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grapejuicestyless · 24 days ago

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Stupid F-ing Tattoo

JJ Maybank x Fem!reader

Summery: Y/n and JJ both had a few things in common. One, love didn’t exist. And two, they both wanted her dead.

She wasn’t dead, but sometimes, he wished she was.

It was honestly fucked up, there was no silver lining. She hadn’t wronged him, or cheated, or lied. She was as guilty as a fish, and he was the shark. But he still wished she was dead.

Sometimes, JJ wondered if she wished the same thing. If some nights, if she ever were to by chance hear his laughter in a passing moment, maybe with his head hung out the back window of the Twinkie like she used to do, or in a lazy jog away from the cops, he wondered if she wished he would also, drop off the face of the earth to give her some peace.

Then he would remember that even though it didn’t feel like it, he had won. Because she had no peace, and he was certain she never would. While he was up all night wishing her to be gone, she was up all night praying for the same thing.

She often told him that the only things keeping her going were him and her dog, but mostly her dog. An old white dog, a stray she’d taken in when she was merely seven. He was as crusty as they get, and while he and his friends often joked about how gross the old thing was, she happily scratched behind his ears and reminded him of how good he was always.

But the dog was getting old, and JJ had long been extracted from her life. Sometimes he wondered if his prayers meant something, and then he would get on his knees and take them all back in a guilty sob. Because JJ didn’t want her to die, he just hated the fact that he had fallen in love with someone who couldn’t fathom love more than he ever doubted it.

JJ felt like an asshole. What kind of person prays for another persons death? Especially someone like her?

He figured he liked her so much because they were so alike. Like the seasons, they were the coolest winters and the sweltering summer all at once. They were so close, yet so far. Like January and December. Born with the same love and loyalty, but destined to fall apart, prophets forced to be divided.

His finger hovered over her contact every night, but every time he thought of how she would answer, and his tongue would go dry. She would probably only say hello, and he would say it back, and the line would go quiet for a few minutes, just breathing in each others inhales, aligning his breath to hers, and then she would ask him why he was calling. He would say he didn’t know, but he hoped she was well, and she would wish the same for him because she always did, and she always meant it more because she never wished that he was dead. Then, she would ask if it was okay to let him go, and he would ramble about something and how it was all dumb to begin with. She would listen and then the line would go dead. Dead like how he sometimes wanted her.

He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her go again, even if he didn’t realize he had the first time.

They had just gotten matching tattoos. “P4L” poked into their ankles until the skin swelled red and even air burned. They were fucked, and it was a dumb idea.

JJ said it was the stupidest fucking tattoo he’d ever gotten. She had laughed, playfully pushing his arm away and setting the needle down.

“You don’t have any other tattoos.” She reminded him softly, eyes shining in the moonlight. The twinkles reminded him of the north star, and he felt that he too found home in the same way.

“Not yet.” He promised her, his fingers slotting between hers. “I’m gonna get your name tattooed right across my palm so I can hold you eternity.” JJ smiled, proud at his use of larger words. He’d felt like a poet then, smiling from ear to ear at himself, a dork by textbook definition.

“Well, then I’m going to get your name tattooed on my lips, so I have every reason to talk about you.” She promised him, and JJ remembered the look in her eyes, he knew it from the way John B looked at Sarah and the way Pope’s dad looked at his mom. He knew it was love.

He should never have confessed it.

He knew better than anyone that her mothers neglect had beaten her heart black and blue, and her cousins hatred towards her and her friends who had bullied her, he knew that much like him, love was a construct of some sort of fantasy, a promise of forever that could never be fulfilled, because eventually, someone has to leave.

She laughed, and then she cried. She promised JJ that she also loved him, loved him like a dog loved its owner, unwavering and loyal. But there was no way in hell she could ever love him the ways he wanted, and that hurt JJ because he had spent weeks working up the courage to even come to terms with his very real feelings.

“I can’t love you, JJ. I do, but I can’t because I can’t even promise myself that forever. I’ll break my own heart and I’ll blame you.” She had explained with tears streaming down her face. He regretted the way he yelled at her.

They never spoke again. His best friend, and the love of his life, her voice became a concept in his mind, and he swore that he had forgotten the sweetness of her smell. He hated that because that meant he was just like everyone else. Just another person who would miss her when she went.

So, he started wishing death on her. More for himself, until it became a prayer for her. She never laughed anymore, never smiled. When he saw her from afar, he’d noticed that she’d gone back to her friends she hated because suffering is better than loneliness when all you can think about is the quickest way to go.

He saw a girl floating in the ocean the a few days into the summer, her hair resembled Y/n’s and her eyes did too. It was only when he saw the way she seemed to fold herself into the water he knew it was her because only she would have the drive to try and let the ocean swallow her whole.

JJ ran as fast as he could out, wading through the crashing waves until he could wrap his arms around her. She was wet, cold, and limp. A hollow version of the woman she once was. It reminded JJ that she was just a girl, the same age as him, and he once again, felt guilty for ever wishing death on her.

When he laid her in the sand, he knew two things.

One, on her skin, she had another small tattoo scribbled down to memorize her love forever. His name, just two little letters, the same one, poked into her shoulder in the same font as their matching tattoo.

“Stupid fucking tattoo.” He cried, gritting his teeth together, his hands searching her body for any warmth he could cling to, a sign that maybe he hadn’t seen her too late.

The second thing he knew, through his salty tears and guilty heart, was something he prayed he would never have to witness, but something he had always wished for.

His prayers had been answered.

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daytaker · 9 months ago

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sadhours · 1 year ago

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scumbag blues: 1) first it giveth

gator tillman x f!original character

contents: 18+ minors dni, sex work, mean!gator, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, oral (m receiving), p in v, rough, anal play, choking, lots of dirty talk, unprotected sex, lots of spitting

The sheets are fresh, it’s the first thing Gator smells as he and Daisy walk through the doorway. She leans against the closed door, locking it and batting her lashes up at him. Big blue eyes behind false lashes and a scattering of sun sprouted freckles dusting the apples of her cheeks and bridge of her nose. Gator feels a little dizzy at the sight but his dad doesn’t approve of her, tells Gator he better stop paying for her services but he can’t help himself. Winds up at the Inn at least twice a week. Bills fresh from the ATM tucked neatly in his wallet, burning a hole in his pocket. Gator’s hands find her hips, holding her in place while his body crowds her tiny one. He’s a good seven inches taller than her. He gets off on the size difference, likes knowing he can easily throw her around.

Daisy’s fingers find the zipper of his utility vest, her pink stained lips parting as she tugs it down and smoothes her hands under it, pushing it off his shoulders. Gator lets it fall to the floor, cringing at the thud it makes as it hits the hardwood. Daisy then moves her hands to make purchase over his chest, making his skin chill with goosebumps. She gently squeezes his hips, blinking up at him with those coquettish eyes. Turns Gator to putty in her hands like that. Wills himself to stop thinking about how much dick she’s ran through today. Tells himself she don’t look at those men the way she’s looking at him. Daisy promises so, has Gator believing it like it changes anything.

Roy wouldn’t let him and even if he did, Daisy ain’t gonna stop turning tricks. Her dad thinks this is an Inn, but they make money ‘cause his little girls turned it into a brothel. Her mothers scarce, like his own. Gator doesn’t ask her personal questions like that. They keep it professional. Though he knows it ain’t, knows Daisy brings him to her personal bedroom and not one of the rooms for rent. Lets her rest her head on his chest after and tell him about her dreams. Kisses her stupid before he inevitably leaves.

“S’nice dress you got on,” he mumbles, “Put it on just for me?” It’s a white one, short with big flowy sleeves and her cleavage just about pours from it.

“Bought it just for you,” Daisy replies, fishing her manicured fingers in his pocket and retrieving his lime green vape. She holds it up, “You know the rule.”

“Dumb fuckin’ rule,” he grumbles but takes it from her, taking a deep pull from the little box and tilts his head back to exhale the smoke out towards the ceiling. He passes it back to her and Daisy side steps him to put it in her desk. Gator’s got a not so good habit about reaching for it while they’re in the throws of passion, Daisy ain’t a fan of the acidic fruity vapor in her face during sex. So she made a rule, it stays in her desk drawer until after he’s paid her.

“Gator,” she scolds, furrowing her brows as she looks at him.

“I’m just saying,” he raises his hands in defense before trailing to the bed. He sits on the foot of it, clicking his tongue and nodding to the ground before him. Daisy complies, getting on her knees and starts unlacing his boots with her French tip nails and looks up at him with those big eyes again. “Good girl,” he praises, placing his palms on the comforter.

Sometimes he makes her lick ‘em but he’s feeling sweet tonight. She looks a little too innocent for that right now. So he just watches carefully, humming in approval when she gets one boot off and massages his sweaty, socked foot. Daisy smiles, flush rising up her neck which has Gator thinking this part gets her real excited. Has half a mind to reach between her legs and find out. Daisy rubs her face against his knee, bouncing a bit where she sits before she moves onto the other boot. She doesn’t spend as much time in massaging that one before she’s reaching for the button of his cargos, Gator moves to unclip the strap on his thigh but Daisy stops him.

“Keep it on for now,” she pleads, pulling his cargos down as far as they’ll go with the strap on.

“Yeah? Got yourself a cop kink?” Gator teases.

“More like a Gator kink,” she mumbles and immediately looks like she regrets it, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy. She bites her lip and moves her hand to palm him through his underwear. He can’t dwell on what she said for long after that, hot pleasure rising up his legs as his cock twitches from the attention. A long, low groan pushes from his throat and she shushes him. Her daddy’s bedroom is next to hers.

“C’mon, stop teasing,” he hisses.

Daisy raises a brow, lips quirking into a smirk before she’s nudging her nose against his clothed cock. Gator gasps and his hips lift off the mattress for just a second. And then Daisy sniffs and Gator’s a little self conscious, knows he’s been sweating in these cargos all day. But Daisy groans softly and takes another whiff, squeezing the bottom of his thighs and lets out a moan.

“You’re nasty, ya know that?” Gator exhales shakily and Daisy rubs her face against his boner and tells him he smells so good. Pheromones or someshit, he doesn’t know but he knows it turns him on that she likes his scent. His cock fills out even more and he grabs a hold of her head, pressing her face flush against his briefs. Daisy mouths at his length through the fabric, digging her fingers into his thighs. “You fucking love that cock, don’tcha, darling? C’mon, show daddy how much you love it,” Gator groans out, loosening his grip on her head.

Daisy takes a breath as she pulls away, immediately hooking her fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulls ‘em down to get his erection out. Gator has to bite his lip to stifle the moan rising up his throat as she grips the base of him in her hand and licks a broad stroke up the underside of his cock. Daisy’s a real pro when it comes to head. Experience, Gator knows but she acts like she needs to suck it. Like she’s hungry for his cock. Daisy delivers kitten licks to his slit, moving her head with the motion before she wraps her lips around the head, giving a hard suck before taking him as far as he’ll go, hot and wet enveloping his cock. It twitches in her mouth and Gator pathetically moans out a “Oh, dear lord.”

He can feel her smile around the mouthful of him, has his hips rolling up on their own volition. For fucks sake, it feels so good. All the stress from work and his dad just dissipates like a switch. Gator’s sure that Daisy was put here on earth to service his cock, that’s what God made her for. And fuck, if he could marry her he’d do it in a heartbeat. Daisy pulls his cock out of her mouth with a pop before slapping it against her tongue and swallows before she asks him, “S’that feel good, daddy?”

“Yeah it does, sweetheart,” Gator bumbles out, “Get your mouth back to work.”

Daisy obliges with a giggle, running her pouty lips against the tip before slipping it between them. She sucks on his head, stroking him with her hand. Keeps her eyes locked on his face, like she’s eager to watch him fall apart. Like her whole self worth depends on whether or not she can make Gator cum. And he’s a fucking asshole.

“Aw, darlin,” he laughs softly, “You can do better than that, can’tcha?”

Daisy huffs through her nose, eyes squinting at him as she squeezes his cock in her hand but she clearly can’t help herself, as stubborn as she may pretend to be, she really just wants to please him. So Daisy sinks her mouth down on his cock, takes him until the head pushes against the back of her throat. She blinks quickly and Gator can see the tears prickling the corners of her eyes, slipping out and down her cheeks. Watches with his breath held as she exhales through her nose. He scoops her blonde hair up in his hands and holds it like a pony tail at the crown of her head, using the leverage to move her mouth as he pleases. Fucks her pretty little mouth until his balls are covered in her drool. Bucks his hips with it, reveling in the gagging sounds she makes around his length.

Gator’s real close to pulling her off, feels his orgasm is inching in quicker but it’s just too good to make her stop. He ain’t leaving here without filling her pussy though, it is what he pays for anyhow.

“Slower,” he whimpers out, hating the way it sounds on his ears but Daisy complies, pulls off of him and strokes him languidly in her hand. She blinks up at him, those eyes wide like she’s never done this before. The mortgage being paid for this place says something else though.

“Such a sweet girl,” Gator coos, “Do whatever you’re told.” He pats her bicep, “Up. Show me how wet y’are.”

Daisy flushes, standing up on shaky legs and lifts her dress above her waist. Her thong is white, slick soaked through and glistening on her thighs. Gator reaches forward and presses his fingers against the damp material. He moves them firmly up and down, Daisy rolls her hips into it and Gator lets out a low chuckle.

“Reckon you’re a good whore or… it’s only my cock that gets you soaked like this,” Gator muses, tilting his head as he pushes her panties to the side and gets his fingers against her folds. “Huh? You get this wet for those other fuckers?”

Daisy gasps, fingers grasping at the bunched material of her dress as she gazes down at his face.

“Answer me,” Gator demands when Daisy’s eyes glaze over from pleasure, his fingertips moving against her aching clit.

“No,” she whines, because it’s the truth. There’s bottles of lube hidden away in every single room. It’s nothing but men her fathers age and then there’s Gator. Handsome and around her age. Fucks her like he owns her. She won’t tell him he does. That she’s looking forward to their scheduled appointments. Cleans her room for him, wears clothes bought just for him and is soaking wet in anticipation. Hell, he’s the only client who gets to fuck her raw.

“That’s right,” he purrs, pulling his hand back and leans back against the bed, “Touch yourself for me.”

Daisy puts on a show, pushes her panties down mid thigh and spreads her lips with her fingers, giving him an eyeful of glistening folds. Rubs her pretty little clit in slow circles for him. Makes these breathy, quiet moans as she does it. Gator watches with an unimpressed expression that has Daisy insecure and eager to please. She slaps her pussy and inhales sharply at the way his eyebrows raise, moving to sink her fingers into her warm core. Fucking herself all slow and exaggerated, walls clenching around the digits and the desire to have his cock stretching them starts to get unbearable.

“Taste yourself,” Gator instructs.

She obliges instantly, shoving her fingers in her mouth and humming around them. Gator grins, eyes crinkling and Daisy clambers on top of him. Smashing their lips together desperately, grabbing his face and rocking her hips against him. Gator grabs her ass, squeezes it before delivering a harsh smack to the right cheek as he licks into her mouth. Daisy has a strict no kissing rule, but most of her rules go out the window when it comes to Gator. As much as she despises who he is, she’s overwhelmingly attracted to him. It’s carnal, animalistic the way they make out and rut against each other. Gator gropes her wherever he can, pressing his cock against her dripping cunt and rolling his hips. The most delicious slide, slick coating his shaft as he drags it through her folds. Their muffled moans fill the room as they writhe against each other. Daisy’s so goddamn wet Gator can feel it dripping down to his balls. He grabs her hair and tugs her back, breaking the kiss with strings of salvia still connecting their lips.

“Take that fucking dress off,” Gator demands, “Now.”

Daisy fumbles to pull the hem up and over her head, body exposed to him and his hands take advantage, smoothing down her sides and then back up to unclasp her lacy white bra. She tosses it aside and rolls her hips into him as his hands cup her breasts, thumbs grazing against her pert nipples. Daisy elicits a loud moan and Gator’s pinches her nipple and tugs it.

“Shh,” he scolds, “Don’t want your daddy knowing what an easy slut his little girl is.”

“Fuck,” Daisy gasps, hands moving to grab Gator’s wrist and forearm. His words produce a wave of euphoria laced shame, coating the length of his cock in even more slick. He uses her secret to blackmail her all the time, get dirt on her clients and get free services from her when he gets power hungry.

Gator hums, smirking up at her and says, “Does that make you wet? Screwing for money when daddy’s in the next room? Fuck, you’re such a whore. Picked the perfect profession.”

“Shut up,” she pleads in a moan.

“Ah ah,” Gator purses his lips as he smooths his hand up to wrap around Daisy’s neck, “I know you don’t wanna spend the night behind bars again. Soliciting a deputy and all.” Gator tsks, “Better behave.”

“Yes, sir,” Daisy gasps, feeling light headed with the pressure Gator’s got on her windpipe. Tells herself it’s part of the service, that she isn’t massively turned on by the power Gator truly holds. “I’m sorry, Deputy Tillman… I’ll be a good girl.”

“Music to my ears, darlin,” Gator drawls before giving a squeeze to her throat and letting go.

“How do you want me?” Daisy asks, breathlessly as her fingertips ghost down the swell of his biceps. She ignores the dumb tattoo peeking out of his sleeve.

“Ass up, face in the pillows,” Gator instructs and Daisy moves quick to get into position, thong still draped at her knees. Gator gets up, she can hear him undo his thigh strap and carefully placing it on the dresser before she feels him peel her underwear the rest of the way down. When she feels Gator’s hips pressing the globes of her ass, she knows he’s undressed. The tip of his cock grazes her fluttering hole, causing a whine to raise out of her throat and she pushes her ass back at him, desperate to catch the head of his cock in her hole and sink down on it. But Gator has other plans, grabs handfuls of her ass and spreads her cheeks before jiggling them in his hands. Watches her asshole flex from the motion and he spits on it, moving his thumb to spread his saliva against the hole she doesn’t let any other man touch. Hasn’t told Gator he’s the only man whose fucked her ass.

Gator spits again, uses it as lube to slip his thumb inside her asshole and groans lowly as Daisy’s toes curl.

“That’s it,” he coos, “Such a good little whore for me.”

Daisy keens, grabbing onto the pillows as she pushes her ass back at him. He spanks her with his right hand, so hard she’s sure she’s got an angry, red print of Gator’s large hand on it. Then he’s grabbing the base of his cock, swirling the head of it around Daisy’s clenching, dripping hole. He slips it in, but keeps it shallow. Just the tip.

“C’mon, Daisy,” he says condescendingly, “Fuck that dirty hole on my cock.”

Daisy’s head is swimming with just the tip, the notion that this is work completely vacated her thoughts. This is pure pleasure, all play and no work. Daisy fully believes in this moment that she exists to be used by Gator and God’s a real kind son of a bitch for giving her that purpose. She rolls her hips back, sinking down on Gator’s cock and he gasps. Her eyes are rolling back as he fills her up, all the way down to his tight balls. His cockhead presses into her g-spot so deliciously Daisy cannot hold back the guttural moan punching through her lips. He’s the only client to make her cum, to make sex enjoyable.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he exhales, “Tight little cunt, no matter how many dicks you take.”

His filthy words make both her holes clench around him. Gator wiggles his thumb and then uses the grip he’s got on her to drag her up and down his cock. He’s so thick and she’s squeezing him so tight. Can’t imagine not taking Gator raw. Needs to feel him without the stinky, thin layer of latex.

“Christ,” he moans softly, “Just keep squeezing that dick. You love it so much.”

Daisy fucks back against him, her nipples brushing against the bedspread as her tits sway with the motions. The sensation spreads hotly down her spine. The wet sounds of Gator’s cock sliding in and out of her cunt fill her ears, sprouting goosebumps over her skin as desperation starts to take over her. With each thrust of their hips, their skin meets with a sweaty slap and the tip of his cock brushes against her g-spot. Gator keeps letting out these low grunts, right hand gripping her hip tight enough to leave bruises. All the marks on her skin are left from him.

“So wet,” he chokes behind clenched teeth, “My little whore, all fucking mine.” He slaps her ass, “Yeah? I own this tight fuck hole, don’t I?”

“Yes,” she cries out, the slapping sounds of their skin gaining in tempo as Gator pounds into her relentlessly.

“Say it, bitch,” Gator seethes, moving her hand between her shoulder blades and pushing her harder against the mattress, “Tell me who owns this fucking pussy.”

Daisy turns her head, though her voice is still slightly muffled as she whimpers out, “You own this pussy, Gator owns me…”

“Damn fucking right,” he grunts. And just as he slips his thumb out of her ass to grip her hips, his radio goes off.

“Gator, do you copy?” that static laced voice rings throughout the room but the deputy ignores it, drilling into Daisy at breakneck speed, pushing involuntarily little yelps from her.

“Gator, you there?” Again, the voice comes through. “Gator,” in a singing tune.

“Fucking useless pricks,” he pulls out from Daisy and climbs off the bed. She sighs as she flips onto her back, rubbing her pussy as she watches his plump ass while he walks over to his vest.

“I’m fuckin’ busy,” he says into the radio and drops the vest, turning and grinning from ear to ear as he sees Daisy laid back, running her fingers through her folds as she eyes his hard cock.

“Fuckin’ busy or busy fuckin’?” The voice replies as Gator makes it to the edge of the mattress, stroking his cock while his eyes rake over Daisy’s body. “You with that whore again, ain’t ya, Gator?”

He rolls his eyes and climbs back on the mattress, gets between Daisy’s legs and slaps the head of his cock against her pussy, “Ignore ‘em, they’ll leave us alone.”

Daisy is used to what everyone says about her. Hell, the majority of Stark County Sheriff’s Department has paid for her services. She’d be amiss to ignore the realization that Gator talks about her to them, though.

“You tell ‘em about me?” she giggles, moving her hands up to play with her nipples while Gator drags the tip of his cock through her folds.

“Sure do,” he mumbles, “Tell ‘em you let me fuck your ass for no extra charge.”

“You get a flat fee,” Daisy admits, looking up to see his gelled back hair coming undone, the longer strands flopping out. He’s so frustratingly good looking, can’t help herself to grab his arms and pull his lips to hers. As Gator kisses back, he slips his cock into her hole which makes Daisy moan against his lips. Her legs come up to wrap around his waist and her arms drape around his shoulders.

He grinds into her cunt nice and deep before snapping his hips, head of his cock hitting her cervix in a way that has her body jolting and nails dragging down his back. Tears fill her eyes at the sharp sensation but Gator doesn’t relent, pounding into her pussy with abandon. Daisy has to bite his lip to stifle her cries but the assault makes Gator growl and break the kiss, pulling back and wrapping his fingers around her neck. Not applying too much pressure, but pressing her into the bed while he hammers his hips impossibly faster and harder, face all contorted in frustration and pleasure.

“Ya wanna bite me, bitch?” he grunts out.

Daisy whimpers, eyes rolling back in her head as Gator drills into her. Euphoria radiating all over her body as Gator slams against her g-spot repeatedly, turning Daisy into a drooling, incoherent mess as her voice attempts to apologize. Gator pouts, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as he slows his thrusts.

“Poor girl, make you cockdrunk already?” his voice is just a tad shaky, like he’s struggling not to fuck her into oblivion. “We just barely started, darlin.”

That’s another thing different about Gator as a client, the sex lasts hours. They usually do it more than once. Rest of her clients can barely last five minutes. Daisy wouldn’t complain though. Four hundred bucks for five minutes of laying on her back isn’t bad. Course, Gator gets a discounted price. Half off. It started because she actually enjoyed herself, had a rough time considering it work. Until he would leave, drop the cash on her dresser and not talk to her until he showed up for their next appointment. Gator makes her remember its work.

He drags his fingers down her arms before grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head, leaning down to connect their lips again. Daisy whimpers against it, squeezing her legs tighter around his waist and trying to chase the europhoria she felt just seconds ago. If he hadn’t slowed down she would’ve came. Gator likes to take his time, really drag it out of her. He can’t do anything without making it convoluted and difficult. Which he proves by shoving his cock as deep as it’ll go, their skin flush and then stills his hips. Pants into the kiss, moves his free hand up to squeeze her tit again. Daisy flicks her tongue against his and he wraps his lips around it, sucking on her tongue as he attempts to penetrate her even deeper. Fruitless, his cocks into the hilt, balls pressed against her ass.

The kiss quickly devolves into the pair of them moaning into open mouths, Gator thrusts but barely pulls back. And his cock is so hard and firm, Daisy’s squeezing around it with all she’s worth. Fuck, they’re libel to get stuck like this. Animals in heat. Pleasure swirling around in her stomach, bleeding down to all her nerves. They’re as connected as they’ll ever be, in the most raw and guttural way they can be. She opens her eyes as he pulls back, whimpers when his cock goes with him and she’s left feeling empty. Gator spreads her legs, looks down at her cunt and let’s a line of spit drip from his lips to her pretty, fucked bright pink pussy.

“Think it’s time you earned your money,” he pats her thigh, “Ride me, cowgirl.”

Daisy knows she’s well earned her money as is but she isn’t gonna say no to riding Gator. Gains a bit of her power back in that position. She nods enthusiastically and straddles Gator once he’s on his back, smoothes her hands through his chest hair and grazes her fingertips against his nipples. It earns her an almost pathetic moan from the man and Daisy’s giddy on it. She grinds her slicked up pussy against his hard cock, the slide easy from how soaked he gets her.

“C’mon, now,” he quirks an eyebrow, “Get on that cock and show me what you’re worth.”

Daisy licks her lips, lifts herself up and grabs hold of Gator’s erection, the head easily catches on her hole and she sinks down on him. Her puffy lips fall open as he fills her, a saccharine moan pouring out of her. He hums, eyes locked on where their bodies connect.

Then he directs her, “Slow. Wanna see it all. Need to see your pussy swallowin’ that cock.”

Holding onto his thighs, she leans back and slowly lifts her hips. Up until just the tips inside. She watches Gator’s expressions intently, his brown eyes blown wide with this hazy lust in them. Cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. His lips are swollen from the kisses.

“Take that cock, baby,” he mumbles out, sounding so delightfully dazed.

Baby. The word goes right to her head, makes her stomach fill with butterflies. Daisy complies, sinking back down on it and repeating the languid motions a few more times before she can’t take it anymore. Needs it faster and harder. Gator turns into a bumbling puddle, moaning out as he encourages her, “That’s it, yeah. Fuck yourself on my dick. Oh, yeah…”

“Gator,” she whines out, milking his cock with her tight cunt. Bouncing on his cock, squeezing his thighs for leverage. Her eyebrows pinch together and her mouth hangs open, chasing that burst of ecstasy only Gator can give her.

“Yeah, you filthy little slut,” he seethes, teeth clenched as his eyes dance around from their sexes up to her eyes and down to her tits.

Daisy huffs, moving a hand so she can rub erratic circles against her throbbing clit. Balancing herself on the one hand still plastered on Gator’s thigh. Feels the way her legs burn from exertion but she’s too focused on chasing the orgasm teasing her insides. Rides him like a woman gone mad. Gator’s moans turn breathless and border on whimpering, be it by her cunt quickly working his cock or her animalistic determination to get herself off, it’s doing something to him.

“Really workin’ for it, yeah?” Gator babbles out, “Gonna make yourself cream all over my cock, baby?”

“Feels so fucking good,” she heaves through pants.

“Mmm,” Gator’s hands snake around her hips, his own legs spreading which makes Daisy falter and she lets out a frustrated whine. “Don’t stop,” Gator tells her, fingers digging into her skin.

He begins thrusting up at her, the pair of them relentlessly humping each other. It’s a little sloppy, but the force of Gator’s hips pushes her over the edge. Intense waves of absolute heaven rippling through her, mouth open in a silent scream as she writhes against Gator. Vision gone absolutely white, riding out her orgasm blindly. Gator growls a laugh while he watches, reveling in the way her face scrunches and contorts as her body starts to buzz all over. He’s following close behind, before Daisy’s orgasm even finishes she feels his hot, thick seed filling her and leaking down the sides of his cock. Makes her cry out, body collapsing on top of him as he wraps an arm around her and fucks up into her, emptying all he’s got in her sore, used hole.

“Gator, Gator, Gator,” she chants breathlessly in his ear, tears trailing hotly down her cheeks as the aftershocks of her orgasm have her rolling her hips against him. Imagines he’s her husband. Imagines this is a marital love. That when they’re out in public they don’t hate each other.

He hums, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek before he’s pushing her off of him. Daisy lays on the mattress beside him, panting as she tries to catch her breath. Gator’s panting too, turns on his side and grabs her hip to pull her close. Drapes his arm around her as his lips find hers and they share lazy kisses.

“You let anyone else cum in ya?” he wonders aloud, lips dragging along hers. He hopes not. Can’t be too sure of her answer anyhow. She is a working girl after all. He pays her to be what he wants her to be. He still fantasizes about knocking her up, telling his dad he’s got no choice but to be with Daisy and keep filling her up with babies. She’s on birth control though, has that chip in her arm he hates so much.

“Gator,” she sighs as she presses her hand to his jaw and kisses him softly, “You’re the only one I let fuck me raw. Therefore… you’re the only man who's nut in me.”

He cringes, “Don’t talk like that. S’not ladylike.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m not much of a lady,” she kisses him again, can’t stop kissing him.

#gator #gator tillman smut #gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #gator Tillman x original character #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman x original female character #gator tillman fic

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amberskywrites · 3 months ago

Text

Brewing Storms

Fic Masterpost | Ao3 Link

Fandom / Genre: Stardew Valley / Kinda fluff?

Pairing: (Pre)Sebastian/Elliott, Sebastian & Elliott

Prompt: Requested by @cooltuna69 :

My idea is that Sebastian goes to beach on a rainy day but slips and falls in the ocean, and Willy isn't home and his house is way too far away so he has no choice but to ask Elliott for help.

Warnings: Very mild injury, storms, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Summary: Sebastian is on the beach during a rainy day, as he often does, but this storm turns out to be worse than normal. He's forced to take refuge in Elliott's cabin, but really, is that such a bad thing?

Today had already been a pretty shitty day, even though it was raining.

His mom had barged into his room early in the morning no less than seven times, Demetrius had made yet another comment about Sebastian potentially moving out, and Maru had gotten a raise from Harvey which just led to being compared to her even more by both his mom and Demetrius.

This really felt like the last straw, and Sebastian isn’t even entirely sure how it happened.

One moment, he was standing on the docks, smoking a new pack of cigarettes, his umbrella clenched in his other hand doing little to shield him from the onslaught of rain, providing just enough cover to keep his cigarette and face dry. The next moment, he was in the water, being dragged under and was narrowly slammed into the pillars of wood supporting the old docks.

Sebastian grappled until he felt something and yanked himself up, sputtering and coughing when he was able to push his head over the water’s surface, and he just barely managed to secure his hold before another wave tried to push him away again.

He shuddered against the wood he was clinging to, looking around frantically. He was under the docks, kinda. From the looks of it, he had been swept from the pier closest to the Lonely Stone to the pier closer to Willy’s shop.

Bracing himself, Sebastian grit his teeth and pushed himself further above the water’s surface, and just as his head brushed the wood above, he propelled himself back enough to grab at the edge of the dock with both hands.

One slipped and he cursed, feeling the burn as salt water hit the broken skin, but he reached for the wood again, getting a better grip before another wave could push him back under the water or docks again. He pulled himself out and up, using the surging water to at least save some of his energy.

By the time he flopped onto the wet wood, he was panting heavily and his hoodie was seemingly trying to glue him to the docks. He groaned into the paneling below, forcing himself onto hands and knees, and then shakily onto his feet. The wind and rain seemed to get worse—at least it felt worse, maybe because his umbrella had been lost to who knows where—and he hugged himself despite how his clothes were already growing colder and clinging to his skin.

He treaded as quickly as he could to Willy’s shop, slumping against the wall under the overhang. Knocking as hard as he could on the door, he shuddered as the overhang only slightly saved him from the biting wind.

Nothing. Sebastian couldn’t hear much over the wind and crashing waves anyway, but he’s pretty sure he couldn’t hear anyone inside.

Frowning, he knocked again, hopefully louder.

It wasn’t until the third knock did he finally notice the note in the window and groaned.

Closed until Saturday - On fishing trip.

“Just great,” Sebastian muttered, glaring at the little paper before huffing and looking out at the restless water.

Home was too far—at least in this weather without better rain gear. And it was definitely getting worse—the water was sloshing through the wood of the docks occasionally, and Sebastian figured it was only a matter of time before it became a constant submersion. With how soaked he was, he also wasn’t gonna be getting anywhere quickly, that was for sure. Already his clothes were growing heavy, almost like they were trying just as hard as the wind to drag him back into the water.

He’d still have to trek farther than he probably could at the moment to get to the Saloon—and Gus might not even be open at the moment. He usually closed earlier when the weather was this bad.

He thunked his head on the shop wall with a loud huff, glaring up at the water dripping off the roof.

Well. There was one place he could probably manage dragging himself to.

Ten minutes later and no less than three stumbles and two actual near-faceplants into the wet sand and Sebastian found himself in front of Elliott’s cabin. The windows were fogged and blurry from the rain and cold, but he could see a faint light emitting from inside, and so with one hand steadying himself against the wall, Sebastian knocked hard on the wooden door.

Sebastian once again didn’t hear anything and was about to knock again or curse his fate when the door swung open, and Sebastian was suddenly face to face with a frazzled-looking Elliott.

Elliott blinked down at him, his brows furrowing for a moment as though he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing, but before Sebastian could even open his mouth to say, well, anything really, it seemed the older man got a hold of himself, jolting and reaching for Sebastian.

“What in the name of Yoba are you doing?!” Elliott demanded as he hauled Sebastian inside, the door practically slamming closed behind him. “Are you mad? Weather like this could be considered a death sentence!” Sebastian had to put his hands out to stop himself from barreling into Elliott’s chest, blinking in momentary shock as his brain reoriented itself.

Suddenly he felt even colder than just a few minutes ago, while also feeling like he was burning, it was so warm in the cabin. Sebastian shuddered harshly at the dual temperatures, and the next thing he knew, Elliott was helping him out of his hoodie.

“Sebastian, truly, what happened? I know you are not so foolish as to brave this weather without some protection against the elements.”

With the hoodie alone gone, Sebastian feels hotter but melts into the heat, welcoming it for a change. His shirt, pants, and shoes are still soaked too, but at least he doesn’t feel quite as constricted anymore. He watches Elliott hang his hoodie over a chair to dry and is beckoned to enter the cabin further.

He shucks off his shoes as he answers, wrapping his arms around himself even more. “I was enjoying the rain, having a cigarette, and I guess I didn’t notice the water getting so high, and I think a wave knocked me in?” He doesn’t mean it to sound like a question, but he really isn’t completely sure how he fell into the water. It’s his best guess, though.

Elliott looks him over more critically after that, and the concern in his eyes is almost palpable. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asks, though Sebastian doesn’t miss how his eyes linger on his hands, tucked beneath his arms and out of sight.

Sebastian cringes and holds out the injured hand, getting a look at it himself for the first time. Elliott approaches and takes it into his own, and Sebastian is surprised by how large Elliott’s hands are, even more so by the callouses that scratch lightly against his skin as Elliott tilts his hand around, examining it closely.

It’s not a bad wound, but the skin broke deep enough that it was clearly bleeding at some point, and when Elliott traces a finger over it gently Sebastian hisses.

Elliott looks him head to toe and back up, tilting his head down at Sebastian before looking around his cabin.

“You’re still quite cold,” he observes. “If you’re comfortable, I may have some spare clothes that would fit you, if you wish to get into something dry. I can look for my first aid kit in the meantime.”

“Dry clothes sound great now, actually,” Sebastian nodded, and Elliott smiled slightly at him before walking to his dresser to pull whatever he had in mind out.

The next few minutes passed in relative quiet, and when Sebastian was done changing and Elliott nudged him towards his bed to sit, the silence between them was more comfortable than Sebastian thought it would be. Elliott worked diligently to disinfect Sebastian’s scrape, and Sebastian watched him work.

It gave him time to think.

He was quite comfortable, actually, despite the burn of the alcohol on his palm. Elliott had handed him a maroon knitted sweater and some sweats that, while pretty large on Sebastian, were easily adjustable—Sebastian was just stunned that Elliott, who he had never seen in anything besides a suit or nice dress shirts, even owned. The cabin itself was small, and the storm was still raging outside, but it was quite cozy, lanterns and candles creating a yellow and orange haze.

It wasn’t terrible either, Sebastian mused, that he’d been getting to know Elliott a bit more before this.

Really, it had been Sam’s fault. Sam had wanted to get to know the farmer more, and the farmer hung around Leah and Elliott most of the time at the saloon, though Leah hadn’t been coming lately according to Elliott. Sam didn’t want to just approach alone though, and with Abigail grounded at home, it fell on Sebastian to be there for him. It was the first time in a long while that Sebastian had seen his best friend so nervous to get to know someone, which he’d refuse to admit aided in Sebastian being less grudging to hang out with the farmer and Elliott for the night. He had bit back his teasing of Sam, if only because Sam seemed genuinely really invested.

Sebastian was not expecting to actually really enjoy spending time with the farmer and Elliott—or rather, mostly just Elliott since Sam hoarded much of the farmer’s time.

They’d gotten to talking about their careers, and Sebastian had been surprised by just how much their jobs made them alike. How much they liked doing what they did.

Elliott had been fascinated to learn that Sebastian was a programmer, and asked dozens of questions, and Sebastian… Sebastian had never had more fun talking with someone.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved hanging out with his friends, but there were some things they just didn’t quite get. Really, Sebastian hadn’t really found anyone who understood what he did for work, or why he did it.

He was surprised by just how much of it Elliott understood.

Sebastian was even more surprised by how much he liked hearing Elliott talk.

He enjoyed hearing about the progress of his novel, the way he spoke about the structure of plots or character arcs or world building reminded him much of how he had to program things sometimes. And the creativity itself… Sebastian really enjoyed when Elliott would bounce ideas off him, because each scenario was often more unique than the last.

And then it happened again and again. Either he, Sam, and Abigail would join Elliott, the farmer, and sometimes Leah at their table, or they’d wander over to the saloon’s side room and join them on the arcade games or in a round of pool. And it wasn’t until once he was in bed that Sebastian realized he spent so much of the time talking to Elliott, and just Elliott.

“Something on your mind?” Sebastian was brought out of his thoughts by Elliott’s voice, and blinked down at his bandaged hand.

“Nothing important, really,” he lied easily—he would not admit he was coming to some conclusions about some new feelings for the man sitting right beside him, not right now. “This just got me thinking, what were you doing before I crashed in here?”

Elliott tilted his head, studying Sebastian’s face. Sebastian could feel his ears heating up under the scrutiny this close, and hoped his damp hair was enough to hide the blush. Whatever Elliott was looking for, Sebastian wasn’t sure if he found, but the writer shrugged and turned away, settling more comfortably onto his bed beside Sebastian.

“I was working on my novel,” he said with a sigh.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. That was a decidedly not a happy sigh. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve been stuck for the past week!” Elliott exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and slumping back to the cabin wall. “I don’t know, the words are just not coming. Every time I try and reorient the story, it’s like the characters are demanding to go into a different direction, into a different story.”

If it weren’t such an undignified term for such an expression, Sebastian would have said Elliott was pouting. It was almost surreal, to see him this disheveled and frustrated.

He shook his head, thinking back. Elliott was trying to write a romance, last Sebastian was told—and it had been going quite well, according to last week’s little talk. At least that’s what Sebastian had assumed, after seeing how enthusiastic Elliott had been to talk about it. He’d finished plotting everything out, finally figured out an ending, and seemed quite happy with what he had come up with.

What could have changed?

“What kind of direction are the characters trying to take it?” Sebastian asked, settling more into Elliott’s bed as well, pulling his feet up and leaning against the wall. “Like. Was there a tone change somewhere?”

Sebastian dealt with that a lot, when playing Solarian Chronicles with Sam and Abigail. The game would shift in tone depending on the day or what they were focusing on, and Sebastian would have to adapt the story to fit the tone. And it was infinitely easier to go along with the change rather than trying to force things to remain as planned.

“Well, I don’t know, I keep writing the characters speaking cryptically, or observing things that seem at first glance fine but when I reread, it seems ominous or strange because I’m dragging attention to it. But I want those details included as well.” He sighed, heavier this time than before. “Maybe it’s the books I’ve been reading…”

He said it in a murmur, but Sebastian still caught it, and it was his turn to tilt his head at Elliott, brows furrowing slightly.

“What kind of books have you been reading?”

Sebastian was treated to the pretty picture Elliott made when he blushed—and he would shove those thoughts away later, when he was safely tucked into his own bed and not thinking about today, thank you, but for now, he just enjoyed the flush that crossed over Elliott’s tan skin. The man seemed embarrassed over the genre at first, and Sebastian couldn’t imagine why, unless he was reading erotica or something, but Sebastian highly doubted that would lead to him writing cryptic dialog and ominous details.

Well, Sebastian thought, briefly remembering the few times he’d explored that genre himself and ended up being thoroughly creeped out, those aren’t the intended implications.

Elliott cleared his throat. “Um, actually, after you mentioned last week enjoying the mystery and thriller genres, I decided to pick up a few of your recommendations. Since then, I suppose I couldn’t get it out of my head about trying my hand in the genre myself.”

It took a second for Sebastian to realize what Elliott had said at first—the fact that he remembered what Sebastian liked reading, the fact that he found and read those books as well, sent a happy flush through Sebastian’s entire being, as cheesy as it may seem. And then the last part of his statement hit, he wanted to try writing a mystery or thriller because of him—indirectly most likely, but still.

Again, not the time to evaluate how that made him feel.

“How far are you in the book?” Sebastian asked.

“Not as far as I’d like, I’m afraid,” Elliott practically grumped.

“Well, why not turn it into a mystery or thriller?” When Elliott just raised a questioning brow at him, Sebastian smiled slightly, turning more towards Elliott. “We got into it last week, right, debating which genre was better? Romance and horror edge a fine line, just shift the tone a little, and a romance can be turned into a horror story or a horror turned into a rom-com.”

Elliott blinked at him, and for a moment, the wind roaring outside was the only thing that filled the air.

Then Elliott was leaping to his feet, Sebastian barely moving out of the way in time as Elliott spun around and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him ever so slightly.

“My dear Sebastian, you are a genius!”

Sebastian watched the man dart to his writing desk, scooping up his phone, the notebook, and pens scattered across it. Elliott dashed back to the bed, and wordlessly the two got comfortable leaning against the wall, a respectable distance between them. Elliott passed him the phone and spread the notebook out on his lap, flipping to a blank page.

After texting his mom with Elliott’s phone — letting her know where he was, and that he’d likely only be able to get home in the morning — Sebastian shifted just a little closer to Elliott, enough where he could feel Elliott beside him even if he closed his eyes, and settled in to watch Elliott work through his writing process.

#amberskywrites #stardew valley #elliott x sebastian #elliott & sebastian #sebastian x elliott #sdv elliott #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv fic #fanfiction #fanfic #amber's fic #request #fic request #stardew valley elliott #stardew valley sebastian #(ask to tag)

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mattzerella-sticks · 6 months ago

Text

if it cannot hatch from its shell, the chick will die without ever truly being born. (ao3 link)

Rated: T

Word count: 2,324

Pairing: Buck/Eddie (pre-relationship)

It's missing-Christopher-Diaz-hours at the Diaz House, party of one. Until Buck crashes his pity party with a little gift to help turn Eddie's night around for the better. Now stoned, Eddie convinces Buck to watch a television show with him that Eddie hasn't seen in years. The show dredges up old feelings for Eddie. He and Buck talk them out.

Eddie’s pushing dinner around when he receives Buck’s text asking to hang out. He answers immediately. No. Without further explanation or any uncertainty. That doesn’t stop Buck from following up, telling Eddie he’s already outside.

“Dammit, Buck…”

He throws his fork against the plate. Its clatter overpowers the scrape his chair makes as he stands and stomps towards the front door. Buck waits for him there. Phone in one hand, brown paper bag in the other.

Buck squints down at Eddie, a sheepish grin creeping across his face. “Hey, Eddie…”

“I’m not in the mood, Buck.”

“I know but… give me a minute. And – and if you still aren’t, I’ll leave.”

Eddie should turn Buck away. Return to his unappetizing, freezer-burned microwaveable meal puddling on his table and wallow, alone, like he had planned for the rest of his evening. But then Buck bat his eyelashes at Eddie. He bats them twice. Three times, and Eddie surrenders.

“Fine.” Eddie steps aside so Buck can squeeze past. “You have one minute. Starting… now.”

Buck guides Eddie into the living room wasting his allotted time to set him onto the couch before speaking. He reaches inside the brown paper bag and produces a large, shrink-wrapped, chocolate-chip cookie. Eddie spots the dessert’s label. He recognizes the tiny seven-tipped leaf printed on it.

“Is that –“?

“Figured you’d prefer this over a brownie,” he says. “Since the last time I brought brownies over was… not our most pleasant conversation.”

Eddie’s gaze drifts from the cookie to Buck. He looks all too eager for Eddie to lunge at the opportunity like a fish with bait, though his appearance is also suffused with poorly masked worry that he, perhaps, miscalculated. That Eddie would still deny him, send him away.

The idea is tempting. So is the cookie. He weighs both options in his mind as the minute he gave Buck runs out into overtime.

Buck squirms underneath his scrutiny. “So? Are you in?”

His answer was inevitable in the end. He sighs. Reaches out to Buck and, crooking his fingers, Eddie says, “Hand it over.”

They split the cookie between them. Each cookie half is about five milligrams. Eddie nibbles on his treat to wade into his high. The warm, tingling numbness starts at his ankles, climbs his shins, his knees, rising higher and higher until it reaches his head and then he’s fully submerged, floating in a gooey, imagined embrace. That happens around the thirty-minute mark.

Buck, the lightweight, was giddy after his first bite. His only bite.

“What the hell did we just watch, Eds?” He’s laughing. His fingers lazily ghost the hairs at Eddie’s nape as he speaks. “Seriously? I know we’re stoned but that felt like an acid trip.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at him. “No it didn’t.”

“Did too.”

“Shut up.”

The credits end and the video skips onto the next in the playlist; the second episode begins despite Buck’s giggled, stilted review of the first drowning it out.

Eddie pauses the video. “Are you gonna watch the show, or do you want to keep talking over it?”

Buck’s lips twitch and tremble against his smile while he schools his features into a heavy caricature of seriousness to apologize. Laughter hiccups from him regardless and, though he tries clearing his throat to hide it, Eddie notices. “Sorry, sorry,” he repeats. “I just… I’m still trying to wrap my head around what we saw.”

“What are you hung up on?”

“…Everything?”

“Buck…”

“Okay, okay – I guess the whole… dueling thing threw me. Where did the arena come from? The upside-down castle?”

“They’re just there.”

“And everyone’s cool with fighting there? With swords?”

“They have to. It’s part of the Contest for the Rose Bride.”

“That’s another thing! How is everyone so cool with a contest where the winner practically ‘owns’ this poor girl? I mean, even those other kids saw how badly that green-haired douche was treating her, and they let it happen because ‘he won’. What was that?”

Eddie sighs. “It sucks, but those are the rules. Whoever’s engaged to the Rose Bride can do what they want, and in return – at the right time – the Rose Bride will grant her betrothed the power to revolutionize the world.” Buck almost protests but Eddie cuts him off. “This was only the first episode. If we keep watching, they get into it – deconstruct it a bit, by way of the main character.”

“Is the sword the power they’re all fighting for?”

“No, the sword’s just a sword.”

“That happens to live inside a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are they all fighting for?”

“Buck!”

Buck pouts at Eddie. It curbs the frustration bubbling beneath his surface, that threatened to kill his buzz. Eddie breathes deep and releases his jittery tension in a long exhale. Finished, he sags deeper into the couch as he casts a dull, half-lidded stare across where Buck had fully sprawled atop its cushions and the nearby coffee table.

“Do you want me to put something else on?” he asks. “Because if you’re not interested, I can.”

“No, no. I’m interested. I wouldn’t be asking this many questions if I wasn’t interested.”

“Promise?”

He nods. “Yeah, you can start it up again. I’ll stay quiet.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Eddie presses play, the screen unfreezes, and the episode continues.

Eddie has been watching Buck rather than the show for the past few minutes, more interested in how the television’s fuzzy glow softens the edges of Buck’s rapt attraction to the story. He looks younger in its light. Stubble hidden; eyes wider. Eddie could tell him to close his mouth, to keep bugs from flying inside it, but he can’t navigate his thoughts around the roadblock that is Buck’s adorableness to form a coherent sentence let alone gather the strength and shatter the enchanting silence by speaking.

True to his word, Buck hadn’t made a peep during the entire episode. Why must Eddie?

Why must Eddie look at Buck and, without meaning to, ask, “You really like it?”

Buck holds a finger to shush him, his eyes trained on the screen. Eddie fumbles for the remote and stops it midway through the obligatory dueling scene.

“Eddie!”

“You like it?”

Buck meets his gaze and blinks. “Uh,” he runs his tongue over his top lip, his bottom lip, his top lip again. “Yeah. I thought I told you that I was…”

“Interested? I know,” Eddie shrugs. “You could’ve been saying it to say it, though.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

Eddie realizes it’s the worst thing to have said because now Buck has forgotten the show and misplaced all his attention onto Eddie. Half his face is lost in shadow. The half Eddie can see he doesn’t like. The softness is tinged with sorrow, his parted lips turned down, and Buck’s eye had sharpened to better pierce him. Like it might probe all Eddie’s memories, every moment he shared an interest, let someone in, every attempt which ended in failure as they thought it, thought him, too weird to make an effort, until he stopped sharing those parts of himself, with one, mighty jab.

Not that it was remotely possible Buck could know all that from a single look...

…Right?

“Eddie,” Buck says. “I’d never lie to you about liking something. If I did, you’d still be a lousy cook.”

“Oh. Right.”

He’s not sure how to proceed, so Eddie decides his most prudent course of action is to pretend this hadn’t happened and resume watching the show. Except the remote had somehow ended up in Buck’s hands. Dammit.

“Does this show really mean a lot to you?”

“A lot?” Eddie doesn’t remember communicating ever being this hard. Was it the weed, or the conversation topic? His tongue sits awkwardly inside his mouth as he talks. “I like it, yeah. Have ever since I was a kid.”

“You watched this as a kid?”

“It was one of my favorite shows,” he says. “I… watched a lot of anime growing up.”

“You like anime? How do I not know this about you?”

“You like anime?” Eddie parrots Buck’s question back at him instead of answering.

“I… didn’t watch much television as a kid,” Buck admits. “My folks thought most cartoons airing back then would only make me dumber, so they limited what I watched. But I remember seeing a few episodes of Dragon Ball Z, when I’d hang out at a friend’s house sometimes.”

“I watched that. I wasn’t as obsessed with it like all the other kids at school were.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know… it just felt long. And there was a lot of fighting.”

“There’s fighting in this.”

“Yeah, there is.”

“What about this show’s different?”

Eddie looks at the screen, at where Utena is locked in battle with Saionji during their rematch. Utena winces while Saionji bears down on her. As he studies the screen Eddie reflects on why he’s so fond of this anime over so many that he’s seen. When he reaches a conclusion, he glances back at Buck, finds him waiting, and chooses to share.

“I guess I liked the main girl’s whole deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s this girl. And everyone has expectations about how she’s supposed to act, like they’re trying to box her in. Yet she doesn’t stand for any of that crap. She looks the world in the eye and says, ‘this is who I am. I won’t stop being who I am because it makes you uncomfortable’. It’s… it was inspiring, back then.” For a boy who always felt like the shoes he wore were bigger than they were supposed to be. Who was boxed in by the world from the very beginning, but who couldn’t stand as tall as her. Who can’t.

“I’d say it’s pretty inspiring now, too,” Buck whispers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”

Buck taps the remote against his thigh arrhythmically. “So you saw a lot of yourself in Utena?”

A prickling warmth creeps up Eddie’s face. “I guess.”

“Cool.”

He holds the remote out for Eddie to take.

Eddie grabs it, but he doesn’t press play yet. He’s on the right side of being stoned that this next admission wouldn’t hurt like it should. Eddie can talk about it like he would the weather or how the Lakers played in their last game. He doesn’t waste the opportunity. “I wanted to watch this with Christopher.”

“You – you did?”

Buck recognizes the gravity imbued within his speech, even in his inebriated state, and pulls closer to Eddie’s orbit to listen.

“Yeah.” And Eddie’s glad Buck is here, that he brought the weed-infused cookie. “I wanted to share it with him, show him a part of my childhood.”

“What were you waiting for?”

“For him to get older,” Eddie chuckles. “But I guess I waited a little too long, huh?”

“There’ll still be time, Eds.”

The most wonderful thing is that Eddie can watch the twinkle in Buck’s eye as he says that, and knows he means it from the very core of his being. Makes Eddie briefly believe it himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, there will be.”

They resumed the episode. At the end, as the credits began to roll, and a vocalist sang the closing theme in a language neither understood as the dub declined including subtitles for the music, Buck asks Eddie who he thinks Buck is like in this fantastical world, if Eddie is Utena. “Am I the friend? Waka – something?”

Wakaba? Eddie does not think so. She always reminded him of Shannon.

But Buck… “You’re more like Anthy.”

“Anthy?” Buck blinks at him. “You mean the girl everyone’s fighting over?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Eddie cannot parse through the vast number of reasons swirlimg around his fogged mind, so he shrugs and cops out by telling Buck, “If you watched the show, it’d be obvious.”

“I am! It’s not my fault we’re only on episode two!”

“Then we need to watch more.”

Buck groans, but he’s also flashing Eddie that special, private smile he has whenever they’re alone together that leaves him breathless. He blames it, and the resultant oxygen deprivation, on what he does next.

Eddie lays his hand flat over Buck’s heart. It thump-thump-thumps beneath Eddie’s palm at a slow, deliberate pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to pull a sword from your chest.”

Except that’s not quite true. As his one hand rests there, both men wholly consumed by the comfort in their contact, Eddie’s other hand slithers towards Buck’s neck and scrapes its blunt nails across a patch of skin forcing Buck to yelp, jump, and draw his shoulders high as he could to shield himself from another strike.

“Did you just tickle me?”

Eddie’s laughing. He gloats, “Yeah. I did.”

“Oh. Oh, it’s on.”

They miss the entirety of the third episode because of their tickle war. Eddie’s body aches worse than after suffering through Gerard’s tortuous drills he forces on them ever since returning to lord over the 118, and while he might have been tossed onto the floor by Buck’s long, flailing legs sweeping him off the couch, Eddie does not care. He feels too much like a kid to care about those sorts of things.

Not the kid he was. The kid he never got to be.

Eddie stares up at Buck, his back groaning in protest, chest heaving with every breath, face flushed and sweaty, and thanks him. “For tonight.”

Buck nods. “Thank you. For this.”

He must mean the show, for letting Buck view a part of himself Eddie hadn’t revealed in years, trusting him with this knowledge… because any other reason Eddie might suspect has to be imagined, brought on by the drugs roiling inside.

Buck helps Eddie back onto the couch and once they have made themselves comfortable, pressed against each other, not an inch of space between them, the two boys restart the episode.

#9-1-1 on abc #911 abc #911 on abc #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #eddie diaz #evan 'buck' buckley #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fanfic #pre-relationship #recreational drug use #post-s7 finale

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 1 year ago

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Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least.

Story Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facial; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Wing-Stroking; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

***********

Chapter Eighteen: Heated.

When the limo stops, it parks right outside a charming club venue where you can already hear the music thumping from outside the doors.

You stare at the building like it’s the gate to Hell.

Though you pre-gamed in the limo ride with Rumi, Yu, and Nemuri, taking shots of champagne and singing along to the radio with them, you don’t feel the alcohol’s liquid confidence taking over yet.

All you feel is dread as you face the club venue, just a step away from Keigo’s face. Beside the glass doors to the venue is a red velvet rope holding dozens of guests and those who just want a piece of the celebrity life who will no doubt be thrown out by security.

Nemuri and Yu walk up to the guard who checks for their names on an iPad. He then smiles and opens the door for them to which they walk, hand in hand. Meanwhile, you stand outside with Rumi, your feet frozen to the ground.

Rumi whistles at the music choices and the guests waiting patiently to be let in. “Damn, he really did it up this time,” she giggles. “Well, come on so I can see you two kiss.” She gives you a teasing smile as she walks towards the guard, but upon noticing that you’re not following her, she turns around.

“Uh, in a minute,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “Lemme just fix my makeup and I’ll be right in.”

It’s a bullshit lie, but it gets Rumi to leave you anyway. Other than spending the ride taking champagne shots to ease your nerves, you were busy primping yourself for Keigo, either putting on an extra slick of lipgloss or fishing a gummy piece of mascara from your lash line. You were also trying to come up with a good way to talk to him and get him alone:

“Hey, Keigo, can we talk real quick? I know things are awkward between us and I don’t want them to be.”

“Can we go somewhere more private? I just really need to talk to you. I’m sorry about earlier…”

“Rei and I aren't together anymore. You were right about him and I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“You’ve been a great friend to me, but I don’t want to be friends anymore. So, if you wanna get something eat sometime or go see a movie…”

“Well, are you just gonna stand out here or go in and talk to him?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a voice that isn’t your internal one at all. You were so lost in your thoughts and anxiety that you forgot you were standing outside in your Gala gown, looking crazy. The voice that interrupted you is deep, raspy, and undeniably familiar to you. It’s one you immediately put a face to.

You turn around, finding your old friend leaning against a sleek, black car parked a little ways away from the prying eyes of the guests. His burned hand works to light himself a cigarette, his thumb flicking the lighter and causing a tiny spark of a flame to ignite. He puts it up to his mouth and burns the end of the cig until it turns a bright red like a firefly in the night. “Dabi?” you gasp.

His icy blue eyes stare into yours across the way, his clothes and leather jacket as black as night. “The only and only,” he chuckles.

He turns fully toward you, opening his arms for you. “So you gonna give me a hug or what?” You stagger forward in your heels until you find the urge to run toward him.

So you do. You run in your heels to your friend and nearly tackle him into the street. He chuckles at your reaction to his presence and wraps his arms around you. As soon as you feel his embrace and smell the cologne lingering on his clothes, you begin to softly cry into his chest.

It feels so good to see him, to feel him. It’s difficult to describe, but it's almost like an ache that only grows the longer you hold him because you know in time you’ll have to let go again.

When you finally pull away, your eyes are wet and your mascara is suffering. Dab pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket and hands it to you. “What’s poppin’?” he asks in his raspy voice, smirking down at you.

You take the handkerchief from him and dab at your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t seen you in months or I’d smack you for saying that,” you sniffle, earning another throaty laugh from him. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

Dabi takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke away from you into the night air. “I’m guessing the bird man didn’t fill you in,” he says, raising an eyebrow. You blink at him, confused, and he sighs. “I figured not. The court found me not guilty of causing that prison riot, so I got my perks back. This is my outing for the month and I’m spendin’ it trying to get my two idiot friends to stop actin’ like they’re not crazy about each other.”

He gives you an intense, knowing stare that has your stomach flipping with fear. You sigh, done drying your eyes. “So he told you?” you mutter.

Dabi snorts at your reaction though all you wish to do right now is die. “He tells me everything, doll,” he chuckles. “You know that. Do you really think he wouldn’t?” He takes another drag, instead blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. “So you weren't gonna tell me you guys fucked?”

You shove at his chest hard, glaring at his brashness. “Don’t say it like that,” you hiss. “And I wasn’t gonna tell anyone. I was more than happy to take this to my grave and act like it never happened.” Dabi chortles at your reasoning, shaking his head. “Well, you can act like it all you want, but you know that your body remembers all too well.”

And God, does it. Your shoulders slump defeatedly and you sigh. You were fooling yourself thinking you could hide this or that Keigo wouldn’t say anything to your friends. You can’t be mad at him for that. You turn to one of your very best friends now, wanting to shift the conversation. “So how have you been?”

But Dabi isn’t having it. He takes a short drag of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his sneakers. “I’m not interested in talkin’ about me right now, doll,” he sternly says, the smoke billowing from his mouth. “I’m way more interested in discussing you right now.”

He nods at the empty space beside you. “So where’s your man? He sped off and left you here?”

You quietly whimper to yourself in defeat, knowing that he’s not going to let this go. “We’re done,” you confess. “I realized he wasn't the one for me.” Dabi quirks an eyebrow of interest at your confession. “And you think Keigo is?” he questions.

His question renders you speechless. Your brain can’t seem to come up with a good answer. If you are to say yes, then he’d probably ask you why you think you’re so sure now. But if you say no, he’ll either call you on your bullshit or ask you why. You stare down at your heels, your heart pounding. “I-I don’t know,” you weakly admit.

"So what are you doin’ here then?” he pushes. “It can’t be to just shoot the shit with a bunch of people you don’t know.”

“Dabi, you know that’s BS,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Most of the people Hawks knows, I know. And what’s it to you why I’m here? A party is a party.” You can feel him staring at you regardless of whether you look at him or not.

You heavily sigh, throwing in the towel and looking up into his cool, blue eyes. “I’m just thinking, okay?” you huff. “It’s not that easy to talk to him about this. Things have been so complicated between us and tonight was pretty heated.”

You cringe inwardly at the horrible things you said and how hurt Keigo looked. “You tell him to jump off a bridge or somethin’?” Dabi asks, squinting at you. “Is that why he looked like he just saw his entire life crumble before his eyes tonight?”

That makes you feel even worse. “I might as well have,” you sigh. “Just know it was bad.” Dabi tilts his head slightly to look at you from another angle, sizing you up. “Bad enough to not face him and tell him how you feel?” he questions.

That’s when you break. The tears begin to fall, your makeup be damned, and all of your emotions fall flat out in front of your friend. “I just can’t, Dabi!” you sob. “There’s so much at stake here! Our friendship with each other, our friendship with you and Rumi, our careers, our–“

He stops you by placing a finger against your lips, his glare intense and intimidating.

��Shut up,” he demands. “You’re bein’ a fuckin’ idiot right now, and I can call you that ‘cause I’m your friend and I have a good reason to do so. You’re tellin’ me that you’re going to let your friend, someone who’s had your back for years and has held you down, go just because of one single night? You and I both know that’s the bullshit, Y/N.”

His stare is hard and knowing as if he can see every single layer of you as you stand out on the street. You can't even speak, too floored by his words.

“If you don’t wanna acknowledge how you feel for him, fine, but what you’re not gonna do is walk away and act like he doesn't exist when the man has already been through enough shit in his life. You know we’re his everything, Y/N.”

In his eyes, you see nothing but a fierce love for Keigo and for you. A love that made him use his free day to come here and fix your relationship.

You look down at your feet, harshly biting your lip. “So what I’m gonna suggest to you is that you take a shot of the bottle Rumi gave you, go in there, put on your big girl panties, and tell Keigo just exactly what you need to before you lose him,” Dabi sternly continues. “‘Cause you will lose him, doll. Keigo loves you, but not enough to stick around.”

“I know,” you sob, covering your face. “Dammit, I know!” You can’t stop the sobs that slip past your lips as all of your guilt and hurt overflows, covering you.

You then feel Dabi’s arms around you again, filling your nose with the scent of cologne and cigarette smoke. You press your face into his chest, fisting his shirt. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimper. “I’m such a fuck-up.”

“We are all, doll,” he chuckles. “You ain’t special.” His large, burned hand begins to stroke the back of your head, calming you. “Plus, I need you to do this for me ‘cause I made a bet with Rumi on if you guys would get together or not.”

You immediately stop crying and shove him away from you. “You what?!” you gasp, shocked and irked.

Dabi shoves his hands in his pockets, not even looking the least bit guilty. “Well, first we made a bet on whether or not you two would fuck,” he explains. “She won. But now we’re betting on if you two will finally get together. She thinks no, I think yes. If I win, I got $50 on my commissary.” He shrugs, a lazy smirk on his face.

You gape at him, almost not believing how horrible your friends can be. He’s really deadass right now. “Oh, my God,” you groan. “You guys are assholes.”

“But you love us,” he replies, giving you a shit-eating grin. "So you gonna go in or what?” He nods at the club venue expectantly. You look too, picturing Keigo inside, being a good host, and dancing the night away. You want to join him. You want to be by his side.

You turn back to Dabi, poking him in the chest. “You were never the best at giving good advice,” you sigh, “but you’ve somehow given me confidence. How do you do it, Dabi Todoroki?” The white-haired man shrugs his shoulders, a twinkle in his eye. “Guess that’s just my charm.”

And so you take his advice and take a swig of the champagne bottle before handing it to him. “So where are you off to now?” you curiously ask.

He pauses to take a swig before licking the access liquid off of his upper lip. “‘Bout to go in here and watch this soap opera shit go down,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve got about twenty minutes left of freedom. Might as well enjoy it.”

He then walks you back to the club where the guard checks for your names. He doesn’t look all that hype to let Dabi inside, but he does nonetheless. As soon as you hear the blast of the music and see the warm, red glow of the strobe lights above, you feel your stomach fall into your ass. Your anxiety has returned, leaving you heaving as you stand at the threshold of the door.

But Dabi’s hand, finding yours, gives you comfort. “Can’t back out now, doll,” he whispers to you. And so, you don’t. Swallowing hard, you walk into the club with Dabi trailing behind you, a picture of comfort and strength.

The club is decorated with dozens of lounging areas, two bars, and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling that shines upon the guests down below. The music is bumping and the drinks are flowing as well as the weed smoke that wafts through the air.

You spot Rumi chatting up a couple of heroes immediately, a drink in her hand and her ears twitching from the music. “There’s Rumi over there,” you tell Dabi, nodding at the bunny hero. But as soon as you see her, you also see Keigo.

He appears from a throng of people that part way for him like clouds parting for a ray of sun. And a ray of sun he is––his eyes and smile radiate like the brightest stars in the sky in the dimly lit club, rendering you speechless. The entire room disappears when he enters, everyone else falling away into nothingness. You see no one but him. He is all that matters.

Dabi notices how you’ve frozen in place, already having taken a pre-rolled blunt out of his pocket and lighting it. “Need a drag to help you out?” he asks, offering you the blunt.

Though you tremble and feel your heart shake, you decline the offer, especially after having already drunk. “No,” you exhale. “I’ve got this.” You pass the bottle you’re holding to Dabi and give him a reassuring smile to which he returns with an encouraging wink. Go get ‘em.

And so you do. You walk over to Keigo who is still making his rounds, smiling and laughing with everyone, making them feel welcome. You feel as if you’re moving underwater, the tide rough and making you move slower than you realize.

But Keigo is like the warm sun rippling across the water, guiding you toward the light. Anyone he touches or talks to seems to react to his warm energy and beaming smile, laughing at his jokes or telling him about how amazing his party is. Your brain scrambles for something to say to him once you finally make it to him, your mouth dry and tongue heavy.

“Hey, Hawks!” an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice suddenly giggles. You and Keigo both look to the far side where two unfamiliar women in mini-dresses sit, excitedly waving Keigo over. Keigo walks over, his friendly, Colgate smile still plastered on his face. You stop in your tracks, standing frozen as you watch him waltz over to his guests.

You’re close enough where you can hear them talk, but not enough where they can see you. “Hey, ladies,” he says. “You two havin’ a good time?”

One of the girls, with long black hair down to her back and a mole on her chin, smirks up at him. “Mmm, now we are,” she purrs. Her friend, a redhead with fluffy cat ears and a tail swishing behind her, stands up with her drink and grabs his arm. “You’re back! Now you can give us that dance you promised.”

Keigo goes to protest, but the girls whine and pout, both taking him by the arm. “Come oooon, you promised us,” the redhead whines.

“Just one dance, Hawks,” the black-haired woman says, that seductive smirk still on her face. “Let’s see how you move those sexy ass wings.”

Keigo looks like he wants to say no and maybe toss in an excuse, but then his eyes trail across the room to meet yours. Your brain turns to fuzz and your body freezes like you’ve been hypnotized into doing so. He stares at you for a good couple of seconds that feel like hours to you, his golden eyes burning a hole in you.

Then he turns to the girls and smiles at them before letting them lead him to the dance floor. You watch, your mouth slightly agape and feeling stupid for not taking that drag of Dabi’s blunt when he offered.

Keigo stands in between the two girls as they dance on either side of him, one taking the front while the other grinds into him from the back. You watch, anger slowly creeping inside of you at the sight of their hands on his hips and the redhead’s ass grinding into his groin.

As if drawn to you alone, his eyes come back to yours, scaling over every other person nearest to him. Then you realize it: he’s trying to make you jealous. But two can play at that game.

Immediately, you begin scouting for your own conquest and find him standing by the bar with his friends. He is tall, handsome, and sporting tattoos. Perfect.

You strut over to him, titties bouncing and feeling like the sexiest woman alive, especially knowing that Keigo is watching. “Hey,” you call, gaining the stranger’s attention, especially after he gets a look at you. His friends stop dead in their tracks too, staring at you in awe.

“You wanna dance?” You give him a small, sexy smile as if a dance isn’t all you want. “With you?” he chuckles. “Hell yes.”

You grin and take his hand in yours, dragging him over to the dance floor. You stand across the floor from Keigo, only a couple of bodies separating you. You face away from Keigo as you begin to dance with the stranger, not touching at first. You only stand in close proximity to each other, moving in tandem with one another. It is fun and he can keep up, moving his body closer and closer to yours.

Finally, his big hands grab your hips and you let him, hoping Keigo sees. Against your better judgment, you turn your head as if flipping your hair and peer over at your friend in the corner of your eye.

There, you see Keigo slide his hands around the redhead’s hips, coaxing her to press her ass even farther into his hips. His eyes once again meet yours, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. ‘Oh, this bitch,’ you think.

Your blood has turned into liquid fire, heating up your body and warming the inner pits of your stomach. You can feel the alcohol and the thump of the music taking more of an effect now, causing you to turn around in the stranger’s arms.

Now you’re facing Keigo while your back presses against the stranger’s front. The winged hero is still sandwiched between the two girls who giggle and grip him like he is theirs, but all of his attention is on you.

His eyebrows are knitted together, creating a crease between them, and his feathers have become frazzled. Meaning he is very, very agitated. You smirk at him despite this, something you wouldn’t do if you weren’t tipsy. You love that you’re getting to him.

‘I told you two can play at this game,’ you think. You turn back around to face the stranger, noticing how hooded and dark his eyes have become as they rake over your form. “You know, you can really move,” he whispers. “What are you doin’ after this?”

You know exactly what that meant. And you think about it for a moment, wondering if you should take this stranger up on his offer for a night of pure, unadulterated, meaningless sex. No strings attached. No thoughts of Rei or Keigo or anyone else but you.

But when you think of your golden-haired friend just across the room watching you, you open your mouth to give the man a polite “thanks but no thanks”.

However, someone beats you to it. A hand gently grasps your shoulder, making you turn around to see Keigo standing in front of you. “Mind if I get the next dance?” he huskily asks.

Your heart leaps at the sight of him there and you don’t realize that a joyful smile has curled onto your lips until your cheeks begin hurting. You’re so glad he’s here. You go to give him a definite yes, but the stranger steps in front of you, a glare on his face. “Yeah, I do,” he snaps. “You see me dancing with her, don’t you?”

You see Keigo’s expression change immediately, darkening to the point where you’re frightened. You think of him that night at the club and plead with him with your eyes to not go down that road. The stranger turns his back on Keigo to begin dancing with you again, but Keigo stops him by forcefully whirling him around to face him.

The very angry, winged hero steps to him, anger radiating off of him in waves that you can feel. “Listen,” he says, his voice dipping down an octave, "I’m not havin’ a good night as it is, so I suggest you don’t make it worse for me or yourself. I’m not the nicest when I’m pissed.”

His wings ruffle and then, all at once, each feather sharpens to a point as if he is carrying dozens of knives on his back. The stranger’s angered expression melts into one of fear and intimidation as he stares at Keigo’s wings. “Back up,” Keigo growls, his eyes turning to slits. “She’s mine.”

This is all it takes for the stranger to finally back off of you and slink away from the dance floor. When he’s gone, Keigo composes himself. His eyes switch back to their normal size and color and his feathers soften. When he finally looks back down at you, all you want to do is kiss him. “Think he got the picture?” he asks jokingly.

You don’t speak. You don’t even think you can. For a moment, you both stand there in silence, the music and noise swelling around you. But none of that matters to you. Nothing matters to you but him right now. “So you came back,” he states, sounding surprised. His eyes travel over your form as if he can’t believe that you’re really standing there. And wanting him.

You swallow, finding your voice to speak. “I did,” you reply matter-of-factly. You place your hands impatiently on your hips and raise an eyebrow at him, feeling emboldened by the alcohol and what just transpired. “And I need to talk to you,” you continue. “Can we go somewhere alone?”

His eyes widen an inch at your bold response and question, but you also see a spark behind them. He is absolutely down for this. Though he still looks confused at your intentions, he agrees. “Sure,” he replies, already taking your hand and whisking you away. When his fingers interlock with yours, your body sings and your stomach flips excitedly from his touch. “I’ve got a place. Follow me.”

You let him lead you away from the party and through the venue to a staircase leading up upstairs to the second floor. There, he then leads you away from the guests occupying the second floor to an empty balcony. He let you step out into the night first, the cool air refreshing and the sky starry and clear above.

He shuts the door behind him and stands near it so no one will try to come out and interrupt…whatever this is. You aren’t even sure what this is: your apology? Your confession? All you know is that you have many words left unsaid that you need to release, and you won’t leave here tonight until Keigo knows just how you feel for him.

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed and not looking too thrilled to be here. “Why’d you come back?” he asks, getting right to the damn point because fuck beating around the bush at this point. “Things go bad with Rei so you come runnin’ to me?”

You wince slightly at his harsh tone and words, but you know you deserve it. He has every right to be pissed at you. And you have every reason to be honest with him.

So you take a deep breath and speak: “That’s exactly right,” you confess, and you nearly laugh at his bug-eyed reaction. “Keigo, I’m not here to convince you that we belong together or to tell you I’m sorry in an effort for you to take me as more. I’m just here to tell you that you were right.”

For a moment, Keigo pauses, processing your words and your intentions. He then raises an eyebrow, silently telling you to elaborate. With the silence, stars, and cool air encouraging you to speak, you do so.

“I realized that Rei can’t make me happy the way I wish to be,” you continue. “I need to be with someone who sees me for the messy, complicated person that I can be. Who makes me want to do and be better just because of their love for me. Who accepts me for who I am and doesn’t ask for anything more.”

You smile lovingly at him, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “I’ve known for a while that this person is you,” you confess. “You’re the one I’ve been searching for. The partner I’ve been hoping to find. The man of my dreams.”

Your voice cracks slightly as all of your emotions begin to flood over you: your love; your pain; your sorrow; your want and need for the man standing before you. “I love you, Keigo,” you tearfully confess. “And I’m sorry it’s taken all of this for me to realize it.”

You watch, in under a minute, as a dozen expressions and emotions register across Keigo’s face: Confusion. Mild Irritation. Joyfulness. Relief. You continue to speak, refusing to let this be the end of your relationship.

“You don’t have to take me if you don’t want me, and I’m not going to convince you to. I’ve put you through so much and you deserve to be with someone who isn’t going to do that to you.” Tears begin to drip from your eyes, falling down your cheeks. “But I knew if I didn’t come here and tell you face to face, I’d never be able to look you in the eye again.”

And then you’re full-on crying. All of your hurt and guilt begin to tumble down, making all of your walls crumble. All of your layers peel back before Keigo, revealing the deepest, ugliest parts of you. Your neediness. Your need for him.

“I just want you in my life, Kei,” you sob. “I don't care if it’s just as friends or whatever the fuck. I just want you here. I need you here with me.”

And as you cry and embarrass yourself in front of your friend, he peels back every layer of himself as well. He shows you all of him as his eyes grow glassy and wet. “I need you too,” he whispers. “I’ll always need you, Y/N. That’s never changed.”

He then takes only two strides towards you and wraps you up in his arms and his wings, blocking you out from the outside world.

A needy, desperate gasp leaves your lips as you feel him wrap himself around you, engulfing you in a warm, tight embrace that fills you with joy and relief. You feel released from all the sorrow, guilt, and frustrations inside you.

None of that matters anymore. Not when your friend, your man, is here, feeling so warm, and solid, and real. So you hug Keigo back, pressing your face into his chest. He begins to stroke the back of your head, pressing you farther into his body.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes and lashes are wet with tears. “So is it safe to say I told you so?” he teasingly asks. You smile up at him, a joyful giggle leaving your lips.

You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. “If you kiss me, then yes,” you whisper before you stand up on your toes and your lips finally find each other’s.

If fireworks are to appear somewhere in the distance tonight, this would be the perfect moment for them. The kiss you share with Keigo is explosive, pleasurable, and leaves you breathless. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips dance together.

The more his soft lips move against yours, the more you fall deeper and deeper in love with him. You love kissing him. You love holding him. You love him.

A sudden bright flash of a camera ruins the moment and you two jump apart to find Rumi, Dabi, Yu, and Nemuri watching from the balcony door.

Rumi squeals happily, waving her phone around, very drunk. “Ha, ha, you crispy bitch!” she shouts proudly, bumping Dabi with her hip. “I told you so!” Dabi sighs, trying to look pissed but is obviously happy. “So much for the $50,” he sighs.

Keigo rolls his eyes, shielding you and your embarrassment from your friends with his wings. “Do y’all mind?” he barks. “I’m trying to show my girl some love and I need you drunk freaks watching.”

Yu is the one to hustle everyone away from the balcony. “Don’t mind us!” she giggles. “Please go back to your love fest.” She drags Nemuri away while she groans in protest. “Aww, but they’re so cute!” she whines.

You two are finally left alone and you begin to laugh together. “That picture is probably gonna end up on an IG story somewhere,” Keigo sighs.

You nod, agreeing and knowing how horrible Rumi is. “Just as long as it’s a private one,” you giggle. “But even if it isn’t, I don’t care.”

Keigo raises an eyebrow, a sparkle in his eyes that reminds you so much of sunken treasure. “And why is that?” he huskily asks, sending a shiver down your spine.

You stand up on your toes and stay a centimeter away from his lips, inhaling his cologne. “Because I want everyone to know that I’m yours,” you purr. “And you’re mine.”

A hand then encircles the back of your neck and all words cease to exist as Keigo presses his mouth to yours once more.

#friends to lovers #keigo takami x black reader #hawks x black reader #feral hawks is the only hawks #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #bnha smut #my fic shit #black coded reader #keigo takami #my works #hawks smut

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netscapenavigator-official · 7 months ago

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I just finished Nancy Drew: Mystery of the Seven Keys. I have a lot of mixed opinions on a lot of things, but I'm gonna keep this post abridged:

The puzzles gave me Ransom of the Seven Ships vibes. While there were certainly way more than in Midnight in Salem, they were way too hard, especially on Amateur Detective. I dread to think what this game is like on Master Detective mode. Maybe I'm a weenie and just way worse at these games than I thought, but this game, RAN, and The Deadly Device are the only three ND games that I've ever played where the puzzles got my so stressed I had to split my play time across multiple days because I kept getting headaches. I think I used the hint system or video walkthroughs to get answers more times than I solved the puzzles myself. Overall, not a rewarding experience, and I'm glad I didn't buy this game. This is the first Nancy Drew game I seriously considered not finishing.

The plot was fine. It would've been better with better graphics, a better environment, and better puzzles, but with those aspects missing, the plot was meh. I much prefer MID's over this game's, even though I really don't like scary games that much. It also felt like they were trying to win brownies points and distract longtime fans by including as many references as possible. I also feel like they realized what a botch job they did with Ned and Nancy's relationship last game, and they were trying to make up for it in this game. The problem, though, is that it felt... a bit forced and overdone. Like they were trying too hard to undo what they did last time.

Graphics were an improvement from MID, for sure, but still looked worse and more soulless than every past Nancy Drew game, even SCK and STFD. This game reminded me a lot of Supermarket Simulator... which is a solo-dev, Unity asset, early access Steam game...

The villain choice was interesting. Don't wanna get too spoiler-y, but but I just can't help but feel it was a shallow, surface-level, and rushed decision to chose who they chose to be the villain.

The navigation in this game sucks. I mean this wholeheartedly when I say I would've rather had MID's hybrid navigation system than either of these. The Modern Mode is soulless and makes the game a little harder. Part of the fun of point-and-click games is that they tend to only show you things that are relevant for the story and puzzles, allowing you to focus more on the puzzles and story as opposed to navigating this big open world looking for small items to click on. The Modern Mode in this game removes that and adds too much vagueness. Not to mention, the movement and gliding-ness of the movement gives "default Unity" vibes... which is fitting since the entire game sorta gives that energy. The Classic Mode isn't much better. This is the worst point-and-click system in any Nancy Drew game, ever. The click boxes are harder to find that SCK, but their more unpredictable in where they'll take you than MID. Truly an awful point-and-click system that only added to my stress playing the game. It was the clear that the new devs were totally fish out of water when it came to designing this system.

Overall, for the majority of this game, I was on the verge of stress tears, telling myself I just wanted it to be over. Nancy Drew: Mystery of the Seven Keys placed 32/35 on my ranking spreadsheet, just below Phantom of Venice and above Ransom of the Seven Ships. For reference of it's nearest games, age-wise, Midnight in Salem (2019) placed 15/35 and Sea of Darkness (2015) placed 7/35... so... I won't be replaying this game... ever... unless I absolutely have to.

Ultimately, the difficult puzzles were the Achilles heal of what could've been an semi-enjoyable game. This game, alone, has burned me out, and I think I'm gonna take a break from playing Nancy Drew games for a while...

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hotbowlofstew · 4 months ago

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🎵OC Song Tag

Thank you my lovely sister @awritingcaitlin for the tag!

Rules: share a song to describe your character and a song they’d love

I'm doing this with my ffxiv OCs first (minus a few, since they dont have many songs in mind for them) and foremost. At the very least, until I get more figured out for some of my other stories lol.

I do not have anyone in mind to tag! So if you see this and you feel inclined to do it, feel free! Say you were tagged by me if you want!

«Alidae»

describes her - Hero by Blossom

Put your faith in me, but I want to be honest I'm losing my patience And I'm losing myself Someone rescue me, I need help, 'cause… Maybe, I'm not fit to be a hero But I'll try But I'll try

she'd like - It's Too Late to Beg For Mercy by Starship Amazing

this song is completely instrumental. it's dance/electronic i purely think she wouldn't really like to listen to a lot of songs with lyrics, since they would distract her too much from her work.

«T'lyr»

describes him - Gladiator by Jann

Is it everything and more than you were hoping for? Now show us something we ain't never seen before Smash your competition, baby Show us some good entertainment Victory's your only payment Gladiator, gladiator

he'd like - Caleb Trask by The Crane Wives

So you got bad in your blood Brother, you're one of us So you got bad in your blood How long you gonna wait for those azaleas to bud?

«Raana»

describes her - Rule #9 Child of the Stars by Fish in a Birdcage

You are a child of the stars Shout what has been unsung Open all the doors around you Use the powеr in your lungs I could only lead you so far I believе in who you are

she'd like - Maria by AlicebanD

I somehow know a song's a song And singing never fed the world But singing never felt so good Oh, my Maria Oh, my Maria I don't really wanna go, go, go Go, go, go

«Koren»

describes him - Tip Toes by half alive

I'm on my tip toes, trying to see past my ego Reaching for something more than This feeling of being important Leaving my heart behind, it's bleeding But still my pride is screaming My future will listen to me

he'd like - I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy

I don't care what you think As long as it's about me The best of us can find happiness in misery

«Sthallona»

describes her - Hell, Well by Broken at Best

This captain goes down Only to bring this ship back up I've pulled that weight before And its never been enough

she'd like - Millie Warm the Kettle by Rabbitology

Catch me walking with the ghosts again Must be on that double dose, depends Roman chamomile all down the throat, lift hands In Michigan, the lakes all darken Blackbirds flocking to and fro, sevens Roots drag marsh/harsh over the floor, levelin’ Millie, can’t you stop them? You slow no omens Like exhaling, it never еnds

«A'vhea»

describes her - Nunemaker's Parable by Everybody's Worried About Owen

He said: One home burned down, one fell apart One met a flood, and one was nothing from the start Weapons build against me, well they all seem to fail But weapons built against my home They always will prevail

she'd like - Dear Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb

As my love for you dies As my love for you dies As my love for you is steadily dying As sharp and serious as a pistol in the eye

#and were gonna call it there!#this is missing touya and sarangerel but again #they dont have many songs picked for them so #damnedverse #tag game #ffxiv #wol posting #alidae mendica #t'lyr kho #koren cadoret #raana cadoret #sthallona dhemskyltwyn #a'vhea vahni

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wiltf · 1 year ago

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orion gives you the same old warning about smoking as he always does when you duck out. but you still haven’t figured out if he knows knows, and is ribbing you — or if this is one of the few things he genuinely hasn’t worked out.

same weird thought, that you have every time. like a lil worm, crawling in the space between your ears, while you tap the bottom of the pack. cigarette between your fingers, chilling there like an old friend. hey, it says, when will you actually light me? and you consider that thought for what feels like an eternity.

instead, you’re in the dingy alley, twirling that same cigarette now. up and over your knuckles, a half-hearted apology sent iris’ way. eventually you’ll ditch it, or palm it off to someone who happens to walk by. they won’t remember asking, and you will be able to return, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

lighter in your other hand, fished out of your jacket. emblazoned with a four-leaf clover, electric green but not flaring. couple more times. still nothing.

huh. you hadn’t planned for this.

what was it that rowan said? chaos theory? did you hear that right, on the way out? tilt your head, left and right, as you try with all your might to get the shitty lighter to work. maybe this was the work of orion, trying to stop you. and you want to say, orion! let me just bask in the evil that is secondhand smoke!

instead, what you hear is the very unfortunate decrying of a teenager trying to give directions for a photo. you’d know that tone anywhere, because you had employed it more than once on se—some poor individual. snort, then, as you watch the family comedy routine take place. honestly, at this time of night, it would be better for the would-be photographer to step onto the road.

at that moment, your light finally seems to work, burning the tip of your finger. you hiss, shaking it out, lighter and smoke dropping to the dingy sidewalk. well, you were planning on ditching the cigarette anyway, and you swoop down, lighter safely in your hand. thumb following that raised clover like an old friend, when you notice your little accident had attracted the attention of the teenager.

the enthusiasm is half a second of endearing, but you manage to pull apart her words. big fan. leading fan site. maya has a shine in her eye that reminds you of the first time you went to a misfit alley concert, except she’s wrapped up in something not too dissimilar to what you were wearing now — jean jacket, boots, dress. super fan with your damn favourite flower tucked behind her ear.

it’s all sweet and shine. recognise the father — sebastian, cute, couldn’t order to save his life — and indulge in a photo or two. pose, like you hadn’t just burnt your fingers and weren’t about to spend some time ruminating on a certain number’s appearance at your audition. wasn’t about to consider hitting that drunk dial in the next three point five hours.

wasn’t gonna somehow figure out how to walk home, drunk, sad and alone.

you’re a mess. you’re smiling into the lens. fingers in that fucking old rock ’n’ roll pose, tongue out. maya is all squeals and bounces and texts in a flurry. it’s so easy to keep your eyes on her, because there is something in there you are too young to think you’ve lost, but already too old to go back to.

seven second breather, between the photos and the texting. always with that punchy number, as maya talks about the first EP. the first real one, that still contains—

yeah, well, they say you never forget your first.

crack a smile, because sebastian gives you a look. can’t let the man know how much of a shithead sad girl you are, even when maya emphasises about following you on tour — if you win. if chaos theory doesn’t intercept.

if the stars align and you can sleep at night, knowing it’ll be months of—

god, fuck, jen! shut up! talk to the kid!

“we have to get our results first, which—“ hitch a thumb over your shoulder, “i should probably check out.”

“right, yeah. maya, we should go, too.” a nod, neutral, understanding. respect the man, fear the kid.

as the sparkle in her eye doesn’t go, when perhaps, it’s the most shy she’s been. pulling the flower from the tangle of hair, and holding it out at such an angle that it’s something you’re half expecting her to take back.

but she doesn’t, instead you’re pretty sure she damn near collapses when you tuck it right back where it belongs. “definitely suits you better than me, tonight, i think.”

treat yourself like a toddler now, telling yourself to wave goodbye, as maya perhaps suffers a heart palpitation or two. as her father looks on, torn between smiling at the excitement bubbling from his daughter, and just what he might get himself into.

back into the safety of cement and dim lighting and the clover, ridged, safe, under your thumb. chaos theory. perfume and cigarette smoke and chaos theory. carry that mantra with you, back to the waiting room, wondering just how late you might be.

#infamous if #oc: jennifer lamb #c: sebastian holland #c: maya holland #post: fanfic

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charlesjosephwrites · 1 year ago

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Find the Words Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea!

I'll tag @tabswrites, @elbritch-kit, @sam-glade, @writingamongther0ses, and anyone else who sees this and want to play along with the words thought, find, paper, light, and reach. As always, no pressure, though!

My words were eight, ear, empty, eager, and end! So here are some snippets from The Magician and Ms. Psychic!

Eight

“You got any sevens?” The mayor shook his head. “Go fish.” I pulled a card from the stack in the middle of the table. Not helpful. Of course. I slumped back in my seat with a little sigh. “Where’s Ms. Psychic when you need her?” I grumbled. “I’m sure she won’t be much longer.” Tommy cast a glance down towards his cards with a thoughtful hum. “Do you still have that jack?” I pursed my lips, and I threw the card across the table at him with a bit more force than what was probably necessary. “Well, she better hurry up.” “Patience, please.” The corners of his lips twitched upwards in the faintest smile as he pulled the matching jack from his hand to add the new pair to his pile of matches. “How about an eight?” “The fuck, Tommy?” My voice squeak involuntarily as I tossed another card from my hand at him. “Are you cheating or something?” “Of course not.” He added his newly won pair to the pile. “Any queens?” Heat rose in my cheeks as I made eye contact with the queen of hearts staring right up at me from my hand. I took a deep breath, slowly lifting my gaze back up towards Tommy. “Go fish,” I said.

Ear

“Hey.” I answered without bothering to check who was calling. “I’m gonna steal your kneecaps.” “Hey.” The soft laugh from the other end of the line dispelled some of the tension from my shoulders. “I might want to keep those.” Claire’s casual response to my threat got a little laugh out of me. Of course she knew better than to take me seriously. Why would I yoink the kneecaps from the only person who didn’t make me want to claw out my eyeballs every time I spoke to them? “So…” I balanced the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I ruffled through my backpack in search of something to calm the rumbling in my stomach. “What’s up?” “I thought we were supposed to meet at noon,” Claire said. I frowned down at my package of granola. “For wha— oh.” I cut myself off mid-sentence as the answer to my own question came to me like a slap in the face. I was finally getting out of this shit hole. “Shit. Sorry!” I scrambled out of my cot so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet. “I overslept.”

Empty

“So…” I finished my milkshake with one long sip, and I slapped the empty cup down on the table with a bit more force than what was probably necessary. “When’s your anniversary?” Redwood blinked at me, confused. “What?” “When’s your anniversary?” I repeated. He took a deep breath. “Does it matter?” “Of course it matters!” I said. “I need to know when not to kidnap you.”

Eager

“So…” Hermes held hands out in front of him like he was eager to get this fight started. “You sure you want to do this? I can take it easy on you if you want.” “Take it easy on me?” I scoffed. “If anything I should be the one taking it easy on you.” “Hmm. Sure.” He sounded wholly unimpressed. “You ready or what?” I sighed. “Let’s get this—” I didn’t get out the full sentence before Hermes launched himself at me at full force. I fell flat on my ass on the sidewalk, my lungs burning as they struggled to replace all the air that had been knocked out of them. My head spun, and it took me a moment to regain enough brain power to haul myself back up to my feet. “The fuck?” I wheezed. “How is that fair?” Hermes shrugged. “You sounded like you were ready.” “You couldn’t let me finish my sentence first?” I questioned. “That's cheating.” “You’re a supervillain, though.” “The fuck does that have to do with anything?” “You guys are all about cheating.” “It’s different when I do it!”

End

“Alright, that’s it.” I wrapped one end of the handkerchief string around my hand to make sure I had a tighter grip on it. “Someone’s getting strangled.” “Um…” Hermes took a step backwards, getting dangerously close to walking right off the edge of the roof. “My dad said I’m not allowed to get strangled.” “Do I look like I give a shit?”

THE MAGICIAN AND MS. PSYCHIC TAGLIST (lemme know if you want to be added or removed!) @adaparkwrites, @andiwriteunderthemoon, @percvalx, @annoyingwritingtrash, @absolute-nonsense-scribblings, @gray-sometimes-writes, @whatevercomestomymind, @tragedyshow, @cookiecutterwrites, @poore-choice-of-words, @magic-is-something-we-create, @frvnwrites, @sirius-xm, @dontcrywrite, @wildswrites, @autie-auden-writes, @cherrybombfangirlwrites, @enchanted-lightning-aes, @lena-rambles, @wordwizards, @another-white-hole, @oh-no-another-idea

#wip: the magician and ms. psychic #find the word tag #tag games

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mariethekitten · 2 years ago

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The Dragon and the fish

DISCLAIMER: I have never wrote a fanfic before so if this is bad sorry. Basically I just thought this up one day and went yea why not write it. Sorry If the characterisation of Daemon is wrong I did my best. Also, I know that in the books House Tully supports the Blacks but for the sake of this fic we’re gonna say they didn’t and that instead Lord Grover Tully went with his initial thought to support the Greens. Also Evangeline Tully is not real, I made her up. I do have a part 2 to this and will post it when I finish it. Enjoy

Nobody x Nobody (this is not romantic)

It is midday in the Riverlands, the sounds of the stream bubbling fills the air along with the chirps of birds. But, there is another sound, a voice, that of a girl carrying in the wind. A distance away from the river a teenage girl girl in a blue dress is being dragged across the grass by two men in armour. Her eyes are wide with fear. She is thrown onto the grass suddenly as the sound of a horse approaching can be heard. The horse is midnight black and it stops a few feet from the girl. As the rider dismounts the two guards bow. “My Prince, the Tully girl.” His voice is strong with a hint of pride to it. The girl is internally offended at that. How is kidnapping something to be proud of? Her thought bubble is immediately burst however when she hears a confident voice laced with malice reply. “Good. Hello girl.” Panic surges through every ounce of her body as the girl looks up into the cold, unforgiving eyes of Daemon Targaryen. Her eye immediately drop down to his chest, she can not look at him. “My Prince! Please! Why are you doing this? I haven’t done anything. Please my Prince! Please let me go!” As she speaks her entire body trembles. Her eyes remained glued to his chest, she can not bring herself to meet his brutal gaze. Suddenly her head is yanked up by one of the guards, she lets out a yelp as her head snaps back. “You will look at the Prince when you speak to him!” The girl flinches as the guard shouts before nodding and slowly moving her eyes to stare at the face of the imposing figure before her. He smirks.

“I am a Targaryen. We are the last of a line of kings that stretches back to Valyria. From the burning ruins of Valyria, to the wall, the Kingsroad and the Iron Throne they stand on. When my brother died the rightful Queen Rhaenyra found herself exiled from her own kingdom. From her birthright. Thanks to people like you supporting the usurper. But that time is over. We are going to take back the seven kingdoms, and restore our bloodline to its rightful place. The only way to do that...is by fire and blood.” His voice remains cold and harsh the entire time he speaks, never once wavering or cracking in any way. He does not smile either, he merely looks down on her with hatred in his deep purple orbs. Oh gods. As he finishes speaking the girls breathing picks up. He was going to kill her, he thought she was a traitor, all because her father made the wrong choice. “But why take me? What purpose does this serve other than causing a girl and her father immense distress. Please, I do acknowledge the true line of succession. I know that Aegon is not the true king!” He girls voice is full of fear but as she pleads with the Prince he only smirks at her waiting for her to finish before stepping closer to her. “A true Targaryen must be cruel and cold when required. Your family's loyalty is in question. The price of such doubts is blood. Yours or theirs, it matters not, so long as we send a message.” Her blood runs cold as he speaks, her fears confirmed. He was going to kill her. All hope had left her at this point but still, a tiny voice spoke inside her head convincing her to ask him, confirm her fate. She takes in a shaky breath before letting her eyes stare directly into his. Not near them, into them, bright green into dark purple. “So you’re going to kill me?” Please don’t say yes, please don’t say yes. His own orbs stare directly back at her as the question falls from her lips his face a mask of coolness, it gave nothing away.

“I don't want to. But if I must, then I must. Valar morghuls.” Her eyes widened as he spoke in the ancient tongue his words void from any emotion. Now, she was no expert in high Valyrian but, she did love to read, and throughout her youth one of her favourite books was all about the ancient language. If the phrase meant what she thought then what the Prince intended did not match up with his statement. Feeling a momentary surge of courage she decided to point it out. “But I am not a man, I am a girl!” Her words still contained the fear from before but it was now laced with desperation as well, she wanted to keep her life, she did not want to die, not yet. He looked at the girl with his piercing gaze. His eyes were like two dark pools, deep and unyielding. He showed no sign that her words had changed his mind. “Valar morghuls is high Valyrian. The phrase means 'all men must die'. But the dragon knows no gender. You will die just the same, girl.” Hope was drained from her system once more, he would not be swayed, she would die, there was no changing her fate, the Prince had a task and he intended to carry it out. Her eyes began to tear up as she continued to look at him, knowing that time was running short. “When?” It was a simple question, one that required a simple answer. Her eyes flicked down to Darksister, half expecting her answer to be a non verbal one but, as the tears fell down her face Daemon’s face lost its cold mask and for a split second his eyes flashed with pity. The girl did not see this, instead when she looks back up the mask is still there but his lips hold a faint smirk on them.

“Tell me, child. Who is the rightful heir to the throne?” His voice had an heir of mischief about it and his eyes sparkle ever so slightly. This is trick, it has to be. The girl can not come up with another explanation for his sudden question. Answer the way he wants you to, the voice of hope speaks once more, who knows, she may survive this encounter yet. Taking a deep shuddering breath the girl is able to keep her voice steady as she answers. “The Queen Rhaenyra.” The faint smirk grows wider at her answer the twinkle in his eyes brightening. He is impossible to read. Years of practice have made this man very difficult to read, even when he shows emotion you still don’t know what he is thinking. Wether you are safe. “The queen Rhaenyra... Is the true heir to the throne you are correct. But in order to sit the Iron Throne with absolute certainty... there has to be no challenge. Not my nephew Aegon...Your family. No one. You understand what I mean by that don't you?” Why is it that every time a glimmer of hope presents itself this man is able to snuff it out like it is nothing? The girl feels as if her heart has been ripped from her chest, being squeezed by the Prince in a painfully tight grip, seconds away from being crushed. Sometimes his fingers loosen and the pressure lifts hope seeping through the cracks, but he always tightens his grip again pushing any hope away, squeezing it back out. Tears continue to fall down her face, but she does not care. She recalls that one time her father was speaking about battles and he told her that men shit themselves when they die. That may be true, but know she know that women don’t, men shit themselves and women cry.

All hope may be gone but she is desperate. Highborn or not, in her current state she is certainly not above begging. She no longer tries to hide the despair in her voice, he can hear it, it matters not, soon she will never speak again. “I do. But please I had no say in this! Why punish the child for the actions of her parent? please. Have mercy on me!” The tears that flow down in her face in a never ending stream take over he entire body and she allows herself to slump onto the grass by his feet. Steady tears turn into hysterical sobs as she lays on the floor death inches away. She feels a large hand come and rest itself in her hair. Confusion turns to pain as his hand pulls a clump of it upwards forcing her to face him once more. His face now shows a steely resolve, he will not change his mind, his face says it all. “Mercy is a sign of weakness. If we are to be kings again. If we are to be the greatest dynasty since Old Valyria itself…This cannot be done with mercy.” Her sobs grow louder as he speaks, Terror, pain, denial, anger a million emotions flow through her at once, her mind can not settle on one. “But why kill me? My father chose to betray you. I did not. You know better than anyone that you do not argue with your father. You and the Queen have many children you must know what it is like. What would you have had me do?” Her voice shows her mass hysteria, as does her face, bright red and puffy from crying, a pitiful sight wasted on uncaring eyes. Or so she thought.

He looked down at the girl with his narrow, deepset eyes for a long moment before speaking again, slowly untangling his fingers from her hair, his hand coming to cup her face instead, his eyes taking in her broken features. The tears, her expression, everything. It is almost as if he is surveying her for the first time. His next words are no longer cold, firm and calculated yes, but not cold. “Perhaps I have treated you harshly. But if I am to be King and Rhaenyra Queen I cannot afford to be weak. You'll understand that when you’re older. I cannot permit any challenges to our claim. So when you go home, tell your father that he is to support our cause to the death. No half measures. No more wavering. Do you understand?” His words shock her, the sobs stop almost instantly and turn to uneven breathing and heavy sniffles. “You… You will spare me?“ this time it is her eyes that betray nothing. Her hope has been crushed one too many times, she will not show it to him in case this is one last horrible trick. His fingers caress her cheek before he answers a faint smile ghosting over his lips. “Yes. I have seen fit to show you mercy. But if you do anything foolish or disloyal...I will not be so kind. Understand me?” His words continue on in the same tone as before, but his eyes now hold warmth to them as well. Her mask drops and her face breaks into a tear stained smile, relief coursing through her veins, flooding her entire body.

“Of course my Prince. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Her words are fast and filled with gratitude, her eyes shining with pure joy. She will live. He removes his hand from her face and lets his cool mask from before return to his face, he is being honest, but he is serious, he will not give second chances. “And I mean anything foolish. I am not a merciful man. You will show yourself to be the opposite of your father. Loyal. Diligent. Brave. Never question me or my motives. Understand?” She does, this is her one chance, mess this up and Darksister may yet get a taste of her blood. Her breathing has finally slowed, her tears dried up and voice evened out. Deep breaths. “I do. So I may return home?” He glanced behind her, towards the general direction of her home. He nodded. “You may. Remember what I told you, and pass it along to your father. You will do well not to disappoint me. Go now.” The faint smile returns as he speaks. It suits him she thinks, he should smile more. Her musings are cut short when an unpleasant thought comes to mind, her father is a stubborn man, will he listen to her? “What if my father won’t listen to me? What if he still tries to support the usurper? Will I still die?” Her voice is now laced with fear once more, and as soon as she speaks his smile vanishes and his face turns to stone again. For a moment he was silent. His purple eyes locked with her tear stained green ones and seemed to see right through her, a coldness in them that scared the girl, more than any of his previous cold stares, this one was on another level. A coldness that gave the impression that she was a tiny piece in a game much larger than herself. And she was right. Then he spoke, his voice cold and low, it sent chills down the girl's back. She trembled at the sound of it. Anyone who heard it would. “There is only one way to find out.”

Deciding that she would worry herself with this later she let out a breathy and nervous laugh before answering very quickly, her voice a mere squeak. “Yes my Prince!” There was one last flicker of that strange half smile, barely visible. His face became inscrutable again. He inclined his head towards her, his eyes darker than ever. Then he snapped his fingers. One of his guards stepped forward and took hold of the girl, picking her up off her floor. Daemon beckoned them to follow as he walked to his horse. Upon reaching his mount, he turned and spoke again. “Tell your father I will have my answer.” This time his voice made it clear that there was no room for argument. “Yes my Prince.” As she spoke she bowed her head in respect. He looked her up and down one last time, his face returning to a frown. Then he looked away and moved to his horse, climbing into the saddle and turning again to look at the girl.

“Make me proud, child.” He looked her deep in the eyes with those orbs of the richest purple for one last time, and then, he was gone. The guards disappeared after him, and the girl was alone, her head spinning with what had just occurred.

#daemon targaryen #hotd #house targaryen #house tully #house of the dragon #team black #rhaenyra targeryan #hotd season 1 #daemon imagine #hotd imagine

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dream-meister-translations · 8 months ago

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DREAM MEISTER AND THE RECOLLECTED BLACK FAIRY

SEVEN CHARACTER CARD #1

━

EMMA : (Alright, that's done...)

Having finished the last of the preparations for opening the casino, I glanced over the brightly lit floor.

I am currently working as the guild keeper for the guild operating here, Primus Club.

YMIR : I’m gonna have to get going. We have some important guests coming today.

VICTOR : I should get to my station, too. I really hope the new cocktails prove popular.

EMMA : Good luck to you both!

With ties to illegal organizations at risk of drawing attention to and from the Federation, it is a guild largely left to its own devices.

There are many peculiar Meisters here, but perhaps the one who stands out most is Seven…

SEVEN : ..................

EMMA : (That's Seven. He seems a bit lost.)

EMMA : Seven, is something wrong?

SEVEN : Who are you?

EMMA : You don’t remember?

SEVEN : Right, the bartender…

EMMA : No that’s Victor. I'm Emma, the guild keeper.

SEVEN : Emma, the guild keeper. Got it. I’ll remember that.

EMMA : (How many times have we had this exchange...)

EMMA : By the way, are you looking for something? I can help if you want.

SEVEN : ...I'm looking for my lighter.

SEVEN : Without it, I can't smoke.

EMMA : Did you drop it somewhere on the way to your station?

SEVEN : Maybe.

EMMA : Do you have any idea where you might have dropped it?

SEVEN : ................

EMMA : Seven? Um, if there's anything I can do...

SEVEN : Hm?

EMMA : (This conversation isn't going anywhere...!)

??? : The lighter is in your right pocket.

Emma : Huh?

Turning towards the voice coming from behind us, I saw Len looking on in annoyance.

SEVEN : The right pocket.

SEVEN : Found it. This is my lighter.

LEN : That’s where you always keep it.

Len : And don’t light your cigarette here. The smoking area is over there!

SEVEN : Got it.

Having been instructed by Len, Seven slowly walks in the direction Len pointed.

LEN : It's time for opening, and you're wasting time chatting. What a nuisance...

EMMA : Thank you, Len. You take really good care of Seven.

LEN : Who said I was taking care of him? Fucking idiot!

LEN : Anyway... if you're gonna start calling yourself a guild keeper, you better keep a tight hold on Seven's reins.

EMMA : I think “reins” is a bit… Extreme… But you’re right.

EMMA : I still really don’t know much about Seven. I need to talk to him more.

LEN : Then I'll leave today's care to you.

EMMA : Huh?

LEN : Don’t worry. Seven won't cause any trouble. Just keep an eye on him, Guild Keeper.

EMMA : (Looks like I’m being forced into this, but it’s as good an opportunity as any...)

With that in mind, I approached Seven once more, who was now gazing into the large aquarium displayed on the wall.

SEVEN : Is it dinner time?

EMMA : Oh, no. Not yet.

SEVEN : I see... I'd like some spaghetti alle vongole.

While lighting a new cigarette, Seven continues to gaze at the fish.

EMMA : Do you… take care of those fish, Seven?

SEVEN : No... I’m just watching them...

SEVEN : ...Would you like to watch with me?

I approach Seven and stand next to him, joining him as we watched the aquarium together.

EMMA : ......................

SEVEN : .......................

EMMA : (What is even happening right now…?)

Unable to bear the awkwardness any longer, I turn my gaze from the fish back to Seven.

EMMA : (I can’t believe how awkward this is...)

Seven is apparently a notoriously renowned gambler in the underworld from days gone by.

He has a lot of history with Camus, but I can't imagine it with how Seven is currently...

EMMA : ...Huh? Seven your cigarette! Your catching yourself on fire!

SEVEN : Ah... it's shining so brightly…

EMMA : Q-Quick, we need to put it out before it burns through your coat, and--

EMMA : Phew, are you okay?

SEVEN : You reacted so quickly. You’re a hard worker.

EMMA : Oh, um, thank you…?

Seven extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray placed by the aquarium, and proceeded to clap in applause of my… success in putting the fire out…?

I don’t know. Throughout his consistently tranquil responses, I just found myself increasingly bewildered…

#Otome #Yumekuro #Yumekuro Translations #YMKR translations #YMKR Dream Meister Translation #s Otome Translations #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy #Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy translations #seven #sevencards

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vanillaarts · 2 years ago

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Ek au Chapter one: A small but mighty ally

Archie stood in the shadows of the alleyway as Yumi stepped out of a bakery, holding a paper bag with a fresh loaf of bread. She turned to look at him.

“Why are you always hiding just out of sight here? You were fine the whole way here, and now you’re all jumpy.”

“I don’t want to know what would happen if Squid Coast, the place I ransacked, discovered I was here.”

“Understandable.” Yumi shrugged.

They walked out and barely got away from where they just were when they noticed a hero walk by. He was freakishly tall, at maybe seven feet, and was wearing all dark clothing. His eyes glowed lavender.

His unique looks attracted a lot of attention as he walked to the town square. He stepped up onto some crates as Archie heard whispering on the street.

“What are you doing…?” Some villager asked. A crowd was forming around the man. He held a pink orb in a sceptre. It was Karl.

He started to speak loudly, calling to the villagers in front of him.

“I need your people’s help. I’m on a quest and I need iron, diamonds, and gold.“

“Sir, we don’t have that here. We farm, gather, fish… but we done mine. None of us do.” A fisherman said in the midst crowd.

“You better get them for me. There will be negative consequences otherwise.”

“There are no caves for miles, and still, none of us will mine for you! Some people were forced to work in mines during the arch illagers reign, and won’t enter any cave again.” Another villager called out, “Sorry, but you just cannot get those things here.”

Karl sighed, drawing his sword.

“Well, you asked for this. Okay? This is what happens when you refuse me what I need.”

His hands and sword began to glow. He started to levitate, activating his powerful magic.

Karl smiled, feeling very powerful, and lunged forward, attacking the village. He was setting things ablaze, blowing other things up, and attacking any villagers that were in his range.

Chaos ensued immediately, and people began running around randomly, trying to hide. After shoving her way through the crowd, Yumi hid around a still-standing wall with Archie hiding close behind.

“What the hell are we gonna do?!” Archie asked from behind a crate, “Where can we go where he won’t notice us escaping?!”

“I- uhh…”She sighed, “I have no idea.”

Yumi looked to the tall hero with the orb.

Karl stood back from the flaming village, almost like he was proud of himself. He heard something like the crunch of a leaf from behind and swerved to the side just before a hero could hit him with her staff. Karl grabbed his sword off his back and instantly the two began to fight.

Karl initiated it by simply trying to swing his sword, which she dodged too easily.

Yumi noticed that he was distracted by the blue-clad hero and took it as an opportunity.

“Everyone come with me!!!” She screamed with more command than Archie expected. Upon seeing a leader with a way out, all the villagers that heard her ran with her.

They all understood there was no way to beat Karl like this. Fleeing was their best option. Archie also followed, but stayed hidden as best as he could as they entered the forest.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the battle was still going strong.

Karl repeatedly kept trying to hit the female hero, but all she would do is dodge, block, or fake an attack. She was very small, so dodging was easy.

“C’mon you coward! Fight me!” Karl yelled as he kept trying to fight her, as she would simply evade and block with her quarterstaff.

Karl realized something right then.

His arms were starting to burn. His movements slower and with less finesse. He was getting tired. Quickly.

The hero, unfortunately, noticed. She started to give small attacks, to make him fight back, and, after she could see clearly he was getting fatigued, attacked in that instant with the ferocity of a wolf.

Now Karl understood her strategy, and was not happy about it. She had energy and stamina on her side now.

He held his sword in defence but only managed to block one part of the pattern, letting her kick him hard in the leg. She started to aggressively attack, and Karl was having many issues defending.

He was starting to get very hurt when he heard the orb, speaking from the sceptre on his back.

‘Let me show you something.’

“Kinda busy right now…” Karl breathed so Quinn wouldn’t hear.

‘Do you want to make it out of this fight alive? You’re clearly losing. Let me help you.’

Karl thought for a second.

“Okay.” He said. “Do it.”

‘Let her face me.’

The hero was confused when Karl turned his back to her, which is always a bad idea in battle, but as soon as she saw the orb she realized what may happen. A blue beam shot out of it, hitting her square in the forehead. She collapsed immediately, unconscious.

“Jeez!” Karl said, jumping back, but wincing from the pain his injuries created.

‘She’s fine. It only knocks you out. We must leave. The orb said. Let’s go.’

Karl walked away from the scene, into the rising sun.

~~~

Back where the villagers were, they were running, but eventually slowed to a stop in the creeper woods.

“How many do we have?” Archie asked, out of breath. He stood behind the dense bushes, trying not to be noticed by the villagers.

“Around half. I have no idea where the others are…” Yumi responded. She walked away coldly, saying no more. Archie could tell even from when he found her again that she did not feel the same way to him. He did not blame her. He didn’t feel the same way towards himself, either.

After a couple of minutes, she came back. Archie peeked between the leaves of the bush as she began to command once again.

“It seems the hero is gone. I think we should go back to scavenge and find survivors.” Yumi announced, standing on a tree stump.

“And why should we listen to you, Yumi?” A farmer stepped forward. Salah. Another villager, much younger, tried to tell him something, but he quickly dismissed him.

“Not now, Axis. I have to deal with her first.” He whispered, “Now, Yumi, you tried to help that forsaken illager. Look where it got us. Now you think you have the authority to tell us what to do?”

“As the one who saved you from that hero, yes. Yes I do.”

“Well think again. Everyone! Let’s go back the the village, scavenge what we can and look for survivors.” Salah commanded. Everyone followed him back, leaving Archie and a very frustrated Yumi.

All the survivors of the village got back together, scavenging for remnants of resources and supplies and looking for survivors, just as Salah said.

Yumi slowly walked with Archie. She sighed, showing no emotions on her face. As they exited the woods, she looked to the field where Karl was standing and watching the village burn. He was gone.

However, there was something moving in the distance.

“Is there someone over there?” Yumi asked.

“Yeah. I see it too. Who is that hero?” Archie asked.

“Might as well ask. I’m pretty sure that’s who Karl was fighting was we ran away. Might thank them too for buying us time.”

So they came up to the hero.

“Hi! We’re survivors of this village raid and we were wondering if you could help us put a stop to that guy you fought earlier.”

The hero just looked at them, still coming out of her magic induced daze from when the orb knocked her out.

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

‘Maybe she doesn’t speak villager?’ Archie thought.

“Let me talk to her.” He said, walking up.

Archie spoke very slowly, using large hand gestures to describe each word.

“We… want… you… to help… us.” He said.

She gave him a puzzled look as she became fully aware.

‘Did she understand a word I just said?!’ Archie asked himself.

“Why are you doing that? You sound like an idiot.” She said in his language. Her accent was one he had never heard before.

He felt like an idiot.

Yumi just laughed. The lady smiled.

“Yeah, people never expect me to speak villager for some reason. Who are you guys?”

“I’m Archie, and this is Yumi.” Yumi came up to the two. She nodded her head.

“Hi.” She said.

“I’m Quinn.” She held out a hand and he shook it. She got up soon after. Archie was surprised to see that the hero reached just barely above his height.

She noticed how they looked at her.

“Don’t say I’m short. I’m well aware of that.” She said. The three stood in the field.

“So you said you wanted help stopping Karl?”

“His names Karl?”

“Yeah.”

“Well- yeah. You saw what he did. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

#minecraft dungeons #quinn #enderkarl!au #ek!archie #ek!yumi #ek au #chapter one: A small but mighty ally #It’s so long I’m sorry #Ek!Story

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