#I apparently took the question too literally but like...that's how questions work? You ask for what you want to see specifically

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

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Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house. 

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands. 

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events. 

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass. 

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No" 

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass. 

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist. 

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit. 

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish. 

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind." 

"I do," he says simply. 

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much. 

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it. 

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again. 

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal. 

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence. 

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed." 

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge. 

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?" 

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's. 

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze. 

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert. 

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath. 

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter. 

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue. 

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him. 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?" 

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops. 

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair. 

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer. 

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides. 

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes. 

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him. 

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door. 

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand. 

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it. 

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty. 

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help. 

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@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

[liminalhymnal]

Okay am I stupid or is my professor dicking with me

I chose "None of the above" because A was almost right but AS STATED IN THE BOOK I WAS TOLD TO STUDY FROM

IT SAYS ITS A FOUR-STEP PROCESS, and not only that but it says a health screening MAY lead to the process not that it is actually part of the FOUR steps!!!! Am I illiterate for answering how I did????

#This trick question bullshit is the EXACT reason I've failed my written drivers test like 4 times now #I apparently took the question too literally but like...that's how questions work? You ask for what you want to see specifically #Someone PLEASE tell me I'm not high on crack for reading and answering it this way

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

[wandasfifthwife]

so soaked

korra x fem!reader

tw: 18+ MDNI, top!korra, bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), water strap (r receiving), strap described to be her “dick” once, pure filth (im so sorry), established relationship, not proofread

a/n: this is for all of the korra fans who still love her even after like 11 years lmao :)

Korra’s most likely to come up with a stupid idea and be completely serious about putting it into action. Most times she’ll pull it off too. You know this about her, but seeing it come to life in a romantic lighting was new, different.

She had no shame showing her affection for you in public. She fully enjoyed your reactions, pulling more out of you any chance she could. Her friends could be surrounding you and she’d cheekily make comments about her attraction towards you, or about how you looked, or better yet she’d act on impulse.

That’s how she was now, in her mood to boost herself in front of others and to get a rise out of you. She came up with another one of her stupid claims, blurting every impulsive thought.

“I can do more than just fight with the elements.”

Her claim brought on one question, how. Mako and Bolin made claims, most of them were either about mundane tasks or criminal acts.

You sat near them, watching the interaction with a smile. You made eye contact with Korra when the light bulb went off in her mind. You brushed it off, moving on and taking it as a joke. That’s when it started.

A few days have passed since then and you found yourself between her body and a wall. She snuck you back to her room, shutting the door and wasting no time to pull you into a kiss. Her room was dark save for the small window in the corner allowing the moonlight, the room’s only source of light.

You struggled to see her but Korra on the other hand had no issue finding you. Her hands pulling you closer into her, a sound escaping you when she started trailing kisses down your neck.

“Feeling good already?”

You shut her up by pulling her close again, lips falling onto hers messily; Her smug grin apparent through the ones you shared. She moved back, bringing your body into hers as she falls onto the bed.

“Strip,” she leans back, eyeing your body. The hesitation written in your body language has her sitting up, cupping your face.

“You’re beautiful. I promise you,” she leans back again, “now strip.”

You make quick work of it, pulling at your clothes until nothing remained. A laugh sounded from you when she flipped you down on the bed, under her.

“Can I try something,” she asks, distracting you by pressing a kiss to your chest and spreading your legs further apart. You nodded, pressing your face into the sheets.

“Could I practice my bending on you?”

You took it as a joke, laughing softly until you met her gaze. Her pupils were blown, hair framing her face. She was serious.

“Korra, what?”

“Well I’m quite literally the avatar, it’s important—“

“What,” you push her hair back, running your fingers through it, “what were you thinking?”

Her grin grows, “I’ll make it worth your time.”

She fails to answer your question. Her body moves off the bed, grabbing you to drag you down the bed until your bottom half hung off. Her lips found yours, kissing you into the bed while her nails trailed up your thighs, drawing goosebumps.

“I mean it, you’re really pretty.”

She pushes her finger, eyes staying on your face to watch for any indication of pain. All she finds is your body curling into hers, soft sounds filling the space between you.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me.”

You try but it grows futile when you feel a second finger pressing beside her first.

“Korra—“

She pushes her fingers in further, the tip pressing against the spot that has your hips jerking in her hold. You reach a hand down to hold her fingers there, enjoying the way your mind begins to grow fuzzy.

“Fuck—more, please!”

She pushes a third finger by her two, stretching you out further. Her fingers avoid touching your clit, rubbing under and beside but denying you the touch that would send you over the top.

It was sudden the way she pulls her fingers out, leaving you spacey and dissatisfied. You lay panting on the bed, facing the ceiling. Though you’re not watching her, you can hear her movements.

“Spread your legs wider,” she emphasizes her words with a light tap to your left leg. Certainly you don’t look now, feeling embarrassed about being so exposed as if her fingers weren’t inside you a second ago.

What was pressing into you was a bit cold, causing you to shiver. The next thing you notice was how it filled you completely, stretching you out.

“Oh shit—you feel so good wrapped around me.”

You whine into her neck, using your legs to push her further into you. The way she snapped her hips into you made you feel euphoric. You were too blissed out to notice the way water spilt into the ground, or how it mixed with your slick and covered the inside of your thighs.

“You like it that much, huh?”

You moan your response, wrapping your arms tighter around her neck. Korra had a hand wrapped around your waist; another hand sat by your head, laid upright to bend the water around her waist.

She splits you open, putting pressure against every inch of your walls. The way it angled to hit every sensitive corner. She was just as affected as you were, whines of her own turning you on even more. She curses under her breath, angling her wrist so she can adjust the way it’s moving inside you.

“Like how good I’m fucking you? My dick better than any one you’ve had before?”

“Yes, yes—ah!”

It doesn’t have a set form, changing with however and whatever your cunt demands. The second she motions for another string of water, bringing it to almost suck at your clit, you’re overwhelmed.

“Korra—Korra, ah!”

“Shh breathe,” she brushes your cheek with a shaky hand, “don’t hold back. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Everything was too much. Her low voice, the fluid stretch of your cunt, and how she was stimulating it all. The way she pressed into you, pushing against that muscle as the other pulls against your clit was too good.

You cry out her name, back arching as you come. She follows behind, whispering your name almost incoherently into your ear.

“You okay,” she asks, laying her panting self on yours. You giggle breathlessly, pushing at her until she’s forced to stand. The bed felt more comfortable the further you crawled back towards the center of the bed. It was then you realized what was just inside you as it returns to a fluid liquid state, being directed back into a nearby jar.

“Water?”

“What about it.”

“Korra, you fucked me with water?”

“Judging by your reaction I’d say I did well.”

taglist

@wandamaximoffsbadgirl @billiesofficialstrapsucker @cupc4keu

#korra x fem!reader smut #korra x fem!reader #korra x reader smut #korra x reader #legend of Korra #avatar the legend of korra #the legend of korra #korra avatar #avatar korra #avatar legend of korra #korra #top!korra #top korra #bottom!reader #bottom reader #smut fic

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:44 pm]

(cw: f!reader, "ass")

Fratboy!Jaehyun had woken up groggy and confused. He wasn't sure what time it was or even what day it was. His mouth was dry and it took every ounce of power to pry his eyes open. His room was dark and his internal clock told him at had to be at least mid-morning. He could hear his fray brothers going about their days. He could hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen, people going up and down the stairs, and someone had just gotten in the shower.

He rolled out of bed- literally, he got tangled in his sheets and fell with a muffled groan in pain.

He walked out of his room, walking down the stairs toward the kitchen to see if anyone would offer him any leftovers or second servings.

It was all hitting him now, he had just had his last final yesterday. A week full of studying until his brain felt like mush and his eyes burned. It was tough but he felt really confident. So his reward to himself was a day of playing hooky from work and all responsibilties.

That apparently meant you too... You'd been calling and texting him for half the morning and all your messages went unanswered and undelivered. His location was off because his phone was off so you frantically made a trip to the frat house to see if he was there and most importantly alive.

Your frantic knocks were answered by a calm Haechan who reassured you Jaehyun was alive and asleep. You even saw yourself. His mouth was wide open and his snores were practically shaking the wall.

So that's how you had ended up with Haechan, in the kitchen, wearing his hoodie, covered in flour, and that's how Jaehyun found you.

"What's going on here?" Jaehyun's groggy voice asked.

"So we were making a cake together and we started making the frosting but the powdered sugar went everywhere," you explained with a sheepish smile.

"You're making at cake in the morning?" Jaehyun deadpanned.

Haechan laughed, shaking the powdered sugar from his hair which created a large white cloud, "bro it's like 2 in the afternoon."

Jaehyun's eyes widened, he was in shock, but that didn't take away from the grumpiness he was feeling after waking up and promptly falling on his face. "So you came over and instead of spending time with your boyfriend on his day off you came over and made a mess instead?"

Your face fell and Haechan tensed. "But I called you and texted you all morning and you never answered! I came over because I was scared something had happened and you were knocked out!" You explained.

"So you decided to stay with one half of dumb and dumber and make a big ass mess?" Jaehyun countered.

Haechan pouted, mumbling under his breath, "I'm not dumb."

"We're obviously going to clean up, why are you being so rude right now?" You asked stepping closer to Jaehyun and out of Haechan's ear shot.

Jaehyun sighed, closing his eyes, "I spent the whole week studying my ass off and I woke up later than I wanted to then I fell on my face." His face flushed, "then I come down and see my girlfriend with her other boyfriend and I'm just hungry and tired... and I'm sorry."

You cup his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips pulling away to tell him, "you are such a baby when you wake up. I'll make you something to eat and then we can watch a movie, yeah?"

"And you're staying over." Jaehyun mumbled against your lips.

"Sure, I'll stay," you chuckle.

"Wasn't a question, baby," Jaehyun smiles, pressing one last kiss to your lips before you turn and help Haechan clean up the mess of powdered sugar.

You crouch down to clean up the mess on the floor while Haechan wipes down the counter. Haechan glared at Jaehyun as soon as your eyes meet the floor. "Don't ever let me catch you talking to her like that again," Haechan whispers.

"Huh?" You ask, peeking your head up.

Jaehyun has a stare down with with Haechan, "Nothing, baby."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun blurb #jaehyun timestamps #jaehyun x reader #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun

[halfmoth-halfman]

life's little comforts

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Soap finally gets a better glimpse into your relationship with the Lieutenant- even if it's not the way he wants. Word Count: 3.9k Warnings: alcohol, smoking/cigarettes, torture, gore, blood, canon typical violence Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. part one. part two. part four.

It’s late in the day when Soap walks into your office.

He hadn’t planned on being here, but after literally running into you- he wasn’t paying attention, and you took a corner too quickly- you’d asked him to grab a file from your office and bring it to you in Price’s office. You didn’t give him the chance to decline- not that he would’ve- continuing down the hall with a quick thanks.

It feels a bit like breaking and entering, like sneaking into his parents’ room as a child when they weren’t home. It’s too quiet, the sound of boots against the vinyl plank echoing in his eardrums as he heads to your desk. It’s a stack of papers in a bright blue file; you can’t miss it, you’d told him. 

He can miss it, apparently, since the file seems to be absent from your desk. Your plethora of colorful office supplies sits neatly organized atop your desk alongside your phone, computer, and printer, but there’s not a single file in sight. There are stacks of papers on the filing cabinets- the doors of which, he discovers, are locked with no key in sight- behind your desk and an absurd amount of sticky notes covering the locked glass planes of the pill cabinets. His only other option is-

He doesn’t want to go through your desk. It feels silly but somehow he imagines the desk sitting in front of him to be an extension of you. If he peeks inside the drawers, will he find clues about what makes you, you? He can’t imagine you’ll be angrier about him going through your desk than not bringing you the file but still, he hesitates.

It takes him two minutes to talk himself into it, telling himself not to look at anything that doesn’t look work-related. 

It takes one minute for him to completely disregard that as he pulls open the bottom drawer and sees the thick black edges of a picture frame beneath the file he was sent to find. He pulls the file and the frame from the drawer, setting the file on your desk with no consideration as he examines the photo. Saying the picture is old is an understatement. Deep creases run down the center and across it- someone’s folded and unfolded it several times- with the edges frayed away to almost nothing. The image is faded to all hell, but Soap recognizes the two figures in it with ease.

You’re in a warehouse perched atop a stack of black military crates, putting you at eye level with Ghost, who stands leaning against the crates in the space next to you. Your hair is longer, left down and pushed back by a pair of sunglasses and you’re dressed in all black with a matching tac vest. Ghost is dressed similarly, all black and all tactical, but the familiar skull plate is replaced by a pair of black sunglasses resting over his painted balaclava. The two of you are facing each other, covered in dirt and grime and what is most likely blood, but you’re beaming up at Ghost like you’ve won the lottery, as he cradles your left hand in his gloveless hands, caught in the process of sliding a solid black ring onto your finger.

The words Ghost & Hornet are scrawled across the bottom in someone’s chicken scratch above a date that's been worn away. 

How long ago was this taken? Why is your callsign Hornet? What did you do before you became the 141 doctor? Who took this picture? If it wasn’t one of you who took it, then who gave it to you? Questions swirl around Soap’s head as he stares down at the picture in his hands. 

“Did you grab that folder?”

Soap drops the frame back into the drawer, kicking it shut with lightning speed as the door swings open and you peek your head inside. 

“Got it right here!” You barely take a step inside your office before he’s meeting you at the door, shoving the file into your hands. “Need anything else?”

“No, that was it,” you smile up at him- a small imitation of that same beaming smile in the picture- taking the file. “Thanks for grabbing it for me.”

“Of course, Doc.” Soap follows you out of your office and the infirmary, watching you continue down the hall before he splits off toward the barracks. 

He respects you and Ghost, respects your privacy, but all the clues and all the hints have piled up into a perfect little mystery waiting to be solved. 

What’s the saying: curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

-

Three weeks turns to six weeks turns to nine weeks turns to twelve.

If Soap never has to see the glittering crystal white of snowfall again, he’ll be glad for it. The mission wasn’t supposed to take this long but, as all missions that take place in the ass end of nowhere seem to do, something went wrong and the team is stuck in the Narsaq mountains. 

Everything was fine after the first delay; the team was frustrated but optimistic for the most part. After the second delay, there were small cases of worry and bickering but everyone was able to stay on track. Things go downhill at the start of month three and by the end of the fourth month, it’s a miracle that any of them are speaking to each other.

Soap drags his feet up the stairs to the base rooftop where Ghost is on watch. He assumes you’re there too; Price had sent you to relieve the Lieutenant not ten minutes ago before deciding two pairs of eyes were better than one and sending Soap up after you. You weren’t happy about it- your hatred of the cold stronger than anyone else’s- and you’d frowned at Price’s orders, stomping your feet the entire way out of the room. Soap could see the irritation rolling off of Price in waves before the Captain uncharacteristically snaps at him to follow you and send Ghost back down.

The rooftop door is held open by a rock, letting the soft flurries of snow drift inside and coat the top four steps. Soap takes those steps carefully, not trusting the rusted railing and the way it grates and shrieks whenever someone leans on it. Bracing himself for the cold, he tucks himself further into his heavy jacket, stepping onto the rooftop and into the ankle-deep snow. He turns to the right and comes to an immediate standstill when he spots you and Ghost. 

You’re both leaning against the broken a/c unit, staring out into the endless white of the mountain range. Ghost’s mask is pushed up to his nose as the two of you pass a cigarette back and forth but he’s shed his jacket, leaving him in a thermal long-sleeved shirt. There’s no mystery as to where the jacket went; you’re happily drowning in the oversized garment, snuggling into the fabric every time you pass the cigarette back to Ghost.

Soap creeps back to the staircase, stepping softly to avoid the crunch of the snow. He peeks outside again, catching you as you watch Ghost take a long drag from the cigarette. He holds the cigarette out to you, keeping his eyes forward; a perfect distraction as you lean forward and press a kiss to the sliver of skin on his wrist peeking out between his glove and shirt sleeve. You pluck the cigarette from his hand, looking back out over the snowcaps with a playful smile- the first smile Soap’s seen on your face in weeks. Ghost shakes his head, pinching your ear when you turn away from him but it’s obvious the way the tension eases from his shoulders. 

Soap chuckles to himself, moving back down the staircase to take a seat at the bottom of the steps as he decides Price can wait a few more minutes.

-

Rough missions are par for the course for the 141, everyone knows it. 

Everyone has their own way of coping, their own personal rituals for decompressing. Before you had joined, Soap had no idea what Ghost did after a particularly hard mission. Staying true to his namesake, the man would simply vanish, appearing hours, sometimes days, later without a word. 

He never explained, and no one ever asked.

It’s still true now, though everyone knows if they really need his whereabouts they can ask you; whether or not you’ll tell them is a different story.

But then there are the missions that stick- the missions where the blood sinks into the skin and stains the bones red. Where dying faces are burned into the backs of their eyelids and imprinted in the parts of the brain that will last long after everything else has faded. Where the chorus of bullets and death rattles drown out all other sounds long after the fight has ended.

Ghost doesn’t bother with pretense after those missions. Instead, he beelines to the infirmary, disappearing into your office where you allow him to stay, keeping the door locked unless you- and only you- need to get something. 

Soap gets it- he’s probably one of the few who do- which is why he does his best to keep his distance from you and your office unless it’s an emergency. 

It’s late when he passes by the infirmary. Exhausted and sore, he shuffles towards his room on his way back from the fitness center- his own way of coping- passing by the infirmary doors. It looks mostly empty, the only light coming through the glass on your office door, and he thinks for a brief moment that he should check on you and ask after Ghost. 

He makes it to your door, taking note of the shade that’s drawn halfway up. He bends slightly to get a clearer view inside, the lamp on your desk the only dim source of light in the room. Ghost sits in one of the chairs in front of your desk with the entirety of his body weight leaning forward against you as you stand between his legs. His head is down, pressed against your stomach and his hands grip tightly onto your hips. 

Soap doesn’t need more light to see the tension wound up in Ghost, the weight of the mission bearing down on his bowed back.

You, on the other hand, are the embodiment of peace, supporting the weight pressed against you, hands running over Ghost’s shoulders and kneading into the tight muscle. Your fingers dip just under the collar of his shirt, skirting across the edges of his mask and you bend your head slightly. Soap can see your mouth moving and Ghost nods to whatever you ask him. 

You gather the bottom of the balaclava in your hands, pushing it up just enough to get your hands underneath and around the base of his skull where you continue kneading into his skin. Ghost melts into you, pressing himself as far into you as he physically can. 

You say something else and Ghost leans his head up to look at you just as you lean down and-

Soap steps back from the window, turning in his heel to head straight out of the infirmary with the affirming knowledge that you’ll both be okay.

-

There was a healthy mix of excitement and apprehension when Price told them they were teaming up with another task force. Guesses were thrown out over who this new team would be, what they’d be like, who’d be the better shot-

(“There’s no way they’ll be a better shot than me!”

“Everyone’s a better shot than you, Johnny.”

“…that hurts, Lt.”)

You don’t take part, letting the team speculate without adding anything yourself. Soap and Gaz try to get your input, teasing you until they think you’ll relent but they get nothing out of you.

Two weeks later, they’re gathered in the briefing room when the doors burst open, followed by the thundering of boots as three strangers in solid black tactical gear swarm you. Soap is on his feet in seconds as the largest one grabs you by the waist to swing you around and you…laugh?

You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? What’s going-

“At ease, Sergeant,” Price laughs, entering behind the boisterous group alongside an unfamiliar woman. The three strangers set you down, the smallest one looping an arm around your shoulders while the man who had picked you up claps Ghost on the shoulder with a wide smile. 

“Missed us, Casper?” 

“Like a knife in the gut,” Ghost deadpans.

It takes a minute for things to settle before Price makes introductions: Sergeant Theodore “Grizzly” Lin, Sergeant Charlotte “Firefly” Bishop, Sergeant Kenneth “Trip” Hale and Captain Juliana Owens. 

Your former team. 

Soap has so many questions, so many things he needs to know, but he doesn’t get the chance after introductions are made as Price and Captain Owens call the room to attention.

The mission sounds simple: your team has the locations of several hidden terrorist cells and will infiltrate and wipe them out with the 141’s help. It’s nothing either team hasn’t done before, but the additional manpower will help to get this done before the enemy decides to move house.

They mesh well with the 141, blending in almost seamlessly on base.

On the field is an entirely different story. 

The 141 works well together, Soap knows that, but your team is on an entirely different level. They operate like a single person, moving with and covering each other without a word- like they were trained to protect each other from birth. Soap isn’t sure what’s more unsettling: the ease with which they hunt down their enemies or how effortlessly you slip into your role alongside them. He knew you could handle yourself, but after watching expertly slice through the jugular of a close-range enemy before twisting your hands around their neck to force the blood from their artery out through your fingers, he realizes how deeply the team has underestimated you.

And if he’s a little scared of you after that mission, he’ll never tell. 

For the three months that your former team occupies the 141 base, Soap takes every opportunity to speak with your old teammates. He gets the most information out of Grizzly; the man is more than eager to brag about your abilities. Trip and Firefly offer occasional information if he asks, but it’s usually too vague for Soap to understand- like some kind of inside joke he’s only partially in on.

He gets a few tidbits from you: Theodore is as cuddly as a teddy but fights like he’s trying to maul his enemies, Charlotte- Charlie, she prefers- is a former fighter pilot with an allegedly long history with arson, and Kent is a mastermind when it comes to trip mines despite being clumsier than a newborn deer. He gets a couple of old mission stories from you too, nothing too detailed, some including Ghost, and all suspiciously absent of your involvement.

 He asks Grizzly one day during a rare moment of downtime when you’re too occupied in your office to stop him-

(“What’s the story with the Doc?”

“Who? Hornet?”

“Why Hornet?”

“You ever seen a hornet in a beehive?”

Soap hasn’t. And judging by the feral smile that splits Grizzly’s face in two, he doesn’t want to.)

The teams go out to celebrate once the mission wraps up. It’s a long night filled with too much alcohol and too little supervision that ends at a run-down bar occupied only by both teams and the bartender. Soap taps out after losing the third round of billiards- even with Grizzly and Trip on his team, Gaz and Firefly still manage to wipe the floor with them every time- heading to the bar to get another beer.

“Cleaning crew cleared out the apartment. Said it looked like a random break-in, but we’re assigning you a new safehouse just to be sure.” Soap’s ears twitch as he hears Captain Owens speak. He glances to his right where you and Ghost sit at a table across from Price and Owens looking too serious for the occasion.

“What about the house?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest.

“No activity, but I’ve got eyes on it,” Owens sighs. 

“You can take some time if you wanna check it out for yourselves,” Price suggests. You and Ghost share a brief look, an entire conversation passed between glances.

“Maybe another time,” you answer with a casual shrug.

“I swear, I’ve never met a couple more averse to spending time together at home than the two of you-” Owens shakes her head, turning to Price with a teasing grin. “You lettin’ my kids have too much fun on your base, John?”

Soap nearly chokes on his beer as you groan, scraping your hands down your face, and Ghost rolls his eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t roll back into his head.

Your former Captain knows- that makes sense if he thinks about it- but Price… Soap clearly remembers Price denying any knowledge of your and Ghost’s relationship. If he knew, if it was meant to be a secret, then why give him hints?

Soap is desperate to know more, the alcohol spurring him on as he gathers the questions in his head sorting them by level of importance so he’ll know which to ask first come tomorrow. 

He doesn’t get the chance, as the team departs first thing without a word of goodbye and Price calls everyone in for a new mission.

-

Soap has seen his share of gruesome things, but this is-

They’re gathered around the small monitor, unable to tear their eyes from the screen. The video had been sent to Price with no name attached to it. It’s grainy, most likely recorded on an older camera but the audio…the audio is crystal clear.

And the way your screams echo through the room will haunt them for the rest of their days.

It was an accident. Through pure shitty luck, the team had been separated, then separated again, and once more until everyone was on their own trying to retrieve intel from an empty base that turned out to not be so empty. The intel was retrieved and their opponents made an uncharacteristically hasty exit. It isn’t until exfil arrives and you don’t that they realize what’s happened.

Now, after two months of agonizing silence, they get this.

You’re strapped to a metal chair, beaten and bloody, when one of your captors yanks your head up by your hair. He growls something at you in muffled Russian and when you answer him with silence, he spits in your face. You meet his taunting gaze with a severe glare and the man laughs, letting go of you to call someone else over.

He steps in front of the camera, blocking any view of you, but there’s still a clear view of one of his men approaching you with a cattle prod. The man speaks directly to the camera- directly to the 141- his voice almost drowned out by the buzz of the prod and the scream you let out. 

The video ends there, fading into jumbled static before starting over again.

“It’s proof of life,” Price sighs, shutting the monitor off. “They’re offering a trade. Intel for the doctor.”

“Can we trace it?” Gaz asks. 

“Laswell’s working on it.”

The room falls into silence and Soap can’t help but look at Ghost. He appears calm, standing still with his gaze focused on the monitor, but Soap knows better. There’s nothing in those eyes, Ghost’s mind completely vacant, an empty shell of a man stuck standing before them. With nothing more to add, Ghost turns, walking out of the room without a word- a true statement to his name.

He’s been like this since you disappeared- disassociating so hard he might as well have been taken with you. He broke out of it once, when Gaz suggested changing your status from MIA to KIA. 

Gaz’s black eye took almost three weeks to heal and Ghost vanished from the base until it did, returning without an apology and a tension that followed him into every room. 

It takes another agonizing week before Laswell comes back with anything, but she delivers more than enough information. Price is barely off the phone with her when the team is gearing up to go and find you.

And, oh, when they find you-

Soap isn’t sure there’s a need for the entire team as Ghost tears a warpath through their enemies. There’s no words, no mercy, no stopping as he cuts down person after person after person. He’s coated in gore and viscera, thick crimson a stark contrast to the bone white of his mask, hands dripping with enemy blood- an angel of death coming to collect. 

Soap finds you first while clearing a room as Ghost bludgeons one of the guards to death in the hallway.

You’re huddled in a corner of the cell, leaning against the grimy wall curled in on yourself. Soap lowers his gun, approaching cautiously as though you’re a wild animal, speaking softly, “Doc?”

Soap jumps back as you lunge for him, swinging what looks to be a piece of broken glass. He can feel the sharp sting as you catch his arm, taking several steps back until he’s almost out the door. You move back, pressing yourself against the wall with your hands up; your fingers so tightly squeezed around the shard in your hand, Soap can see the fresh blood sliding down your palm. 

“Easy, easy,” he coaxes, hands up, palms facing out as he calls back over his shoulder. “Ghost!”

The man materializes out of thin air, nudging Soap out of the way as he takes in the scene before him. You look like hell, dressed down in a torn shirt and pants with one eye swollen shut and covered in so much dried blood that they can’t tell where your injuries are. 

Slowly, Ghost takes a step into the cell.

“Don’t!” you yell, voice hoarse. “Nor- Norilsk, six years ago. We were…we were on a mission and one of our team was KIA. What was the last thing he said to us?” Ghost takes a careful step forward, bloody hands raised.

“Should’ve had that last drink,” Ghost speaks lowly, inching towards you. “Barely got it out through the blood but he never stopped smiling.” 

He gets close enough to reach out to you, hands gently wrapping around yours as he eases you into letting go of the glass. It clatters to the floor, snapping in half against the moldy concrete.

“I-I didn’t tell them anything.”

“I know.”

“They tried to get me to, but- but I didn’t-”

“I know.”

“I fought back.”

“I know, love.”

Ghost maneuvers you forward until you’re pressed against his chest, forehead digging into the hard pockets of his tac vest. Soap turns his back, giving the two of you a moment and keeping watch. He can hear Ghost’s low murmurs and the rattling of your voice.

You meet up with Gaz and Price ten minutes later, when you’ve collected yourself enough to separate yourself from Ghost. You roll your shoulders back, biting back the pain to stand as tall as you can. Price sets a hand on your shoulder, giving it a soft, comforting squeeze.

Are you okay?

You reach back where Ghost stands directly behind you. His hand finds yours, squeezing three times. You squeeze back once, then twice, then three times before letting go. You give your best smile, feeling the comforting weight of Ghost behind you as you nod at Price.

I will be.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

[nobodyfamousposts]

Do you think people cling on too much to Adrien's high road advice as a reason to salt on him?

Yes, especially when there are plenty of other reasons to salt him that have previously been ignored. But to that end, it DOES serve as the final straw for people after a SERIES of problems that had previously gone unaddressed.

Much like many aspects of the show, Adrien has displayed problematic behaviors that have been overlooked and waved off in the earlier seasons. This is likely or especially due to the way how in each and every incident, Adrien was narratively shown to be correct. In his stance. In his choices. In his behaviors. He was always right. It doesn't matter if he shouldn't be, because he is.

Now unless you're a hater or anti or salter or whatever negative name people tend to get for not liking a story as it's presented, readers and watchers tend to follow along with the narrative as it presents things and how it presents things. It's a common setup in any story. Protagonist Centered Morality, I feel framed best by Susan in the Discord series:

Susan: ...and then Jack chopped down the beanstalk, adding murder and ecological vandalism to the theft, enticement and trespass charges already mentioned, but he got away with it and lived happily ever after without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done. Which proves that you can be excused anything if you're a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.

Pretty much this. Most people will follow what the narrative says because it's the narrative. If the narrative wants you to focus on Marinette being embarrassed, you're going to focus on how much she's cringe. And if the narrative wants you to view Adrien as a perfect sunshine boy who never does anything wrong, anything he does is going to be framed through that lens and it's difficult to break from that view and call out the times when he is wrong. Not unless he does something particularly severe.

It should be noted that outside of Chameleon, Adrien had, among other things: lied to his partner, caused someone to get akumatized and had his partner take the blame, was messing around during life-threatening and city-threatening situations, did nothing as Chloe tormented people right in front of him, DEFENDED Chloe after she tormented people right in front of him, bailed on an event with friends to set up a date with someone who said she had other plans and then got mad at HER for it, tried to flirt or confess in the middle of an active crisis which took necessary attention away from said crisis, caused himself AND his partner to get hit by akuma powers and needlessly be taken out of commission.

And yet people could mostly overlook these instances. They weren't his fault. Chloe is his friend. Marinette is worse. He's just a kid. He has a tragic backstory. So on and so forth. Easy to overlook. Easy to ignore in favor of the Sunshine Boy setup people were given and want to believe in.

But there were three major instances that really grabbed people's attention and stayed:

His attitude in Frozer. It probably wouldn't have been so bad except this rejection already happened in Glaciator, where he was supposed to have learned a lesson and accepted just being Ladybug's friend and now apparently didn't, despite it happening earlier that very season. Then in response, he decides to date Kagami as a rebound, drags Marinette with him on his date (without realizing how he's asking his friend to be a third wheel on a DATE) and focuses on her when he's supposed to be with Kagami, throws another tantrum in the middle of an akuma fight and refuses to work with his partner when the city is literally frozen, and requires Ladybug to apologize to him for hurting his feelings before he finally working with her. Again. But okay, he's a teenage boy in love. Not used to rejection and got his feelings hurt. Lovesquare is endgame so of course it'll work out anyway, so it's not like this bump in the road is really going to matter long term so we shouldn't hold it against him. Fine. Dumb, but fine. We've forgiven it in other shows and other poorly done teen romances, we can forgive it here.

His behavior in Syren in which he demanded to know secrets from people when the secrets were not theirs to tell him, and went so far as to attempt to blackmail his kwami (which was funny) and threaten to quit and abandon the Ring that the big bad is after while the city is flooded and people were trying to not drown (which was decidedly less humorous). But it was played for wholesome when Plagg reassured him and he got what he wanted by Fu revealed himself even if Adrien did nothing to actually show he earned it, so all's well that ends well, I guess? And people could justify it because "they're partners" and "part of a team" and "she should trust him" and "it's not fair he's the only one left out of the loop" and "he has a right to know" and just general "Fu is an idiot" (which is admittedly hard to argue). So people were disgruntled, but most were willing to overlook it.

His holier than thou lecture to Marinette in Maledictator over everyone being happy Chloe was leaving. When all Marinette was doing at the time was watching everyone else have fun. When Adrien specifically guilted Marinette and not any of the other actual partiers involved who were literally throwing a party over his friend leaving and probably should have warranted a lecture more than the girl just standing there. When the girl in question was also Chloe's main target and out of everyone had valid reasons to be happy that her bully won't be around to bully her anymore. When Adrien himself has historically been present to witness Marinette being targeted including twice he witnessed Chloe attempt to steal from Marinette, once he witnessed her try to blackmail Marinette, and numerous other times when she actively caused harm to Marinette and others. When Adrien then proceeded to sit in a corner and pout rather than do anything else or just leave if the party really bothered him. When Adrien, if he really cared so damn much, could have gone after Chloe himself! Or y'know...have stood up for Chloe earlier when she got upset in the first place. But fine, okay, Chloe is his childhood friend. So maybe he's just being biased and oblivious to the fact that his "friend" is a horrible person. But people can excuse and justify it in that they are friends and friends support each other, and the longer someone is friends with someone else, the harder it is to break from them. And that Marinette was probably just the target of his lecture because she was the one there in the moment (and the only one who would listen without arguing). And her calling Chloe useless was "mean" despite it being quite frankly the least of what she could have said about her in the moment (coughcough theft cough blackmail cough punished the entire school cough TRIED TO CRASH A TRAIN AND NEARLY KILLED HER AND HER PARENTS COUGH-FREAKINGCOUGH). Fine. Childhood friend means Adrien supports her in all her horrible and even deadly actions. Frustrating, but again, able to be explained and you can see where he's coming from.

These are all things that definitely got Adrien some side eye at best and some detractors at worst.

BUT if you really think about it, all of these examples are objectively worse than his lecture to Marinette in Chameleon. Not accepting being told "no" and continuing to chase a girl who isn't that in to him (while leading on another). Putting lives at risk over personal wants that could quite honestly wait until AFTER the crisis is over. Defending someone who is harmful and guilt tripping the victims. Compared to those, telling someone to leave a liar to their lying seems relatively minor.

So why this? Why here? Why is it Chameleon that has people saying enough is enough? Why is it this episode that is causing the sunshine boy to be so tarnished and the subject of salt in fan fiction?

Because this is the time when it couldn't be rationalized. There wasn't even a valid sensible canon-based reason for his stance. The arguments that Adrien "knew confronting her wouldn't work" or that he "handled her like paparazzi" or that he "knew Marinette previously failed when she tried" (even though he wasn't there and didn't know) or that he "didn't think anyone would believe him" don't come from canon. Those were fan arguments made after the fact to justify him after the base was broken and the outcry became too much to ignore.

This case didn't have any of the ties or rationales of the previous incidents. Adrien wasn't defending himself or his place in a partnership. He wasn't fighting for his love or his dream or an outcome he wanted and that we all knew was coming—if anything, he was fighting against her. He wasn't defending a friend like he did with Chloe—I mean, it's pretty evident he doesn't even really know or like Lila at this point, and for all intents and purposes, this is apparently only the second day he actually had any interaction with her. There was no notable reason Adrien really had for why he essentially chose to protect Lila over literally anyone else as she wasn't a friend and it wasn't in his interests to protect her from a consequence that wouldn't hurt her short term as much as it would likely harm everyone else long term.

And yet, he still defended her and her freedom to lie. Over Marinette. Over Ladybug. Over his friends. Over any sense of right and wrong he seems to have no problem throwing around when it comes to Marinette/Ladybug. Which seems like he targets her 9 times out of 10 compared to pretty much anyone else by this point. So it's little wonder then that people who didn't already hate the lovesquare because of the cringe factor from Marinette started to hate it for being incredibly unhealthy given that their relatively limited interactions tend to involve him lecturing her for failing to live up to his double standards that only seem to apply to her in any given situation.

This incident by itself doesn't seem like much, but when looked at as part of the series as a whole, it's when people couldn't keep overlooking this trend. Where he seems to admonish the wrong person. Where he acts like a mouthpiece rather than a person. Talks like he’s wise in a situation he seems to have a childish and one-sided view of. Acts like a brat but is treated as though he has no accountability in the situation he causes. Where he is wrong but no one and certainly not the narrative acknowledges it (not until season five and two seasons too late when it doesn't matter and he's still not the one facing consequences for it).

And it's not like he actually follows the stances he himself promotes. In Chameleon, canon presents him with this idealistic stance that Lila could change if given a chance, except he doesn't give her a chance. He doesn't push her to be a better person. He doesn't support or in any way help her to be the better person he insisted to Marinette she could be. He also doesn't do anything or warn anyone when she keeps lying and actively harms the people he says he cares about. He doesn't do anything one way or the other other than some lackluster encouragement to stop lying and a warning that goes nowhere. It just further gives credit to the argument that Adrien either simply doesn't care about other people, or that he doesn't care for Marinette specifically. Neither is conducive to the lovesquare or the increasingly tarnished view of the "sunshine boy".

And it could have worked. Canonically and intrinsically to his character. His idealism and trust in the wrong person comes back to bite him. He learns and grows from it. Except that, much like with nearly everything he does in canon, Chameleon set it up that Adrien was the writers' mouthpiece and thus was not "wrong". I'll grant that they did have him admit it and apologize to Marinette for it two seasons later, but it is pretty evident that during Chameleon, they intended his lecture to be right, with no foreshadowing and no implication otherwise. And I'm fairly certain they only backtracked and had him do that much because of the amount of fan outrage over the episode.

So yes, I think his lecture in Chameleon was really a final straw since unlike Chloe, Adrien has NO relationship with Lila to justify his defense of her. Especially when the argument is in favor of letting her lie to the people he's supposed to care about. That combined with how jarring it was how most of the class just sided with Lila over the seat issue in the first place, and I think people were less inclined to just ignore the problems in the episode specifically and with the series as a whole as they were compared to the first and second seasons. Not just with Adrien, as we see that Alya also started getting more callout and salt since then as well as more retrospective scrutiny over her behavior in earlier seasons.

But yeah...Chameleon was where things seemed to take a 180, so it's bound to be the deciding episode and deciding incident that sticks out in people's minds with these characters. That's probably why it ends up the go-to for salt and complaints on the characters involved instead of any of the other incidents that would arguably warrant it more.

#ml salt #adrien salt #chameleon salt #season 5 salt #ml analysis #ml essay #yes it's a lot of salt #yes i am doing this again

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.  

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.  

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.  

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow.  I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[luckykiwiii101]

Okay this is outrageously easy. The way I overcomplicated everything is ummm embarrassing but we move…

So I just really thought and took in that I don't have to put anything on a pedestal and tire myself out I should just stick to that “idc” mindset I have. I was manifesting waking up in the void since I wanted to experience it (and probably manifest my dream life through it) and I was like it's literally nothing, not that deep. Before I would affirm and vaunt many times, visualise and I’d experience that feeling of fulfilment and knowing multiple times until it felt natural. Then yesterday I basically just left it all alone since I already did everything (even when I didn't have to) so it's basically inevitable for me to get what i want, there’s no point in doing anything more now (also methods made me feel like i was struggling to “get” and i didn’t like that). Anyway last night I woke up in the void (by literally falling asleep normally) and I didn't even freak out or anything I was just like "hm okay". I affirmed that I manifest things I want extremely fast and I wake up in the void every night, after I just chilled there for a bit.

I came across this post on how to make your desires feel natural to you i forgot who it was and I honestly can’t be asked finding it but it said to think of it this way. Let’s say many people want a certain feature you have like your eye colour or hair type/texture and they really want it, they even get hella excited or happy thinking about having it. But when you actually take the time to think about that feature you don't even give much of a reaction like you don't care as much that's cus you already have it, it's always been yours. I know I'm repeating what everyone has said and that's because that's literally all there is to say honestly. So being on tumblr scavenging for answers isn't doing anything really. everyone will just repeat the same thing but phrased differently to help people understand better and some people will get mad about them repeating themselves like….. yeah..? that's basically the answer to all your questions.

You think you’re “waiting” to “get” your desires but like it’s the other way round, your desires are waiting for you to wake up and accept that they’re already yours

So it's all just crickets and tumbleweed, if you're just sitting there questioning why you, apparently, don't have your desires. Imagine your desires are just awkwardly watching you ignoring the fact that you already have them and they’re right there in front of you. They’re probably just looking to the left and right, scratching their head. it's especially awkward when you're looking at the 3D for answers when it's literally useless and doesn't do shit, it only reflects old circumstances. That can only change when you turn to yourself or the 4D for answers, and of course any method will help but then again it all comes down to you to decide if it works. If you "want" your desires don’t dismiss what it is that "gets" you them...idk how to phrase it but just start applying and persist it's honestly too easy.

Anyway enough from me, I'm finally deleting this app right after this. This was long sorry if it doesn't make sense but this is how I understood it. To summarise you're all that's left to"getting" your desires. Think of it as having a breakdown over not being able to find your glasses or hair tie but turns out you're wearing it the entire time.

Thank you Wii and all the other bloggers who take the time out of their day to help others with all of this. Take care of yourselves!!

THIS IS AMAZING!!! I’m SO proud of you!! SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY APPLIED WHAT THEY KNEW AND NOW LOOK AT THEM!! you deserve this so much honestly i’m beyond happy for you!

Also i REALLY love the way you put yourself on the pedestal by saying that your desires are waiting for YOU and not the other way round.

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa blog #loa tumblr #loassumption #loablr #manifestation #loa #loa success #void success #void success stories #void success story #void state success story #the void state

[harrystylesfan2686]

"Truth Or Dare?"

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Summary: Another game night. Mor playing cupid.

A/N: thank you so much everyone who read and liked "Whould you rather...?". I love you all very much. This is kind of a second part to that but can be read as a standalone. I hope you fun reading this. 😁😏

Masterlist

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Another day, Another game night.

A whole month passed, and we still haven't gotten free of all the work. I guess rebuilding a whole continent takes time. Cassian's been spending time with Nesta quite a lot lately, giving her training sessions. Even though nothing is going on between them, I can see how they look at each other. Those secret glances and soft touches they give each other.

I hate to admit it but It makes me jealous.

When I told Mor about it, she gave me a confused look. Apparently nobody but me thinks that they have something going on.

So sitting right now, near Cass, I can't focus on anything. My mind constantly goes back to that slight smirk I saw Cassian give Nesta this morning. I push the thoughts away and try to listen to my friends playing.

Somehow, Cass convinced everyone to play truth and dare. He ignored everyone's whines and took out one of rhys's wine bottle that we'd finished. When we tried to talk him out of this game he forced us to sit in a circle, literally.

I sit with Cassian and Amren at either side of me. Azriel and Mor beside them, and Feyre and Rhysand in front of me.

Cassian spun the bottle and the game starts.

"Truth Or Dare?"

"Truth."

"What is the dumbest excuse have you used before to get out plans?"

"I said,"My cat is sick." To get out of a date, knowing very well My date knew I didn't have a cat." Mor laughs.

"Truth."

"What's the longest time you've ever gone without showering?"

"31 hours." Rhys thins his lips and nods. "You're supposed to say the truth." Cass comments. "I am" He narrows his eyes. "You're boring." Rhys rolls his eyes and my lips tug up as we move on.

"Dare."

"Drink a glass of water with 5 spoons of salt."

We all watch in awe when Amren it all with a straight face. No giving any reaction, she puts the glass down on the table and looks at her nails. "This was too easy." Mor quietly picks the glass and drinks the last drop of salt water from it, wincing immediately. "Do you not have taste buds?" Cass's widen eyes moves between her and the glass.

"Truth."

"What is one thing you would stand in line an hour for?"

"New paints." Feyre eyes lit up in excitement.

"Dare."

"Sit in someone's lap." Cassian smirks thinking that'll bother me.

"Mor!" I plop myself on her lap, both of us laughing hysterically as her arms wrap around my stomach. Cassian frowns. He rolls his eyes, huffing and spins the bottle.

"Truth."

"Which was your most embarrassing date?"

"There was this male, Loren or something, we were on a date at this club he told me to meet in. I go there and we have a good time but halfway through the date, this women comes up to him and slaps him with all her might! I'm standing there like," Mor impersonates with brows up, lips rolled in her mouth and continues,"turns out she was his wife." We gasp dramatically and she nods.

"Dare."

"Take off your cloths and dance around in you underwear."

"Oh darling, if you wanted to see me naked you should've just asked." Rhys smirks at cassian and completes his dare.

"Dare."

"Cassian, since you didn't answer your question last time," there it is, that glint in Mor's eyes that indicates choas. "I dare you to kiss Y/N." She grins.

Utter silence. My eyes widen and snap to Mor in shock. Everyone looks at Cassian to see his reaction.

"Oh come on! That's ridiculous!" He throws up his hands. "Uh-uh. Remember the rules, Cassie." Mor teases. I look at cassian silently cursing her for putting us in this situation. I see a bit pink in cassian's cheeks and my eyebrows go up.

Is Cassian blushing?

"F-fine." The slight hitch is his voice does not go unnoticed. He turns to me and my breath grows.

"Can I-," He clears his throat,"Can I kiss you?" He asks in low voice. He wants to make sure I'm alright. The realisation makes blood rush to my cheeks. I silently nod, not trusting my voice.

He leans closer, my eyes constantly switch between his eyes and lips. He stops just before my lips, giving me time to back off. I don't.

His lips touch mine.

I stop breathing.

Our lips rest against each other and my eyes close. His lips surprising soft.

His sighs against me. My mind clears out everything except how well how good it feels to kiss him.

I don't want this to end.

But it ends anyway.

He pulls back and looks into my eyes. I search his, waiting for the regret to come but all I see is awe in them. It makes my stomach flutter. I struggle to breath.

Someone claps. We snap out of whatever trance we seem to be in. I suddenly remember we aren't alone and my face heats. I clear my throat and look down because I can't look at anyone right now.

I just kissed Cassian. In front of everyone.

-☆-

My rest of the night is spent in a haze. I can't stop thinking about the kiss we had. I don't care that it was dare and that too of only 5 seconds.

When the game finally ends and we start to descend to rooms, as we wish each other good night, Mor gives me a sly smirk and a wink. My blush doesn't leave my face the whole night.

Cassian walks up to me and I take a deep breath preparing myself to get heartbroken. "Are you OK?" His question catches me off guard.

"Uh-yes. Why?" I stammer.

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable about before." His gaze dips to my mouth for a second before coming back to my eyes.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not." My faces flushes under his heated gaze.

He opens his mouth but closes immediately, swallowing back whatever he wanted to say.

"Let me walk you to your room?" He finally asks.

"Of course." I smile.

We start to my room, walking beside each other. Not saying anything and just enjoying our company. His hand brushes mine. I prey silently for him to take it in his. He doesn't.

I feel slightly disappointed when we reach my room. I open my door and turn to him.

"This is it, I guess. Good night." I look up at him.

His hand rises and tuck my hair behind my ear. I struggle to breath for the second time tonight. His fingers graze my face, from my cheek to jaw and moving back to his side. "Good night."

I go into my room and close to door, fearing if I stay out too long, I might do something crazy like kiss him again. I lean back against my door and try to even out my breath. My eyes close and head falls, thinking about the events happened tonight. I wait for the sound footsteps moving away, signaling his leave. I don't hear them.

I stand up straight and try to listen more properly but can't hear anything for some reason. I quietly open the door again to find him still standing there. Breathing heavy with heated eyes.

We take out each other in and our eyes meet, both filled with desire.

"Fuck it." He slams his lips to mine.

The force sends me almost falling back but he catches me, wrapping an arm around my waist and the other behind my face. He walks us both into the room. My hand grips his hair and the other on the door, slaming in shut.

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cass x reader #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian fluff #cassian fanfic #inner circle #inner circle x reader

[in1-nutshell]

RAN BERE AS SOON AS I GOT THE NOTIFCATION, LOVE YOUR WORK BRO 😭

I had a VISION, a EPIPHANY…. Liaison human reader (with any characters, just the Idw continuity though) BUT PLOTWKST: they’re somehow the Allspark!!!!! CUE RHE DRAMA!!!!!!! THERE IS NO PEACE OF MIND, EVER! I WANT PROBLEMS, ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!

This is a funny concept! I took some liberty to create this... Super powerd Buddy if you will. Not too many shenanigans all around, but Buddy is asking the real question here. Now they aren't exactly the Allspark, but that thing certainly made it seem that way!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy and the Allspark

SFW, platonic, slight angst but things turn up in the end

MTMTE

The Lost Light had recently come across a strange artifact while on their travels. The artifact was brought to the lab for further inspection.

Rodimus accidentally activated it when his chassis came close to it. Preceptor and Brainstorm believed it was because he was a holder of the matrix and that's why it opened to him.

A stray blue light came out of the relic and began bouncing around the room before escaping into the halls of the ship.

It didn't make it too far from the lab.

Because it hit Buddy.

Because apparently exciting things happen when they take a break from their work.

They had been on Drift's shoulder when a blue light filled their vision and then they blacked out.

When Buddy regained consciousness they found themselves in the medbay with a group of worried faces.

Ratchet is the one who breaks the news.

That light they saw had somehow cyberformed half of their body and now had levels of energy that rivaled that of the matrix itself.

There was one thing Buddy needed to know at that moment...

"Do I look cool though?"--Buddy

Drift

Drift feels like part of this was his fault.

He feels like he should have blocked it or something. Ratchet has to literally knock some sense into him.

He is just as shock as everyone in the room when Buddy's condition is revealed. Even more worried for them when they let their little comment go.

"Buddy, I don't know how to word it. Maybe worrying about how you look isn't your main priority right now."--Drift

"But do I look cool though?"--Buddy

"Yes you do--"--Drift

"Then that's what matters right now."--Buddy

"..."--Drift

Drift is concerned over the origins of the relic and the energy source.

He has a theory that the power source chose Buddy to use it's power.

That theory however has earned him more dents in the helm via Ratchet.

Drift helps Buddy keep their new power in check with their regular meditation session.

Rodimus

Rodimus feels like this is his fault.

If he hadn't gone into the room, he wouldn't have activated the relic and then it wouldn't have gotten to Buddy.

That being said, he laughs at Buddy's comment.

"You sure do look cool Buddy!"--Rodimus

"Really?!"--Buddy

"Absolutely!"--Rodimus

Rodimus does take the new conditions seriously though. His friend just had part of their organic body turned into part bot body. He understands that this is a serious situation.

He can get behind Drift theory about Buddy being chosen for this Allspark like power. He has also been the victim of Ratchet's wrenches.

He makes sure to watch over Buddy and tries to help them in whatever way he can.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the crowds?

Rodimus is now driving Buddy away to their room

Buddy getting tired of walking around?

Rodimus has them in his servos walking to the next designation.

He helps Buddy with their new found powers by giving some tips that help him with his flames.

Perceptor

Perceptor is extremely concerned over Buddy's new transformation.

None of this should be possible, in fact they should have been dead from a logical view point.

Not that he's complaining though.

He facepalms at Buddy's comment.

"Buddy, with all due respect, that is not what you should be asking!"--Perceptor

"But do I look cool?"--Buddy

"What-How-you... Nevermind."--Perceptor

He has to stop Brainstorm from wanting to experiment on Buddy immediately.

Don't get him wrong he also wants to study this new found power source but one thing at a time.

Perceptor watches over Buddy from time to time collecting data to study further. He has also joined Ratchet in hitting the others with wrenches as soon as he heard about Drift's theory.

Drift is his friend and all but he has to draw the science line somewhere.

He helps Buddy with their new power source by offering them a place to wind down and sleep.

#transformers #transformers x reader #maccadam #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #human buddy #mtmte rodimus #mtmte drift #mtmte perceptor

[writingoddess1125]

Poppy Kisses

Buggy x GNReader

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️: Attempted murder, Manipulation, implied sexual tension, implied future Dubcon

Art by Vamos_MK on Twitter. Check them out!

Please support me Ko-Fi

In and out- That was the job. You'd been asked to murder a certain pirate by a client of yours, He was known as a buffoon and a fool- quite literally it seemed. Buggy the Clown, Captian of The Buggy Pirates. Always failing at his task but getting closer to his goals non the less, apparently he had ruffled some feathers non the less.

Which was why you were hired, asked to join his crew and kill him. Being a skilled shooter made it easy for you to join his crew, however killing him was a different story-

In truth was harder then it seemed to nail this guy- You couldn't stab him for obvious reasons, he was too cautious to go near water and you couldn't risk shooting him since it was loud and you'd risk death by his surprisingly loyal crew.

So you had to get close.. which was just as hard as finding a way to Kill Buggy. He didn't trust easy- He was quite plainly pathetic as a pirate but clever in ways you'd never imagined.

It was awful to say but you hard started to like.. hell even love the goofy bastard? He was fun in a scary way and with him trusting you, you got to see this new side to him.

He watched everyone, including you with hawk like accuracy. Anything even slightly off he could catch and any attitude changes he would immediately notice and question- Who knew this clown would be your biggest challenge.

It took nearly a month before he got comforble around you, playing the act of a wannabe fan of his and an additional two months before he had seemingly started to like you- Clearly his ego finally winning out at your fawning of him.

Soon he was letting you sit in his lap, him telling you stories of his adventures and his past as a pkrate. How he would take your input on his shows and what was needed from your perspective, letting his hand drift to your waist as he would whisper jokes in your ear and drawing true laughs from you.

Sure it started out as a mission but- soon it turned into real enjoyment from your end. So a mission that should have taken 3-4 months tops was pushing on 6... but who could blame you! It was just too damn fun there with Buggy!

Sitting in your room you stared down at the tin canister in your hands, it was a potent poison jell. You rubbed it on anything and it'd dry clear which would work since you noticed Buggy used the same glass cup, claiming it was good luck or something... it was a perfect device to poison Buggy but now- you didn't know if you could.. he had been so kind to you, Even getting you a private room which most crewmates didn't have. Even if it was a bit small and as Buggy had said formally used as a makeup room which explained the large mirrors on the wall. You still knew he had given you space cause he cared..

"Fuck.."

You sighed as the small snail rang in your pocket, pulling it out you cringed knowing who it was and you sadly answered. Wincing at the angered voice of your client rushed into your ears yelling at you for taking so long-

"What am I paying you for?" Your client hissed. "I-I know we had some hic-" You got cut off by the raised voice.

"Hiccup!? He's a fucking idiot! Tonight is the last night or else I'm putting a hit on you" they yelled before disconnecting the call.

"tonight..." You mumbled. Rubbing your face as you stashed the snail away, stress bubbling in your chest as you sat there.

This was your job...

Slipping the casaster in your pocket you get up to Visit Buggy's room, Something you often did anyway so you didn't bother knocking.

"Hey Bugs?" You call out, seeing the Captian seated at his vanity finishing his makeup.

"Hell Doll! What brings you in?" He says cheerfully, you shrug and plop down on a chair.

"I wanted to stop by and say Hi before we head to dinner" You lie, but the smile it brought to Buggys lips made your heart flutter. Soon you two began to mindlessly chatter as Buggy finished his makeup, you handing him his hat once finished.

"Shit. I forgot my bandana in the map room. I'm going to grab it real quick, I'll be back" He said with a bright smile before leaving. Your eyes traveling to the glass cup- you knew this was your only chance..

You didn't want to do this, You couldnt do this... Paid killer or not when do you find someone like him? Just some fun clown guy who's weird humor actually makes you laugh!?

Walking to the vanity you sat down, still warm from him and slipped on some gloves. Picking up the glass cup and groaning in frustration at the situation.

Forcing your eyes closed you look at yourself in the mirror, feeling like he could see you or you were seeing yourself for the first time.

Sighing you feel a tears start to slip down your cheeks as you place the coated cup down and took off your gloves. Hiding it away as you looked at yourself again, regret on your face-

"...it's your job- love aside" You reasoned before getting the canister and quickly coating a thin layer of the gel inside. Watching how it dried almost instantly and looking undetectable like it had been only polished.

"Please forgive me... I really do care for you Buggy..." You whisper a prayer before backing away at your placed trap, trying to wipe the tears from your eyes and maks if look like you hadnt been crying.

After a few moments Buggy returned to the room with a cheerful smile on his face.

You couldn't do this, as you watch him pour the wine and get ready to bring it to his lips you got up ready to reach for it when he paused- Looking up at your raised form as you prepared to take the cup from him.

"Ready for dinner?" He chimed, you nodding as you watch him grab the glass from its usual spot. Nodding silently as you followed him to the mess hall, You heart pounding as you sat in your usual seat. Food laid out buffet style over the large table as Buggy took center seat like a king- Your head spinning as you stared at the glass. Watching him make his plate before reaching for the pitcher of wine..

"Change of heart?" He said, making you freeze in your raised spot.

He clicked his tongue as he lowered the glass from his lips, His eyes staring right at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. A chill going down your spine- he had never given you a look like that before.. it was like looking at the waters before a beast rose and took your life. He wiped his lips with a napkin just incase any traces of poison had hit his lips.

"I really expected better from you (Y/N)- even after all this time you would have let the berry win huh? But your feelings really did win in the end" He mused and you felt ice flood your vains.. he knew.. he fucking knew!

Looking around you see the crew all staring at you, a knowing look on their faces as they stared at you and their captian.

"I thought your words of 'I really care for you' and 'Love aside' was just part of the act but look at that!" He rose to his feet as you sat back down slowly, fear now lacing your heart as the realization slammed into your chest.

"One way Mirror, Works wonders both in the bedroom and in shows" He chimed. He was watching you- The whole damn time! He was watching you, from the calls to your client to your hesitation to complete the job. He knew.

Fear slammed hard into you and it felt like you were suffocating as he went to circle you like prey, his footsteps seeming so loud in the mess hall now.

Your feet moved faster then your brain- you ran out of the mess hall as the sound of laughter from the crew followed you. You had to get out of here you had to before he killed you!

"Now then, (Y/N) tell me- when do assassins cry for their targets?"

In a flash you jumped back from your seat like it was on fire and ran.

A yelp escaping your throat as you felt your collar being yanked back and lifted into the air. You struggled like a kitten being pulled up by the scruff from its mother and glanced up to see Buggy's floating hand holding you. Reaching next to you ready to stab his hand another gloved hand appeared right infront of your eyes and squeezed a red ball, coughing as the fight started to leave your body and soon you fell unconscious.

When the darkness faded you felt dizzy- like the world was spinning? Groaning softly at the feeling, before the realization that fabric had been placed in your mouth. This seemed to immediately sober you up as you looked around frantically- you were back in Buggy's bed, wrists tied to the bedpost and gagged, legs tied down with blue sill scarves and all your equipment laid out on the floor next to the bed. Buggy standing over it all examining it, he looked up hearing you move.

"Ah you're awake. Good I was beginning to worry that I made that Muggy Ball too strong"

You shook as you sat on the bed you once would have loved to be in, Watching Buggy as he Lossened his hair from the bandana. His blue locks falling down and framing his face as he stepped closer to the bed.

He said calmly as he rose up, watching you struggle and try to yell through the gag. He chuckled at this and patted your leg playfully.

"I wouldn't struggle. I don't think you can handle being knocked out again"

He said in amusement, removing his shirt and vest with ease revealing his naked chest- Due to years of training and his devil fruit abilties leaving him lean and flawless of marks. Just like how you had imagined.

"Got to say, I'm really impresses. With all the equipment in that little kill kit of yours I'm sure you could have done the job easily- But a painless poison that would let me sleep and die peacefully?.. it's almost too kind... whats it called? Poppy Kisses right?"

Warmth flooded your face and body as you watch him crawl closer to you- Seating himself right on your waist as he smiled down at you brightly, tapping a finger to your chest with a gleam in his eyes. He looked beautiful, terrifying but beautiful.

"Must have been hard, I saw your face.. you looked so hurt using that posion"

"So complicated.. So much trouble you are- So expensive too. Do you know how much I had to pay to your guild in order to make them say you died trying to murder me?"

He smirked as he began undo the buttons of your shirt. Your eyes widening in shock as he spoke and began to undress you.

"You're so lucky I like you~"

He purred, before placing a slow kiss on your cheeks. You felt the red grease paint smear and stain against it, accidently letting a moan slip the gag as his fingers pulled your hair, which he clearly reveled in. Leaving your wanting his lips as he traveled to your jaw, ear and further down.

His fingers working deeper into your hair as he removed the shirt from your body fully- the cold making you shiver at his warmed touch as red kisses blot your neck.

"Now my daring little assassin, I do believe some compensation is in order for all those expenses. Don't you?~"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader

[euphorajeon]

yeah i know (you'll always stay) | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, smut | college!au, boxer!jk, childhood friend!jk, friends to lovers

— word count: 4.3k

— warnings: harsh words, tattooed and pierced jk, too much use of the pet name 'baby', kissing, making out, markings (hickeys), fondling, nipple play, heavy petting, dirty talk, mentions of oral sex, implied penetrative sex, gguk gets a bit mean in the middle :c (dw it's only in the heat of the moment), all this happens in a public gym though no one is inside other than jk and oc

— summary: a boxing lesson with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when he decides he's had enough of your blabbering mouth.

— author's note: the summary is highkey meh and it's not a social media au pls dont be fooled by the pic.. hehehe. also it's my first time writing explicit smut so pls be gentle with me asdkdjksjd with that said i hope you enjoy! :)

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

Jeon Jeongguk is annoying.

It’s the first time you’re back in the boxing gym he frequents after months vacating it, never setting foot inside the place in the time you were separated with your boyfriend. There have been many occasions where he encouraged you to come on your own and meet with his trainer — who is familiar with you too by now — but you never did. Something about feeling like you don’t belong there plays a big factor on why. The boxing gym is his setting, not yours.

Apparently Jeongguk thought your reasoning does not make any sense at all, taking your words too literally by saying the boxing gym is a public setting and anyone can train there as long as they pay for it. You had spent the whole drive to the gym bickering about this, both you and Jeongguk too stubborn to back down. When you reached the gym, he took the final words by pointing out that there are a few people inside the building, proving that it is a public setting. You had rolled your eyes as you took a seat in your usual corner, still ogling your boyfriend as he works out despite his being annoying earlier.

You think he’s done being annoying, but here he is doing exactly that by asking you to get off your seat and put on a pair of boxing gloves.

“You’re kidding, right?” You give him the stink eye as he gulps down water from his huge water bottle, chest still heaving from the exercise. You’re too busy staring at his post-workout state that you almost miss him shaking his head no at your question.

“But you just finished!” you blurt out.

He lifts an eyebrow (the one which used to be pierced, thank God it’s gone now), confused by the lack of relevance. “So?”

It’s irritating how he doesn’t see the connection and how he looks so unbothered about all of this. Even more so when he continues lifting his water bottle to his lips, now taking slow sips as he gives you a challenging stare, silently asking you to elaborate. You hate that you’re feeling a bit hot just from his stare alone.

Still, you try to maintain your annoyed expression, refusing to give in. “You’re done which means I’m gonna be doing this by myself which means I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of these people and I don’t want to do that,” you say in one breath. “So, no, I’m not going to put on the gloves, Jeongguk.”

“Who said you’re doing it alone?” Jeongguk smirks, reaching inside his duffel bag to pull out a set of clothes which he thrusts into your hands. “I’ll be your training partner. Go get changed.”

You open your mouth to voice out an objection, but he beats you before you can get anything out. “Go or I’ll do it for you right here.” The firm tone he uses means he’s serious, so you make your way towards the changing room with a huff. It’s not fair how easy he makes you do something, even when you try your hardest to refuse.

You come back from the changing room to an almost empty space, your boyfriend being the only other person in the room. He’s gotten rid of his boxing gloves, replacing them with the pads that are usually on his trainer’s hands. He’s also put on the protective head gear which hides most of his face, highlighting his big doe eyes behind it. But that’s not what you are focused on.

“Why the fuck are you sleeveless now?”

Your question gets answered with yet another smirk, this time with a shrug that’s too suspicious to not mean anything. “It’s hot, why else would I be sleeveless?” He then gestures to the boxing gloves, signalling for you to put them on. “Come on, I only booked an hour of private session. Can’t afford to waste any more time.”

You grab the boxing gloves in your hand, but before putting them on, you smack your boyfriend in the chest with it first. “You’re so annoying, you know that?” you hiss as he laughs, both of you knowing exactly why he chose to go sleeveless just now.

“You love it,” he says with a grin.

After that he starts protesting about the time again, urging you to put on the gloves so you can start already. It’s actually endearing how he booked a private session for you two so you don’t have to be self-conscious about your lack of skills in boxing in front of other people, but the way he keeps talking about it sours it a little bit. You know it’s because he doesn’t want to waste the money he has invested for the time, but still.

As it turns out, he was right to hurry you into starting, because you’re not good at any sports and so you learn really slow about it. You’ve lost count of how many times Jeongguk has to correct your posture and the way you punch, as well as taking your ill-powered jabs and missed hits. You’ve apologized probably a hundred times at this point.

“It’s fine,” he exhales, tired from holding his posture more rather than taking your hits, “at least now I can take this thing off, no way you’re gonna bonk my head when you can’t even hit the pads on my hands.” He’s talking about the head gear, which he takes off after he did so of the pads on his hands. “Go take five, babe. You still did great for a first-timer.”

You release a huge breath, not realizing that you’ve been holding it while you were exercising. You didn’t even do much yet you’re already sweating buckets, and it feels like no air is enough as you continue to inhale as much oxygen as you can into your lungs. It’s a wonder how Jeongguk can do this on an almost daily basis, with more power and accuracy than you just did. Your boyfriend might just be superhuman or something.

“How are you not — out of breath — like I am?” you pant, water bottle in hand. You can’t even take a sip because you’re breathing too hard. “Oh, wait. It’s probably — the sports bra you packed. Haven’t worn it since — high school.. yeah.. probably it.”

Jeongguk stares at your heaving chest as you continue struggle breathing, though you eventually manage to take a gulp of your water. His eyes don’t leave your figure even when you’ve stopped panting, making you raise an eyebrow in question. “What?”

He shrugs. “Maybe take it off if it’s making you hard to breathe?”

You scoff. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you.”

“I’ll take off my shirt in return.”

“HA! Nice try, Jeon.” You shake your head at him in disapproval. “Let’s continue so it can be over sooner.” You move to put the gloves back on but Jeongguk stops you, reaching for the gloves himself instead.

“Before we proceed, let me show you the correct technique first,” he says, walking over to the punching bag that you haven’t had the chance to use yet. He gives it a few jabs, jumps in place three times, then punches some more with increased speed. You don’t pay attention to his posture or punching techniques at all, instead choosing to stare at his flexing muscles that he chose to expose up to his shoulders today. You’re kind of grateful that the side that faces you is his tattoo-less arm, because if it had been his tattooed one, you’re not sure you can hold yourself from jumping him right then and there.

“Babe, come here and see how I punch so you can hit the pads correctly later,” he beckons you over, already getting into position to start punching again. You walk closer with your arms crossed in front of your chest, making sure to push it up a bit since Jeongguk made a comment about it earlier. He’s been distracting you with his arms for the past half hour, it’s only fair for you to try to do the same.

“Oh, you’re done showing off, I see,” you say in mock surprise. “We all know you’re just trying to get me to stare at your muscles. Honestly I don’t know why you’re still doing that, it’s obvious that I always stare and it doesn’t really affect me like that anymore.”

Jeongguk breaks his boxing stance, standing to his full height. His eyes glance at your pushed up chest for a second, making him let out a half chuckle half scoff. Then he takes off the boxing gloves while making eye contact with you, which you hold firmly because two can play at this game. He throws the gloves to the ground harshly.

“Let’s see if it really ‘doesn’t affect you like that anymore’.”

His takes the hem of his shirt in his hands, pulling it off his body in one quick move. The piece of garment suffers the same fate as his boxing gloves: thrown carelessly to the ground. You don’t break eye contact with him even as he reaches for the gloves again, refusing to give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t back down either, putting the gloves back on without taking his eyes off yours. You almost lost it because holy shit how can someone put on boxing gloves without even looking at it??

When the gloves are secured properly on his hands, he says: “Now let me show you what showing off is.”

Jeongguk then goes back to the punching bag, taking a stance in front of it once again before he starts punching, hard. Now that his upper body is void of any clothings, your eyes roam freely across his body, from his bulging bicep to the taut muscles of his back. From his shoulderblades, you go down his back until you reach his tiny waist. It’s the one thing that will always fascinate you about Jeongguk, how his wide shoulders come down to a waist that slim it’s almost unreal. Oh, he would look so good in a crop top.

As he continues his rapid fire at the punching bag, you can’t help but wonder about his front side, so you make your way around until you’re on his right side. His tattooed side. His inked arm looks even better when it’s flexing like this, and the newly-added colors seem to be dancing following the rhythm of his punches. Aside from his tattoos, you can also see the front of his torso from this side, his sweaty heaving chest the next destination your eyes land on. Then they come down to his taut abs, the firm lines forming an eight-pack instead of a six-pack like most people have. The way his whole body is taut from the sheer power of his punches makes you feel things that you have to hold yourself from tackling him down to kiss him senseless.

Jeongguk delivers one last punch to the punching bag with a resounding smack, making you break focus from your activities tracing your boyfriend’s muscles with your eyes. Breathing heavily, he catches your eyes and seems to just notice your change in position. His stare is still piercing, and the sound that comes out of his mouth when he says his next words almost sounds like a growl.

“One last thing.”

You thought he’s going to jab the punching bag for one last time, but he lifts a leg instead, giving a very hard kick to the poor thing. The power of his kick sends the bag and the frame shifting, it tears your gaze away from the way his thigh muscles flex. You can feel yourself getting damp down there as he approaches you while taking off the gloves before he chucks them at you almost angrily.

“Your turn,” he spits out harshly, eyes burning into yours. His harsh tone triggers you to feel as angry as he sounds, prompting you to shout your response at him: “Fine!”

Feeling a burst of courage along with your anger, you take the hem of your t-shirt and pull it off your body exactly like your boyfriend did earlier. It leaves you in the sports bra you haven’t worn since high school which has been restricting your breathing a bit, but you must admit it makes your boobs look good. No wonder Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off you now, even more so when you bend down to retrieve the boxing gloves he threw at you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say through gritted teeth as you pull on the left glove. “So fucking irritating,” you continue pulling on the right one. “And so fucking infuriating.” You finish putting on the gloves, ready to punch anything now.

Instead of the punching bag, you go for Jeongguk’s chest. He looks a bit shocked at that, but remains composed as you continue hitting his chest while talking. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove here.” Another jab.

“I already said I always stare at you.” Punch.

“I already admitted how much I like your muscles.” A jab at his abs.

“How much I like your tattoos.” A shove at his tattooed shoulder.

“How much I love your body.” Another punch at his abs.

“What else, huh? Do you want me on my knees for you?” A shove at his chest with both of your hands.

“Okay, fuck, you’re hot! Smoking hot! So fucking hot I had to hold myself from kissing the fuck out of — mmph!”

Your sentence is cut off abruptly by Jeongguk’s hands gripping your jaw and him kissing you harshly like he wants to devour you whole. The way he presses his lips against yours is bruising, you’re sure your lips are gonna be swollen after this. You try to return his kisses with the same pace, but it’s proven a difficult task as he’s set an unforgiving pace to begin with.

When he bites into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, you cry out in pain as your hand comes up at his chest to push him away. Only then you both realize you’re still wearing the boxing gloves, making Jeongguk grunt unhappily.

“Fuck, take them off. Now,” he demands, lips going back after yours, not even giving you a chance to properly take the gloves off. You reach blindly for the strap, but are still unsuccessful even after almost a minute of trying. Jeongguk lets out a frustrated groan when he feels you slipping away from the kiss, pulling away from your lips to yank your gloved hands into his so he can take the damn gloves off already.

“Can’t even take them off without me,” he growls, his hands wrenching the gloves off your hands. “Do you need help taking your clothes off too? Huh?” He tugs you forward by the hips, lips connecting back with yours. This time he sucks on your bottom lip, a silent apology for the bite earlier. “You have no idea how hot you look in that bra, baby,” he whispers in between kisses and sucks. “So fucking sexy, I’d have you right here, right now.”

You can’t help but let out a moan at his words, feeling your legs shake. If there was a dampness in your underwear before, there’s definitely a wet patch on it now. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk starts kissing down your jaw to your neck, where his cold lip ring constrasts the warmth of his lips and mouth. He focuses on a spot where your shoulder meets your neck, and settles there with his tongue and teeth abusing your sensitive skin until it turns an angry shade of red.

While his mouth is busy up there, his hands find home on your waist, his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts to stroke the skin there. You’re so overwhelmed by all the sensory stimulations that you almost stumble when Jeongguk moves his legs forward. He notices that, so he puts his hands under your thighs to haul your body up before leaning your back against the wall so he can continue his assault on your neck peacefully.

One of his hands that was previously on your thigh moves to your ass, squeezing the round flesh and eliciting yet another moan out of you. You can feel his smirk against the skin of your neck, fully satisfied of your responses to his ministrations. Feeling that your neck is covered enough by various shades of red, he kisses his way to your shoulder as his hand that’s previously on your ass moves back up to slide your bra strap off the shoulder so he has plenty of room to work. You can feel yourself gush out more wetness down there.

“Baby, look at me,” he tells you, separating his lips from your skin for a moment. You try your hardest to open your eyes and look at him through your blurry vision. You could cry from how turned on you are right now. “Can you hold yourself up?” he asks.

You’re not sure, but you nod nonetheless. Holding your arms around his neck and crossing your legs around his waist, you steel yourself as he lets go of your thigh, letting the wall and his body alone supporting your weight. You thought it’s because he wants to hold your face with both hands when he kisses you again, but you thought wrong as you let out a whine of pleasure when his left hand comes in contact with your right breast. He holds it gently instead of squeezing like what he did to your ass, but what prompts the sound is the way his thumb rubs tight circles on your nipple through the fabric of your bra. He’s too attuned with your body that he knows your nipples are very sensitive when you’re turned on like this, even under layers of clothing.

“You like that, baby?” Jeongguk exhales, seemingly not faring any better himself. His thumb continues its movements on your chest while his mouth goes back to sucking bruises onto your shoulder. Too busy feeling both sensations, you fail to notice that his right hand has gone from your shoulder. It’s two seconds later that you almost slip off the wall as you let out a surprised whimper when two fingers of his suddenly press down on your soaked core.

“Fuck, you’re drenched,” Jeongguk says breathlessly, starting to rub slow circles on your clit. You’re sure by now your underwear is far beyond ruined from how much wetness is coming out of you right now. But Jeongguk is not Jeon Jeongguk if not a menace.

“This is gonna make it worse, sorry baby,” he warns seconds before crashing his lips back on yours, the pace weirdly slow and sensual instead of harsh and passionate like earlier. You think nothing of it, accepting his kisses as how he gives them. But then he licks at your bottom lip, and the gasp you let out is used as an opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth. When his tongue meets yours, your suspicion is confirmed.

The fucker has a tongue piercing.

He’s been licking around your skin with that damn piercing on and you are too far gone in pleasure to realize. He continues to lick his way into your mouth, each swipe of the metal against your tongue making more wetness flow out of you. At this point, it’s a waterfall down there and you’re sure he’s aware because his fingers haven’t stopped their movement since starting it, instead going faster with the help of the added lubrication.

“What the fuck, Jeongguk?!” you manage to whisper-shout in between kisses. There are so many things you have to say to him regarding the newest addition on his tongue, but he gives you no chance as he speeds up the movement of his fingers on your clit. He alternates the pressure between hard and light to tease you, all the while swallowing your moans of complaint right into his mouth.

You feel the coil in your belly tighten rapidly with the way Jeongguk’s fingers don’t let up the pace, and you hurriedly grab his wrist to pull his hand away from your center. He’s way stronger than you, though, so the hand stays where it is and his fingers continue their assault on the bundle of nerves.

“Stop — stop — ! I’m gonna — cum — !” Your grip on his wrist tightens. “Jeong — guk! Please, don’t wan’t — to come in my pants — !”

“Oh, what’s that? You want to come on my tongue instead?” Jeongguk breathes out, his finger giving one last flick on your abused clit. You shudder, imagining the ball of metal on his tongue coming in contact with the most sensitive part of your body. “Hmm, you’d like that wouldn’t you, test out my new piercing as you sit on my face like it’s your personal seat?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, too busy getting oxygen into your lungs. Your core is still throbbing painfully after being denied the release it so badly needed (you denied yourself, so you can’t really blame anyone else), and it clenches around nothing when Jeongguk decides his taunting hasn’t concluded yet.

“Or I can continue what I was doing with my fingers, rubbing you as I insert a finger or two, feeling you gush out even more of your juices for me.” He goes back to kissing your neck pink and purple, moving to your other shoulder that’s still clean of colors. This time, though, instead of only letting your bra strap fall from your shoulder, he coaxes your arm out of the loop so he can pull down the cup part and letting your breast fall free. He wastes no time in rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally giving it a pinch. You can only whimper as a response.

His mouth moves downward when he deems your shoulder colorful enough, and before you know it, he has your nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it. Even with his mouth full, he’s still determined to keep your core nice and wet for him by spewing more filthy words from between his lips.

“Or would you rather be bent over the bathroom walls as I pound you from behind?” His question sounds like a promise to your ears. “I remember that one time we did it in your shower and you came so much I thought you were going to pass out.” The image conjured up in your brain of the memory is vivid, you can remember the numb feeling in your legs after you both finished. Jeongguk had to carry you out of the bathroom because your entire body had felt like mush.

Apparently, you’re not the only one with vivid memories of that day, because Jeongguk shudders in your arms before he drops his face into the crook of your neck. “Ah, shit, I’m so fucking hard right now.” He pauses for five seconds. Then, “shower with me?”

“Only if you promise to put that fucking tongue piercing to good use,” you snap through your teeth, still reeling because your boyfriend now has a tongue piercing. “And bend me over. Slam me against the walls. I don’t care, just fuck me good.”

“Oh, baby, I’ll give you the best fuck of your life.”

Later, when you’re both done with your gym activities and back in your house, watching TV on your couch, Jeongguk makes a confession.

“It’s fake, you know. My tongue piercing.”

“What??” You stare at him with wide eyes, not believing him even the slightest bit. It felt real when it touched your tongue and your.. another sensitive area.

“No, not ‘fake’ like it doesn’t exist, but it’s not actually pierced to my tongue. It’s a clip-on,” he explains, sticking his tongue out before tugging at the metal, the piece of jewelry coming off his tongue without leaving any marks. You stare in awe at the ball now in Jeongguk’s hand.

“I looked up reviews online about tongue piercings, and actually still feel iffy about getting it pierced for real. Then I found this in one of the comments, and thought, why not try it, right?” He gives you a smile as he puts the clip-on piercing aside. “Besides, I know you’re not fully on board with this idea either, so I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to do. But I see you liked it, huh? It felt good, right?”

“Well, yeah, I almost died,” you mumble, hiding your face in his shoulder. It’s crazy how different you both are compared to an hour ago when you were busy getting it on in the gym showers. You can feel your face getting hot at the memory of him bending your body over the cold walls as water streamed down from overhead. “Maybe keep it for after hours only?”

He laughs before kissing the top of your head softly. “I mean, it’s a great compromise,” he considers. “Besides, if I do get one, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you for, like, weeks. Who can go around without kissing for that long??”

It’s your turn to laugh as you cup his cheek, angling his head so you can slot your lips against his in a soft kiss. “Certainly not you, big baby.”

Jeongguk turns his body completely to face you, pulling you into his lap so he can continue pressing his lips against yours with soft sighs slipped in between. He sneaks his hands under your t-shirt and rubs circles onto your hipbones, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“You wanna go again? I think I can go for a round two.”

“Hmm.. no, too tired.”

“I’ll put on the clip-on and let you sit on my face. You won’t even have to lift a finger.”

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m seriously really tired and could use a nap right now.”

“Alright, tomorrow.”

“Don’t pout, you baby, tomorrow I’ll ride your face and anything else you want me to do.”

“Mmh, kay, love you.”

“Love you too, now shush or I’ll throw the clip-on out.”

— a/n: thanks for reading! any feedbacks here would be greatly appreciated :D

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #fanfic #fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #bts college au #jungkook college au #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #boxer!jungkook #boxer!gguk #jungkook pwp

[tonkatsubowl]

Hi! I love ur fics smmm they’re all so pretty fr😭

I just randomly came up with a headcanon of y/n being shared w three yan! Aventurines (past, present and the future) (help) and would like to request for a fic of that if you are comfortable w it! (No need to force yourself 😭👍🏻👍🏻 I’m literally just yapping)

Have a nice day!!!!!(*´꒳`*)❤️❤️

past —

the first time yandere aventurine first met you, there was something about you that he couldn't quite brush off. something about you felt nostalgic and so safe, yet considering his trust issues and his already apparent guarded behavior, he strayed away from you a few times, thinking you were most likely a charismatic person with an amazing charm to their personality. yet, at the same time, he pursued his curiosity about you. at first, aventurine had the opportunity to get to know you better... in which, he did. he got to know your aspects, your personality, what you liked, dislike...

... and he was able to relate to you at one point. here comes his obsession, where he began to think about you impulsively. how were you here? you were just like him, so how did you end up being like this? all these thoughts began to make him think, think, and think more about you, which developed into a full time shift of obsessing over you, even if he wasn't thinking about it. you were quite minding your own business, yet you had a certain gambler who couldn't keep his eyes off of you. he admired the way you spoke, the way you breathed, the way you smiled and laughed, and how you fought... you were just one of a kind!

it took some development and some time, but soon, you had the gambler wrapped around your finger without you actually knowing it.

soon enough, you don't need to worry, for he'll do anything he can to keep you safe within the dreamscape and outside of it. that's why he'll try to find where you live and where you mainly stay at. well, he just wants to do this for your safety, yeah? safety is reasonable... right?

soon enough, he began to fall in love (infatuation) with you. he realized to himself that you were someone that was meant to save him, someone that he finally found that he felt was worth living for. despite his trust issues in the past, he began to believe you were the one for him, considering the fact you both were able to relate, and that you were quite literally living rent free in his head.

so, he decided to plan something. something strategic with his manipulative, charismatic words, thinking head and some intellectual planning. he planned on having you, but he absolutely did not want to do it by force given his past. he did not want to deprive you of your freedom and have you suffer as he did, unless matters came to worse.

yet, luckily enough, you were quite easy to win. you already had a crush on him, and when he had asked you out, that was when you felt your heart flutter. yet, you were a little scared. into another relationship you go... how would it go? would he leave you? cheat on you? hurt you? would it turn into a toxic relationship?

who knew? but you really liked him. so you decided to pursue it and let the water flow.

present —

you began to learn some things about yandere aventurine.

throughout your established relationship with aventurine, everything felt so perfect. the man was practically spoiling you with money, expensive gifts, and constant dates. it felt like everything was so perfect, he might as well he the one (he wants to be). but you were a little skeptical, too. was he just doing this to bed with you, so then he'd leave to his other maidens?

... you didn't know that man had already been obsessed with you, but the fact he hid it so well was like the cherry on top. he was extremely loyal, and would do anything he can to show that. every time he left to go to work, you always missed him. the both of you would consistently text each other, but if you didn't reply back within a certain period of time, he'd question you. where did you go? are you busy? am i annoying you? but it was so cute. so you had to comfort him, despite him being quite a little puppy.

you didn't realize he always kept an eye on you. always watching every move, always watching everything that you do. this is for the sake of your safety, after all.

but the one thing you learned about was his jealousy.

whenever he sees you talking to someone, be it a man or a woman, he began to ponder to himself, why is (y/n) talking to them? why are they getting your attention? why isn't it me? who is this? do i have to get rid of them?

so, aventurine would simply walk over, wrap an arm around your waist and innocently ask, "did you make a new friend, my love?"

he had to let the whole world and the vast of the cosmos know that you were already belonging to someone. and you would never be available—you were already his from the first day he laid his eyes on you.

you also didn't know that he was progressively becoming worse. with your kind hearted self and charismatic personality, you were attracting strangers who only willingly wished to ask how your day was been or even say hello before walking away... but the more strangers spoke to you, the more possessive the man had gotten.

you didn't seem to notice it, only to note yourself that your boyfriend is just protective of you.

but really. it was far worse than that. aventurine could snap whenever he wanted, but he had no reason to unless your safety was involved. he tried not to snap at you or get upset at you. he loved you, after all, and didn't want you to think of him as an abusive boyfriend or anything. he admired freedom, and you deserved it...

only some.

future —

you began to ponder about the cosmos, and what yandere aventurine did for a living. he traveled throughout different worlds for business transactions and such, saw so many different stars, planets, cosmic entities... you wondered if he had to leave you to a different planet one day?

that was when you approached aventurine, admitting to him that you wanted to travel the cosmos. you wanted to see the world. you wanted to be with him wherever he went.

... but, though he was flattered by your words, he declined your request. "the cosmos is dangerous," he would say as an excuse, "i can't have you leave this world, and while i'm gone... what if something happened to you?"

safety was always the number one concern for aventurine, but he took it to a different level that you didn't expect. the more you dreamt about the cosmos, the more aventurine began to feel cautious towards you.

if you traveled throughout the cosmos... seeing far and wide... did that mean you were going to leave him?

no, no— that can't happen. not again. you were trying to leave him, weren't you? you're going to leave him—no, you're not going to, because aventurine will make sure of it.

"why do you want to leave me?" his true colors began to show as he held your arms with desperation, clinging for dear life. "you're leaving me. you're trying to, are you? it's not safe without me around. you don't realize that."

"huh? no, i'm not going to leave you. i just said i wanted to be with you as we traveled, remember? i'm never going to leave you."

"you don't realize the dangers of this reality. there's too many monsters and people that will take you from me. i can't risk it when you're the only one i have left in my life." he says.

"w-what? no, 'vasha, i get the dangers, but please trust in me—"

"you just don't listen and understand, do you?"

it's a good thing he had access to different parts of dimensions and worlds to keep you safe in (locking you up). the two of you got into a little argument after your confrontation of your dreams, but obviously, your boyfriend wasn't having it. if you didn't listen to him, then he would have to use force if manipulative tongue wasn't going to work.

all he wanted for you was the good things! he wanted to keep you safe and sound, well protected... really, he needed to keep you untouchable by the bad entities of the multiverse, even.

not even the aeons can touch (save) you, now.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine

[hollowed-theory-hall]

what would tom riddle's patronus?

Okay, it took me some time to answer this ask since I needed to spend some time thinking. I didn't really have an answer in mind until your question. It's just something I apparently never thought about. So I was interested in finding the most canon-adjacent answer I can for if Tom Riddle/Voldemort could cast a patronus, what would it be.

So, my approach to finding the right animal was based on a few factors, the first of which:

How exactly is the form your Patronus takes determined?

Because we don't actually get a straight answer in the books. We know Patroni can change with a person, but we don't exactly get an answer on what their form represents and why some couples have matching Patroni.

Basically, I don't know what you expected, Anon, but what you're getting is some rambling about the magical theory behind the Patronus charm followed by why that means Tom gets a certain animal over another.

So, let's start with the basics, the incantation:

"Expecto Patronum"

This is in Latin and literally translates to: "I await/expect a defender"

And Remus Lupin explains what the Patronus charm is as:

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” said Lupin, “which is a kind of anti-dementor — a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor.” ... “The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the dementor feeds upon — hope, happiness, the desire to survive — but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the dementors can’t hurt it. But I must warn you, Harry, that the charm might be too advanced for you. Many qualified wizards have difficulty with it.”

(POA, page 237)

We also know the patronus is cast by thinking of a happy memory — well, not really. The memory isn't really important; the emotion is. The memory is to help you have the right happy feelings that can fuel a Patronus. "You got to mean it" just like with an unforgivable.

So, what does it tell us about the Patronus:

We have a defender made out of happiness, literally.

This already sounds like something Tom Riddle would struggle with. I don't really see canon Tom Riddle/Voldemort being capable of producing one, but let's assume he can in some hypothetical AU. Let's take a look at a few patroni to see how their form is chosen and why.

Obviously, we have Harry's (and James') stag. A stag symbolizes many things in different cultures, but deer (both Stags and Does, like Lily and Snape) in general symbolize:

The cycle of life and death

Agility and grace

Bravery

Nobility

All this fits the Potters quite well. The nobility and bravery of Gryffindor and the cycle between life and death. Stags actually represent regeneration, as in a return from death, which fits with the Potters' connection to the Paverells and death perfectly.

Stags also symbolize authority, strength, leadership, and fatherhood, while does symbolize femininity, grace, intuition, and devotion. All in all, both animals fit James and Lily well. And while the stag does fit Harry (to a degree), I don't think his Patronus represents him.

I think Harry's patronus is a stag because James' patronus was a stag. Harry was actually convinced his father cast the Patronus when he first saw it in POA. And it makes sense.

I don't remember where I saw this theory, but it essentially was that your patrons would represent a person or an idea that you feel will defend you. It's why certain couples have matching Patroni, why a Patronus can change when you or your feelings about people change.

And Harry, when he casts his Patronus, the idea of his father who he never knew but would have protected him is the idea represented in Harry's Patronus. It's a stag like James' not because Harry and James are so similar (they have very different personalities actually) but because Harry's Patronus is James. It's a stag because James was a stag, and Harry is calling the concept of his father to defend him.

Following this logic, Lily's Patronus is a doe, because she is the doe. Lily's defender is herself. Courageous, noble, graceful and devoted. Lily's devotion to her son is what literally sets the series into motion. The reason she and James match is that they always have. He was always represented by the stag and she was always represented by the doe. Their Patroni aren't matching because of their relationship with each other, but because they are so compatible their Patroni matched from the get-go.

Snape's Patronus is a doe because of Lily. Lily is represented by the doe. As she was Snape's first friend and defender, whenever he calls for a protector, it's Lily.

Let's look at a few other Patroni, like Hermione's otter:

Playfulness

Joy

Family and close-knit friendships

Loyalty

All of this doesn't really sound like Hermione. Ron's Jack Russell Terrier on the other hand:

Loyalty

Courage

Playfulness

Cleverness

Protectiveness

Tanasity

Does sound very in line with who Ron is.

But then who does Hermione's otter represent? Well, an otter is from the weasel family and the list of characteristics looks closer to Ron's list of traits than Hermione's. I think Hermione's otter represents Ron who did step in to defend her since the troll incident in their first year multiple times.

So, where does that leave Tom Riddle?

Well, we established the Patronus becomes your defender, and in Tom's case, it'll be himself. Tom is distrustful and sees himself as more capable than anyone else. Not to mention he never had a real connection or person in his life he could call upon to defend him. So, whatever animal his Patronus is would represent himself as his own defender.

So, which animal represents Tom best?

The first animal I thought of, is of course: the serpent. Snakes are heavily associated with Tom (for obvious reasons) and is an animal we know he has a soft spot for. When looking at what snakes represent, you can see why he is associated with them:

Deceit

Transformation

Power

Regeneration and rebirth (shedding their skin)

Healing (Cadcadeus)

For the most part, the list seems to fit him well. Specifically their association with rebirth and the cycle of life and death by shedding their skin. Deceit and power are also right up Tom's alley. And even transformation considering he rewrote his entire identity to become Voldemort.

But, just "snake" wasn't good enough for me, I wanted to know which kind. And as I wanted his Patronus to be as rare as Harry's stag, I went to the list of official Pottermore possible Patroni to find a snake that is as hard to get in the test as the stag while not being magical.

(Magical Patroni are incredibly rare and to have yourself represented by a magical creature in your Patronus you need to be incredibly unique or incredibly full of yourself. At least, that's how I see it)

And low and behold, there was one on the aforementioned list:

The King Cobra

So I looked up if this snake has any interesting additional unique symbolism that would fit Tom. And, well, there was:

Authority and Leadership

Aggression and Fearlessness

Destruction and Creation

Intelligence and Cunning

Which all in all sounds fitting for Tom Riddle.

I also continued reading and apparently, snakes are associated with lightning by some Native American tribes. And when I saw that I was sold on the idea. Considering how the killing curse is represented by lightning (Harry's scar and the lightning-struck tower being the name of the chapter Dumbledore dies in). It feels appropriate with Tom's connection with snakes.

The King Cobra is actually not really a Cobra and is considered a unique breed of snake, which Tom would approve of. It's also the longest venomous snake and its venom can result in a rapid fatality, as soon as 30 minutes following a bite. It's also a cannibal snake that eats other snakes, including its own kind.

Overall it just fits perfectly, both in traits, symbolism, and how rare and dangerous it is. So, for your question, I think Tom Riddle's Patronus, if he could cast one, would be a King Cobra.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #hp #hp thoughts #lord voldemort #hollowedheadcanon #voldemort analysis #voldemort #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #patronus #patronus charm #hp headcanon #anon asks #asks #anonymous