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alwaysmoncheri · 2 months

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summary: you’re starting to feel a little insecure among the other women in the bau, but spencer notices and silences your worries

cw: female!reader, kissing, fluff, cheesy writing, like one sexual innuendo from derek ( what’s new ? ), mutual pinning, insecurities, anxiety, comparisons of looks to others, 925, spencer reid x reader

you sit at your desk in the bustling bau office, surrounded by the brilliant minds and gorgeous faces that make up the team. as you sift through case files and organize data, you can't help but feel a subtle twinge of insecurity. the women in the bau are a formidable force – confident, competent, and effortlessly balancing the demands of the job with their own personal charm.

emily prentiss exudes authority, her presence commanding respect. jj effortlessly juggles motherhood and her role in the unit, displaying a poise you can't help but admire. penelope garcia's vibrant personality seems to light up the room, and you wonder if your more reserved nature fits into this dynamic team.

amidst the collective intelligence and strength, you find yourself questioning your place. your eyes wander to the mirror on your desk, and for a moment, you scrutinize your reflection. the nagging thought that you don't quite measure up to the elegance and confidence of your female colleagues lingers in the back of your mind.

as the day progresses, you try to focus on the tasks at hand, pushing aside the self-doubt that threatens to overshadow your abilities. spencer reid, the brilliant and socially awkward genius, that you love, is engrossed in his work on the other side of your adject desks. you've always admired his intellect, the way his mind operates on a different plane, and you’ve shamelessly loved him ever since you’d first met.

the team engages in discussions, exchanging ideas and theories. spencer, as usual, offers his insights with a level of eloquence that captivates everyone in the room. yet, in the midst of the professional banter, you can't shake the feeling that you fall short in comparison. you not only feel as though your mind can’t contribute the same thoughts and helpful comments as the rest of the team but you feel a tinge of insecurity toward your appearance. the way you look is far from beauty standards, you try to put on make-up but it never turns out to look like emily, jj, or penelope’s.

in a rare moment of respite, you find yourself alone near the coffee machine where you pull out your compact and check your reflection in the mirror. the longer you look at yourself, the more flaws you seem to find, and the more you think about the group’s discussions, the more judgment you feel toward yourself.

spencer notices you from the doorway and he frowns before proceeding any closer. when you finally notice him grabbing himself a fresh cup of coffee, you snap your compact closed as if you’ve been caught. spencer glances at you, his expression kind but perceptive. "everything okay?" he asks, his tone gentle.

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. "I don't know, spencer. I can't help but feel a bit out of place sometimes. I mean, look at the other women in the bau. they're all so... confident and put together. I don't know if I fit in."

spencer furrows his brow, considering your words carefully. "you know, I used to feel the same way when I first joined the bau. I was the youngest, and everyone seemed so sure of themselves. but confidence isn't always about how put together someone is. it's about knowing your worth and embracing your differences."

his words resonate with you, and for a moment, the weight on your shoulders seems to lift. "but look at them," you gesture towards your female colleagues and spencer follows your gaze, "they are all so... stunning. I can't help but feel like I don't quite measure up." you admit sheepishly and spencer immediately understands your insecurity.

spencer's eyes soften, and he offers a small, understanding smile. "beauty is subjective, and everyone has their own unique qualities. it's not just about appearances; it's about the way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your kindness. you have your own charm, and you're more than enough just the way you are." spencer explains, hesitantly touching your shoulder and softly rubbing up and down. his reassurance is like a soothing balm, calming the storm of self-doubt that rages within you. the way he sees beyond the surface, acknowledging your strengths, makes you feel valued in a way you hadn't anticipated.

“thank you, spence.” you whisper, turning to face him with a hint of a smile.

"you're an incredible person," spencer states, his voice sincere as he nods his head at your thanks. "and I'm grateful to have you as a colleague and a friend."

you can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest. spencer's acknowledgment goes beyond professional; it speaks of the genuine connection between the two of you. a connection that often brought constant teasing from other members of the bau team. you know you aren’t really just friends, but you enjoy spencer’s statement nonetheless.

“let’s go loverbirds, you’ve been on break for long enough,” derek calls from just outside the doorway, “plenty of time to do whatever you were doing.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of us.

spencer’s face turns beat red while you roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips. you then lean up to give spencer a quick kiss on his jaw and whisper another quick thank you. you turn on your heel and walk out the door, turning one last time to see spencer’s mouth slightly agape and cheeks even rosier than before. you smile to yourself, now knowing that you have no reason to be insecure, and spencer helped you realize that.

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

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tacticaldiary · 5 months

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Frightened Of The Fall

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

Masterlist

Baby birds are born with an innate fear of falling. Frightening little things, skittering over to the edges of their nests and peering down, curious but never brave enough to take a leap. It's their mothers that nudge them along, shove them over the edge knowing that they'll come out unscathed.

Simon remembers the soft look on his mother's face when she used to read to him at night, locking the door and draping his bedsheets over their heads like a little makeshift tent.

It's one of the clearer memories in his head, but nothing in his life comes completely untainted.

His father always got tired of yelling and banging on his door. He'd find the master key somewhere and click the lock back open, ending her attempts to distract him on the worst days.

His father had shoved him off the edge too soon, not accustomed to a mother's intuition and only driven by the cruel need to see him flail and fall as he hit the ground hard.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Does pasta sound okay?"

Ghost hums into his cup of coffee, skimming over a document he'd put off till the last minute to review. Their kitchen table is littered with files and folders belonging to them both. "Thought you were going out tonight.?"

Working in the same division of the military means their privy to the same confidential information, luckily.

"I was," She nods, setting down the packet of pasta. "But I cancelled. Thought some time alone with you would be better..."

He nods, and the knot of unease that's been tightening in her chest for the past week makes an appearance again. He doesn't say anything, he hasn't been saying much at all these days, and it's making her more than uneasy.

Ghost wasn't an overly silent man, especially not with her, so this behaviour has been out of character enough to raise some flags. A little frustrated at his lack of interest, she walks across the kitchen to join him at the table.

"Is something wrong?"

Sometimes, Ghost sees the gentle nature of his mother in her.

When she smiles at him like he's hung the moon and the stars for doing her a simple favour. The quiet nights together spent soaking in company that he hasn't had the chance to experience in years...

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're angry at me."

He glances up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You'd know if I was mad at you, love."

"Then what is it?" She pushes, "You've been so...so disinterested lately." She really tries to word it eloquently in a way that's not too intense. "You don't join me for any activity apart from work, you barely say a word to me if I don't initiate a conversation!"

She's certainly got his attention now.

"You didn't even ask where I was going when I told you I had plans tonight, it's like...it's like you don't care anymore." She finishes, pushing out the last part of her sentence in a voice wrapped with hurt. "If you don't...don't want me, I'd rather you just say it. I'll understand, but it's not fair to keep me at arm's length when-"

"Stop." He cuts her off loudly. "You think I don't want you anymore?" The papers lay on the table, completely forgotten as he pushes himself to stand up next to her. There's an urgency in his movements that she hasn't seen before.

"You sure make it seem that way."

"I don't." His gaze flickers across her face and his stomach sinks when he sees nothing but raw honesty and hurt. "Of course I want you-"

"Then why don't you talk to me?"

That shuts him up.

"I was thinking." He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "About everything. About...us." When he sees devastation flash across her face, he's quick to correct her misunderstanding. "Fucking hell, not like that." He assures her, taking her arms in his hands and stepping closer. "Never like that, darling. Shouldn't have made you doubt anything, didn't mean to." Ghost presses her face to the crook of his neck, loosening a sigh of relief when she doesn't push him away and nestles there instead.

"Then what is it?" She draws in a shaky breath. "If it's not me, why are you pulling away?"

It's a beat before he answers.

"I've always wanted a family." He squeezes her arms briefly. "Never thought I'd have anyone else to call that." His gaze is fixed firmly on the wall behind them, even when she tilts her head up to peer at him.

She doesn't push him, doesn't beg for details. Patient as always, and the knowledge that she would not force him to tell her anything he couldn't is the very thing that drives him to bear his thoughts to her.

Ghost tells her about coming home to a house of cold bodies. He doesn't spare any details, she's not frail or fragile. Hell, she's drawn just as much blood, just as viciously as he had, so he lays it all out as it happened. He tells her about his mother, about the good in his life ripped away by a fate that he dragged across their doormat.

"You're afraid it'll happen again." She whispers when he finishes.

"I'm...cautious."

"It's okay to be afraid." She smooths a hand over his hair much more gently than a man like him deserves. "You're human, Ghost. You're alive, they would be glad that you made it out alive."

"Shit luck I brought them, though." A hoarse voice he lets mingle with the loathing he's carried ever since he could remember.

"It won't happen again." His gaze flickers down to her at the declaration, "It's in the past, baby. Unless you let me go, I'm not going anyway."

"I don't." He tightens his grip instinctively. The very idea of being the reason he's lost the best thing that's ever happened to him is revolting. He intends to keep her for as long as she'll have him.

"Good." She cracks a small smile. Her fingers ghost over the scars on his cheek, marred with years of memories. "Neither of us are good people." She whispers. "Not with the things we've done, the things we've seen. But we're good for each other. You're so good to me and nothing in your past is going to take that away. Not even you."

Earnest and honest and determined, there's no protest Ghost can make that would strike her words untrue. He takes in an unsteady breath instead, letting himself sink into her promises.

"Let me in." She whispers, soft and pleading. "Build a life with me. Let me take care of you, Ghost."

He loosens a shuddering sigh out of his chest, a feeling so viscerally overwhelming washing him inside and out. It grows and expands, sheds lights on the corners of him untouched by love and safety.

Always shrouded in caution and fear, the sudden light is bound to sting the eyes of someone who's kept in the dark. The warmth is enough to burn someone kept in the cold.

She searches his eyes for something, for anything. A hint of agreement, a crack in the iron walls she can take as a sign to start chipping at.

"I love you."

And he believes it.

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

And she can see the light shining through.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(28/11/2023)

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missmugiwara · 8 months

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What A Relief

Summary: fem!reader x Sanji // You convince Sanji to have a friends-with-benefits relationship with you, but it's not like you want to actually date him, right? Right? Warning: 18+, NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, implied sex, very suggestive, friends-with-benefits thing going on Note: I am weak for Sanji! Please enjoy!

It was so stupid.

You knew there was indeed a possibility that this could happen, but you still went ahead and did it. You got too presumptuous. Too confident. You flew too close to the sun. And then you got burned.

But how did it all start?

If you reflected back on it, you weren't entirely sure yourself. It was surprising especially in the way that everything had just blurred together. To put it into filthy words, Sanji became the answer to your booty calls. Okay, well… if you put it more eloquently, you somehow had managed to develop some sort of friends-with-benefits relationship with none other than the cook himself. If you put it even more simply, Sanji became a weekly event - as in, the person whom you could have sex with without any strings attached.

A while back, you set out to sea with the Straw Hat Pirates. They were a wonderful group of friends - they protected you, made treasurable memories with you, and truly accepted you for who you were. You had no complaints whatsoever. As of late, you were becoming a bit bored. A bit needy. Needy in the ways that required a certain relief in the form of pleasure. The thought of having a romantic relationship crossed your mind once or twice, but being a pirate and constantly moving about meant there was no room for that. You accepted that wholeheartedly, but could you somehow attain the romance you sought out?

So a crazy idea crossed your mind.

Could you get one of these fine Straw Hat men into bed? You flustered at the thought of it, and you could tell it was a wild idea when you felt hot and checked the nearest mirror to see your ridiculous expression. How about Luffy? No, he was your captain! He saved your butt on your hometown of Dressrosa. That would have felt too awkward. Then Zoro? Hm, well, he definitely seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind doing that and could keep it a secret… but you were too damn nervous to insinuate such an idea to him without feeling utterly humiliated. Franky? He seemed the most mature - wait. Never mind. Him, Luffy, and Zoro were definitely not mature. Usopp, then? No, an instant no. He still struggled to be brave time to time. How could he possibly not chicken out if you asked him?

Hmm.

What about Sanji?

He was so sweet. A good friend. Very good-looking. You never felt embarrassed in front of him. He would treat you so well, and he already did. Plus, he always made goo goo eyes at Nami, Robin, and literally any other woman. It was perfect. Knowing this, he wouldn't get attached to you, and you wouldn't get attached to him… because that's not what you were looking for, right? Exactly!

So when you finally mustered up the courage to ask Sanji, he really was shocked. You stayed behind one evening to help him clean up dishes after dinner. When everyone left you two to complete your chores, that's when you asked. Naturally, you were nervous, face on fire, and averting his gaze. There was a range of emotions mostly on Sanji's part. His jaw dropped. Then after a few seconds (when you were afraid you had broke him), he had launched himself across the room due to the sheer force of a nosebleed. After tending to this nosebleed and him sputtering over and over how he really did not deserve you - the goddess, the angel, etc. - he agreed.

"Oh, I know I'm asking for a lot… but, I would really love if it were you. I trust you so much."

It was kind of cute in the way his eyes sparkled at your words, and a blush fluttered over his cheeks while he had tissues sticking out of his bloody nostrils. To be honest, you wouldn't have had it any other way. It was quite comical. It took a moment longer for him to respond. You gently smiled and held him in your arms as he laid on the floor after his great lift-off.

Finally, Sanji sat himself up. Grabbing your hand, he said, "I am honored, my sweet, and I promise to make you feel like an absolute queen."

Those words were enough to send your heart racing. Sanji was the best. As you two sat there on the floor of the kitchen, faces flustered and having Sanji's head in your lap - you had reminded yourself again that this was simply fun between two friends. That's it. No romance.

You already knew Sanji was a man of his word, but he sure delivered. The first night together was akin to something out of a romance novel, and it was absolute bliss. Sanji removed your clothes slowly and gently, never allowing a single wrinkle to form as he laid them down. He always asked for permission before he did anything, and he always reminded you that if you changed your mind then you could stop at any time. He truly was a gentleman and kept his promise through and through. He whispered soft, sultry things into your ears. When he got more cocky, he'd whisper more sensuous things - things like how he was going to make you sing, make you moan, make you sigh out his name. And every time he did get you to moan, he'd whisper how your noises brought him to heaven. Your heart beat against your ribcage as if it was trying to break free, but you kept ignoring it because all you could focus on was just being his friend.

However, it was such a sweet, addicting high.

His touch was sensual and soft on your skin, the way his hands held you gently as if you were made from glass. Years in the kitchen must have been why his expert hands were so graceful when they roamed, and when they roamed to more inmate areas on your body, you would let out a gentle gasp against his mouth. You had never been held the way Sanji held you.

Kisses were sweet and never done without feeling. They could have brought you to your knees if you already weren't rolling around in bed. Sanji's mouth tasted like cigarettes, but you could care less as the delicious noises of your lips smacking whenever they met or parted took over your brain. Such sweet, velvety kisses were exchanged all night long between pants, between moans, between soft words you and Sanji murmured to each other, between thrusts of Sanji's hips. That incredible high wreaked havoc in your brain when Sanji thrusted over and over into your hips. Your toes curled, you wrapped your arms tightly around him and dug your nails into his back. You begged for him to go faster and harder, but in response you only got a low chuckle from the cook that embarrassed you and exhilirated you deeply.

"I couldn't," he smirked against your skin, "I don't want to be rough and hurt you."

You grit your teeth, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You let out a low growl as your hand grabbed his hair. This teasing from Sanji was so unexpected - you didn't know there was this side of him.

"Please!" you breathed out, "Just… for me? Please!" you whined.

"Well, who am I to deny such a lady's request?"

Sanji seemed to really enjoy your whining because with that, he catered to your whim and every one after that. He was such a great listener. Sanji continued on and on until you had reached your final high of that evening and climaxed. The room spun, your body feeling hot and heavy. The two of you collapsed onto the bed in the girls' room, taking a few moments of peaceful silence to catch your breaths until you both had relaxed a bit more. You were incredibly thankful your crewmates had gone into town and left you and Sanji to guard the ship alone because you two had laid for a long time in bed after that. Just talking about your dreams, about life, anything really. It felt like hours, and in actuality it really was.

When you finally told Sanji you wanted to get dressed, he got up before you could even fling the sheets over your body. With a wave of his hand, he promptly stated he would make you a pot of tea. He got dressed and then was out the door. You waited until he was completely out of the room before your smile faded into a frown.

So stupid.

You should have known you were going to fall hard for the cook. This kept up for some time. Once a week turned into a couple times a week and then several times a week. You and Sanji kept it secret pretty well. It was something to look forward to as hard as it was to find the privacy. Soon, these little flirty instances were beginning to appear - like a secret signal. You'd sneak past Sanji to cup your hand to his ass to give him a hint you were hungry. He would smirk at you more often.

But hold on - what in the world was wrong with you?

The plan was not to become romantically attached. And the exact opposite of that was happening! You were head over heels. Sanji made you feel so special, and he geninely enjoyed the time spent with you. You were learning all sorts of things about each other and forming a closer bond.

You know what was even more stupid? You literally could not act like a normal person in front of Sanji anymore. Sometimes you dodged him and walked the other way if you ran into him, which was quite often as you were stuck on a ship for most of the time. Your confident vixen attitude was shaken - you couldn't dare touch his cute butt again. You would avoid his gaze. When he passed you a plate at dinner and your fingers accidentally brushed, you would mentally scream in your mind. It took all the strength not to fall apart.

Oh, but why was this happening?!

What were you afraid of? Being emotionally hurt? Afraid of how much of a ladies man he was if you wanted to start a relationship? You could tell Sanji was becoming concerned because you asked for him less and less until it just stopped one day. Everyone could tell you weren't acting normal as you would coop yourself up in the girls room - denying Luffy if he asked you to come play, taking your meals by yourself amongst other little things. Everyone came to check on you. Even Chopper was the most concerned, thinking you were sick. And Chopper was right, but it was lovesickness, and there was nothing he could do to help. It took everything to shoo everyone away.

Oh, but that Robin - who was too smart for her own good sometimes - had finally found you sneaking off to the kitchen one night for a late snack. She could not have been sleeping if she noticed you left the room and then somehow notify Sanji. It wasn't a surprise that she knew. Initially you would have been mortified, but if it had to be Robin then you felt at ease.

So you were digging around in the fridge, not even noticing Sanji entered the room until he called your name. This caused you to flinch and, in attempts to stand up suddenly, you hit your head on the nearest shelf in the fridge. Promplty, you slammed the door shut and gave him a forced grin. Sanji was no fool though. As you reluctantly greeted him and made a mad dash for the door, he swiftly stepped over to block it as you bumped headfirst into him. Sanji looped one arm around your waist as the other caught your wrist when you pressed your arms up to his chest to push him off.

You could feel your face heating up and your heart thundering in your ears. For a few seconds, you both stood there in awkward sielnce, waiting for somebody to do something.

"Are you… avoiding me?"

Sanji wasted no time in getting to the point. You didn't like how he asked that question - he sounded so hurt. Your lips trembled, and you felt so damn frustrated that you could cry then and there. You never wanted to hurt him! But it's not like you had anywhere special to go, so… you realized you probably should explain yourself.

"Yes." you answered quietly.

Sanji let out a deep sigh, and he moved so that he could grab both your arms. Gently, he pulled you away from him to stare into your eyes. He gasped when he saw you actually were crying. You sniffled and frowned at him, brows furrowed together in dismay as you waited for him to speak. It was as if he instantly knew. As soon as Sanji spoke, he was referring to the current status of your relationship.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you, my angel?"

"No!" you responded immediately, "No… you've been perfect. I just…" Sanji leaned forward, using his finger to gently wipe the tears collecting at your lower eyelid. It was cheesy, it was cute, it was freaking great! You grabbed his hand and turned your head from him.

"This!" you squeezed his hand, "This… stuff you do. I can't keep lying to myself anymore."

Were you making sense? It was all garbled. You finally let go of Sanji's hand, only to have him move his hands to the base of where your jaw met your neck. He tilted your head upwards to look at him. You knew you were making no sense, but Sanji stayed calm and cool.

"What do you mean? You know you can tell me anything."

You let out a sigh, mustering up the courage to look him straight in the eye.

"Look, I really, really like you. I said no strings attached… but I changed my mind. I want more. I want us to go on a date. I want us to actually be together."

With that you snapped your eyes shut, fearing of how he might respond. Would he be okay with that? This man who craved any woman? You waited for what seemed like an eternity, but when you felt his hand cup the side of your face and motion you to look up at him… you realized there was such a look in his eyes that was indescribable.

"I would love nothing more than to be yours."

A smile lit up your tear-stricken face as you clapped your hands over his - still gently caressing your face, "Really?"

Sanji gently pulled your face closer, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Really."

There was a pause.

"What a relief!"

And Sanji gasped when you suddenly grabbed the back of his head to smash your lips against his. He melted into the kiss, but when you released him after a few seconds - he had the biggest grin. You just stared at him so sweetly, brushing a strand of his golden locks from his face as he stood in awe like a lovesick fool.

"So… can we…? You know? I mean, unless you don't want to!"

You stroked his cheek with your thumb and let out a sigh after a roll of your eyes. Oh, Sanji - the poor thing. You had him on a leash, and he worshipped the ground you walked on. As you gently grabbed his hand and led him to the door, you smirked.

"You're lucky I like you so much."

#one piece fanfiction #op x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #op fanfic #one piece x reader #mugi writes

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 8 months

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HI HI DOVE :DD im so excited for the event!! your writings always make me kick my feet and giggle c:

so yk my undying live for the one and only jade leech ^^ (even if the bitey bastard refuses to show his face in gacha >:0) and i see [fairytale scene] fits his love for nature C:

jade and cottagecore hmmmmm 👀 well there goes my brain and my spine—

REMEMBER TO HYDRATE AND UNSHRIMP YOUR SPINE TOO DOVE :DD

Fairytale Scene; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, mutual pining, yearning

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I don't even know how I ended up with this, but it's cute! Hopefully, this makes up for the bitey bastard refusing to come home!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You felt like you were living in a dream, a picture-perfect dream that only existed in fairytales. How else could you have ended up alone in a quaint cottage on the edge of the sea with Jade Leech; the man that had captured your heart since day one? And despite Floyd and Azul basically making the two of you pack up your bags for a week-long vacation with the crush that you swore was secret — as you hadn’t uttered a word to anybody — you found yourself and Jade alone with just each other for an entire seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, alone. Scratch that, maybe not a dream, this seemed more like a plot of some cheesy rom-com where both of the characters confessed their love to each other on the beach. But there was no chance that Jade, the Jade Leech would do that… right?

“You seem distracted, Prefect.”

You jumped and hit your head against the hanging flower bed since the two of you were doing some sprucing up in the garden. You were fine, but your clumsiness sent a pot crashing to the ground, leaving you more embarrassed than anything. “Nope! Perfectly fine!” But the rise in octave betrayed you.

If it were anyone else, Jade would have found it amusing, which he still did, but instead of just chuckling at your misfortune, he helped you get out from under the flower bed, and made sure that you weren’t hurt. “Hmm, are you alright, my dear,” he hummed, looking you over for any cuts.

I’m not okay, no, especially with you looking at me like that and calling me dear. I think I’m going to have a stroke here. “Yeah! Just my own clumsiness is all—” you stopped mid-sentence, and stared at Jade.

The mid-afternoon sun cast him in a warm light, turning his eyes into a glowing gold, and highlighting the olive of his right eye. The ocean glittered behind him. He had a few leaves stuck in his hair, and some dirt on his face, so unlike his clean and refined state that you usually saw him in. And the look he was giving you… it was so soft, so full of worry, concern, and love.

Perhaps you had hit your head hard enough to give yourself a concussion, with your luck it was more likely than your feelings being reciprocated.

And Jade’s staring at you was not helping the manner, he was looking you straight in the eye, and you couldn’t look away for some reason. You two hadn’t even been here for a full day yet! How could you expect to survive an entire week of this?!

You weren’t, that was the entire reason the both of you were here. Azul had grown tired of seeing Jade get distracted on the job, and Floyd was getting bored of seeing the two of you do nothing. But you and Jade didn’t need to know that, even if the mer-eel knew what Azul was plotting with this ‘vacation’. This was all a set-up for the two of you to confess, and what a fine set-up it was.

“You need to be more careful,” Jade breathed out, finally putting his concern at ease when he couldn’t find anything wrong.

There he was, giving you that look again. “Uhhhh, okay,” you said eloquently. Who could blame you really?

Jade chuckled softly as he helped you up, brushing some dirt off your shoulders. And before you knew it, you were rubbing off the smudge of dirt that was on his cheek, and he froze, looking at you with a curious look.

Shit, did I cross his boundaries? SHIT-

“You are full of surprises,” he murmured, taking the hand you used to smudge the dirt off his face into his, before placing a kiss on your earth-stained knuckles. A week alone, that’s rather unfair of you Azul, but no need to worry, I shall use it to my advantage. And he then placed a kiss to where you had bumped your head. “Hopefully that speeds up the healing process, my dear.”This is a dream, a fairytale scene. This can’t be actually happening… right? But the lingering sensation of his lips on your cheeks was very much, not a dream.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @hydra-sea @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech x gn reader #decided to go mutual pining because brain rot #azul and floyd are hiding in the bushes waiting for either of you to confess. floyd is bored and azul is getting impatient #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#or rather he kisses you #also i want to see him get a lil bit messy; and i remembered about the garden i mentioned in the event post; so you do some garden work #a mix of domestic and fairytale #irene!#I FUCKING FORGOT TO PUT IN PEOPLE'S CUSTOM TAG DAMMIT #all of my eel kisser friends are suffering because of gacha u_u have some food #scheduled post #why do i know so many fish kissers? i mean i'm one of them but still #i do unshrimp my spine; currently laying on my stomach to unshrimp; i unshrimp when i'm editing and doing tags

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jadedvibes · 1 year

Note

to be his wife 🥰

Mrs. Barber

Oh what a dream ♡ Let's imagine what it'd be like if after leaving his ex he met a lawyer that was his ideal match.

Pairing: Andy Barber x lawyer!reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, swearing, fluff, possessive!andy sprinkled in.

Word Count: 825

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

From the moment he stepped into the courtroom and saw you were opposing counsel Andy knew he was screwed. The whispers of the woman that could rival him as a prosecutor moving to the district didn’t contain how beautiful you were.

Your stellar professional reputation preceded you, but your bewitching presence was a surprise that completely caught him off guard.

Andy wasn’t one to get flustered under the pressures of the court, but when you looked at him, his speech briefly stuttered along with his heart. Your words flowed eloquently, and your confidence made him grateful that it was an open-and-shut case, because once court was adjourned he decided that a woman as brilliant as you belonged with him.

He pursued you until you gave in, but it was a lot harder than he anticipated. You weren’t looking for anything, yet his persistence ensured that you found it anyway. The man wore you down with his kindness, helpfulness, and those dazzling blue eyes always giving you his undivided attention. Despite your cynicism, you let yourself fall for the lawyer with the complicated past.

Fortunately, Andy ensured that you didn’t regret it. And to further prove his commitment, he proposed after six months of dating you, simply because he needed you to be his, in every way possible.

Just like he made you his, every night since you agreed to go out with him. You thought it might be a bit too early to sleep with him after your first official date. But as he helped you out of his Audi and walked you to your front door with your hand firmly in his, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Tell me to leave, honey,” he mumbled against your lips after kissing you goodnight.

“But I want you to stay,” you whispered before opening your door.

He took care of you that night, worshiping every inch of your body, just like he wanted to from the moment his eyes laid on you.

Your attraction couldn’t stay confined to just your places at night, and that’s how stolen kisses at work turned into making love behind locked office doors. But sex wasn’t always like that, sometimes he’d fuck you, quick and rough, just enough to get you both there. Other days, he’d take his time, dominating you hard and slow; whispering the filthiest words you’d only hear when you got him like that.

“That’s it, honey. Go soft under me, fuck – this pussy’s so fuckin’ tight it’s like she wants to keep me inside,” Andy groaned against the shell of your ear, his beard grazing against your soft skin as he pounded into you. You felt him everywhere; his warm lips, his large hands, his hard length roughly sinking into you over and over again. Until you were screaming his name, barely able to hear him mutter how well you squeezed his cock and how pretty you were as you came for him.

The two of you eloped on a weekend trip in Portland, and the main thing that changed once you were officially his wife was that his adoration and devotion became even more intense.

Andy was a self-assured man, but now that you were his, you didn’t miss the way his possessiveness lingered whenever you interacted with other male colleagues. In fact, you loved the way he’d make it apparent that you belonged to him. You loved it even more when he took you home and reminded you that you were his Mrs. Barber – as if the ring on your finger and the hold on your heart wasn’t indication enough.

His protective nature, the way he cherished you as a partner and always took care of you made you fall for him more and more every day. A few colleagues at work even mentioned that you changed him for the better. He didn’t hide the fact that he was once a workaholic that prioritized his job more than anything in his past relationship; instead he made sure that you knew that you were his top priority through his actions. You were his new beginning, a chance to do things differently, and he certainly made the most of that.

Andy was the perfect husband to you, his wonderful wife.

Because you were his ideal partner. You were the warm softness to his rough exterior – although you were strong when you needed to be and Andy really admired that. You were the one that he trusted to tear down the tall walls he’d built up over the years. He needed someone that didn’t judge him about his past, that actually appreciated him, and saw him for the deeply caring man that he was. It amazed him how you fit the bill in every sense; a fact he expressed gratitude for often.

And now that Andy loves you, he can never stop. Because you’re his better half, his gorgeous and amazing wife, his Mrs. Barber.

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ambrosiagoldfish · 3 months

Note

First time requesting anything sooo let me know if I get anything wrong but,,, could I request some dragon!reader x Venti (Genshin Impact) fluff ? Dragon in like... The way that Zhongli is with a dragon and a humanoid form. let me know if I should send another ask with anything additional,,

Draconic Inquiries

Venti x Dragon! Reader

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff and Gn! Reader!

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1634

A/N: Hi, thank you for the request! I’m sorry it took so long! There was a lot of hiccups that came up this past week, but I’m happy to finally have had gotten to finishing this!

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a Fluff Fic or head-canons so I did both! I would have asked you but I was already upset that it took this long to write, so I decided not to! I also wrote it to be romantic! I hope this is ok! If not, just shoot me another request and I’ll make you a new one!!

Proofread but of course I could have missed something.

He was first introduced to you via The Traveler, and right away he could tell something about you reminded him a lot of that "old block-head" as Venti so eloquently puts it. Of course, you weren’t anything like Zhongli, but there were some very similar aspects between the two of you at a more biological level.

It didn't take him long to figure it out though, despite his carefree and lovable nature, he is quite perceptive. He could tell from the power imitating from you, that you weren't some regular run of the mill Allogene. The power that you gave off wasn't exactly like his or even most of the other archons it was more… Pure? Something more undisturbed than most elemental beings.

Whatever you were, he wasn't sure if you were open about it, Him, being an Archon, would make him relate to you regarding hiding the truth about yourself, if that is the case. So he decided to ask you about it alone. You were a bit hesitant at first to outright admit it, especially to a person who seemed so interested. Being an Elemental beast, were able to sense an alarming amount of Anemo Energy coming from this short drunkard bard, way too much to just be some regular mortal.

When you finally reveal yourself to be a dragon, he's honestly pretty excited. He's only ever met 4 dragons in his 2600+ year life span, Zhongli, who was just annoyed by any questions he would ask, Dvalin, who, despite being one of his closest friends, is also annoyed by many of his drunken inquiries. Durin and Ursa the Drake tried destroying Mondstadt so they were definitely not an option... So he's been dying to ask a vishap some questions.

And Immediately they started

"Dragon's have hoards, right? Surely there has to be a teensy bit of fine wine there? No? Darn it..."

"Can you breathe fire?!"

"Is it true that dragon's are scared of mice? Eh... Wait! no! That's Elephants. Nevermind!"

It was quite a lot to process and answer them all in time before he went on to the next question. Eventually he seemed to run out of them, that or he saw how distressed you were trying to keep up.

"That's enough questions for today, Ehe! Next time we should have our conversation over a nice cold glass of cider!"

"Next time?"

Venti then, from that day forward, had the two of you meeting up more and more, He would bring the drinks, both Alcoholic and Non-Alcoholic, depending on if you drink or not. and every time, Venti would somehow come up with more and more questions about your heritage, nonstop rambling of questions that would go from dusk till dawn. He seemed to never run out of them. But eventually he would start asking questions that weren't about your Draconic lifestyle. Things like,

"So Y/n, have you ever dated anyone before?"

"Hey Yn! Have you heard that the Windblume Festival is coming soon? Ehe, What do you think the original windblume was? Cecilia? Great choice!"

"Have you ever been to Windrise? It's the place with the huge tree! Huh? eh, You haven't? I'll make sure to show you sometime"

The Windblume festival finally comes around, the whole of Mondstadt was in a fury of unending joy, there were games, foods and deserts, the entire of the city’s buildings were all decorated in many different flowers and ribbons. Dandelions soared through the air, each one carrying the wish of a soul in Mondstadt.

The Day was fantastic, but it seems Venti had more energy to spend after the day's festivities, Venti drags you by the hand through the decorated city streets, past the vendor's shops, and over the bridge, all while you were blindfolded. Of course, you were a little scared being led through all these places without even knowing where exactly you were, but your elemental sense was top notch, not to mention your regular senses at that. So you knew you weren't in any real danger.

"Venti, this is a bit dramatic, even for you"

"Eh he… very funny Y/n, but we're almost there! Just a few more steps and... There!"

The pulling of your hand suddenly stops and Venti’s hand lets go of yours, with one quick motion the blindfold obscuring your eyes was snatched clean off. It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the sun beginning to set but even then being blindfolded caused even the slightest of light to sting your eyes.

Looking up, a big tree hung over you both, lying under the tree, just by the roots, was a checkered red and white blanket layed across the viridescent grass, a seemingly warnout picnic basket layed atop it. From where you stood you could make out a plethora of food and drinks, Pie, Dandelion wine, Apples. You certainly knew there was more, you could tell just from your sense of smell.

But the most notable feature about the fairytale esq scene in front of you was Venti, holding something, a bouquet of Ceclia’s

"These are what you believe to be the original Windblume right? I picked them myself so, rest assured! They’re guaranteed to be the best of quality, ehe!"

"Y/n, the time we’ve spent together these past few months have meant the world to me... Since the moment you arrived in Mondstadt, you’ve been tangled up in every thought of my mind, you've become all I can think about, my one and only worry, my muse, my... everything... What I'm trying to say is, Y/n, I love you and if you feel the same, could you continue being my muse?" His arms stretch slightly to you, offering you the bouquet in his hand.

Everything about this, the scenery, the way he asked, down to the golden hour from the sun, it was all so unforgettable. Your hands slowly move to grasp the Cecilia’s, bringing them up to your face and smelling them.

“Nothing would make me happier, Venti”

Venti’s eyes lit up, blush washed his face as a soft breeze quickly caried him over to you as he practically tackled you into his embrace, the sudden forces causes you both to spin in each others arms, all while Venti’s heartfelt laugh drowns out all other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” His voice grew louder with the repetition as a gleeful smile plastered on his face. He reaches back from his embrace, quickly grabbing his lyre and giving it a few test strums.

“The day isn’t over yet! Allow me to serenade you with a song I’ve made especially for you, my muse.”

And with that, you both continued to laugh and sing throughout the night. The sounds of the feverish festivities of you both echoed through Windrise, your love that would last for eons to come, dancing across the wind.

You both truly, couldn’t be happier.

HEADCANONS

Venti always makes sure that he’s always there for you when you aren’t your best mentally or physically. He cudddles you when your sad, listens to you when you’re upset. Overall he may be a loud bard but he’s also a great listener!

And speaking of cuddles he LOVES them. Since youre a dragon, your body temperature is a lot higher than humans, so he loves the warmth close to him. And if you ever decide to cuddle while IN dragon form then he wouldn’t let you leave for a while. (I also headcanon that since he’s a wind spirit, his body temperature isn’t that high so he’s often a little cold, so an S/o with a high body temperature would be perfect for him)

Regardless of if you can fly or not in dragon form, he loves to go on walks with you, and by “walks” I mean YOU do the walking and he just sits on your back. If you CAN fly than he’d be less of a koala and actually fly with you.

(You may have scared a few of the locals but love is love)

If there’s ever a time that you have to fight, either to protect him, yourself or something else, he will always have your back. Of course, him being a Wind Spirit and an Archon he has at least some power but after losing his Gnosis and him being demoted to the least powerful archon, he’s not incredibly strong. But you being a dragon seems to make up for his lack of power. The times you’ve saved him from some lowly fatuus trying to ambush him, he really couldn’t be more thankful.

He’s really into PDA (no surprise there) so kisses, handholding, etc are all commonplace. He's also always bringing you gifts like food. He’s not much of a baker, but he’d try to make anything for you that you’d want. (Just uh… don’t expect it to be anything spectacular)

Gifts he likes are Cider (obvi) and of course, Apples! You’d get him the finest of wines, (that’s totally not from your dragon hoard, because you are TOTALLY not that kind of dragon •-•^) and he would love them more each time.

He would eventually introduce you to Dvailn (it’s his best bud so it’s a given you’d meet him eventually) and Zhongli who he thought you two might have something in common with.

Overall, having a dragon S/o is one of the best things to happen to him (Tied only with that time Diluc accidentally left his wine cellar unlocked) He’s always wanting to learn more about you and loves spending time with you!

#x reader #x male reader #character x male reader #fanfic #character x reader #x female reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #venti x dragon reader #genshin venti #venti x reader #venti x you #venti x y/n #genshin impact x you #requests open

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courtforshort15 · 1 year

Text

Dirty Little Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: Matt Murdock is a pervert, and he is completely unashamed to admit it.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sex

Masterlist

Matthew Murdock is a pervert.

Matthew Murdock, the fearless and fearsome Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, is a pervert, and he knows it, revels in it, and is not ashamed of it.

And to be honest…you’re not exactly shocked. A man with red lips perpetually slanted in a smirk and an insane amount of stamina was bound to be absolutely filthy. It was probably guaranteed from birth, probably written down somewhere in the cosmos with the headline Man Loses Sight, but Not of Your Clit.

Or some ridiculous bullshit like that.

But even while he’s charmed his way into your bed (and heart, if you’re being honest) it still takes a bit of an adjustment, reconciling the gentle man who brings you coffee on mornings where you can’t quite seem to function, and the man who roughly pounds you into his bed the night before, hands pressing bruises into your hips as he pulls you closer against him.

You haven’t seen him in a few days, so naturally the need for him is there, but you try to focus your mind elsewhere. He’s out doing the Lord’s (Devil’s?) work, probably knocking the literal teeth out of someone’s mouth who one hundred percent deserves it, so you’re perfectly fine staying in and keeping to yourself for a cold and miserable rainy Friday night.

Curling up on the couch with a large fluffy blanket draped over you, you watch a movie as it leads you through a random storyline of twists and turns that includes a handsome hero, a damsel in distress, and a passionate, but horribly choreographed love scene that simultaneously makes you cringe and squirm at the heat that briefly runs through you. The friction between your legs is fleeting, but you don’t do anything further, engrossed in the horribly cliche movie as it moves to the next scene.

More popcorn is tossed in your mouth as you watch the movie on Netflix. How it's been rated on their weekly Top Ten list, you have no idea, but you’re committed now. Determined to stay your course and finish the damn movie, you continue to try to wrap your mind around a plot that hasn’t quite figured out where it wants to go, while simultaneously eyeing the hero’s unfortunately flat ass in vague amusement.

Matt’s ass is decidedly not flat, and it is yours to grab whenever you see fit. The thought causes another squirm in your seat, and you allow yourself a quick sigh of reminiscence before you focus back on the movie.

Out of the blue, your phone vibrates on your coffee table in front of you, and the sound makes you jerk in surprise, the harsh rattle against the glass almost shrieking throughout your apartment. You reach over to pick it up, and upon noticing who's calling you, you pause your movie to answer.

The man always has a way of knowing when you're thinking of him.

“I can smell you, you know,” he says the second the call connects, not bothering with a hello. Matt is one of the most eloquent men you’ve ever met, especially when he’s in front of a jury, smile and sharp words sailing throughout the courtroom in a display of confidence you know is sometimes forced. But even while he seems so put together in public, you know his real persona is someone who is a little rougher around the edges, and he’s not always one to beat around the bush when he has something on his mind.

Your hand pauses on its way to your mouth with another piece of popcorn, frowning in confusion. There’s the faint sound of air whispering past him on the other line, indicating that he’s on the move, and you can easily imagine him making his way across a rooftop, shoulders tense and mouth settled in a smirk as he prowls above the city. “Ok? I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Whatever you’re doing right now,” Matt replies, and there’s a low grunt as he no doubt jumps and lands on something solid, the brief slap of feet on concrete or whatever roofs are made of these days. “I can smell it.”

“I mean, I’m watching a movie,” you say with a shrug, knowing full well that he’s not around to pick up on the movement. “I made popcorn. That's probably what you’re smelling, I guess.”

“It’s definitely not the popcorn,” Matt remarks, and the voice sounds almost teasing as he refuses to tell you what he meant. Your eyes narrow suspiciously for just a moment. “What kind of movie are you watching?”

You finally toss the piece of popcorn in your mouth before licking the butter off of your fingers. “Some stupid cliche romance movie on Netflix. It’s kinda awful, but I’m invested at this point.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s definitely bad. The writing is horrible, the actors are almost worse, and the plot makes no sense.”

"Mhmm," he replies, his breath briefly catching, and you imagine him doing some crazy acrobatic trick across the top of a building in Hell's Kitchen. What a showoff. "And did this stupid cliche romance movie have a sex scene, by any chance?"

"Yes, and it was terrible," you groan, throwing your head back against your couch cushion behind you. It's an interesting question to come from him, but you allow it. "You could tell the actors just weren't into it, and the sounds they made were so fake and cringe-worthy."

"Interesting," he murmurs, the sound low in your ear. "But obviously you still somewhat enjoyed it."

Something in the way he says it causes your whole body to freeze, every square inch coming to an abrupt halt. The breath in your chest stutters, lungs almost refusing to move as your mind struggles to put things together.

How would he know you–

No.

No. No. No.

“Matt,” you whisper as horror begins to dawn on you, settling deep in a chest that's still struggling to breathe. You can practically feel the blood drain from your face, every single drop sliding from the capillaries under your skin. “What did you mean when you said you could…smell me?”

There’s a quiet snort. “What do you think I meant?” The tone of his voice suggests that he's smirking and enjoying your apparent and sudden uneasiness. He always seems to enjoy your discomfort when it comes to things like this, always seems to enjoy the way he can so easily rile you up, and you want to absolutely throttle him until that damn smile of devilish satisfaction disappears from his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch the bridge of your nose in an effort to calm down. “Please tell me you were lying when you said you weren't talking about the smell of popcorn that’s wafting through my apartment.”

“I think we both already know that’s not what I was talking about,” his voice has deepened exponentially as he replies, and it almost sounds like a growl. “But if that’s what makes you feel better, then sure, we can go with that.”

You groan in sheer embarrassment. “Oh my God, this can’t be happening.”

He laughs over the phone, and the sound causes you to shrink into the cushions as your face flushes, the blood rapidly returning and causing your face to heat.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell you've been watching something that turned you on? You should know better than that, sweetheart."

“I didn’t even think about it,” you whine into the phone. And you hadn't. The sexual aspect of your relationship is still new, despite your apparent and desperate hunger for each other that had lasted for months before you'd gotten together, and you never would have imagined him being able to hunt you down like a bloodhound using the slick between your thighs to guide him to you. You're absolutely mortified. "Where are you? You can't possibly be able to–”

"You'd be surprised just how much I can pick up on when I'm focused," Matt says bluntly before the tone of his voice changes into something more heated. "And I assure you that the way you smell when you're wet isn't something I'll ever be able to ignore now that I've had my mouth on you."

"Fuck."

"Is that an offer?" You can practically hear the smug grin that's surely on his face. What an asshole, always teasing you like this. If he was here you’d…probably jump him, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. "You know you kinda have a standing invitation for that, Matt."

He groans from the other end of the line, and it shoots straight down to your core, flashbacks of him making that exact groan when he was inside of you the other night. "I'll definitely take you up on that."

"Please do," you say, chewing on your lip, still coming to terms with the fact that he could fucking smell your cunt from wherever the hell he is, and that he definitely seems to be affected by it, if his groan was anything to go by. You clench your thighs together as the ache for him begins to intensify.

How the hell is this even your life now?

Matt clears his throat, but still seems content to keep the conversation going. “Speaking of movies, do you know what we should try doing together?”

“What?” You ask hesitantly, not sure if you actually want to hear his answer. “I swear to God, if you say something dirty, I'm going to–"

Matt takes no pity on you, his reply absolutely salacious as it cuts you off. “Watching porn.”

Jesus.

You cover your mouth as the loudest squeak you've ever heard come from your mouth echoes throughout your apartment, quickly followed by an intense fit of coughing. If the neighbors were to think you were dying from the sound of you choking on your own goddamn spit, you wouldn’t be surprised. “What?”

“Well, technically only you’d be watching it,” he tells you, sounding thoughtful, as if pondering the logistics. “But I would love to hear you describe what’s happening on the screen while I have my hands on you. I think it would be fun.”

“Fun,” you repeat faintly, hand patting your chest as you struggle to recover. “You think that would be fun.”

“Oh, absolutely.” His voice is low and devastating in your ear, each syllable going straight to the juncture between your legs. You gulp loudly, the room feeling twenty degrees warmer than it had before he had called. "Maybe play with your pussy, get you off with my tongue or fingers while I make you tell me every little detail that's happening on your screen. Or maybe I'll edge you and won't let you come until it ends.”

Your jaw drops lower and lower with every filthy word that pours from his mouth. You should have known he was out to absolutely destroy you with these thoughts tonight.

"You're a fucking sinner, Matt," you're finally able to choke out. "A fucking pervert."

He laughs. "Oh sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."

Despite your sheer embarrassment, you find yourself shifting on your couch, suddenly desperate for friction as the slick increases between your thighs. There’s a deep, knowing rumble coming from Matt’s chest that you can hear from the other line. He’s no doubt caught on to your increase in arousal, and your cheeks heat up all over again.

"Does that turn you on?" Matt's being absolutely ruthless. "Because it sure smells like it does."

"I don't…I can't–"

"Tell me, sweetheart," he breathes over the phone, and the rhythmic sound of his feet hitting pavement speeds up. "Tell me if it does, and I'll consider taking it easy on you tonight."

"Tonight?" You manage to squeeze out around a tongue that's gone dry. "You're coming over tonight?"

"Did you think I was going to be able to stay away knowing how wet you are right now?"

You can't help the moan that suddenly escapes your lips. God, yes. You need it. "I, uh…when will you–"

"I'm a block away," Matt tells you, breathing sounding slightly strangled. "Do you think you're ready for me?"

Your whole body is fucking burning.

"Yes, Matt," you groan, fanning yourself rapidly, knowing you're not likely to cool off for the rest of your night, not while he's with you. Might as well turn on the air conditioning because of how stifling your apartment is going to feel while he absolutely rails you. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Good girl," he purrs through the phone. Fuck, he knows what that word paired with that tone of voice does to you. He’s apparently unlocked all your secrets by now because he gets satisfaction in pulling you apart on his cock while he whispers that in your ear, fucking you harshly into the sheets. "Unlock your window for me."

You're off your couch like a lightning bolt, stumbling over to your living room window, movie and popcorn forgotten. You flip the lock switch. "Okay…you'll be able to come right in."

"I sure hope that's true." His voice is low and teasing. You smack your forehead with your palm at the euphemism you unwittingly let slip. Your hand is absolutely trembling against your skin, and it’ll remain that way until he’s finished inside you, your orgasm shoving him into his like a drop of kerosene to an open flame. "But I'm still going to spend some time working you over before we get to that point."

"Jesus Christ."

He laughs quietly in your ear. "Not quite, sweetheart, but I'll allow it this once. Just make sure it's my name you say next."

Your whole body throbs, desperate for him. "How far…how far away–"

"Just about there." You hear a soft thump from his end. He's probably jumped and landed somewhere, and you pray it's the roof of your apartment building. "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

The phone call abruptly ends, and you stare at it in confusion before the creaking of your fire escape startles you. Gasping, you look up and your eyes land immediately on the dark figure that's slowly pulling open your window with one hand, the other still holding his phone. Matt's silhouette is sharp against the light of the moon coming in through the window, and the smirk on his face sends a thrill down your body as he opens his mouth for his request.

"Take off your clothes."

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #matt murdock x afab reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x afab reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction

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anothertransauthor · 8 months

Text

Ok I’m antsy to write something starting out just to see what I can do. I’m going to start with the ABC sfw list first for the band + Charles. If you want to see any additional characters you can comment or ask!

ABC Headcannons (SFW) Nathan Explosion

Summary: like I said this is Nathan’s full ABC list. I’m going to be as detailed as I possibly can for your viewing pleasure ;). I’m feeling Pickles or Murderface next.

Warning: slight angst // dipping into they’re toxic traits they’re learning to overcome

Word count: 4,410 words (oops!)

.. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Nathan is a bit apprehensive at the start of your relationship due to his rocky previous ones. He likes you, don’t get him wrong, but he’s never really gotten the chance to get so close to someone like he has with you. He’s still trying to wrap his head around how he hadn’t scared you away when he thought you were just some fan. Still you wiggled your way into his Iron Maiden heart, open for you to remove the defensive impalers he’d put up.

After he’s learned to accept the affection you bestowed upon him graciously, and patiently might I add, he uses the tactics he’s learned from you to be a better boyfriend. He asks about your day, genuinely enthralled by your voice. Nathan swears he could listen to you for hours even if you really weren’t talking about anything.

Massaging his shoulders and back was always the key to calming him down whenever he was insatiably irritated. He figured it would surely get his message across to you, who doesn’t love the intimate act of vanquishing the poisons of a stressful day with your own hands? It didn’t matter where you were, if you weren’t having a good time he’d find some way to expel the tension. Say you were backstage with the band after a show and you were overwhelmed with the lights and the noise, he’d take your hand and gently massage it thoroughly. He’d roll his thumb pads over each finger, each knuckle- no joint left aching. Even if he only held one hand, every inch of that hand would be tended to. If they were cold, clammy, and anxiously shaking, they were surely warm and quelled now. Despite Nathan’s stature, despite his large hands, and despite what his attitude had lead you to believe, he was gentle with his hands.

When all else failed, Nathan resorted to what he was best at to convey just how much he adored you. Writing was always Nathan’s go to outlet to organize the scrambled thoughts in his mind, it’s apparent in his music- brutal poems that paired with equally intense music. Racing thoughts and far away words always made more sense when he put the pen to the paper, the unmoving paragraphs further cemented everything he felt. You had started a notebook to house all of the eloquent letters he’s written for you to remind you that at the end of the day you were the one he’d return to. Your heart was home to his.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Nathan is all about going out and doing things with people he’s particularly friendly with. Expected to go on your fair share of road trips and lots of camping. It’s all the activities he enjoyed with his dad, he considered him a friend so why wouldn’t he bring his friends along for the experience?

You never took Nathan to be a survival buff, but given his himbo nature you weren’t that surprised. He’s taught you a lot about being in the wilderness whenever he had time between records.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh my gods, if his arms aren’t constricted around you he will not sleep well that night. Your warmth has become so incredibly soothing to him, he falls asleep almost as soon as your head rests on his chest. Nathan is essentially a 250 pound teddy bear at the end of a rough day where all he wanted to do was wind down with you. He really enjoyed how your smaller frame slotted with his, how natural it felt to wrap his arms around you and stay like that forever.

Nathan had a 3 point plan when it came to his night time routine with you; Step one: acquire the snuggle bug (a nickname he’d drunkenly bestowed upon you when you both retired to his room after a drinking contest with pickle), Step two: profit, Step three: uhhhhh. Ok so maybe it was more of a two point plan, but his point still stands.

If the secret softie couldn’t fall asleep as fast as he’d intended, he’d watch the rhythmic rise and fall off of your chest as you slumbered peacefully against his big burly chest. His hands would slip under your shirt to rub your back, or stomach depending on how you slept that night, in idle circles. The feeling of your skin no matter if it was smooth or blemished, he never cared either way, soothed him more than he thought it could. You were real, you were here- with him! And gods did you look exhilarating in his arms, trusting him completely as you dreamed.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

There was something in Nathan that constantly made him want to impress you as your relationship grew increasingly more docile. He picked up more around the areas the two of you occupied most at Mordhaus; cleaning up the empty beer cans and putting away any stray bongs or other illicit drugs that were littered around the main room the previous night, or he’d take the time to clean his room and bathroom a tad more he usually would when it was just him. It was never about getting a deep clean, he wasn’t embarrassed to have you over when his room was messy, yet something about you made him more motivated to do more than just sit on his ass with you.

Settling down never crossed his mind until you, that was always something he’d associated with parents and old people- you settled down when you wanted to start a family and give up your career and anything that gave you substance. It was always love or hate when he thought about it. On one hand, he absolutely loved you and wanted to spend his life with you. His parents always seemed so happy with each other even after all the years they’d spent together, so maybe it couldn’t be too bad. Yet on the other hand he wouldn’t give up the band or the empire he built for you, you never wanted him to.

Who said you two had to slow down or give up to settle completely into each other? Nathan’s wanted to settle up with you, so he’d said, to never slow down or stop experiencing the fast life he was so accustomed to.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

The way Nathan would break up with you depends on how deep he was into the relationship with you. He wouldn’t have any qualms about bluntly telling you to stay out of his life if he wasn’t feeling it, and he would tell you the moment the thought arose. He’s been with a few women who’d overstayed their welcome and he’s learned not to dance around it if he wanted the comforting discomfort of his loneliness back. Alternatively, if he’s been invested, gave a shit, and was receptive to you opening your soul to him, he’d be more delicate. Whether it was a fault on his end, or you had finally had enough of his baggage he could feel it. He could feel when your laugh didn’t hold the same joy in it like it used to, your eyes didn’t look at him with the enthusiasm he’s grown accustomed to anymore. When Nathan noticed the signs, it was the most brutal pain he’s ever felt, emotionally that is. He never wanted you to feel like you were trapped with him, it’s just as bad if not worse for sticking around just because he was famous in his eyes.

Much like his affection for you, the man has to put all of his feelings, all the words he has left to say to you, and his best wishes for you all on paper. It’s not a script mind you, more of a practice for how he’d approach you. He felt pitiful as he stood in front of his mirror as you slept in the bed just feet from him, mumbling tiredly as he rehearsed the best approach. Nathan didn’t want to completely break your spirits or guilt trip you, the only thing that has brought him joy was your happiness and even if you had to find it with someone else he’d be content knowing you weren’t forcing something that had died out a long time ago.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

The moment he felt like he could talk to you openly without the guard of his walls, he knew he wanted to be yours forever. Mind you this would be over the course of at least a couple of years as you grew with the band. He was a busy man and in the beginning he’d rather do anything else that sit down to have a conversation he thought he’d regret at the time.

And now here he was five years later, the best version of himself that he’s been in gods knows how long, commissioning a ring he’d deem as the perfect oath to you. He’d been planning this for the last six months, between working on the music and getting his band mates to swear on their lives that they wouldn’t fuck anything up the time has passed him by. When everything was perfect he put his plan into motion. While on some vacation he’d pull you aside, away from the band and any prying eyes and propose to you. He’d been so caught up in not crying that he definitely didn’t notice Pickle and Toki recording him while skwisgaar recovered from his preemptive cringe to see everything went surprisingly well.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

While Nathan was essentially a brick wall, he has learned to carry himself a bit lighter while he was around you. He used to be heavy handed whenever he handled you but since then he figured out how to turn the brutality meter down. Not to say he didn’t rough house with you, play fights were a guarantee.

Emotionally, it took several trials and tribulations to find that sweet spot he could handle. While he did figure out how to talk a bit easier with you there were still certain topics he’d be blunt and a little hurtful, though it’s never his intention. There’s just some things he needed to work through himself before he drug you into it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Nathan’s arms are two heavy magnets when it comes to you. Anytime you were cooking, washing dishes, or hell just standing around, you’d come to expect Nathan to hug you from behind at any given moment.

He’d also liked to pick you up just to marvel at how light you were! He also enjoyed how you’d instinctively wrap your arms around him but don’t tell him I told you that. Any time he could have you like that he would, most often pulling you in his lap no matter where you were (it was also a tactic to scare any wandering eyes).

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Just like with the engagement, he would tell you the moment he knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. It took a lot of time, you showing your love for him through your actions so you didn’t scare him off. Nathan is grateful for it and it certainly had him thinking about it. With each passing day he grew more confident that his feelings were concrete.

When he told you, it wasn’t anything special, hell if you ask him he probably wouldn’t remember what you were doing when he did. You could have been laying in bed, you humming a soft tune and he was just laying there. Whatever the case was he wanted to catch you in your most candid moment, being the you- the person he fell for, before he finally said those three magic words.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

It’s Nathan fucking Explosion. You were the one thing he truly had any incentive to keep for himself and himself alone. If he so much as catches anyone glancing your way they caught his cold intimidating glare in response. He knew better than to make a scene, the first incident nearly killed you with how embarrassed you were. He definitely pulled the “do you know who I am” card and slung a few swears, very loudly might I add.

He would take every step he could to keep you close to prevent anyone from making that move. Every possible chance he could get you were in his lap, leaning against his chest, or wrapped around his arm. It was definitely something he needed to work on, but it was gonna be a bit of a bumpy road. For now you appreciate the thought behind it at the very least.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

You had actually initiated the first kiss, but when he found his footing he found it. He was breathless as he watched you crawl over him, wanting to do something but didn’t want to scare you incase you changed your mind last minute. The kiss grew fervent quickly as his lips molded to yours in his own sloppy rhythm.

Usually when he was itching for a kiss you’d catch him staring at your lips and then quickly away nonchalantly. Other times, he’d turn your face from what ever you were doing or whoever you were talking to to steal a quick one. And no matter the length or intensity he always held so much passion with each connection.

Nathan was a sucker for kissing the top of your head. Whatever shampoo you used always seemed to lull the giant into a docile state as he hugged you from behind. Pickle mentioned it as something akin to witchcraft how fast you could switch up his mood. Alternatively, when he’d lay his heavy head in your lap he’d occasionally turn his head to kiss at your thighs. No matter how small or thick they were he adored how comfortable they were to lay on.

When it came to receiving, he was fairly partial to cheek kisses. It tickled him how gentle you were with him not matter what you did, even though you knew he was the farthest thing from fragile. As unbrutal as it was, he couldn’t help but enjoy every attack you’d unleash upon him, smothering his face in peppered kisses. In addition, he liked getting neck kisses, not even in a sexual way. Lately he’d say the most metal thing was waking up to your partner grazing their lips against his throat before following it up with a proper good morning kiss.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Children were very rarely an obstacle Nathan had come across, even when he did he had at least nough common sense not to act like a complete jack ass around them. He’d goof around, tell a grey joke and generally just get along until they could be done with the whole situation.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Nathan usually slept in so you were up before him most mornings. The man almost always had an iron grip around you preventing you from moving until you, playfully, threatened to piss the bed. Then you’d earned yourself a half asleep “ick” before the heavy limb was begrudgingly removed from you.

When both of you were finally ready for the day, the first thing you did together was stuff your faces with breakfast food and down some black coffee to shake off the rest of the sleep that plagued your systems. After a brief discussion of what your respective plans were for the day you’d go on about your separate ways.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It was never a guarantee when you’d settle down on any given night. Nathan was a busy man after all, and that included when he wasn’t doing anything music related. You couldn’t complain that’s just how the band was. Nearly constant procrastination to get stuff done was the only unchanging factor, so you were dragged around to all their adventures and shenanigans.

When you did finally retreat to the bedroom at the end of the night, the first thing on your itinerary was climbing into a shower. Lately Nathan’s skin has been breaking out from the stage makeup he wears, but fear not for you figured out a skin care routine for him. And it started with you helping him wash his face properly in the shower. Man has a 6-in-one that he uses for everything.

After showers always consisted of sitting on the bed, wrapped in towels while you talked about any and everything to procrastinate actually getting dressed and settling down. Remember how I said Nathan procrastinates everything? When you finally did get up to get dressed you very rarely went to your own closet, instead you opted just to take one of Nathan’s massive shirts so you didn’t have to sleep in pants.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It didn’t take long to realize that you weren’t going away that easily, and it took even less time for him to realize that you weren’t like a ‘normal’ fan of his. You had confided your fair share of secrets in him that he thought he wouldn’t care about. He found himself holding onto every word you said and realized that maybe he should let you in the metaphorical door. Usually it was small details or a look into how his thought process goes.

Whenever he told you something new it was seldom prompted. It was like you’d stumbled into a secret area in a video game while you were exploring, and the character you’d been trailing with suddenly drops some lore without warning. Despite how odd his patterns were it made him all the more intriguing to you, learning about him as an individual and putting the puzzle pieces together.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Patience was like a generator for him, the less stress he had plugged in metaphorically, the more patience he had. But as more and more things were piled on the battery drained faster. He tried not to be irritable around you, you never in your time with him ever gave him a reason to be mad. He didn’t want you to be in the splash zone if he snapped.

The only exception to the battery rule he had was if anything happened to you. He can remember all too vividly being at some bar full of regular jack offs with you and the band. Someone where in the background while you and the band were laughing about something Pickle had said, a bar fight had started. At first Nathan shrugged it off, it was annoying but it didn’t ruin the atmosphere. That was until one of them threw a half full bottle of Natty Light just above your head, having missed its initial target. The glass shattered and nicked your shoulder, the remaining booze that splashed didn’t do much to help the situation as you winced hardly at the stinging.

None of the band knew Nathan had hopped over the table until they heard him toss a couple of rage filled swears at the culprit.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Having always been slow to learn things, Nathan took it upon himself to keep a section of his notebook dedicated to your favorite anything. It could be as small as your favorite color or as important as an allergy you’d mentioned so he didn’t accidentally gift you something you couldn’t eat/enjoy. He would challenge himself to memorize important dates and names you’d told him in passing to surprise you when he asks about them later.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in their relationship?)

The singers favorite moment in the time he’s met you would probably have to be the first time he heard you sing. As insignificant as it may seem, he did really enjoy your voice.

He was walking back to his room after having a particularly frustrating conversation with Charles. When he grew closer he could hear muffled noises that sounded like humming. Slowly, he opened the door to see you standing by the window, looking out over the rest of Mordhaus as you sang. It was a song he’s never heard but you carried it so well.

Nathan shut the door quietly and made his way over, any frustration he had faded into the back ground. His arms wrapped around your waist and he had to bite back a chuckle as you squealed. The moment was short but it was the softest he’s felt for anyone ever, and he has you to thank for that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Much like the jealousy segment showcased, Nathan is usually on top of everything when it comes to your protection. He’s a fuckin brick shithouse so he can handle anything physically. During the course of your relationship with him, he’s most likely hospitalized a small country worth of people who tried to make any kind of move to hurt you— being in the spot light did have its risks you know.

Security ran deeper than just what he could do physically. Having to overcome fear and rejection, he’s learned a small handful of coping mechanisms. He uses that knowledge to help you whenever he recognizes the signs of panic or in general just discomfort. Sometimes you’d have to remind him that you’re ok, that it wasn’t that serious. He just worries about you!

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Nathan’s parents were always he blueprint when it came to his perspective of love. When he got famous he never thought he’d reach it, but now that he has you he’s ecstatic to use every trick he’s observed in his youth. On dates and anniversaries expect a plethora of cliche gifts: big bouquets of roses, stuffed animals, jewelry.

He engraved each and every date that something important has happened on in his brain, and also written several times on calendars and in his notebook, so there was absolutely no chance he’d forget anything. He’s working with Charles to plan events and parties for your anniversary, the big fancy ones and not just something he’d usually throw together with the guys.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Nathan tends to shut down some days when he’d have a particularly bad dream…speaking of he’s rather private about his dreams. Any time you’d ask what was on his mind he refused to elaborate further than just “mm’bad dream..”

He was a diva in his own way, if it wasn’t perfect it wasn’t accepted. So many albums lost, green rooms wrecked, tours nearly ruined. Though it makes you uncomfortable to see him regress to tantrums sometimes, you chalked it up to the fame. These moments were small in comparison to your relationship as a whole.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Nathan takes at least some pride in his appearance, anything so he didn’t fall to Williams level. He did have an Old Spice 4-in-1: shampoo, conditioner, face wash, body wash. Why have so many products that all smelled different? It was a lot on his senses so he uses that so all of him was clean and smelled like…wait what did the bottle say? Congealed Liquified Corpse…it was a Dethklok x Old Spice collab. Brutal name aside, it actually made him smell earthy, piney even— it was a joke in a bottle.

Shower practice aside, he did the basics when it came to his actual appearance; he’d comb his hair, brush his teeth, wipe his ass. It did the job well enough and he was ok with how he looked.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely he would, you’d become his home. You domesticated the beast and he was forever putty in your hands. Without you, he’d feel lost. There was no hole in his heart, it was just gone— you were his heart. Any time you had to leave for some other business Charles had you doing, he’d just mope around alone in the room if he wasn’t distracting himself with the band. Even then, the party felt incomplete without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Nathan is very fluent in French, like he sounds like he grew up speaking it. He most definitely sweet talks you in French. Alternatively he would get away with saying the most outta pocket and down right filthy shit to you and no one has a clue until they see you quickly turn red.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In a partner, he really doesn’t want just some fan— he’s been burned way too many times. They’re shallow and don’t even want to know who he is as a person, it’s slimy and not to mention very one sided.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

See his thre- uhh two point plan, in the cuddle section. He won’t sleep well if he isn’t tangled up with you. In addition if you sleep with any kind of noise going on, he’d adapt and now he can’t sleep without anything going on in the background. Noticing his infatuation with the ocean lately, you introduced him to whale songs to sleep to and boy howdy is he out like a light whenever you turn it on.

Ok I got a little carried away, but I’m really proud of it! Let me know what you think of my big pushover- aha!

Keep those requests in coming! I’m loving the ideas so far. Up next is trans! Pickles x gn! Reader! What’s the plot? No body knows, babe! It it will certainly be an adventure that’s for sure!

Stay tuned, dethfans!

#metalocalypse #dethklok #x reader #nathan explosion #metalocalypse x reader #dethklok x reader #nathan explosion x reader #gn reader #Nathan is such a pushover I’ve decided #you have no fucking idea how long this took #I planned to have this out two days ago #tumblr mobile app keeps glitching on save ugh #anyways keep the requests pouring this is so fun!

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theteasetwrites · 7 months

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 2: Ami ou Ennemi?

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 4.8k

❧ In This Chapter: On the road west, things take a turn when the first people you and Daryl come into contact with in France turn out to be a bit less welcoming than you'd hoped they would be. Meanwhile, a watchful pair of eyes just might be what saves you.

❧ A/N: Okay so this was going to cover the whole rest of the first episode but I didn't want to cram it all into one giant chapter, so here's a smaller (kinda boring tbh) chapter! This chapter is necessary because it leads up to the kick-off of the storyline in Chapter 3, which I promise will be MUCH more interesting (and have way better Reader x Daryl interactions, of course). But for now, please enjoy this chapter! I am having so much fun writing for the spin-off ahhh

Carried by a limp and an aimless hope still lingering in your heart, you walked.

In fact, you walked for days. About five total, you were sure. Well, you couldn’t be too sure. Everything was a blur, and you’d given up keeping track with the tally marks you’d scribbled on the edge of the map. All you could bother to rely on now was the natural movement of the earth, the sun rising on one shoulder, setting on the other. Then a few hours of sleepless sleep, then walking again, through what seemed to be a once sparsely populated countryside, amongst a collage of ancient ruins.

From your navigation, you’d determined that the snow-capped mountains you walked just at the base of were those of the Pyrenees. For miles you walked along those foothills of thick green shrubbery and ever-expanding stretches of woods, through which a wide gravel road snaked and occasionally branched into small hamlets or mysterious medieval ruins you didn’t care too much to research.

As your eyes squinted hard at the map you’d come to loathe the now taunting familiarity of, you felt your steps slow to a halt, crushing the ancient gravel underneath you with a dying enthusiasm. Daryl followed behind you, himself preoccupied as well, but by the wound on his arm, which had been festering for almost two days now.

You’d been tending to it, of course. Daryl could’ve done so himself, but you hardly trusted him to be as diligent with the care of his own injuries as you were.

The good news seemed to be that the burn did not inflict a fever upon him, or have any other kind of deadly effect. Still, as Daryl put so eloquently, “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

You turned around, approaching him as he studied the burn, in the distinctive shape of a handprint. Taking his arm in your hand, you frowned at the festering wound, still a little too raw for your liking.

It seemed to be healing a little, though, with only slight accumulations of yellowish fluid around the parts where flesh had been burnt. That was good. It meant the wound was draining properly, exuding serous liquid that would help the flesh to heal and eventually scar over. But the inflammation, the redness, worried you.

“It’s not purulent,” you said. “So that’s good.”

Daryl looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t have to speak to convey his confusion at the SAT vocabulary word.

“There’s no pus,” you clarified. “No green drainage… But we should cover it up again.”

Nearby, you settled by an abandoned car, mangled and ravaged by time. It was a good cover for the moment as you sifted through a first aid bag you’d scavenged yesterday. Thank God you had, otherwise his arm might’ve looked much worse than it had.

As he knelt beside you, you set out a roll of gauze, then uncapped your canteen of water. Daryl couldn’t complain too much about you using the water to wash his wound now, considering how much it was beginning to burn.

The sting was worse than yesterday as you poured the cool liquid over it. You yourself winced at the sound of Daryl’s hiss, knowing full well that his tolerance for pain was much higher than anyone you knew, so that burn must’ve been agonizing.

Spinning the gauze around his arm, you wrapped the burn tight. He sighed softly in temporary relief, but he could already feel the festering begin to return.

The back of your hand situated itself against his forehead, brushing back the loose hairs as you did so.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. He was warm. Daryl always ran a little warm, of course. You’d often referred to him as a human heater. But this was off for Daryl, warmer than you were used to feeling.

It terrified you.

The thought that this burn could be akin to a bite was one which haunted you the last two nights, keeping you ten times more aware of Daryl’s state at all times.

You’d seen plenty of people in the process of turning. You’d known the signs. It was hard to tell now. Daryl didn’t have enough of a fever to render him fatigued, but it was enough to worry you.

“How do you feel?” you asked, still brushing back the hairs that framed his face, as if fixing his hair could somehow improve his condition.

“Like shit.” He took a sip of water from your canteen. A small sip, of course, lest he leave you without enough water to keep you moving.

“You just need some rest,” you said, watching as he began to lift himself to his feet, with half his body weight supported by the spear that had served largely as his walking stick.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to be resting anytime soon.

“I’ll rest when the sun goes down,” he replied gruffly, while a gust of wind began to blow his hair in wild patterns across his face. You rose up, too, despite your body’s inescapable urge to sleep right there on the gravel. “We still got a few hours of sunlight… Best to keep movin’.”

With a strained grunt, he reached for his spear, pressing it into the dirt below as he started to lift himself, using the spear as leverage.

The day Daryl would listen to you when you asked him to rest was the day Hell would freeze over, but you couldn’t fight him. After all, you weren’t itching to stay put in any one place for too long. You had to keep moving, to try to find some kind of way back home.

You raised yourself to your feet alongside him, reaching into your backpack to tuck the gauze and your canteen back inside. But there was a slight tremble in your hand, and a racing of your heart as your body reacted to the intense burn of a distant stare before your mind even could.

Daryl felt it, too.

Practically in sync, both of you turned to face the direction of the stare. There was a cliff just ahead, surrounded by lush shrubbery. The distance was great enough to ease your paranoia, but still too close for comfort.

There was a figure atop the cliff, looking down. Well, you supposed so, despite not being able to make out the figure’s face. What you could see was a reddish cowl encircling their head, but the rest was simply the shape of a human, standing still, watching.

It sent a shiver down your spine, the inescapable fear of being watched suddenly taking hold over you. It was something you’d known since childhood, with frequent nightmares of a decrepit elderly man cupping his hands as he looked in through the window of your childhood bedroom, smiling wide at you. Despite your dream self’s attempts to escape, you couldn’t move, you could only cry as the man stared at you, watching you.

But of course, that man was only a figment of your imagination, a childhood fear that stuck with you all through your life. You hadn’t thought of that man in years, but now, feeling the eyes of a stranger on you, you felt it again. Only this was real. Well, perhaps it was a mirage, induced by the emptiness in your stomach and the fog in your head, but it did not matter. There was nothing you could do. Maybe that was what was so frightening about it.

“C’mon.” Daryl’s hand brushed your forearm, dislodging you from that momentary stupor. Fortunately, he seemed much less perturbed by the mysterious apparition, though he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Keep movin’.”

So you did, following behind him by just a few steps, until he stopped abruptly shortly after, examining the road sign standing before him. On its pole, a small piece of paper was plastered to it, with handmade strokes of black paint spelling out three words: DIEU VOUS AIME.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickly shrugged off one strap of your backpack, reaching back to unzip the largest pouch and grab the French-English dictionary you’d so wisely picked up back at the boat in Marseille.

Looking between the pages and the sign, you flipped through the book, until the phrase appeared among the list of D’s.

Daryl looked at you in waiting as you let out a slightly amused huff.

“God loves you,” you said.

“Pfft.”

An hour or so down the road, and the eerie light of the dying afternoon had begun its domain.

Sleep was the new objective, somewhere to hang your hats for the night that would soon be upon you.

Just ahead, beyond a desolate field of tall, green grass, was a lone building, decrepit and overgrown, with a thick, swirling layer of fog rolling over the ground at its base. Not particularly inviting, but it could be a good place for shelter.

The place was dilapidated, to the point where you could hardly tell what it had once been, but there was just enough shelter to provide some protection from the elements, and the dead. It looked as though there had once been a fire, as the walls were blackened and opened up into a courtyard through a section of destroyed wall.

As you stepped carefully, quietly, over fallen beams and overgrown twining vines, you set sight on a string tied between a bush and the wall, stretching across the walkway with rusty tin cans tied to the twine. Either someone had once called this place home, or someone still did.

Stepping over the trap, Daryl went first, with you following shortly behind, alertness as high as it possibly could be given the famished state you were in.

A rustling from your right startled you. Daryl moved somewhat quickly to peer around the edge of the wall into the open courtyard—a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, standing by an overgrown well and pouring the water from the bucket into a tin pail.

Daryl didn’t get a very detailed look at the woman nor the area, but he could tell that he didn’t want anything to do with it.

You weren’t so sure, however. People were exactly who you needed. You wouldn’t be able to get home without people, and maybe this woman knew English. She could help you, somehow.

But Daryl backed up, too fast for you to notice that he was about to activate the tripwire just behind him.

As the cans rattled together, making a loud clanging sound, you almost felt a bit of relief.

Looking back towards the woman, you began to step forward, ahead of Daryl, who followed rather reluctantly.

Unsure of what to say as you met the woman’s gaze, coming further into the pale light of the diminishing day, you raised your hands up in a gesture of peace which you hoped was universal. Daryl followed suit, moving close behind you, despite his instinctual urge to stand in front of you. It took a great deal of willpower not to, but he figured you were possibly more friendly looking than him, with the huge spear he used as a walking stick.

“Bonjour,” was the only word you could make out, the rest was a blur of very beautiful-sounding gibberish. From an archway leading further into the building behind the woman came an elderly man hobbling in on a cane. So far, the first two French people you’d met turned out to be rather unintimidating, which was a good sign.

The two of you kept moving forward, perhaps more out of confusion than curiosity, but a part of you just wanted some semblance of human interaction. As much as you loved Daryl and his company, it was a sight for sore eyes to come face-to-face with another woman, even if you couldn’t understand anything she said.

But she seemed friendly enough, raising her hand in a wave as she carried the pail across the way, coming closer, but never too close. Finally, she spoke another word you could understand: “Madame? Monsieur?”

You turned to look at Daryl, whose face looked confounded, bordering on worried.

As per usual, you’d have to be the more sociable one.

“I’m sorry,” you began speaking, despite your fear that speaking in English might be a waste of breath. “We don’t understand you.”

On the contrary, the woman seemed… excited.

“Ay!” she exclaimed, the old man now right behind her as they slowly but surely moved closer. “You Americans? And I speak English very good!” Her mouth formed into a wide smile. So far, so good. “What’s crackin’, noobs?”

Despite your slight confusion at her use of the colloquial term, one you had not heard since you were in college, you smiled back, nodding.

The woman spoke another French term, and waved her hand, gesturing for you to come closer. You did so, despite Daryl’s hesitation as he looked at you. He didn’t have to speak or even sign to indicate what he thought: I don’t trust them.

But it didn’t matter whether either of you trusted them or not. They had food. They must’ve, as they looked to be pretty settled here, at least for the night.

He followed your lead, stepping faster to match your pace as you moved closer, further into the courtyard.

“My, uh… grandfather, he hurt the ankle” the woman spoke again, carrying her pail of water to a gently roaring fire. Around it were a few bags and crates used as seats. A modest setup, but comforting nonetheless. “Only… Only small English, him.” She gestured towards her grandfather, whose eyes were covered by a black cloth wrapped around his head. Still, he waved in your general direction, then started to speak.

“Hello,” he said.

You smiled, your heart beginning to soften at the sight of the poor elderly man. You always did have a soft spot for older people, one which Daryl feared would make you a little too eager to spare your medical supplies.

“Hello,” you spoke back.

Daryl said nothing.

The woman’s face turned more serious now. “You got medical?” You did not answer, unsure of what to say. While you did have it, you weren’t so sure you’d give it away on a whim. You already had one old man to take care of—Daryl. “We trade you for apple or, um, uh… a rabbit, maybe.”

“Very good rabbit,” chimed in the old man.

Daryl heard rabbit, and suddenly he was walking past you, coming closer to the woman as he slung his backpack off his shoulders.

The man was always food-motivated, afterall.

Setting his pack on the ground, he kneeled as he rummaged for the first aid kit. For a moment, he held it up, then tossed it underhand towards the woman.

“Merci,” said the old man.

“Merci,” the woman repeated, the first aid kit now in her hands. She pointed towards a wooden crate just a few yards away. “Food there.”

Daryl did not hesitate, hurriedly crossing over to the crate as if the offer would be taken away at any second. You followed suit, coming up behind him and taking the handful of shiny, red apples that he held out to you, while he himself bit into one and chewed it hungrily.

“So,” the woman continued, but for a moment, you couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own chewing as you bit into an apple. “Where are you going to?”

This time, Daryl answered before you even had a chance to speak. The fact that they had given you food must’ve warmed him up a little bit.

“Back where we came from,” he said matter-of-factly, looking up at the woman to address her, then returning to gathering as many apples in his hands as he could.

“Across the ocean?” questioned the woman again.

“Yeah,” Daryl answered.

As he stood up, you both looked curiously at the woman, who spoke something to the old man in their native language. They appeared to be laughing, too. You wondered, in that self-conscious way the two of you shared, if they were making fun of you. Not that it mattered terribly, since the idea of someone making fun of you was nothing compared to what most people in this world would do without any hesitation. If subtle ridiculing was the worst of what you got out of these people, you’d consider yourselves lucky.

With a huff, the woman sat herself down on an upside down crate, whilst holding the skewered rabbit that had been roasting over the fire. Your mouth practically watered at the sight, which must’ve meant you were truly on the verge of starving. It took a lot for you to want to eat a rabbit.

“I’m Maribelle,” she said with a smile. Next, she pointed to her grandfather. “Um, he Guillaume. So maybe we go together, you know?”

That piqued your interest, but Daryl moved behind you, taking the apples to his pack and almost hurriedly stuffing them inside.

“Get somewhere safe, maybe?” Maribelle continued, and you wanted so much to say something, to say yes. Anything would help. Of course, you knew you couldn’t trust these people, and something about them, despite their friendliness, threw you off. Daryl must’ve felt it, too, because almost as soon as he settled in, he was ready to get out of there. “You can help us. We can help you find a way.”

Following Daryl, you knelt down beside him as he packed. You couldn’t speak much above a very hushed whisper. “They can help us get back.”

He looked up at you momentarily, a stern look in his eye. “No.”

“Hey, yankees.” Suddenly, Guillaume spoke up. You both looked his way.

Guillaume spoke more, but only in French. You turned your attention back to Maribelle, your eyes begging for translation.

She spoke with a slight laugh. “All the time he talk about World War II.”

“La résistance,” Guillaume continued, like the ramblings of your grandfather. In fact, you recalled his stories from that war, how young he was when he was stationed in England. Not quite France, but close enough. “U.S. GI’s fight together. Your country, my country. Like friends.”

Daryl did not say anything, only turned his attention back to packing his bag. You stood up slowly, managing a smile. You weren’t sure if the man could see it, but you wanted to somehow convey to him that you appreciated his ideology. Afterall, you needed friends.

But you couldn’t think of what to say. You knew Daryl was not going to budge, and it wasn’t your place to accept his offer of friendship. All you could do was think of something nice to say, but before you could, Guillaume spoke again, catching onto the silence that lingered for several moments.

“You are no friend,” he said, a tinge of vitriol in his voice.

“There ain’t no countries no more, neither,” Daryl replied.

You huffed, frustrated by his coldness. It wasn’t your favorite side of Daryl, his harshness, but you couldn’t entirely blame him—he was stressed, injured, and sad. You could tell, despite him never letting it really show. He held emotions inside, whereas you wore them on your sleeve. Still, you knew him better than anyone else, and you knew that this situation you found yourselves in was taking a greater toll on him than even he realized. You hadn’t pressed him about it much, but you knew: he missed your babies.

He missed home. He missed your friends. He missed the life he’d devoted himself to creating with you. Ultimately, he was tired.

Before you could try to talk some sense into him, though, you heard something that startled you: a distant roaring of an engine, coming closer. Fast.

Daryl stood up quickly as a rather militaristic looking jeep came through the wide archway into the courtyard. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the uncovered vehicle, both armed with guns.

Upon the hood of the vehicle was some kind of symbol painted in white that you couldn’t quite make out without taking your eyes off the two men as they stepped out, their guns seemingly locked and loaded.

Daryl kept a firm grip on his spear, you on your knife. Still, there wasn’t much you could do against a gun, especially in this open area.

As the men came forward, you took note of their appearance: each were heavily armed and wore camouflage patterns. They looked like some sort of paramilitary group, and from your history with such groups, you were not looking to make friends.

One of the men set his sights on you and Daryl, while saying something in French. All you could do was stare back at him, until he raised his gun, speaking again. This time, he spoke more commandingly.

Your heart dropped for a moment, but Maribelle spoke quickly to the man, then turned to face you both. She held her hands up, as if in surrender.

“Sit down, he said,” she said to you seriously.

Daryl exchanged a quick look with you, somewhere between reassurance and a warning of cautiousness. In situations like this, perhaps you fell into that old trap of taking the man’s lead, but Daryl had had a gun pointed at him many more times than you had, and it was true that he looked much more threatening than you, so you followed his lead, walking several steps with him over to the crates around the fire that were being used as seats. If you were going to sit down for two French assholes with guns, you were at least going to be a little bit comfortable.

Now sitting, each of you dropped your weapons, slowly raising your hands to match Maribelle. The two men seemed to trust you both much less than they did Maribelle and Guillaume, as both their guns were pointed towards you—one of you, one on Daryl. It was not quite reassuring.

One of the men began to speak to Maribelle again, going back and forth for a moment. The only word you could make out was American, which you weren’t sure was a good thing, given the way the man looked at you both suspiciously.

No, you did not like these guys one bit.

And now, after a few more rather ominous sounding words in French, he came forward, taking Maribelle by the shoulder and tugging on her jacket, pulling her away to God knows where. Though you couldn’t understand what he had said, you feared for Maribelle, knowing the kinds of things men could do, especially to women… It boiled your blood, especially as she tried to get away, yelling something at him in French and struggling against him.

The other man, meanwhile, kept his sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun pointed at Daryl, but he looked away, his eyes focused on the scene as the other man struggled to drag Maribelle away. When he became frustrated with her reluctance, he backhanded her hard, the force causing her to fall down with a thud.

And, with one look exchanged between you and Daryl, you knew it was time to do something… So much for making friends.

Daryl moved first, reaching for the knife he kept strapped to his leg and standing up to grab his spear with the other hand. He moved faster than you, and faster than the man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.

He used the blunt edge of his spear to first hit the man’s leg, then, as he raised his gun to defend himself, Daryl disarmed him, then dropped his spear to raise his knife and puncture his neck.

You stood up, too, sprinting towards the gun that had been dropped on the ground, while Daryl held the dying man in front of him like a meat shield. If there was one thing about Daryl, it was that he was resourceful.

But just before you could get your hands on the shotgun, the other man came towards you both, shouting in French as he held his gun out. In a matter of seconds, he fired, shooting towards Daryl.

The loud gunshot made you flinch and grab your ears as you instinctively flung yourself onto the ground, trying to dodge it. Immediately, though, you looked up, your sights setting on Daryl, himself on the ground, holding the left side of his neck and sticking out his right hand in surrender. The man did not seem so eager to show mercy, leaning down beside you to pick up the shotgun and point it towards Daryl.

“No!” you cried out rather helplessly, crawling on hands and knees to Daryl’s side. If you couldn’t sacrifice yourself for him, you’d die together. At least you’d die knowing you tried to save him.

But Maribelle moved quicker, striking the man in the back with Guillaume’s cane. The blow was so hard that he fell to the ground, allowing Daryl to quickly stand up and grab the shotgun. As he held his bleeding neck, he pointed the barrel towards the fallen man.

“Stop,” said Maribelle, coming forward with a spear. “Save the powder.” She plunged the spear into the man’s chest, causing you to wince in slight surprise.

Maribelle turned to Daryl, uttering a simple, “Merci.”

Quickly, you stood up, coming over to daryl and removing his hand from his neck to get a look at the damage. Obviously, the bullet must’ve only grazed him, because if the bullet had gone just a bit more to the right, he might not even have a head right now.

“Just a superficial graze,” you said, taking off your glove and pressing it to his face as a bandage, but of course you’d need something more suitable.

As you carefully helped him sit down on his knees, you called out to Maribelle, “Can you hand me the medical bag, please?”

All your attention, now, was on him, so much so that you didn’t notice how suspiciously silent it was, and how the two Frenchpeople did not seem eager to help.

But that was all peripheral to you, as you brushed back Daryl’s long hair to get a better look at the injury.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you said, with just a tiny curl of your lip to offer him some comfort.

And it did, his tired eyes softening as he felt your hand caress his cheek. Despite the stinging pain and the feeling of blood seeping into the glove you held tight against his wound, he couldn’t help but believe you. If there was anything in this world he truly believed in, after all, it was you.

But there was a horrible sense of suspicion growing between you, a lingering threat that became more and more apparent with each step the man behind Daryl took.

You raised your eyes, and Daryl turned to look at whatever had caught your attention—Guillaume.

His eyes were uncovered now, and beady with aggressive intent. But most startlingly, he held his wooden cane much too high for your comfort. He wielded it more like a baseball bat than a walking stick.

But he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to do, would he?

Yes. He would.

The cane struck Daryl across the head, knocking him to the ground. Eyes wide as you started to lift yourself, you were met with the same fate: a strong hit to the head that sent you back down, reeling in pain.

You weren’t unconscious, though. Neither was Daryl, who opened his eyes despite the intense blurring that obstructed his vision. He caught sight of Guillaume, rummaging through his bag, while Maribelle got to work rifling through yours, throwing out its contents with carelessness as she seemed to be searching for something more useful than the maps and blankets you’d collected along the way from Marseille.

Notably, though, you watched the blonde Barbie doll you’d carefully tucked away in your bag get tossed behind her back like a worthless piece of junk. It almost riled you into a fit of sudden strength, but your head swam too much to allow your legs to carry you.

Your eyes became fixed on that doll, left abandoned amongst overgrown blades of faded green grass. Somewhere in your haze, as unconsciousness threatened to take over, was her voice, speaking the words she said to you before you left: “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said, her small voice echoing in the dizzied cavern of your head.

Just then, you felt a presence coming towards you, one which seemed both known and unknown.

Turning your head, your heavy eyes focused as well as they could on the approaching figure, cautiously side-stepping into the courtyard. Though you could not make out their face, you recognized one thing: a red cowl.

“We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

A gunshot rang out, muffled by your fading consciousness. It had come from the approaching figure, and had seemingly run off Maribelle and Guillaume, which may have been either a good thing, or a bad thing.

“Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

Your eyelids became immensely burdensome, and with each blink, you found yourself unable to keep them open for much longer.

“Yes… Robin…”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

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accio-victuuri · 4 months

Text

Xiao Zhan Marie Claire Cover story | Rules & Inches

When I say the word "future",

The first syllable is in the past.

When I say the word "silence",

I've broken it.

When I say the word "nothing",

I have created something that nothingness itself can grasp.

——Vislava Szymborska, "The Three Strangest Words"

Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the sweat from the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked again, and continued to retreat. The props on his back are like airplanes, and his eyes are constantly searching for the camera, and he is like a naughty child exploring an unknown world. Every time I go back and forth, I am thinking about the more refined possibilities between advancement and retreat.

It’s hard not to notice Xiao Zhan’s sense of proportion. When being interviewed, he has a catchphrase: "Can you say this?" Or, as if to confirm himself, "You can say it like this." He also reflects on himself all the time. For example, I repeatedly remind myself not to let my performance become inertia. Once I get used to it, it will develop into terrible inertia. For example, he often emphasizes that he doesn't like to make mysteries, and he may not understand many truths. What he shares is only his sincere daily feelings. For another example, when he heard a crew member commenting on his "striving for excellence", he responded that he had not yet reached "refinement" and only wanted to "benefit".

Xiao Zhan spoke slowly and eloquently. He did not have a thunderous and fiery personality. He chatted calmly and had the ancient style of a benevolent gentleman. He's not tight at all. They chatted all over the world, and when they got to the point where they were enjoying themselves, they naturally leaned back on the chair and gently held their right legs with both hands. The content of the chat ranged from the unchanging emotions contained in the golden songs of the times to AI, the views on human beings, as well as his own performances and life experiences.

In 2023, three TV series starring Xiao Zhan will be broadcast one after another. He played the colorful father, the lonely and cold eldest son, and the newcomer who struggled in the workplace. Every time he enters a crew, he will dream about real scenes and real pressure related to filming. After the dream is over, he sinks himself into the heart of the character and performs it, leaving vivid memories and feelings.

There is a ruler in the heart and a square inch outside the body. What's appropriate is Xiao Zhan's inner view, his precise view of work, life and himself. A few inches away is Xiao Zhan's external perspective, his perceptual understanding of the past, time, space and the world. Between the length and the shortness of a ruler, heaven and earth appear.

======

Three TV series have been aired and new dramas are being filmed. For actor Xiao Zhan, 2023 is a fruitful year.

Occasionally, when he looks back on his career as an actor, Xiao Zhan will be in a daze for a moment. In the blink of an eye, it seems that he has been there for a long time. Almost every time he shoots a movie, he has a routine: dreaming. I dreamed about memorizing lines, dreaming about acting against a director, or even dreaming about taking a math test, but couldn’t solve any of the questions on the paper, and then I woke up with a start.

Xiao Zhan felt that this was caused by pressure, and he accepted it calmly. Perhaps there is another reason. Deep down in his heart, he does not regard himself as a qualified actor, but always puts himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he goes to a crew, he has the experience of starting all over again.

Xiao Zhan is very wary of inertia. Sometimes he also advises himself not to be under so much pressure, not to get into trouble, and to try to be more relaxed. But once he realizes that he starts to rely on performance models, experiences and habits, he will remind himself that taking things for granted is dangerous. After a long time of inertia, inertia will occur, and inertia will lead to "taken for granted". Therefore, every time he interprets a role, he always has to gain some freshness.

Xiao Chunsheng in "Where Dreams Begin" is a character full of freshness. Because there are extremely obvious differences between him and Xiao Zhan himself. Xiao Chunsheng is a young man in Beijing in the 1970s, which is completely different from the era and environment in which Xiao Zhan grew up.

Military coats, "28 big bar" bicycles, the ice surface of Shichahai, and the transformation from a young boy to a middle-aged entrepreneur are not familiar to Xiao Zhan. To this day, Xiao Zhan can still see "traces" of Xiao Chunsheng: when it comes to the character Chen Hongjun in the play, he always says "Hong Jun'er". Those were the Beijing movies and Er Huayin that I practiced when filming started. "Ouch" and "Ouch" were all words on Xiao Zhan's lips.

The language, objects and sense of time are all okay. For Xiao Zhan, the biggest difference from Xiao Chunsheng is his personality. He is an "I person" who enjoys being alone, while Xiao Chunsheng is the complete opposite. He makes many friends and loves to socialize too much. Measured by today's standards, this extreme warm-heartedness often means a lack of a sense of boundaries. "The times are developing faster and faster. Today's young people are living a fast-paced life and will not easily cross the boundaries of getting along." Xiao Zhan commented, "But Xiao Chunsheng is an extremely meddlesome person, so it is easy to offend Someone else." When he read the script, he was quite intimidated by this role and felt that it would be difficult to act like it. But after hesitating for a long time, a thought suddenly caught his attention: Maybe the qualities we care about today contain exactly what we need.

Fresh, this is Xiao Zhan’s summary of Xiao Chunsheng and his contemporaries. "If you hate them, you hate them. If you like them, you like them. Don't you think the colors of each of them are particularly bright?" he asked. Even now, when thinking back to some scenes in "The Sea in Dreams", he still feels that the characters are shining brightly and vividly.

After playing Xiao Chunsheng, a person who is far away from current values, Xiao Zhan also gained something in terms of mentality: don't be afraid of making mistakes. He said: "A truly lovable character will have imperfections." During the filming, he once asked the director if it was particularly annoying for Xiao Chunsheng to worry so much about others. The director told him that it was precisely because of this "annoyance" that he was Xiao Chunsheng, and "annoyance" was his charm.

The director's words suddenly awakened Xiao Zhan. Sometimes he would fall into a strange circle, hoping to avoid and correct the imperfections of the character. "When you change it like this, the character itself loses its charm." Xiao Zhan said, "So I think you should not be afraid when doing homework for the character. Be enthusiastic when you should be enthusiastic, and cross the boundary when you should. If you always consider the character's The shortcoming is, thinking about what will happen if the audience scolds me, it will be difficult to act." Because actors play roles, not personalities.

Not being afraid of flaws, to some extent, also means the courage and ability to seek truth. "Sunshine by my Side" is Xiao Zhan's first appearance in an urban workplace drama. His reason for taking on this drama is simple: modern dramas are too close to reality and everyone is living it, so it is difficult to perform it to make everyone believe it. Because he was unsure and confident, he firmly believed that he would learn something after "gnawing" it down. Thus, the character Sheng Yang came into being.

"Sunshine by my Side" made Xiao Zhan realize that urban dramas rely heavily on the cooperation between actors. Because it is more life-like, every point will not be stuck, and the lines and performances will be slightly adjusted. "We are all living people, and we do not exist to maintain a persona. What everyone does, says, and expresses emotions are natural, reasonable, and flowing. If you change, my performance will also change. It will change accordingly." Xiao Zhan said that this kind of creative coupling eliminates the possibility of actors being rigid and mechanical, so it is a fresh and fun experience.

Sheng Yang is a designer, which happens to be the job that Xiao Zhan has done. With personal experience, flexibility during performance can be guaranteed. "When Shengyang wanted to draw the design drawings, I would actually draw them there. Sometimes I would tell them, art teacher, your layers seem to be locked and I can't move." Xiao Zhan recalled, " Because it's his own life, he's better at it. Can you say that? Okay." He never forgets his sense of proportion when it comes to his true feelings.

Xiao Zhan is no stranger to TV series with fantasy themes. "Yuguyao" is the most recent example. For him, acting in a play with such an imaginary background requires a process of starting from scratch. Facing a green screen, if you want to imagine extreme weather or breathtaking scenery, you need to create it yourself. As for whether the state is real and whether the emotion is subtle, more often than not, one has to trust the evaluation made by the director behind the monitor.

Whether it is a costume drama or a modern drama, Xiao Zhan always has a clear understanding of the script and characters. "There are always few good things at any time, which is why people always say that they are rare." He recalled his observations over the years, "Some scripts may be considered good by the industry, but the market feedback may not be so good. Everyone What is the definition of good? Is it good sales or good word-of-mouth? It's hard to judge." Therefore, what he can do now is to return to his own understanding and feelings and choose what he thinks is the best. Role. As for what role he most wants to play, Xiao Zhan said: "I have been mentioning it for many years, a cute and charming villain, if I get the chance."

=======

When reading the script of "Where Dreams Begin", Xiao Zhan's mind would be filled with photos of his parents when they were young.

Dad is riding a bicycle, and mom is sitting in the back seat, wearing a red skirt and a white shirt. When passing a big rock, my father took a photo of my mother as a souvenir. She smiles brightly in the camera, looking like a bright girl. When it was his turn to play the role of his parents in their youth, he tried his best to restore the freshness and even madness of youth. He did not want to deliberately portray the story in a rigid and serious direction just because it was a story about his father's generation.

Xiao Zhan seems to have a special sense of time. He is nostalgic. Whether singing in variety shows and evening parties, or listening to them in private, he always has a preference for old songs. They are memorable, rich in meaning, and give him space to think.

When he was a child, he didn't have much pocket money, so Xiao Zhan would go to the video store to rent CDs, or exchange CDs and tapes with his classmates. The prices can still be clearly remembered to this day. To this day, he still has the CD player and Walkman he used back then in his home. Sometimes, he returns to wired headphones because they are convenient and easy to find. In the dead of night, he would occasionally think of objects that were gradually disappearing in the torrent of time. Being alone, with his heart flowing, is his comfortable state.

Xiao Zhan said that he is a very homely person and has to stay at home. During his spare time, he just works out and watches movies. He never regards watching movies as a task. He watches everything regardless of genre, whether it is popular movies such as popcorn movies or niche movies such as art films. Recently, he watched "The Fall", the best film at the 2023 Cannes International Film Festival.

Around New Year, he often revisits "Love Actually" and watches it again every two or three years. The reason is also very straightforward. The family, love, and friendship in the movie all convey truth, goodness and beauty, which makes people feel heart-warming when watching them.

"Don't you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be read and watched, and old songs will always be listened to over and over again, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged through the ages. Only sincerity can move people." Xiao Zhan seemed to have a sudden inspiration and compared it with AI, "I think AI cannot replace humans. Maybe its technology can one day surpass the limits of humans, but that kind of complex emotions , humans far surpass computers. It can be said that humans are the most accurate, mysterious, and complex supercomputers."

Xiao Zhan will pay attention to AI, just like he pays attention to all new things in the world that are deeply related to people. He watched the news and read things written by AI. The depth of thought and logic of thinking made him incredible. Perhaps, in some job competitions, the threat of AI to human beings is already close at hand, but he still firmly believes that AI cannot replace face-to-face communication between people, whether it is immediacy or complexity.

When these distant concerns about new things are temporarily put aside, Xiao Zhan also has his own expectations for the world.

When filming "Ace Troops" a few years ago, in order to play a soldier who was concerned with the national image, Xiao Zhan observed and trained in the army for more than a week. He got up at five or six in the morning every day and ate and lived with the soldiers. After performing this play, he felt the cruelty of war and understood the hard-won peace. "I cherish my current life more. This is the truth." Xiao Zhan said. Therefore, the current vision of world peace may also be related to infinite distances and countless people.

As for his expectations for himself, he outlined it more simply: "I have done very well in 2023, and I hope I can maintain it." After thinking for a while, he added: "In 2024, I hope to love myself more and care more. Some of my own feelings and thoughts. This sentence is not only for myself, but also for everyone."

In Xiao Zhan's mind, he is different on screen and in real life. In private, he will not modify himself too much, nor will he dress too brightly. He just wants to be natural and true to himself.

"Just like the current chat, just keep it in this comfortable state. I won't change my face and play another person." Xiao Zhan said, "It's too tiring. Too tiring." He repeated twice all over.

A poet wrote, "My heart is slightly larger than the entire universe." Outside Xiao Zhan's small space, there is the restraint of "strategy" and the vastness of "universe".

LINK TO THE ARTICLE

#xiao zhan #accio victuuri translation #what a busy day wtf #what an insightful piece!!!!#OMG NOW I WANNA REWATCH LOVE ACTUALLY!!!!!#and yes i love the era of cds!!!!!#i can totally relate to the nostalgia cause i’m one year older than him #and i love that they talked about AI

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shes-nott-me · 2 years

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Austin being needy. That's it. Just Austin being a horny needy slut for his woman. Do with that what you will 🤣

I know I said blurbs, but I got a lil carried away with this one, also if this isn’t what you wanted I’m so sorry feel free to leave another request.

This is also my first Austin work so feedback is more than welcome, but I also love this concept so maybe you’ll see more of it if you like it so LMK. 💋Enjoy💋

TW: MINORS SHOO, daddy kink, spanking, minor brat taming, dacryphillia, bondage, oral briefly.

You, Austin couldn’t take his eyes off you, how could he. You, you were the pinnacle of elegance in opulence, the way the light hit your dress was mesmerizing, only being outshined by the one in the dress, you. Austin doesn't know who styled you tonight but he does know they need a bonus. Only you could pull off such a look, crystal from head to toe, paired with dewy make-up and sparkling doe eyes, to match your dress, he watched you make your way across the room, past him, to whoever you’re with. Austin felt pathetic watching you giggle, with some new guy, cock straining in his trousers. You take your bottom lip in between your teeth, making eye contact with Austin, releasing it with a pout, He’s taken back in time to you with tears in your eyes, his cock down your throat, hands tied behind your back, staring up at him with those same doe eyes.

Austin shakes his head back into reality. He sees your boyfriend's eyes wandering, to some other girl at the party. ‘He’s a fool’ Austin thinks how could someone take their eyes off of you, for someone so, so plain. That’s one thing Austin loved about you. Your “go big or don’t go'' attitude. another memory floods his mind.

It was when you first started dating “Angel, don’t you think that outfit is a little much.” you turn around to look at him in mock horror.

“A little much?” you repeat. “Austin, my love, there’s no such thing.” you take a seat on your boyfriend's lap. “What’s the point in showing up, if I don’t show out.” Austin roll’s his eyes at you. “Although exceptions do apply for weddings and stuff like that.” he smiles at your mindless rambling, which was more to yourself than him at this point. “But this is not a wedding.” you say, standing, your voice suddenly getting louder, index finger in the air. “And I strongly suggest, you adopt that same mindset if you’re gonna keep up with me.” He plants a kiss on your forehead.

Austin wonders what you see in the guy, was it because he was closer to you in age. He knows it wasn’t because he could fuck you better, because no one could fuck Austin’s Angel, better than Austin could. Only he could make someone as put together and innocent as yourself, fall apart and do so in such a filthy manner. Your natural pout, innocent twinkle in your eye, successfully fool everyone around you, but they torture him, to the highest degree.

You’re so eloquently spoken, and you carry yourself with such flawless grace, all that topped with a playful, girlish essence, you were the textbook definition of a glamorous ingenue, only he could bring out the little vixen in you . His pants grow even tighter, which he didn’t even know was possible, as the images of you tied up, head in the mattress, ass being propped up with a pillow, flashed through his mind.

“Are you gonna watch your mouth next time, Angel?” Austin asked you, your only response is incoherent mumbling, drool leaking from your soft lips, your throat has been torn apart from screaming, your makeup is ruined, your face is wet with a combination of drool, tears, cum, and sweat. Your cunt is swollen and dripping, still recovering from constant edging and slapping it has taken so far. Another firm slaps on your ass. “Good girls, use big girl words.” you nod. He slaps your ass again “those aren’t words, angel.”

You mumble a hoarse “I'm sorry.” he seems content with that response as he finally pushes his cock into your aching cunt.

He’s brought back into reality by the sound of your voice softly arguing with your boyfriend. Austin makes his way over to the commotion.

“You're being dramatic.” you whisper shout at your boyfriend.

“What’s going on here?” Austin says, interrupting you guys, he sees you roll your eyes.

“He’s here to save you, you can stop wasting my time.” your now ex-boyfriend walks away.

“You ruin everything,” you whine, tugging on Austin’s sleeve.

“Now, is that any way to talk to daddy, angel?” your eyes immediately soften, you shake your head, already entranced by the man standing over you. Austin could melt with the way you look up at him. Tears well up in your eyes, overwhelmed with emotion. Austin could cum just looking at you. “Come on baby, let’s get you home, and maybe if you're good, you’ll get some cock, from daddy,” you nod excitedly, taking Austin's hand.

#shes nott me #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #elvis #elvis presley x reader #austin butler #elvis smut #sugar daddy elvis #elvis the pelvis #austin butler fic #elvis presley austin smut

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spacexseven · 1 year

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ALSO since you are a lover of The Chuuya ill do some pathetic subordinate au chuuya stuff too! I'll try to make this one shorter since the dazai one is such a monster.

I think hed kinda do the opposite thing that dazai does- not that he doesnt kiss your ass a LITTLE, he’ll definitely send a bunch of gifts to your house and rush to complete some of your work for you and write you love poems (that he never sends, too embarrassed. probably for the best. his prose tends to go from Suprisingly Sweet to Incredibly Creepy really fast.), but unlike dazai hes pretty attached to his reputation and thus doesn't wanna burn it away by sobbing for you until you finally cave and come hold him, as much as he might like to. to keep up his street cred while still getting you to trust him, he'll have to be more subtle. (he's not subtle at all everyone knows)

I could see his MO being to just kinda. put himself in your space as much as possible. surely, if he just hangs around you and doesnt insult you or anything like that you'll eventually realize hes not that bad? he'll even come and help you with your work, see! nice guy, really! please forget all the shit he used to say to you and that time he choke slammed you into a wall he won't do it again!

he finds himself really wanting to be useful to you. he was a pretty shitty superior, he'll admit that, but there has to be a way to make it up to you! if there's something you want, he'll get it for you. a task that needs doing, he'll complete it. a nuisance that needs to be dealt with, hes your guy. very easy for him to go to the traditional Ill Kill For You yan route here, anyone whose bad to you will know his WRATH. abusive relative? not anymore! cheating ex? bye bye! some fuck harassing you? gone! anyone who hurts his angel has to die, hes put you through enough already as it is.

- 🩹

i love your wonderful brain my friend :>

cw: yandere themes, stalking, implied breaking in + murder

compared to dazai, chuuya's hit by guilt faster, and harder. it takes a great toll on him, but he abhors the idea of anyone knowing that he was feeling broken-hearted and remorseful over some lower-ranking member. so unlike dazai's public (and embarrassing) pleads for forgiveness and lovesickness, chuuya's far more...silent about it. sure, he makes sure you're receiving his gifts, lightens your workload, and watches out for you, even deciding to avenge you in many instances. he's aware of and has long accepted the fact that he will never be recognized for his efforts, never be thanked for his help and he definitely isn't going to win your favor with anything he does, but how can he leave you alone?

of course, everyone else knows. there's whispers amongst the members of black lizard that executive chuuya nakahara personally takes care of anyone who dares utter a single negative word about you, koyou has to deal with chuuya's numerous requests for advice, and even dazai knows that chuuya's become a lovesick little puppy (naturally, he fails to notice the irony).

it's a regular sight now, to see chuuya bent over and scribbling on a piece of paper, before groaning and ripping it to shreds. anyone who manages to put together the strips is able to see what looks to be multiple lines of poetry, quite eloquently written if not for the extreme emotions being expressed in them.

while he avoids meeting with you directly, chuuya can't help but linger. he waits around the corner from your home, hoping to catch a glimpse of you walking by. he stands by the pavement outside the bar you frequent, cigarette in hand, figuring out a way to bump into you and make it look accidental, hopes you'll stop if only to stare for a moment. at least he's not all in your face and annoying you to no end like someone is, and that should score him a few points, right?

and yes, he yearns to be of some use for you, wants to help you in any way possible so that you don't see him as a nuisance and throw him aside forever. and if helping you meant staying behind you and cleaning up, if helping meant exacting revenge in your name, or even if it meant staying out of your way, he'll do it without complaint.

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tiny-tini-imagines · 8 months

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Oh, hello— gosh dang a new writer? Instant support, sending love— mate, your writing Is awesome. Could I ask for a Legolas hc? (Lemme hop on the Legolas chain for a sec— his dad’s taking up way too much space in the back compartment—) Legolas with an elf s/o who.. ‘isn’t like other elves..’?’ OKAY— it may sound ridiculous but hold on— like an elf that does thing differently from other? You know how elves are usually quite regal and stuff.. has their priorities straight, mild mannered and all that?— take all that, and throw it out the window. Bc this elf believes that they should live their long-ass life span to the fullest and not really think too hard on how other view them and such? Chaotic and all that, but down to earth? The total opposite of what a normal elf would act.

Feel free to ignore this (and my incessant rambling) have a nice day!

Hey! Thank you so so so much for your support and kind words. I'm so happy that you enjoyed my writing, and let me tell you - I absolutely love your request! Funny enough, I once started a ff with a human character as Legolas s/o who had no manners, but imagining it with an elf sounds even cooler. Hope that's what you had in mind...

Headcanons - Lord of the rings

summary: Legolas and a s/o non typical elf

(added: what they would say to them, or about them)

Initial Antipathy: At first, Legolas might not get along too well with them, finding their chaotic and unpredictable nature somewhat jarring compared to his usual elven decorum.

Protective Streak: Despite their incredible strength and speed, Legolas can't help but feel protective of them. They often worry about their safety, which leads to some tension in their interactions. (They often insist that they don't need Legolas's protection and can handle themselves, telling him to go and take care of himself, but it's their way of shielding their true feelings for them.)

"Their strength and resilience are astounding, and I find myself in awe of their ability to face danger head-on, even when it terrifies me."

Eloquent Disagreements: Legolas and his elf s/o have a fair share of passionate disagreements, especially in the beginning. They engage in eloquent debates where they challenge each other's perspectives, making their interactions both fiery and intellectually stimulating. Anyway, Legolas would often find himself speechless, because they don't mince their words and says what they really think, over time he gets used to it and likes it a little bit more, especially since he can't afford to speak like them as the Prince of Mirkwood .

"I must respectfully disagree. While your unorthodox approach is certainly intriguing, I believe tradition and preservation of elven customs hold their own merit in our world." - legolas in an arguement between them

Archery Lessons: One way Legolas tries to bridge the gap between their personalities is by offering archery lessons. He's patient as he teaches them, finding solace in the shared moments at the archery range. (They might not be too good in archery, but have a very unique and stunning way to handle their sword.)

Language: They're known for their sometimes rude language, (which Gimli secretly appreciates). Legolas would just shake his head from time to time, but secretly thinking that it's kind of brave.(Legolas understands that this is their way of expressing emotions. He appreciates the sincerity behind their words and actions.)

Revealing Their Feelings: Eventually, it's them who reveals their feelings first, unable to contain their affection any longer. Legolas is taken by surprise but soon reciprocates with their own heartfelt admission. (They would say it in a very untypical way for an elf, maybe even curse, after Legolas has put himself in unnecessary danger, and pull him into a tight embrace in an unelvish way)

Surprise and Stunned Silence: Legolas is initially taken completely by surprise. He's used to elven decorum and the more reserved expressions of affection, so their outburst catches him off guard.

Conflicting Emotions: He experiences a whirlwind of emotions in that moment - surprise, confusion, but mostly a deep warmth in his heart.

S/o: "Damn! By the stars, Legolas! What were you thinking you fool, charging in like that? I thought I lost you, stupid elf!" They exclaim, their voice laced with worry and frustration, a slip of affectionate concern coloring their words. They immediately pull him in a tight embrace Legolas: His eyes widen in surprise at their outburst, the genuine worry in their tone catching him off guard. "I... I did not mean to cause you such distress. But know that my heart swells with gratitude for your concern."

The Impact of Danger: The fact that their confession comes after he put himself in unnecessary danger makes Legolas acutely aware of the depth of their concern and love for him. It's a realization that touches him deeply. + (This moment reinforces his protective instinct. Legolas becomes even more committed to keeping them safe, knowing how deeply they care for him.)

After Revealing Feelings: After their feelings are out, they share tender moments amidst their chaotic adventures. Legolas becomes more understanding of their free-spirited nature, and they appreciate his unwavering support.

"Meeting you has been the greatest adventure of my life, and I look forward to many more chapters of our story together."

Bridging Differences: As their love deepens, they learn to appreciate each other's strengths and differences. Legolas discovers that their boldness complements his wisdom, and he becomes more open to spontaneity.

Shared Adventures: Legolas is drawn to their adventurous spirit. He finds himself relishing the excitement of their escapades, even if they often involve unconventional ways and risks. (They have an insatiable thirst for adventure and are always dragging Legolas into daring escapades and exploration.)

Meeting Thranduil: Legolas knows that introducing his s/o to his father, Thranduil, won't be easy. The King of Mirkwood has high expectations for his son's choice and wants him to make a more traditional choice for a partner, but eventually, even Thranduil comes to admire their fierce independence and the happiness she brings to Legolas. + (They absolutely refuse to bow or show deference to anyone, not even to the King of Mirkwood. Their boldness both amuses and confounds Legolas and Thranduil.)

"Ada, I must admit, they are unlike any elf I have ever known. Their spirit is untamed, their heart bold, and they defy convention in a way that is both bewildering and strangely admirable."

Balancing Act: Their relationship is a delightful balancing act between Legolas's regal upbringing and their chaotic, down-to-earth approach to life. Together, they bring out the best in each other, forging an unbreakable bond.

Appreciation of Imperfection: Through his s/o, Legolas learns to appreciate imperfection and the beauty life's unpredictability. He discovers that perfection is not always the most fulfilling path.

"In your presence, I've come to understand that there is beauty in imperfection, and I cherish every moment we share, even when chaos reigns around us."

Respect for Individuality: Legolas deeply respects their individuality and appreciates the fact that they don't conform to typical elven norms. He admires their strength of character and their willingness to be true to themselves.

Encouragement and Support: He is a source of unwavering encouragement and support for them. Legolas understands that their unconventional approach to life is a part of what makes them special, and he never tries to change or suppress it.

A Gentle Hand: He has a gentle and caring touch, especially when it comes to tending to any injuries or scrapes they may acquire during their daring exploits (and especially since they're a bit chaotic and maybe somtimes even clumsly when paying too much attention to Legolas and not their surroundings.) Legolas takes great care in ensuring their well-being. (They would not admid that they need help at first, so Legolas does it without any words or asking, always making sure they're all right.)

Affectionate Gestures: Legolas is not one to shy away from showing affection. He expresses his love through tender gestures, whether it's a soft touch, a warm smile, or an embrace. However, the moment his s/o started feeling comfortable showing off their relationship, they'd often hug Legolas thightly (sometimes to his surprise, but he secretly enjoys them a lot).

Hair: He'd let them play with his hair, but don't expect them to braid it, since they can't do it and it would just get tangled (Legolas tried to teach them, but gave up after several attempts.) However he would sometimes braid their hair, if they asked him, tho they mostly like to keep it open

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pastrydragon · 1 year

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Accent, speech pattern and Voice headcanons for the Gotham Rogues.

Riddler

In casual settings, Eddie has a slight New Jersey accent and cusses with the frequency you would expect from that.

He almost always has perfect grammar and has a very impressive vocabulary.

But there are some situations where "Fuck" just does not have a suitable replacement.

When he's going against Batman, The Riddler adopts a more trans Atlantic accent since it goes with his gameshow aesthetic.

Also since a LOT of his schemes are publicly televised he doesn't want to cuss on camera or forget to project his voice.

So adopting a different accent helps his brain remember how to act on camera so he can always appear classy.

Edward's voice is a bit more high and nasally than average, but not to an annoying degree. It's not particularly unique either. So if he remembers so change his voice slightly then he can make a phone call to anywhere and they won't recognize him.

Emotional variations include his accent getting thicker when he's angry or exhausted.

Scarecrow

John has a very rural Georgian accent.

Scarecrow: The Master Of Fear has a rather dramatic way of speaking due to his love of classic literature and poetry.

His years in academia have also left him with a very intellectual and scientific vocabulary.

John speaks with a kind of intensity and eloquence that you'd expect on a stage rather than at the front of a classroom.

A smooth baritone only enhances the effect.

Had he not been a professor, he would have made a killing as a raidio star or television narrator.

John only breaks out Southernisms when he's embarrassed. "Well I never!" "Why I outta-" he also stammers when embarrassed. otherwise his speech patterns don't have noticeable emotional variation except the ones he puts there.

Mad Hatter

Jervis has a strong Bristol accent. Which is an English accent that strongly pronounces R's and tends to slap an L at the end of words that should end in a vowel.

The classic example is Opera'l instead of Opera.

His voice is naturally high and soft, often making him sound much more indulgent toward others than he's actually feeling.

Although he does quote the Alice books often, he does not quote longer passages exactly unless he's having an episode.

The rest of the time he'll change them to fit what's happening or merely reference them.

If he's feeling particularly lucid and cheery, you may not even hear mention of the books at all.

Stress will cause longer more accurate quotes and chip at his lucidity along the way.

His only other emotional variation comes out when he's feeling flirtatious.

Jervis's voice tends to get more breathy and cooing around people he likes. He also goes harder on his R's giving some words a purr like sound.

Harley Quinn

We all know and love our girl Harley's Brooklyn accent.

Honestly I can't make an improvement on the BTAS version so scroll down.

Poison Ivy

Pam has a Virginian accent. It's the kind of southern bell accent you'd associate with Blanche Devereux.

Pair that with a voice like a lounge singer and everything that comes out of her mouth sounds sexy.

Even when she doesn't want it to.

It's actually pretty annoying for her.

Unlike John she uses plenty of southernisms such as "I Reckon" "Over yonder" and of course the venom filled "Bless your heart."

Catwomen

The Miami accent is strong on this women, and it tells you exactly why she moved to Gotham.

You can't wear all black leather in the kind of weather Florida's got.

Miami heat isn't sweet to everyone.

Being a second generation Cuban immigrant, she speaks Spanish fluently and while she speaks both it and English seamlessly she has run into one glitch.

She will occasionally forget whether a turn of phrase was originally English or Spanish.

She called John a dancing skeleton once and no one has let it die. From Esqueleto rumbero- Literally: Dancing skeleton, Meaning: Very thin.

Her actual voice is a pretty standard alto. Like Ed, as long as she disguises her accent she can basically call wherever without being recognized.

Another rogue that hits their R's harder while flirting. But it's less a seductive purr and more an "Oh, I'm being HUNTED" kind of sound to hear.

Bane

Bane is directly from Venezuela and has the accent to match.

His English is phenomenal for someone who's only been speaking it a few years but it's not always perfect.

Whenever he doesn't know or forgets the word for something he'll describe it using other words until the other person figures it out for him.

For example, this interaction between him and Riddler: "I need the office knives." "... I'm sorry, what?" "The office knives, with the holes in the handle." "Hmmm, is the answer perhaps scissors?" "YES! I need the scissors!"

Edward is the grand champion of figuring out what Bane is saying if Catwomen or Music Meister isn't there to translate the word from Spanish.

Bane has a naturally loud and deep voice which can make him sound aggressive even when he's not trying to be. His size doesn't help.

But really he's a very calm and levelheaded person.

If he's actually angry, you'll know it from how quiet deliberate his speech becomes.

A quiet Bane is a dangerous Bane.

Joker

New York accent.

Drops occasional NY phrases but doesn’t mention anything culturally significant to New York unless someone else brings it up.

He doesn't remember what part of New York he's from but if asked he'll say Coney Island.

His jealousy over Eddie growing up in Wildwood is real.

Harley swears up and down he's from Staten Island and anyone familiar with the different New York accents would agree with her.

Joker has a pretty distinct reedy voice that all gothamites will recognize as soon as they hear it.

It gets even higher on the rare occasion he's scared or nervous.

Music Meister

SoCal (Southern California) accent.

This accent is also called Valley Girl.

He's originally from San Diego and spent his early twenties in LA so the accent is thick and locked in.

He moved to the east coast to attempt a Broadway career before turning to villainy and kind of regrets not moving back west first.

He's the first person to complain about cold weather and bad Mexican food when the chance pops up.

But he's gotten too fond of the other rogues to seriously consider leaving.

Even if the Scarecrow keeps smacking him with a newspaper every time he misuses the word "literally".

He automatically starts singing his words when he becomes frightened or incredibly nervous. Which made sense until he revealed he did that even before he got his powers.

Odd.

Killer Croc

Waylon has a thick cajun accent, that along with a naturally growly bass voice can make it difficult for others to understand him.

He prefers speaking French to English and will go out of his way to talk to people he thinks might speak his preferred language.

Jervis, Edward, Victor Fries and Joker speak with him in French when in a one on one conversation.

Yes Joker speaks French, no he doesn’t remember why or how. He honestly didn’t even know he could until he met Waylon.

Waylon is incredibly charming and personable once you figure out what he's saying, he's definitely the most well liked rogue among his peers next to Harley.

Emotional variants include getting even more growly when angry and speaking completely in French when distracted.

Penguin

A lot of people say he has an English accent, he doesn’t, never say this in front of him.

The man is WELSH, and he has ruined people’s lives over having his accent confused on particularly difficult days.

He takes great pride in his heritage and being accused of being “English” of all things is one of the quickest ways to sour his mood.

No offense to Mr. Tetch of course, it's the principle of the thing really.

He rarely speaks Welsh these days unless visiting extended family.

He does use the proverb “Deuparth gwaith yw ei ddechrau”(Two-thirds of work is starting), mostly to himself but he’ll use the proverb with others when appropriate.

Emotional variants include his voice getting squawk like when scared. He also laughs like a mad pelican.

Clayface

I forget who came up with this originally and I'm kicking myself for not remembering but I've adopted the head canon that Clayface was an "aging" K-pop/drama star that was on tour in the states when his manager coerced him into trying an experimental cosmetic treatment that turned him into Clayface.

So Clay has a very strong Korean accent and probably speaks the worst English out of all the rogues.

It's passable but he understandably just wasn't expecting to need it this much.

Despite his difficulties he still somehow gains control over the majority of his conversations and seems to exude likability.

He's trained for years to make his voice as soothing and pleasant as possible and he's not going to let being a mud monster ruin his hard work.

Until something triggers his traumatic memories and sends him into a frothing rage full of bubbling curses or a depressive meltdown where he becomes a pile of blubbering goo.

He's totally incomprehensible when he's having either kind of breakdown even to other Korean speakers, honestly HE doesn't even really know what he's saying.

Many of the rogues have hired him to put his acting skills to use in various schemes and Clayface is amazed at all the new voices he can do.

He's also been Music Meister's backup vocalist for a few of his schemes so you know he's legitimately good.

Bookworm

He has a rather general east coast accent.

Until he gets angry and starts cursing in Portuguese.

You'd never guess because he's an ashy fucker and his skin never sees the sun since he spends all his time reading inside, but the guy is mainly indigenous Brazilian.

You might be able to get a clue from his facial features if he wasn't wearing the world's thickest glasses and a hat.

He has near permanent "Library voice" so people often struggle to hear him above everything else that might be going on.

His voice is surprisingly sonorous and captivating when he can be well heard.

Since Arkham doesn't often get new books, fresh literature was fought over until Joker suggested "AudioBookworm" which is just Bookworm reading the new book aloud for everyone.

Until his little used voice gives out a bit at which point Scarecrow or Mad Hatter will step in until the end of the chapter.

Mr. Freeze

Victor has a moderate Icelandic accent.

Riddler and Joker have a competition going to see how many lines from Skyrim they can trick him into saying.

Victor figured it out immediately but plays dumb to this day in order to fuck with them.

He said "Hey, you. You're finally awake." to Edward after he woke up from a nap in the rec room once and Victor will treasure the face that nerd made forever.

Victor has a bit of a "resting bitch voice" he always sounds annoyed.

Unless he's talking to Nora, then he just sounds like a simp.

Not really a voice head canon but he gets hiccups very easily from laughing.

BONUS Nora

Nora is from Belarus so she often got mistaken for having a Russian accent.

But unlike Oswald she rarely cares enough to correct people much less get angry over it.

Nora speaks with great confidence and authority, even when she doesn't necessarily have either.

Her voice definitely broadcasts "Don't even fucking THINK about arguing with me."

The personality and accent get her the nickname "Ice queen" wherever she works.

Which is very unfair, she's a kind and compassionate women!

She's just also right and she should say it.

Nora's voice becomes utterly saccharine around Victor, they're absolutely obnoxious to listen to together.

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