weren't too focused on a different issue, you would blush, even though this is something he's done a million times. "I wrote a song for you."

"Be serious."

"I am serious."

"How?" you ask, unbelieving. "When? Why?"

"What do you mean how? It's literally my job," he laughs, pulling you flush against his body again. "Why? Because I love you. When? I started writing it after we first met."

"Jungkook," you breathe, full of teary-eyed affection as you press a kiss to his jawline, his neck, the top of his shoulder, anywhere you can reach while he's embracing you this tightly.

You repeat his name three times, then three more, then three more, until you're a broken record and he has to shush you with a kiss, one that makes your knees buckle even though you're already lying in bed.

If the world wanted to take him away from you again, you really wouldn't be able to survive. So you hold him desperately, thinking that you never want to let him go. Praying that the world will let you keep him this time.

How do you hold the sun?

You hold him with all your might, even though you're blinded by how bright he shines. Even though he's the source of all life, and you're just a flickering light that can be snuffed out at any moment.

You're always the first person that he looks for. He runs to you at full speed, picks you up with his arms around your waist and spins you around despite your flushed cheeks indicating embarrassment as everyone - the staff and his members included - chuckles fondly at the sight. You can still hear the crowd out there chanting their names, still buzzing with postshow excitement. Jungkook is buzzing too, that much is clear.

You know he misses this - the stage, the fans, the bond he shares with all the people that adore him. It's in his eyes, the way they sparkle so brilliantly that could put stars to shame. If you were any good with words, you would write whole novels about the light in his eyes.

He presses you against the wall while everybody else carries on with their business. You suppose they're used to this from the two of you. The staff hurries to clear the set, moving equipment from backstage to the vans outside so they could finally wrap up an exhausting day. The boys shuffle wordlessly to their dressing rooms to wind down, to bask in the high that only the stage could bring them.

Jungkook peppers kisses all over your face, his nose bumping your skin as he moves from your forehead to your cheek, the bridge of your nose, to your jawline, to your chin, to your lips. You giggle quietly as you let him shower you with affection, the palpable love seeping through every kiss.

That is, until he says something that makes you stop breathing completely.

"Marry me."

You stare at him, dumbfounded, as you try to make your brain work again. His chocolate orbs stare back at you, and it feels like looking at the night sky on a cloudless night to find the entire galaxy twinkling, smiling down at you. It's unfathomable how you could be loved by someone like him.

"Marry me. Please, marry me." he says again, his fingers caressing your face like you're the most precious being he's ever seen. Before you can open your mouth to answer him, he continues, "This isn't adrenaline. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

You know you're nothing compared to him who lies in the center of the universe. You will never be able to shine as brightly as he does, not even a fraction.

You know you're nothing compared to him, and yet, he revolves around you regardless. To the rest of the world, you're insignificant. You're merely a soul among billions of others. If you were to disappear one day, you don't think a lot of people would care.

But to him, you're everything. You're the reason he exists, you're his favorite person in the whole wide world, you're the only one who will ever have his heart, you're his soft epilogue. He doesn't dim his light for you, and he should never have to. Instead, he lifts you up. He makes you shine too, even if it's only the two of you who see it. It's only you and him, but it's more than enough. It's the only thing that matters.

So, the question remains: How do you hold the sun?

The answer, in the end, is simple.

You hold him with love.

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yanderes-galore · 5 months

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Can you do Mike afton with your prompts 57, 53, and 10? Also can it be romantic?

Sure! I'll see what I can do :) Been a bit since I've done this AU. This is a new take on it.

@okchijt helped me with this so this is mostly their take while I filled in the plot they gave me. Requester wanted FLS AU.

Yandere! FLS! Michael Afton Concept

What is the FLS AU?

Yandere! FLS AU! Michael Afton Prompts 57, 53, and 10

"You're stuck with me, like it or not."

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

"I've given myself all to you! Yet you call me a monster!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Breaking and entering, Manipulation, Kidnapping implied, Forced relationship implied.

The phone rings on and on as you type away at your keyboard. On screen is an email soon to be sent to your boss, Henry. You were nearly at a breakthrough on an important case.

Incriminating evidence filled the email. Many documents and notes were attached all about two people behind a long list of murders. The case of The Aftons was very important to your employer.

Your job was to play detective. You were meant to work for them at their Pizzeria, collect evidence, then leave. That was it... that was the job.

Then one of them, the son, got attached.

You had a feeling he caught on to you. Even now as you type away and prepare to send Henry your evidence your phone rings. You knew it was him, the voice mails were endless.

You hadn't bothered to listen to them. Instead you focused on your email by putting on the final touches. Then your mouse drifted to the send button...

Only for the power to cut.

You go silent, eyes blown wide and looking at the computer in shock. There wasn't any storms. Did you flip something by accident?

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up? Are you ignoring me?"

The voice echoes from close by and you feel the hair on your skin shoot up. You spin your chair around and search the darkness for answers. Unfortunately... your questions are answered.

Michael stands in the doorway of the room. His posture is confident and he stares at you like you're his newest prey. You can only stare as he blocks your exit.

"Don't you know how much I've done for you?" Michael sighs. "I've been protecting you from my father as I already know your plans. I could've just killed you... but now I like you too much for that."

The man in front of you does a fake pout while leaning in the doorway. The fact he knew everything made your heart drop to your stomach. He's more clever than you thought.

"I've already sacrificed so much by allowing these games to play out. However, this still means I have to prevent you from exposing the family business, y'know?" Michael sighs, playing with your emotions to satiate the sadism within him.

"You're a monster for doing all of this!" You yell at the man. You can see Michael feign shock and surprise before chuckling.

"I've given myself all to you! Yet you call me a monster!" Michael accuses in a playful manner before turning serious. "I could've just killed you, but I'm nice enough to protect you and let you live!"

You quickly stand up to keep distance as Michael walks forward. Despite the situation you manage to keep yourself calm. It's in the line of work, after all. Yet you still find yourself shaking when he gets close to you.

"I've been so patient with you. I think things should go my way for once, shouldn't they?" Michael hums towards you. You try to run around him but he catches you with ease. It's funny to him... did you not think he was an experienced killer?

You feel your chest hit the desk hard as your arms are held behind your back. The resulting impact causes the computer to crash onto the ground, the email and evidence now long destroyed. Panic sets in as struggle and fight against the killer behind you.

Said killer only appears excited by your fate.

"I think it's time you rest, dear. Isn't it getting late?" Michael coos, raising the knife in his hand. You suddenly feel a blunt object smack into your head before your vision darkens.

"You're stuck with me, like it or not." Michael whispers with a giggle before your vision fails you.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #fnaf father like son au #yandere fls michael afton #yandere michael afton

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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#15 Fluff prompt with army! Elvis where you know he’s been seeing other girls and you just met him but he actually really adores you/makes time for you. Kinda took inspiration from the Anita phone call where he’s nagging her about calling, this is different, he wants her to visit and call.

called ya, didn't i?

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t for some implications but again pretty tame pairing: elvis presley x female plus sized reader word count: 1249 warnings: mentions of elvis and his ladies' man ways. mentions of the reader deciding men are trash. minor insecurity on the reader's part, nothing too woe is me, more practical than anything else. reader is of age ( i mention her daddy so it needs to be said. ). author’s note: thank you for this anon! this was adorable and after the- smut army elvis prompt i got i discovered he's actually quite fun to write. hope you enjoy this! this is done for my 1k gala, based on fluff line “just call me whenever you like.” y'all know the drill, real elvis or austin elvis works fine for this despite the moodboard.

If there's one thing, and one thing only that your parents have taught you, it's not to be stupid around boys. It's to know that most boys are stupid and don't have your best interests at heart, instead they have their own interests at heart and are slaves to their own desires. Army boys- be it the ones you've grown up with on bases in various places or the ones who've been shipped off to fight in wars or to just be a peacekeeping force- are ten times worse. Something about the fact that they know they can be shipped away at any time makes them practically caustic with other people's feelings and hearts. No, you know better than to fall for an army boy.

Or at least, perhaps you you did. You thought you knew better and then Elvis Presley came strolling into your life and you- oh, you feel that God has to be mocking you. He has to be mocking you because there's no way Elvis Presley would show interest in you. You're confident enough in your figure, it errs a little too much in the rotund direction for some but you like it just fine. Figure that whoever you want to be with would do the same, tell you how much they enjoy the plushness of your stomach and of your various parts. You know the type Elvis goes for, however, and you- oh you- are most definitely not it.

Yet, here was Elvis sending you letters and finding out your phone number from other people because you're so charming every time he talks to you. He never gets to talk for long, someone always pulling him every which way but it's fine, you think. It's fine because he's got all those other girls, the nice refined girls who look good in the papers and even the ones that just look good, even if no one but you and half the base know about them. No, it's better this way, better that you don't call him and you just leave him be to the other girls. Leave him to charm them like he kind of charmed you.

Except Elvis keeps making time for you. He keeps pushing aside whatever girl he has on his arm at any given function to come and say hello to you. It's not unwelcome but it's strange, it's strange to see Elvis Presley making time for you. It's even stranger still that one night he asks you on a date. A date your mind tells you that you should accept, you shouldn't accept because he's going to inevitably toss you aside like you just watched him toss the other girls aside. It's a date you do accept though, one that's filled with dancing a little silly till the slow songs start and he's twirling you as if it's the most natural thing in the world. It's a date filled with so much joy you almost forget it has to end until Elvis is on your doorstep placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

"Gonna let me take ya out tomorrow night?" He murmurs, his hands against you cheeks, his thumbs rubbing them slightly. "Please, darlin'."

You agree and your life becomes a whirlwind of dates and phone calls and Elvis getting sent to Paris where you know he's got another girl so you don't call. You don't call for over a week until Elvis calls first. Your instinct is to remain sweet and charming because even if he's got another girl probably in the next room over but you can't help the way you pout just a little.

"Why are you calling me? Don't you have a pretty French girl to kiss and spend your time with?" The hurt seeps into your tone despite everything. You knew better and yet- yet you thought maybe this was different. "I didn't call you for a reason, 'Vis."

There's a silence on the other end of the phone call before you hear a muffled curse before he groans. "Baby, I ain't got any French gal. I got you, but no French gal looking to be mine." He pauses. "Ya really think I ain't- Baby I'm mad as hell ya ain't here wit' me. Why would I- That's why ya haven't been callin' me? Ya think I got someone else?"

It's your turn to be quiet on your end of the line as you listen to his breathing and hear a slight huff of a laugh leave him before you answer. "Well what am I supposed to think? I know how you are and how girls are and how I'm cute and pretty but not your-"

He cuts you off. "Not what I go for? Darlin'- now I want ya t'listen. I jus' call me whenever ya like. I wanna hear ya voice, wanna hear 'bout ya day. Wanna get to know ya real well. Thought I made that pretty clear 'fore we went to Paris but I'm guessin' I didn't now."

"Oh Elvis." Those are the only two words that cross your mind at the admission and you're struck by a faint rush of embarrasment that you had read the situation so wrong, that you had allowed your judgment to be a little clouded when it came to him just because he was Elvis and just because he was a boy in the Army. It makes your heart twist a little before you finally gain up the courage to speak again. "You really mean it? You aren't teasing, are you? I know you do that too and I don't think I could handle you doing that to me. It'd be real mean."

"Baby. My mama'd- God rest her soul- she'd ask God to smite me if I lied about this. No lyin' I want to get to know ya better 'fore my tour's over. 'Fore they send me back home. If I get to know ya and we like- we enjoy each other more, ya can come home wit' me. Already want ya to visit me more often. Wanna see ya. Hear ya."

A laugh leaves you, a soft little thing that Elvis thinks is something a little bird might sing before you speak. "I- Okay. Alright. I'll- I'll call tomorrow night, how about that? Because I got to sleep, Elvis. And we'll talk and I'll see if my daddy can help me see you."

You can hear the relief and the smile in Elvis's voice when he answers you. "You better. And- I know you're a good girl, I do, but I wanna kiss ya on the lips sometime soon. Can we-"

"Maybe. Play- Play your cards right, Elvis. I'm not so easily swayed you know." You answer is a little cheeky and earns a loud bellowing laugh from him in response.

"Best answer I'll get from ya. Alright." He pauses and hears someone yelling for him before he curses yet again. "Listen. You 'member. Tomorrow night. Gonna be right by the phone waitin' for ya."

He has to hang up before he gets confirmation from you. But the phone call he gets the next night and the night after that and the one after that might just be enough of one. Enough of one to take you on another date when he sees you and one that ends with a proper kiss. And perhaps it's just maybe enough of a confirmation to talk about taking you back to Memphis with him.

#elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x plus sized reader #austin butler elvis #austin elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fluff #elvis presley fanfiction #ally's 1k gala #ally writes

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athena-writes-i-guess · 2 years

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Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

“Y/N! You’re late again.” You heard your boss state as you punched in for your shift.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head lightly, “Sorry Jimmy, I had some car issues and had to have a friend bring me in today.” You said as you tied your apron around your waist. You were a server at Enzo’s, you had been for about a year now. The people were nice and the tips weren’t horrible, so overall it was a good place to work. But it was only helped by your coworkers, especially your favorite line cook.

“Hey there sweetheart! Was worried we weren’t going to see you tonight!” You heard Eddie call from his spot on the line, he was in a stained white cooks coat, his long hair was in a ponytail and shoved into a hat, and his dimpled smile was shining brightly as he looked at you.

You couldn’t stop the automatic smile that came to your face as you walked through the kitchen and past the line, “Nice to see you too Eddie.” You laughed as you passed.

“Oh you know it’s always wonderful to see you beautiful!” He called after you as you walked through the swinging doors out to the restaurant floor, you chuckled lightly at his words as the door swung shut behind you. You and Eddie had been classmates all through school, but had run in different circles so you hadn’t been friends, though you did think he was cute and funny from a far. You had no idea though, that he had been crushing on you hard that entire time.

You had missed all the longing glances in the hallways, the way his head shot to you when you would laugh at something he said in class, the missed attempts of him starting a conversation with you. You hadn’t noticed any of that and now that he was able to talk to you almost everyday, you played his words off as just being part of Eddie, not realizing it was deeper. Lots of cooks talk to you like that.

It was going to be a busy night, you realized as you saw the reservation book, Friday nights usually were. You looked at your section that was already filling up and got to work taking orders and started zipping around the restaurant to get diners what they needed.

You had a table waiting on their entrees when you went in the back kitchen to check on it. “Guys, how are my chicken parms coming along?” You called out to the line as you walked up to the station where the final plating happened.

“Got them right here for you, Y/N!” Eddie called out as he plopped the plates in front of you, sprinkling a little parsley on top to finish it.

“Thanks Eddie!” You chirped as you picked up the hot plates with some towels, sending him a small smile that he returned with a large one.

“Anything for you sweetheart!” He called after you as you walked out into the restaurant again, your smile widening at his words.

The night went like this until eventually there was enough of a lull for your 15 minute break, you grabbed a soda and headed through the kitchen and out through the back door where a lot of employees went to take their breaks. You sat down on the back steps and took a sip of your soda before you suddenly felt someone plop down next to you. Eddie smiled as he opened a pack of cigarettes and offered you one, nodding his head when you declined.

“Break time for you too?” You asked, looking over to him.

He smirked at your words and shook his head, “Not technically. I told the guys I need a quick smoke.”

“Why?” You questioned with a cock of your head.

“I saw you come out here, I wanted to talk to you.” He smiled softly at you.

“Why would you want to do that?” You wondered.

“I like talking to you.” He said simply, like that’s the only answer he needed. “And” he started with a grin, “I wanted to ask about that sweet little tatty I saw on your arm. That new, sweetheart?” He asked nodding his head to your arm where your first ever tattoo was peaking from under your sleeve.

“Yeah, got it a few days ago. You should have heard my mom when she saw it, she freaked out. Said I ‘ruined my body’.” You chuckled.

You watched Eddie wet his bottom lip before lightly biting it to hold back a large smile, “There’s no way you could ruin that body.” He said cheekily. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks and your heart beat speed up.

“Why, are you flirting with me, Eddie Munson?” You asked with a smile as you locked eyes with him.

“You finally noticed?” He shot back with a sly grin. “Have been for months.”

He watched as the shy smile pulled at your lips. “I guess I just thought that’s how you talked to everyone.”

“Nope. Only you.” He chuckled lightly. “I-uh- wanted to know, if maybe you wanted to go on a date with me sometime? Maybe catch a movie?” He asked hopefully.

It was your turn to bite your lip lightly as you tried to hold back the giant smile that wanted to appear on your face. Be cool Y/N. “I’d love that Eddie.” You said softly, leaning over to leave a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Great.” He said simply, trying not to show how over the moon he was.

A/N: as a former waitress I really wanted to write a work place one, hope you liked it ❤️

Taglist: @srapalestina

Masterlist

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clonemando · 6 months

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Corrie Guard Bingo:

My fill for the prompt Bad Dates:

Fox has been on many dates, more than most people would guess, because Thorn and Thire keep setting him up. Not a single one has gone right- most have actually gone very wrong.

On AO3 here

This is for The Coruscant Guard Bingo run by @clonefandomevents

“Nope, no sitting, you have to get ready for your date. Go get your civvies on.” Thorn said with a big grin as he shoved Fox past the couch in the guard’s main office right toward the door leading to Fox’s personal office space where Thire was waiting with clothes to shove their leader into before he could attempt escape.

“Wasn’t the last one bad enough?” Fox whined but didn’t really fight against either of his brothers.

“You only tripped and accidentally shoved her off the walkway, that wasn’t nearly as bad as the time you threw up on your date or the time you accidentally called them a whore in their native language.” Thire piped in cheerfully as he stacked Fox’s armor in his desk chair carefully.

Fox groaned and Thorn grinned. “You at least caught her before she died even if she broke her arm from you grabbing it and will probably have a fear of public walkways for the rest of her life.” He said ignoring the glare Fox was giving him.

“I don’t understand why you both insist I need to date anyone. Can’t I just be miserable alone in my office instead of miserable in public?” Fox pouted as he pulled on the nice red sweater and jeans so Thire didn’t have to pin him down. It was progress from the first two times they had done this and Thorn and Thire came out with black eyes and bruised faces.

“Fox, you read so many romance holobooks that it’s practically a personality trait at this point. We just want you to have someone to sweep you off your feet and make you swoon. You deserve it. You gotta get through all the bad dates to get to the good ones.” Thire hummed as they gave him once over and decided he pasted their muster. Thorn handed him the speeder keys.

“Your date should be waiting for you in front of Dex’s. Try not to send her to the hospital this time Fox.” He said, slapping Fox on the shoulder and watching him leave before turning to Thire.

“Two hours shift that he’s back before ten because something happened.” He bet and Thire grinned back.

“His luck is worse than that, He’ll be back by eight, you’re on. I’ll get some ice cream and ready the blankets.” Thire said while they shook on it and separated to get back to their shifts.

Fox sat in his booth at Dex’s alone, sipping on a strawberry shake keeping an eye on his chrono. His date had taken one look at him and made her excuses but he could tell she hadn’t realized he was going to be a clone. Wouldn’t be the first time. He had been on so many dates at this point nothing really surprised him anymore.

“Is this seat taken Commander?” A voice drew him from his moping and he looked up and gave a small smile.

“Not at all Miss Praji. I’m surprised to see you out so late.” He gestured to the other side of the booth and she slid into the seat with a little huff of relief.

Rayne Praji was a reporter with the Galactic Daily News that was one of the few allies the clones had among nat-borns that weren’t jedi. With her copper hair and blue eyes she looked very much like what Fox thought Obi-Wan would look like if he had been born a little shorter and with more curves. It made sense since they were both from Stewjon and Fox had reason to believe they might even be related somehow though he hadn’t asked her yet seeing as that seemed a little personal.

“You know me Commander, got lost on my way to my meeting and crashed into Hound and Grizzer, quite literally. My papers went everywhere. He kept apologizing like it wasn’t my own fault.” She sighed, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she stretched out tiredly.

“I’ll make sure he knows you don’t blame him. You’re one of the few people in the Senate that actually treat us like people, Hound would probably throw himself off a building if he hurt you or upset you, He’s dramatic like that.” He chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

“He’s sweet. After helping me get my papers he picked me up and basically ran with me all the way to the right door just in time to keep the jerks who set me up from leaving. I was able to present my case and even guilt a few into signatures. How about you? I’m guessing Thorn and Thire are still meddling in your love life?” She asked and Fox sighed deeply.

“They don’t seem to get that no one is interested in someone like me and every date gets worse and worse. The last girl ended up in the hospital. You might not be safe sitting so close, Miss Praji, for your own safety.” He said only slightly jokingly.

“I’ll take my chances. Worth it for the good company and Dex’s milkshakes.” She said stealing the rest of Fox’s drink right from his hands and smiling at him sweetly as she sipped it while he just stared in surprise.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He said, his own lips curling up dangerously and she kept their gazes locked before she immediately ditched the drink hopping out of the booth and sprinting out the door with Fox hot on her heels chasing her as she ran with laughter ringing out behind her.

She was surprisingly quick but Fox caught up quickly and swooped her off her feet, tossing her over one of his shoulders and starting to carry her back to where he had left his speeder.

“I think I have to arrest you for theft Miss Praji. Shall I drop you off with Stone on my way back to the office?” He asked, smiling widely, glad the streets were pretty empty at this time of day because otherwise they’d raise a few questions- not that anyone would dare to ask.

“I think you should deal with me yourself Commander. Wouldn’t want to give poor Stone more work.” She said and Fox paused, setting her down on her feet in front of him.

“Miss Praji-” He started but she cut him off.

“You’re a good man Fox. Kind, strong, and very handsome. Whoever those other women were, they were idiots or cowards. I would still want a second date even if you accidently got my arm broken. I know I’m just a reporter and feel free to tell me you’re not interested but… I would like it very much if you’d go out with me sometime on a real date.” She said and Fox stared at her in silence for several moments, enough to make her fidget worrying she had over stepped but then he pulled her close and kissed her smiling into the kiss at the little eep noise she had made before melting into his arms.

“I would like that very much Miss Praji.” He agreed resting their foreheads together after the kiss and she giggled.

“I also think that if we’re dating you can call me Rayne, Commander.” She said and he pulled away but kept her hand in his own.

“Then you can just call me Fox.” He countered as they started to walk again. He was excited to rub this in Thire and Thorn’s faces and collect all their betting credits and even more excited at the thought of getting to go out with Rayne on a proper date.

#star wars #tcw #the clone wars #The Coruscant Guard #Commander Fox #Commander Thire #Commander Thorn #Rayne Praji (OC)#fanfic #my writing #fluff #coruscant guard bingo #Bad Dates prompt

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keepyourpantsongohan · 1 year

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Half-Baked (Heartfelt)

For shinobi, the one thing important above all else is teamwork. (Ch. 240). Discord 30 Minute Gift Exchange (Comrades of My Heart) for @tomicaleto | Prompt: Taiyaki

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Remind me again how this is a mission, sensei?” Kakashi asks flatly, ask he cracks an egg into a bowl.

Minato smiles widely. “It’s one that I have specially requested. And you and Obito are the shinobi I want for the job.”

“But you know how to cook already,” Obito points out, rifling through one of the cupboards. After a moment, he emerges victorious with a bag of flour, which is hefty enough that he falls back on his rear, a puff of white powder hitting his face. “Told you I’d find it, Bakashi!”

“Don’t waste the ingredients,” Kakashi tells him.

Chuckling, Minato says, “Nice work, Obito. You can portion what we need into that bowl while I finish up the filling. Kakashi, keep working on the wet ingredients.”

Both boys nod, and their fleeting glance at each other tells Minato that they’re going to compete to finish their tasks as fast as possible. They’ll have to add clean-up to the mission parameters, he thinks, caught between amused and concerned for the future of his kitchen.

Even as he is racing Kakashi in a contest of who can get more of their ingredients outside of their bowls, Obito’s curiosity persists. “But what’s up with all of this, sensei? Why’d you send Rin and Kushina-nee away? If it’s about teamwork, shouldn’t we all be here?”

Minato reaches for the sugar with a sigh. Folding it in carefully into the pot on the stove, he asks his students, “Well, you remember last month when Kushina and Rin gave us those chocolates, right?”

“It was a holiday, so they were supposed to,” Kakashi says, folding his arms. He nods at the mixture in front of him. “I’m done.”

“Of course, I remember!” Obito says, almost indignant. “I’d never forget to thank Rin for a gift! How’s this, sensei?”

Obito tilts his bowl in his teacher’s direction, and Minato determines that what’s inside of it is enough to form a batter. “You’ve both done well. Now you and Kakashi can put the batter together.”

There is some debate between Kakashi and Obito over whether Obito’s ingredients should be added to Kakashi’s bowl or the other way around, but luckily, Minato is able to mediate by asking them to put it into whichever is bigger. With fewer causalities to his kitchen than expected, they manage to get their taiyaki ready for the moulds.

When the boys have settled down, Minato explains, “Today, it’s our time return the favour and give something back to them. We don’t want to leave their feelings unanswered. “

“You’re marrying her, sensei,” Kakashi says, raising an eyebrow. “I think Kushina-san knows you like her.”

Placing a hand on both of his students’ heads, Minato leans down with a grin and says, “That’s true. But when you care about someone, you should tell them, alright?”

Both Kakashi and Obito turn red and mumble out replies. Minato asks them to speak up, and Obito mutters, “Married people are embarrassing,” while Kakashi nods his agreement.

#ayesha talks anime #minato namikaze #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #discord #minakushi #maybe a leetle bb kkob if u squint #or kkobrn u decide #mine #fanfiction #long post #prompt fics #tomicaleto #i'm sorry if there are many typos LOL [aslan voice] i was not there when it was written #i will almost certainly edit after posting LOL

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likecastle · 1 year

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Ronance Femslash February - postmarked for January

Thank you again to @marbledswissroll for the prompt “postmarked for january.” I tweaked the wording a little because I couldn’t quite work it in as it was originally phrased, but hopefully it’s close enough!

I’m accepting Ronance prompts all month for Femslash February. I have a few more prompts in my inbox, but I’ve still need a few more to get me through the end of the month, so please send them my way! Anon asks are totally fine, and you’re welcome to send more than one prompt. Don’t be shy! You can find previous prompts I’ve filled here.

Robin is putting up a flyer for the marching band fundraiser when Nancy Wheeler walks into the post office, carrying a manila envelope so carefully it might as well be the Declaration of Independence. For a minute Robin thinks they’re both going to do what they usually do when they cross paths at school, and pretend they didn’t throw a metric ton of fireworks at a monster made of liquefied people last summer, but Nancy meets her eye with a tentative smile, and Robin realizes she must want an audience for this momentous occasion.

“College application?” Robin asks, and this conversation already feels like an uphill battle. She should have just pretended not to see Nancy, or faked amnesia, or something.

“Yeah,” Nancy says, with a little shrug that Robin’s sure is supposed to seem modest, but she can tell Nancy is pleased with herself.

“Got your heart set on someplace special?” she asks, because she knows Nancy wants her to ask.

“Emerson,” Nancy says, with more starry-eyed enthusiasm than she’s ever said her actual boyfriend’s name. “My mom and I did a bunch of campus visits in September, and I just fell in love. I sort of thought I’d go to NYU, maybe Northwestern as a backup, but after I sat in on a class at Emerson, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. And hopefully I can get an internship at the Globe, or—” She pauses, looking charmingly chagrinned, though Robin notices that her hands are clenched tight around the corners of the envelope. “Sorry, I’m rambling.” She gives another one of those sweetly self-effacing shrugs. “Are you . . . applying anywhere?”

Robin tries not to read too much into the question, because if she did, she’d have to hear the implication that Nancy isn’t sure if Robin’s cut out for college, despite the fact that they have AP English and French Club and Trig together. Or maybe she just doesn’t think Robin’s family can afford to send her to school—which is a lot closer to the truth. She’ll be holding her breath about scholarships until April. “Just IU,” she says. “But not early decision, so the application doesn’t have to be postmarked til January.”

Nancy’s eyes widen, and if Robin didn’t know better, she’d say Nancy looks worried on her behalf. “You don’t think you should apply to a couple more schools, just in case? Not,” she adds quickly, “that I think you won’t get in, it’s just . . .”

Robin shrugs, trying for a carelessness she doesn’t really feel. “If I don’t get in, I’ll just use the money I’ve been saving for tuition on a trip across Europe. Just, you know, stay in hostels and sleep on people’s couches until my funds run out. I mean, I might do that even if I do get in.”

“Oh,” Nancy says, and her cheeks, Robin thinks, are faintly pink—from shock at Robin’s cavalier attitude, no doubt. She expects to get another little lecture about responsible choices, but what Nancy says is, “That, um . . . sounds nice.”

“Who knows,” Robin adds with a grin, “maybe I’ll bring Steve with me to be my chauffeur. Oh my god, he’d get so pissy about European traffic, don’t you think?”

“Right.” Nancy’s expression is tight, and Robin realizes too late that she’s crossed some line she shouldn’t have. “Well, I should—get this in the mail.” Nancy gestures toward the counter with the envelope, which is significantly bent at the edges now. “I’ll, um—good luck. With your application.”

“You, too,” Robin says, but Nancy is already turning away.

Robin tries to imagine it—Nancy walking with an armful of books across some perfectly-groomed campus green. Robin’s never been to Boston—never been anywhere, really—but she imagines brick buildings covered with ivy, students with sweaters tied over their shoulders talking about spending their summer vacation at Martha’s Vineyard, wherever that is. It doesn’t fill her with jealousy, exactly. It’s not what she wants for herself, but she does envy Nancy that her future seems so clear. She’s a star student applying early decision to the school of her dreams, and Robin wonders what it must feel like to be sure that she’ll get in, that she’ll be able to afford it, that she’ll get everything she wants.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance femslash february #femslash february #marbledswissroll

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birbliophile · 2 years

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Can you write a MoU fanfiction of N's reaction to getting the message Colress sent about him being apart of Team Plasma? (Sry if this is worded weirdly)

Uh, sure? I don't usually take requests on this blog but it's a nice prompt and you asked politely so...yeah.

DISCLAIMER: absolutely NONE of this is official MoU canon, and I STRONGLY recommend sending any questions about the characters or plot decisions to @kynimdraws or the official MoU blog @mythsofunova. It's her comic and characters (or character versions) first, I just like her work so much that I write these little ficlets from time to time. Please do not treat me as an authority on MoU canon. I do welcome people who want to talk about the series with me though.

The Email

Nathaniel Harmonia did not use technology often.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of it, per say, although it was rather overwhelming the first time Benga had shown him how to use an Xtranciever properly. He hadn’t even had one of those old fashioned cell phones before - any communication within Team Plasma was done by the grunts. So it was suffice to say that N wasn’t exactly in the habit of checking his email (also courtesy of Benga).

“You should at least have one in case someone wants to send over like, a big file or something? You’re going to be with Ms. Lenora and Mr. Hawes, right? I bet they deal with stuff like that a lot.”

N had shrugged and let Benga deal with it. Thankfully the teenager was thoughtful enough to not give him a weird username, and the email had come in handy more than once with Lenora and Hawes’ work. Nobody else really sent N anything though - Benga and Alder preferred using the Xtrancievers, the former having quite the habit of double texting.

So it was quite the surprise when he woke up on a Saturday morning to see a message appeared in his inbox from an address he didn’t recognize.

TO: nathanielh

FROM: #479%!@$

SUBJECT: Posthumous arrangements - Ghetsis Tenebra

“Something wrong?” Matthias asked, ears flicking back with suspicion. N blinked.

“I’m…not sure.” He stared at the subject line, eyebrows knitting together. Team Plasma had been disbanded for two years, and he was sure he’d resolved all their (illegal) business dealings with Alder and the authorities. And Ghetsis…well. N’s stomach turned as he remembered how that had ended. Whatever this was, it didn’t sound good. But he had to know.

N opened the email.

Mr. Harmonia.

I was commissioned by your father and his associates some years back for work of a classified nature. Seeing as he is now indisposed, I must meet with you to resolve his affairs as soon as possible. I will be waiting at Unit #258 in the Warehouse District of Virbank City this following Saturday at 3:30pm. RSVP to this email address.

No name. N stared at the message for a minute. The phrasing made it seem like this person had been hired by Ghetsis and Team Plasma rather than working directly under them. But they hadn’t specified what they were hired for, or what they wanted to talk about. Payment, maybe? N grimaced. He wasn’t exactly keen on going through all that paperwork again.

The real worry was how this mysterious person had gotten his email address. The only people who knew about it were Alder, Benga, Lenora, and Hawes. And N couldn’t think of a reason that they’d just simply tell anyone about it.

Well…only one thing to do then.

N brought up the call function on his Xtranciever and selected Alder’s name from the top of the contacts list. He shouldn’t be too busy right now.

That said, it took a few rings for the Champion to pick up. His grinning face filled the screen, and N suddenly felt a little more at ease.

N, my boy, how are you doing? I hope Lenora isn’t working you too hard over there!

“Oh, not at all, I uh…actually really enjoy cataloging the artifacts and stuff,” N flushed. “It’s…calming.”

Good, good! Are you going to visit Floccesy this weekend? Benga would love to see you!

“Uh, actually, I’m calling for a…different reason.” N swallowed. Alder’s smile turned into a look of gentle concern.

Something bothering you, son?

N suppressed the jolt of confused yet oddly pleased feelings he always had when Alder called him son. “Uh, I got an email today…”

When N had finished explaining, Alder was stroking his chin thoughtfully, brows furrowed.

“So…what do you think?” N fidgeted with the string of his necklace.

Well…we definitely can’t just ignore this. Do you want to bring it up with the police?

N thought for a moment. “No. It’s my responsibility to deal with this. I’ll meet with…whoever this person is, alone.”

You can’t go alone, N. Alder frowned. I’m not letting you go to a private meeting with a stranger without backup.

“I thought you were going to be in Johto for the next two weeks,” N frowned.

I am, but you should still bring someone along just in case things get hostile. Alder said. Would it be alright if I called in Nina?

N’s entire body tensed up. “Wh-ah-huh? Why…uh, why her, specifically?”

The Elite Four are helping Iris cover Champion business while I’m away, and none of the Gym Leaders can be free on Saturday unless it’s an actual emergency.

“No, I get it,” N said. “But uh…it’s fine. I’ll just bring Matthias.”

Alder sighed. I know the two of you aren’t exactly…close, but she’s the strongest trainer I know who could probably make it. And I’d feel a lot better if she was with you.

N gripped his necklace. “I don’t want to involve her in this. Not after everything I put her through.”

Alder was silent for a moment. You know, this could be a good opportunity for the two of you to actually talk a bit.

N faltered. “I don’t…”

In truth, it wasn’t just that he didn’t want to burden Nina with his own problems again. It was that if he saw her again, then…well, he was afraid that it’d be so horrifically awkward that she’d never want to speak to him after that. Not even in short texts every three months that made him want to lie down and stare at the ceiling for hours.

(They didn’t talk much after his initial apology. She’d told him she was sorry too, could you imagine? She was the one who’d lost nearly her entire team because of him.)

Look, how about I just ask if she’s available, and if she says no, then I’ll ask Roxie to send one of her off-duty trainers, okay?

“...Okay.”

N hung up. For the rest of the day, his head was swarming with thoughts about a certain brunette, and not even the calming task of sorting through documents could ease his nerves. There was no way she’d want anything to do with Team Plasma, he was certain. So what if he still had a million things he’d never figured out how to say to her. So what if maybe he still had a glimmer of hope that they could still be friends? So what if he felt a desperate desire to talk to the one person who could understand what the ordeal of being a Chosen of the Dragons had been like?

She didn’t deserve to have to see him again. Not when he was the reason she almost died.

“You okay, kid?” Lenora asked as they closed up the storage room for the day.

N nodded. “Yeah.”

When he got back to the apartment that Lenora and Hawes had set up for him, he flopped onto the bed and went to check his messages. One voicemail from Alder. N opened it.

She’ll meet you at the Floccesy Clock Tower at noon, that’ll give you enough time to walk to Virbank.

N fell off the bed.

#man that title sucks #myths of unova #fanfic #my writing #my fic #kynim #once again this is not canon please do not ask me about stuff you should be asking kynim

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jerzwriter · 2 years

Note

Hiii! :) I'm popping into your inbox for two reasons. First, I'd like to tell you how amazing a writer I think you are. <3 I'm so glad you were brave enough to start writing for Tobias and MC because that pairing of yours is *chef's kiss*. But I also really enjoy your Ethan x MC stories. <3 Basically, I love anything you come up with.

Second, I'd really appreciate your perspective on something. As we all know, the fandom is dwindling and it's making me sad. Of course, it's only natural, but still, I've been thinking about what could be done to prevent the fandom from slowly dying out. I've decided to come to you because I know how passionate you are about trying to involve everyone in the fandom so that they don't feel left out. I love the mass asks you send to writers from time to time. They're always so fun and creative! And I know some other writers have been doing the same and I think it's such a fun idea.

I've also seen you sending out lovely messages to not only writers but also other creators and readers before, and I think this is something everyone should do more often (if and when they have the time and energy, of course). Because if you're just a reader, it's very easy to feel disengaged and lonely in this fandom (and I guess in any other fandom as well). You see writers and creators supporting each other, pre-reading each other's works, sending one another fun asks, brainstorming ideas, which all leads to them forming beautiful friendships. When you're "just" a reader, even if you keep reblogging works and trying to interact with creators, it's much harder to make friends because you can't really do all that I just mentioned. I think many readers have left because they don't feel part of the fandom and they feel no one would really miss them if they were gone.

So, this brings me to my main point. Do you (and I'm not just asking you but anyone who'll be reading this message) have any ideas on how to involve readers more in the fandom? I know most writers reply to their readers' reblogs but I feel more should be done to make them feel appreciated and loved. I often see asks like "How did your MC feel in ch X when..." going around and it might be a nice idea to send these asks to readers as well. Because despite them not being writers/creators, I'm sure every reader who's ever played OPH likes to think about these scenarios and has ideas as well. They might just be too shy to share them or feel no one would care. They could also be sent some fun prompts or charts to fill in, like that "What I love about you today" checklist. I'm convinced they'd also have fun with those.

Oooff, sorry for this long-ass message. I hope you don't mind me coming to you with this, but you always have great ideas to involve others and I thought I'd ask for your help/opinion in this matter as well.

So, what do you all think? Let's find some fun ways to show readers some love!

Hello Nonny,

I'm sorry it took a few days to reply, it's been a hellacious week, and I have not had much time on here.

First, thank you so much for your kind words. I really do appreciate them. As the fandom dwindles, it's especially good to know that people are enjoying what I write - I know other writers feel the same way. So thank you.

A few quick things, ongoing events like @jamespotterthefirst MC Monday and Thirsty Thursday, @potionsprefect Tick Tock Tuesday and @dr-colossal-pita Foodie Friday are open to all. (@genevievemd Wedding Wednesday has ended, but you can still participate). I point that out because when I joined the fandom, Bree was doing the Newlywed Games, and I thought you had to be a writer in order to do them, and you didn't these are for anyone to participate in.

I think it's very important for all of us to appreciate each other - creators and readers alike. I wish I had more answers about how to keep the fandom alive, but I think one of the best ways is just interacting. See a fic you like? Comment/Reblog. And, creators, do your best to reply to those who do. Appreciation and validation is a two-way street.

I also encourage people to really branch out. Try reading something you normally wouldn't - a new writer, a different pairing, something that wouldn't normally be your thing. You'd be amazed how much you might enjoy it.

The truth is, sadly, that the more time that passes after the end of the series, we will see attrition. There is no avoiding it. But I think being kind to each other, understanding each other, and being inclusive of all will go a long way to keep us flourishing.

I open this question to others - let us know your ideas.

I will say one thing, though, for me personally, but I know other writers share this sentiment. We're a little burnt out. It's hard to keep churning out material - as much as we love it - and, yeah, with interaction down, sometimes it's discouraging to continue.

So, remember this... you don't have to be a creator to create an event. Have an idea for "Teenage Tuesday" (Where we all talk about our characters as teens) GO FOR IT! You can start it too. None of us are more or less than the other here. We're an equal community.

#open heart choices #fandom things #fandom discourse #fandom ideas

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depressedhatakekakashi · 7 days

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Saw that you were asking for angst?? :3c here’s a prompt if you’d like~

“No… I was… too late… please forgive me…”

Warming: Pain and suffering below. Main character death. Do not open if you are not interesting in crying tonight XD

Kakashi stood in hushed regular spot, the pounding of rain atop his head a mellow rhythm in his ears. Lightning flashed in the sky above, but while other’s rushed down the streets toward home he continued to stand.

“I’m sorry,” the words fell from his lips with a broken sob. “I’m so- so sorry….”

The image of a small red turtle floated in Kakashi’s mind, the letters S.O.S flashing brightly at him. One minute he’d been sitting down to enjoy a nice meal with his team, and the next he was speeding down the village roads toward the gate.

As he ran, the S.o.S turtle sat in his front left pocket filling him in on the situation. Not much of what she’d said reached through the fog in Kakashi’s brain, but the important bits broke through and rang out like a thunderstorm.

Gai was in danger.

He was injured and surrounded by multiple enemy shinobi. Not just any enemy shinobi either, but dangerous ones.

People who might stand a chance at defeating Gai.

He had to make it. Even if he arrived just before they found his Rival it would be fine, because the two of them could take on anything together.

No enemy stood in their way if they were fighting back to back, but alone. That was a different issue. "Come on," he grumbled as he jumped toward the next tree. "I have to make i-" his eyes locked onto the space ahead, a small group of five shinobi laying on the ground unconcious. "No..." touching down on the branch, he shifted his foot forward and send himself falling toward the ground, his eyes glued on the scene in front of him. once he reached the ground he could see everyhting more clearly, unimpeded by the tree's leaves. there were more than five bodies. At least thirty with some of them having fallen on top of each other. The battle had started and he hadn't been there. Worst of all, it wasn't just enemy's bodies that had left their mark. "Gai..." his left foot moved first, dragging him toward the empty spot in the centre of all this carnage, with burnt grass formed into the shape of a man. A specific man. The man who'd always worn thr brightest smile, and who seemed to contain the warmth of the sun in his very spirit. Something, or someone, moved in his periferals, but Kakashi continued to move forward without hesitation. he didn't even bother to dodge when he saw a small attack headed his way, the sharp edge of a rock grazing against his nose. Without thought he waved his hands together and knelt down to slam his hands against the ground. A wall of mud grew on his right, towering as tall as the tree's with the hounds carved into the earth on the side facing the enemy shinobi. If the enemy continued to try attacking him, he couldn't tell. He didn't care either. his attention was focused soly on Gai as thoughts raced through his mind. How late was he? Could he have run faster? No, he should have run faster. was he too late? Coming to a stop at the edges of that burnt shape he stared down at the chared remains of his eternal rival. even without a face to confirm the identity, Kakashi knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the spot where the man who'd been kind enough to love him, Maito Gai, had parished in. Tears stung his eyes as he stared at the spot, committing it to memory. "I was too late..."

Thunder crashed through the sky, lighting up the night so that Kakashi could see the name etched into the memorial stone in front of him.

A stone he'd stood in front of for years trying to apologize for his mistakes, and which seemed to read out one final, unforgivable mistakes to him.

Maito Gai.

One of many precious people he'd buried over the years. The one who'd claimed his heart with such ease that Kakashi didn't even realize what was going on until it was too late.

The man who was supposed to celebrate his twentieth birthday in just a few short days.

"I'm sorry," he uttered once more, the rain splashing against his hair while tears ran down his face. "I was too late."

#Kakagai #Hatake Kakashi #Angst #Hurt NO COMFORT #Hurt no comfort #I am so so so sorry #It's probably not good #but like #it still hurt my heart to write it T.T

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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clairecrive · 3 years

Note

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

#eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock one shot #eddie brock imagines #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock angst #eddie brock smut #venom #marvel #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagines #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock ff

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition.

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #tom riddle #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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