elexaria · 9 months ago
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dating simon riley wasn’t always easy. “i’m a bloody nutcase, eh?” he’d joke when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, taking deep breaths as his calloused thumb rasps against the soft cotton bedsheets, grounding him back to reality. “puts all my efforts to shame when i wake up like this. fuck’s sake.”
therapy is mandatory, especially given his role as lieutenant. the traumas of childhood, the torture. he thinks he’s good at dealing with his problems, thinks therapy is a waste of time. “what, it’s just a bloke sat there starin’ at me? hell, get me a piece of paper with some made up degree on it and even i could be a therapist.” he grumbles after you point out that, in fact, he’s not as good as coping with his trauma as he thinks he is.
“you need to actually give this a go, si. it’s..” you pause, biting the inside of your lip as you make breakfast. his hair is disheveled, wry strands of grey sticking up against the grain. his dark circles only exemplify just how tired he is, especially when he has his night terrors. you shake your head, sighing as you crack another egg into the frying pan. “how can i expect you to stay safe out there when you’re barely able to look after yourself when you’re home?” you sigh out as he grunts, taking a seat at the small dining table, his eyes skimming through the morning paper.
god, he’s such a stubborn bastard. it takes months to get him to at least consider finding a new therapist, to get him to actually care about his mental health. christ, if he can’t do it for himself, can’t he at least try for your sake?
and then, it’s like he has a lightbulb moment. you come home after a long day at work, only to find him sat at the dining table, writing scruffy notes in a ring bound notebook. “mission notes?” you ask curiously, keeping your eye on him as you make yourself a cup of tea. he grunts, shaking his head as he continues to write.
“it’s a diary. supposed to help with your mental health or summet.” he replies, settling his pen down to meet your gaze. you must have had a look of confusion on your face, and it makes the corners of his lips twitch up into a half-smile. “yeah, i know. a bloke like me with a diary, like i’m a bloody teenage girl.” he quips, now grinning as his fingers toy with the corners of the notebook. “writin’ about all the boys i fancy on the field.” he shoots a wink, before continuing to write some more in his notebook.
it’s actually surprising, a smile on your lips as you watch him in his own little world, actually making an effort in his mental health recovery. you come over, settling a warm cup of tea by him before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, still smiling as you make your way upstairs to give him some privacy. he comes upstairs after half an hour, chucking the diary into his bedside table drawer before sprawling out onto the bed obnoxiously with a deafening groan. you whine and complain when he purposely stretches on you, gently crushing you with his bolder-esque shoulders with a massive grin on his face.
there were still bad days, though. days where he’d hide himself in the garage to work on some of his projects. but you’re both trying, he feels his heart break when you gently knock on the door, holding a plate of snacks and a cup of tea for him, and fuck, it makes his bad day slightly better.
that evening, he curls up besides you silently on the couch, his journal and pen in hand as he clears his throat. you curiously peer down as he begins to flick through the pages of chicken scratch, gently tapping the page as he looks up at you. he clears his throat, and begins to read out the sweetest paragraph, one that makes your eyes well up with tears.
“no idea where i would be without you, love. you make the darkest days of my life brighter than ever. you make life worth it.” he ends his speech , the timbre of his voice cracking with emotion as he looks at you. and right there, you know that through all the trials and tribulations you two will go through, you’re the love of simon riley’s life and he would never let you forget that.
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harrywavycurly · 16 days ago
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I just know Harry keeps track of all his girl’s little southern sayings and maybe one day Niall or even she finds them? But it’s SC Harry who isn’t why about how obsessed he is with his gf so he isn’t even embarrassed.
Hiii babes!! Oh he totally has a little notebook with all the little things she says that he’s never heard before or things he just likes hearing her say because like you said, he is obsessed with his gf🥹 but I think it would be really funny and cute if Niall found it because he also wouldn’t know what half of them mean so then Harry would have to explain them to him😂💖
-Find all things Southern Comfort here✨
A/N: Niall finds Harry’s “Texas Tornado” notebook and is confused as to what most of the things written inside of it even mean✨
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“That’s more disappointing than lumpy grits.” Harry feels his eyes widen as Niall’s voice interrupts his thoughts as he sits on his couch trying to enjoy his morning coffee. “A good long while? After a while? Fixin to? What the fuck is all this Harry?” Niall asks as he walks into the living room holding a very familiar notebook in his hand that has Harry sending a glare to his bestfriend who just ignores it as he flips a few pages and laughs as he reads what’s written down in what is very clearly Harry’s handwriting.
“Have you absolutely no manners?” Harry snaps as he stands up and rushes over to where Niall is standing in front of his coffee table so he can snatch the notebook out of his hands. “You can’t just go reading someone’s personal and private things you-”
“Private? Harry you had it on the kitchen island s’like you were asking for someone to come along and read it.” Niall argues as Harry just gently places the notebook on the table before going back and sitting down on the couch. “I know it has something to do with her considering it says Texas Tornado on the front and that’s her name in your phone.” Harry shoots his friend a glare as he reaches for his coffee mug so he can take a sip while Niall gets comfortable on the loveseat across the living room.
“They are things that I’ve heard her say.” Niall quirks a brow at Harry as he explains what’s all written in the notebook. “What? I write them down because I’ve never heard them before or because they just-she says them in a way that makes me laugh because half of the time I swear she’s just making them up to make fun of me but she’s not these are actually things people say.” Harry further explains as he picks up the notebook and flips to a random page, he reads it over and smiles when he finds one he thinks Niall will enjoy. “Like this one…that really grates my cheese…she says that when something is annoying her.”
“You must hear that one a lot then.”
“Actually most of these she hasn’t said about me Niall she’s just said them to me.”
“Right..well keep em’ comin what else is in there?” Harry laughs at how interested Niall is in hearing more of your little sayings but he can’t blame him, he remembers the first time you texted him something that he didn’t understand and even made a joke about him writing it down after you explained it to him and he knows you are now well aware of the fact this notebook exists because it turns out he did write it down and has been writing them down in it ever since.
“When she’s busy like baking or reading but wants you to know you’ve gotten on her nerves she’ll go come over here so I can smack you..she’s uh-yeah she’s said that to me once or twice but she said it a lot to her brother when he was here.” Niall laughs as Harry’s cheeks get a little pink as he admits to getting on your nerves enough for you to say this to him. “She says I’ll tell you what..or let me tell you something right quick…all the time and the quick part is always a lie because she always says that before she goes on a rant and her rants aren’t ever short.” Harry says with a smile because he adores your rants and could listen to you go on and on about anything for as long as your heart desires and be perfectly content.
“Oh I’ve heard her on the phone with Kat and sayin stuff like..well I’ll be damned-”
“That means she’s shocked or maybe a little surprised.”
“Really? What’s it mean when she says dilly dally or puttin-putting? What the fuck does that mean?”
“Puttin around? That means wasting time same with dilly dallying they mean the same thing.”
“Okay now what’s this about being ugly? She says that a lot.”
“That just means stop being rude.”
“Is it an insult when she says-”
“Niall it’s safest to just assume everything she says is an insult.” Niall gives Harry a playful glare making Harry just casually shrug as he takes another sip of his coffee before leaning back into the couch. “I’m serious it’ll make your life easier but if you want I’ll tell you if she was being mean or not. What did she say to you?”
“She said I was so creative.” Harry has to bite his bottom lip in an effort to hold back the smirk that wants to take over his face as Niall tells him what you said. “She came over to drop off some stuff for Kat and I was helping Teddy decorate cupcakes for his school’s bake sale and I asked how I was doing with the icing and that’s what she said.” Harry just nods as he leans forward to put his mug on the coffee table.
“Yeah mate she uh she was insulting you.” Niall lets out a sigh as he slumps into the loveseat and Harry can’t help but laugh as he sees the familiar look of defeat on his friend’s face. “You think that’s bad? Once I tried to cook dinner for her and after the smoke detector was done going off she walked into the kitchen and turned the oven off and grabbed my face and pinched my cheeks and said oh Sugar thank god you’re pretty…and then uh well then she made dinner.” Harry doesn’t even mind how loud Niall laughs because that’s the main reason he told him the story, to make him feel better because he knows at times it can feel extremely hard to impress you.
“But you know she’s not always annoyed or like insulting right?” Harry questions all of a sudden worried he’s giving Niall the wrong impression of you. Niall looks at Harry with a smile and just nods making Harry relax a bit.
“I know Harry don’t worry.” Niall states as he gives Harry a reassuring smile. “I know her softer side is one you have to earn so I’m sure I’ll get to see more of it eventually but until then I’ll happily take all the weirdly polite insults she tosses at me.” Harry just smiles at Niall’s words because if anyone knows how hard Harry worked to earn the privilege of seeing your softer side it’s the Irishman sitting across the living room from him, and all the two in the morning phone calls and frantic texts telling Niall how worried he is that he’s fucking everything up with you or how much he likes you back when the two of you weren’t even dating are just some of the proof.
“They are oddly polite aren’t they? I think it’s the accent that makes them seem so…nice?”
“Oh it’s totally the accent…bet she could call someone a ragging twat and it would sound like a compliment.”
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luveline · 2 years ago
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oooooo how about reader obsessed with hugging hotch !! like he's so big and warm and it always makes them feel safe and cared for <33
my love this isn’t exactly what you asked for but I hope you like it! I could write a hundred fics about hugging Hotch <3 fem!bau!reader
You’re addicted to Hotch’s hugs. It’s a crude metaphor, but you don’t use it lightly. Without his hugs you feel unbalanced and unsettled. It’s strange to think just a few months ago you hadn’t been able to hug him at all, though you’d sorely wanted to, and now you can do it whenever you like.
Within reason. You aren’t awful, you don’t try to pin them on him during work when he’ll be seen by high-ups and law enforcement — you would never undermine his professionalism like that, or your own. Though there are exceptions.
Like lunch time. 
The team usually eat and work at the same time, but legally you’re allowed an hour a day for lunch, and Hotch wouldn’t get mad at anyone for wanting to take it in a more relaxing fashion. That being said, you usually have lunch like this; takeout around the same table, notebooks open, Reid barely picking at his, Morgan and Emily too busy eating to speak, JJ taking ten minutes for herself somewhere quiet, and Hotch hard-pushed to order anything in the first place. You sit way too close on his left and cut your sandwich in two with a plastic knife. 
“Here you go,” you murmur, more to yourself than him as you pass over the bigger half. 
“Honey,” he says, “no.”
“It’s okay, just eat it,” you insist. 
You sound as fond as you feel, you always do. Everybody’s used to how much you like Hotch. Not just love him or care about him, like him. You like how he’s quiet and stern and assertive. You like his suits and his short-cropped hair and his frown. Everything about him makes you smile, which is amazing considering the severity of your job. Nobody resents your being sweet on him, though Morgan still makes his jokes. 
“Do as the lady says, boss,” he advises. “We all know how it ends otherwise.”
Hotch frowns at him but takes your offered sandwich. You eat in silence, listening to the click of the computers in the bullpen through the open door, the warbling voice of the precincts police chief, and the rattle of keys as a janitor makes his way past the conference room you’re holed up in. Reid flicks through a map of the area, trying to narrow down his geographical profile, his pencil tap-tap-tapping. 
You pass a big wad of napkins onto Hotch’s thigh, and put what’s left of your sandwich back into its wrapper. He squints at you inquisitively. You’re only standing to stretch out the nagging ache that’s coiled between your shoulders and around your neck. You click, the sound like a gunshot, and make everybody in hearing distance flinch. 
Hotch abandons his food not long after you have, seeing an opening you hadn’t meant to give. He wipes his hands on a napkin, then his face. 
While he’s not looking, you take a step closer. Another and another. Morgan grins at you knowingly. 
You slide your arm behind Hotch’s neck, standing slightly behind him, and bring your face to the side of his head. He wraps an arm around you in turn, movement rigid with reluctance. 
“It’s my legal lunch break,” you say softly. “What do you always say about breaks?”
“You can spend it however you want,” he says, sounding very much like the Hotch you get to adore outside of work, joking and light, a great surprise. “But I can spend mine however I want.”
“And you don’t want to be hugging me?” you summarise. 
You’re joking in that you kind of know he doesn’t want this, not because he doesn’t want you. He’s rather shy, your Hotch. He loves hugs, but in front of others he requires a little persuasion. If you thought he truly didn’t want one you’d keep your hands to yourself, but…
“That’s not what I said.”
Pleased, you curl your second arm around his collar, hand diving into the soft hair at the back of his head. You pull with the lightest pressure, pressing a secret, soundless kiss to the end of his unhappy brow. And then, because you love him and you don’t want to embarrass him too much, you spring away from him like it never happened. 
Later, when dark has enveloped the city and you’re making your way out to the SUV that’s gonna take you to the hotel for the night, you fall into step with your lovely boyfriend and sigh. You’ve felt the guilt of your hug all day. 
“Thank you,” you say.
It takes him a second to emerge from his thoughts. “For what?”
He doesn’t add a pet name, but his tone implies one. 
“For letting me, uh, climb all over you at lunch. I know public displays aren’t your favourite.”
He tilts his head toward yours without looking at you. “It makes you feel better.”
He doesn’t need to say the obvious. You both work a hard job emotionally. 
“I don’t want to make you feel worse,” you say, voice sticky with bashfulness. 
He laughs, tipping his head back in the open air, and it’s odd enough for him that you gawp, worse when he wraps his hand around yours and swings them mildly forth and back. 
“In what world would a hug from you make me feel worse, honey?”
You smile in fits and starts for hours. In the SUV, in the hotel elevator, in the hallway outside of your room. You smile as you and Hotch get changed into lounge clothes for the night, and as he twines your fingers together under the sheets. 
He’s far from stupid. He knows why you’re smiling, and while his mind is on the case, he takes the time to say, “You don’t have to be so quick to move away. In front of the BAU.”
“Think we could get away with it in front of Strauss?”
“…No.”
You laugh, and Hotch evidently likes the sound of it. He lets you hug him like a straight jacket until 5AM.
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unfortunatebrainfarts · 7 months ago
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After working with your friendly neighborhood intergalactic space cowboy for quite some time, you've managed to become pretty damn good at understanding the gist of what he means to say
Boothill x reader
A/n: OK SO, first fanfic in like 6 years and it's for an intergalactic space cowboy
Tbh I have no idea why I wrote this, my ipad apps are constantly monitored by the teacher and I really have nothing better to do than go on my notes app and pretend I'm writing notes
HAVE AN AMAZING DAY = I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED BY THE IPC AND ROLL IN YOUR OWN DEBT AND SUFFERING (or something like that)
BLESS YOUR HEART = FUCK YOU
PRAY FOR ME = FUCK ME
LOVELY = FUCK
YOU WONDERFUL PERSON = YOU BITCH
Well ain't you just a sweetheart? = Well you're just a little bitchboy aren'tcha?
God love him = He was fuckin' underdeveloped as a fetus wasn't he (Something along the lines of 'he's dumb as shit')
"Hm. Seems about right."
To others, your furrowed brows, tense posture, and concentrated gaze at just one singular page of your notebook may make it seem as if whatever was on that page was something life changing. And honestly, they might as well have been right since you were one step closer to understanding what the hell Boothill was spitting out more than half the time.
You recall the first time you were assigned a mission with him — "BLESS YOUR HEART YOU WONDERFUL PERSON," cue you snapping your head towards the gruff voice seeing the cowboy in all his glory easily decimating the dozens of grunts in his vicinity with a toothy grin no less, which you note are very, very sharp.
His long, flowy hair caught your attention. How was it so white and clean even with all the fights you know gets into? Does it ever get yanked? What shampoo does he use?
"Now I don' mind some ooglin', but wouldn't ya say we should keep our eyes on our enemies darlin'?"
His voice snaps you out of your trance and you come to to a shovel nearing your head. You instinctively cover your face with your hands anticipating the pain, the pain which never came since when you put them down, you see that Boohill had already left a bullet in his head.
"Spacin' out at a space cowboy? Ain't that rich."
.
Ignoring the fact that he saved you from having to get facial reconstruction surgery, the reason you almost got a face full of shovel in the first place was because of the ridiculous curse on his synesthesia beacon.
That's why you've been devoted to trying to decode the albeit hilarious, rather inconvenient in a battle things he says. You've tried asking Boothill to write them down, but his handwriting could have him assigned as a doctor in no time so you gave up on that idea quite quickly.
"Whatcha starin' at so intently darlin'?
Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the man of the hour mindlessly snatching your notebook right out of your hands. "Aren't you supposed to stop thieves, not act like one," you ask half heartedly. It was nothing less of what you'd expect from Boothill of all people — no, cyborgs??
"Heh, this ain't thievery 's sharin'! Er, what's that one sayin' again... share to care, care to share, sharin' to carin'? Eh whatever ya get what I mean don'tcha sugar?" He retorted, you roll your eyes mentally as he put his focus back onto the notebook. To be honest you were surprised he could even read considering his handwriting was that bad.
As Boothill read each and every one of your 'translations', his grin only grew wider and wider showing the spiky teeth you don't know how are natural but have grown accustomed to seeing. Just then, a burst of unhinged laughter randomly filled the entire lounge room you were sitting in. The weird glances and whispering were already starting but Boothill didn't care, he was Boothill.
Not wanting to be associated with the man at that very moment, you stand up to leave him comically rolling on the floor. However, you couldn't even do that because the moment you stood up, Boothill snatched your leg and dragged it so that you would fall back down. This time, onto the floor with him. "Well ain't you something sweetcheeks, ya got me alll figured out huh?"
.
.
It's been two months. Ever since Boothill realized that you had actually tried to figure out the true meaning behind his words — and actually got them relatively right — he's been using you to spew out insults overtime. Honestly it was like you had become a pokemon, you could just picture it in your head.
BOOTHILL BROUGHT OUT ____
____ USED SWEAR! IT WAS SUPER EFFECTIVE
Either way, it wasn't that bad since though you might be imagining things, it feels as if you've grown ever so slightly closer to the eccentric space cowboy.
You continue to observe boothill and add more and more onto your list of translations, but apparently you fail to notice that he no longer uses any casual pet names like 'darling' or 'sweetcheeks' anymore. At least, not for anyone but you.
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ourfleur · 1 year ago
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「Who Do You Belong To?」 [Johnny Cage x Fem Reader]
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Summary: Being in a relationship with someone like Johnny Cage isn’t easy, especially when they have the same reputation he does, always so much attention always on you and your relationship. But maybe you can use that to your advantage, make them all know who this A-lister belongs to.
Tags: nsfw (basically just porn with a tiny plot lmao), semi public sex, au, dom&sub, switch reader, switch johnny, jealousy, possession, pet names (mostly baby)
An: hiii so this is my first time not only writing smut but also posting anything i write lol, i hope its not shit.. i pretty much only wrote this because i had this idea and no one had written anything like it so i wrote it myself.. anywaysss enjoy :3
follow my ao3
3 months. It had been only 3 months since you started dating the “infamous” Johnny Cage. 3 months and yet you were already more famous than 99% of the population would ever be.
You were still getting used to the fame, the constant cameras flashing in your face and the constant attention. You knew so many women would kill to be where you are, in the arms of Johnny, knowing that didn’t make life any easier. Constantly, new drama would stir up, rumours about you or your boyfriend breaking up or cheating on each other. But that… that was bearable. What wasn’t bearable was Johnny's co-star on his new movie. She wasn’t shy about wanting him and when the rumours started circulating of him ditching you for her she laughed it off and played stupid. “Oh really?”, she laughed, “I cannot confirm nor deny anything, it’s up to the fans imaginations.” That bitch made you livid.
This was supposed to be a relaxing day but you spent all of your time on Johnny's yacht reading the nasty and idiotic comments from the media. It was also extremely hard to relax considering the paparazzi was so close by, it seemed no matter where you went you could not escape them. But that revelation gave you an idea.
Getting up off the lawn chair you were lounging on, you pranced your way over to your boyfriend, who was occupied with writing his own movie. Taking the notebook out of his hands as you got on top of him. He was surprised at first but then smirked, eyeing the way your little body looked in that tiny bikini.
“Johnnyyyyy…” You whined while looking at him through half lidded eyes. Slowly, you grinded yourself on his clothed dick. “I need you right now.” You smiled, seeing the way his face contorted as you moved yourself across his lap. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I need everyone to understand who you belong to, so do me a favour and fuck me where they all can see.” You felt him hardening underneath you at your words. “Fuck, whatever you say baby.”
You leaned into each other, mouths crashing together in an aggressive kiss. Continuing to grind on each other while making out, only breaking to release some particularly intense whimpers. His large hands running all over your tiny body. Moving your hands down his chiselled abs, you reached the prize. Palming him through his shorts, which elicited the prettiest moans from his mouth.
Finally, you took his cock out, glistening with precum. You ran your delicate hand up and down his shaft, fingers tracing his pretty little veins and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You raised yourself up, letting him pull your bottoms to the side. You aligned yourself with him and slowly sunk down, making you both moan. You looked out across the water, seeing the many cameras, all focused on you and him. You began moving, listening as he moaned out your name. The way his thick cock stretched you always took you over the edge. You grinded your pretty pussy on him, over and over, not even paying attention to the poor mess of a man beneath you, only staring out at the cameras. Making sure they caught every glimpse of the way you could so easily destroy this big-shot A lister.
“No one else can make you feel this way, right baby?” You purred. “Yes.. fuckkkkk baby yes only you.” You could feel him twitch inside of you while he spoke, he was close. You frowned, “Well that cunt you work with seems to think she owns you.” You pulled yourself off of him, watching him groan with annoyance, his orgasm being denied. “What the fuck? I was close.” Cursing out your name. “Well it’s no fun if we just sit here…” You said, getting off him and leading him to the edge of the boat, your body facing the paparazzi across the water. You bent down in front of him, putting on a show as you pulled down your bikini bottoms. As you did he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your cunt. You turned back around and moved towards him, arms reaching to grab his hair, suddenly shoving him down on his knees. “Be a good boy and eat me out while your adoring fans watch, maybe then I will let you have what you want.” Your sultry tone doing indescribable things to him.
He started by slowly nibbling and biting at your thighs, hands wrapping around them with ease. You groaned, “Don’t tease me Johnny.” Eyes staring daggers down at him. “Whatever you say…” And with that, he dove right in. His tongue flicking and circling around your clit in ways that could only be described as heavenly. Your hands dug into his hair, shoving his face closer to your aching core. He then moved his mouth down, lapping like a dog at your slick, his nose lightly grazing over your clit, leaving so much more to be desired. Your moans were getting so loud at this point you wouldn't be surprised if everyone on the beach could hear you. “Fuck Johnny, I’m close, you’re doing so good… You look so good on your knees.” Your brain turning to mush as you babble random praises, your orgasm steadily approaching.
And when it hit you were a mess. Moaning out curses and his name, legs turning to jelly. The only thing to stop you from collapsing was his hands, which were glued to your hips. After you finally regained the ability to stand on your own Johnny stood up. Licking the left behind slick on his lips with his tongue. You were about to bark another command at him before he interrupted you. “Agh fuck this. I can't take this anymore.” You were about to question him before he grabbed you, turning you around so he can bend you over on the edge of the boat. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Im fucking tired of this, it’s my turn to ruin you, sound good baby?” His voice sent chills down your spine. You nodded, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He leaned back and soon you felt his cock between your thighs, gliding along your folds. Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. You turned back to face johnny only to see him walking towards his chair. He grabbed his phone and then winked at you. “For safekeeping yknow?” He finally was back behind you, stroking himself a bit before finally easing himself into you. He groaned your name, taking you fully. You could hardly contain your whimpers when he started moving.
“You look so good on camera, fuck, you should star in one of my films.” He laughed, now moving at a pace all too slow. “I’ll only star in it if I get to fuck you in it.” You responded, releasing a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He took his free hand and moved it to your clit, rough fingers circling it at an insane pace. The combination of him pounding into you and hitting that special spot inside if you and him rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. With the way you were moaning and the way your cunt was tightening around his cock he could tell you were close. “You’re so beautiful when you’re whining around my cock.” He chuckled. “F-fuck.. Johnny please I'm so close.” You stuttered out. Suddenly he grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back into his chest. He held the phone out in front of the 2 of you while beginning a relentless pace. “Smile for the camera while you come undone babe. This is your glamour shot.” You could barely focus on what he was saying due to the pleasure that was shooting through your body. He moved his hand from your hair to your neck and squeezed a little. “I said smile.” His tone was stern and that was the last straw. The knot in your stomach snapped and you came, making sure to look into the camera and smile, per his request. Your moans were near pornographic as you shook from your orgasm, falling back onto the edge of the yacht. He pulled out of you and you couldn’t help notice, he still hadn’t cummed. You turned around and glanced down to his still-hard cock and then to his face.
“You gonna come over here and fix this or what?” He questioned, smirking while he spoke. “I guess it’s only fair… you have been so good to me today Johnny.” You turned, falling to your knees. Now eye level with his length. You moved your hands to it, gently stroking your boyfriends dick, trying to see what reactions and noises you could get to come out of his pretty face. You brought your mouth to his tip, doing short kitten licks to his slit. You moved your tongue all over his cock, licking and tenderly tracing every vein with your tongue. “Come on.. don’t punish me more than you already have..” He begged, looking down at you with those puppy dog eyes you just couldn’t resist. “Grab your phone Johnny, let’s see if that whore will understand who you belong to after this.” He was taken aback by your request but nonetheless complied. The moment he started recording you were ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.
Never taking your eyes off the camera, you stuffed his cock into your mouth. Johnny quietly whimpered at the feeling of you taking him in his mouth but before he could savour it, you pulled his dick out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. “Don’t try and quiet those moans Johnny, I need to make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He nodded and you eased your mouth back onto him. Johnny had never seen something more beautiful than you choking on his cock. The way your mouth worked had him sure he was in heaven. His breathing sped up and he grabbed your hair. “Fuck i’m so close, let me fuck this pretty face.” You nodded and he gripped your hair tighter. He was so rough, whimpering and crying out with pleasure while shoving his dick as far down your throat as he could. His thrusts started to become sloppy and before you knew it he was painting your throat white and releasing the hottest groans and praises. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and bent down to inspect his work. “You are so gorgeous, I can never get enough of seeing your little mouth filled with my cum.” He smiled, ending the video and throwing his phone to the side while you swallowed.
Safe to say that the internet was going wild for a few months after the paparazzi released those pictures… and safe to say that his stupid co-star didn’t do shit like that again.
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romanarose · 14 days ago
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Supportive Logan Thoughts: Writer GF
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Logan Howlett x fem!writer!gf
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Summary: You're an aspiring writer, but having trouble finding time to write. Logan shows his complete faith in you, no matter what your family thinks.
Warnings: Not a lot, unsupportive/mean family. My massive daddy issues
A/n: I wanted to write this for myself because Im feeling massively unsupported by my family and several friends, and I with I had a partner with this much faith in me. I have another one I wanna do with supportive logan and reader who wants to continue education. If you have any self indulgant ideas you wanna hear, send em! It'll probs be short but I can have Logan say things i think you'd want to hear in a way that makes sense for him. Trans and lgbt themes encouraged.PS: catch the bobs burgers reference?
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Dinner had been going pretty well, comparatively. Logan hadn't snapped at your dad for his passive aggression, and your mom hadn't commented on how you'd gained weight. It wasn't your fault your beloved boyfriend seemed to be fattening you up!
All in all, a peaceful dinner.
Until your brother, Mark, had to be a dick.
"You still writing on Wattpad?" He asked, an innocent enough question but you knew that tone. Logan stiffened, so you put a hand on his thigh. He chewed hard on the broccoli.
You brace yourself a bit. "Yeah, I got the fanfictions. But I'll have you know, it's a fun hobby and I do pretty well for myself-"
"Writing men kissing on tumblr isn't a hobby any more than making a porno is."
Logan speaks, through a full mouth. "I bet you're the porn expert, considering you're not getting any from anyone else."
"Except your mom."
You raise to hands at both Logan and Mark "Knock if off you two!"
Your mom is glaring at Mark for mentioning porn at the table, but he's pretending to be very interested in his chicken Alfredo.
Still, your dad always has something to say. "It's a shame you can't make money off that. I don't really understand why you do it."
"For fun?" You didn't know what not to get. Your grandma made terrible janky blankets and you all gushed over them. You loved them of course, because it was grandma. Why couldn't you have a hobby weather or not you were good?
But Logan wouldn't let the silence be filled with your families assumptions. "Well, she's writing a book, actually. And it's good, really fu- I mean, it's really good." Logan abides by your moms no swearing rule, but she pays no mind to the always f word as she somehow finds a reason to embarrass you.
"Oh she's always talking about some book or whatever. As a kid it was mystery because she was into the boxcar children. As a teen she was going to write the next big dystopian trilogy." She covers her mouth as she laughs about it.
Logans hand flexes and tightens under the table, trying to remain calm. "And what did you say when she told you about these?"
"Well, I told her she should be more realistic. I mean, I read some of her writing-"
"Because you snooped through my notebooks!"
"And it wasn't exactly Hunger Games."
Logan set down his plate. "So let me get this straight, Diane."
"Lo..." You warn.
"You snooped through notebooks that your daughter wrote by hand on notebooks, at what, 14, 15? Told her that this first draft, which I cannot stress enough, was written on a notebook, wasn't good enough to be published, then you're shocked she didn't finish it?"
When you're moms mouth gapped, your dad stepped in. "She doesn't finish anything, I'm sure you picked up on that. I mean, how many half started art projects are in your house right now?"
An embaressing amount. The other day, you found three different blankets with the same color scheem started. Three! Thrice, you had the same idea and never followed through.
Your boyfriend was not deterred. "Well, maybe, she needs someone whose going to support her, encourage her. Didn't seem like she had a lot of that before."
"WHELP!" You slap your knees, then stand up. "This has been great, but as usual we passed the 15 minute mark, and right on cue, it's time to go."
Your dad was as stubborn as Logan was and stood too. "Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do to support her, to magically fixed years of fail-"
As you pulled Logan toward the door, Logan counts off on his fingers. "One, tell her that she can actually do it, because she CAN, two, check in on her and let her brainstorm with me. Have you ever actually asked about her plot? No?"
You're giggling to yourself now. Dinner was ruined, but you liked that Logan didn't stand for people talking bad about you.
"And three, she's gonna quit her job so she can focus on writing!"
Well. That one was new. Logan always encouraged your novel in progress, he listened about the characters and offered ideas, gave you a sounding board that wasn't judgmental. Yes, you've complained about no time for writing when you work so much but... No matter, you show a united front in front of your dad.
"Yeah! Because he believes in me." And you were out the door.
*
The drive back was quiet. Espresso was on the radio, and you knew he must be distracted because he didn't change the station, so you spoke first.
"I don't have to quit my-"
"I was gonna talk to you about-"
You both start at the same time. Then you laugh. "You first, Lo."
His body language relaxes for the first time tonight. "I didn't mean to spring that on yuh." I don't wancha to think I'm like. Trying to tell you what to do or make you financially dependent."
"I don't." You assure him. "So... you thought about this?"
He nods. "Yeah I um... I really think you got something good here, baby. I think if you took leave for a while ad really could just focus on the book, it could be something great. I mean, I don't know much about books but even I like it, so... you know... it's gotta be good."
Warmth fills your body as a blush festers under your skin. Logan really believed in you. He believed in your book enough that he was willing to take this risk on you.
"Can we... afford that?"
"Well I thought..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I can always take overtime at work. If I pick up another day or two-"
"Logan! I can't ask your to do that!"
"You're not." He turns to you briefly, smiling, then back to the road. "I'm asking to do this for you, if you'll let me. Then, when you're a high falutin writer, I can be your sugar baby." He pokes yoru side, making you giggle
Still, seed of doubt were deeply entrenched. "But what if I don't do good? It doesn't sell?"
Logan shrugs. "Well, I guess... then you'll try again. Or you don't, an you'll know you finished it and you tried."
A pause. "You're really willing to do this for me?"
"Baby..." He places a hand on yours, eyes once again drifting only briefly from the road to you, then back. "I'd get the moon right now if you asked. Let me do this for us."
For us.
***********
Okay thats it im done im sorry, that was my own daddy issues, mommy issues, brother issues- lort help lmfao
anyway if you like this, check out my other stuff on my masterlist! if you like dark content, most of my logan is being written over at @romana-after-dark
the bobs burgers referece was the 15 min rule. at exactly 15 min, big bobs says something mean to bob asdfghjkl
my middle brother hosted a surprise party for my parents anniversary and we decided to have me an the ret of my siblings be surprise one, have my oldest brother hiding bc he lives the furthest away for surprise 2, then downstairs my extended family for three. My dad walks in, sees me and my youngest brother who he was't expecting, and before he even says hi he says "where's *oldest brother*" so that felt cool. And we got into a bit of an arguement where he was discrediting my feelings about the move when i was a teenager, and then my brothers and sister were assholes- and i just kept thinking i want logan or santi or joel here to protect me and defend me even against little stuff.
enough about me!
send your requests! give me chubby read, black reader, trans reader, native reader, bi reader, male reader- literally whatever tf you want. I cant say it'll be as long as this one but i got you. you desver to feel supported.
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anathemaloren · 9 months ago
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flowers and tea
Naomi McPherson x fem!florist!reader
🌼Warnings - 2 curse words? and english is not my first language
🌼Genre - fluff (i guess)
🌼Word count - 3.4k (WHAT?!)
🌼Notes - OH MY GOD, you don't know how much time I've spent writing this like 3k words???? that's just crazy. also, i wrote this in several classes at school, sorry arturo, montse and chus 🙏🏼 and this is dedicated to carolina who tried to peek into the story and i didn't let her, luv ya bubs
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Having her own shop was a dream and a nightmare at the same time for Y/n L/n.  Paying the bills, keeping the flowers beautiful the whole day through, being all day on her feet or dealing with rude costumers were all things Y/n wished she could get rid of. But at the same time, she truly loved her job. Being able to surround herself with flowers was a dream come true, and seeing a smile on the face of a happy customer really made her day. Plus, the shop was in a strategic place in Los Angeles where sometimes famous people came through, and she even had a few celebrities who were usual shoppers. Lucy Dacus stopped from time to time to buy flowers in order to dry them, and considered Y/n a friend. Pedro Pascal always bought flowers for his sister from Y/n, and Ashton Irwin loved to stop by for a chat about how to keep his plants as beautiful as Y/n’s. So, Y/n shouldn’t fall easily for a star, right?
          It was a slow day, so Y/n busied herself rearranging flowers on the back of the shop. She was calmly arranging a bouquet of lilies when she heard the bell on top of the door and a pair of shoes rushing in. Curious about who would come bursting in like that, she lowered the volume of the Glenn Miller vinyl that was playing on the background and stepped into the front of the shop while cleaning her hands on her apron. She then saw a person looking like they had run for 10 kilometres, with curls sticking to their red face, and trying to catch some air.
          “Hi.” Y/n said calmly “Can I help you with something?” she asked. “Yeah, I think you would be unbelievably helpful right now” they said, making Y/n chuckle amused. “Tell me, what can I do for you?” she said, taking her notebook out, just in case she needed to write something down. The person standing on the other side of the counter leaned a bit on it and tried to arrange the curls around their head. “It’s my mum’s birthday, and I’ve been so busy that I completely forgot about buying her something, and I love her very much I can’t just not buy her anything, and I’m meeting her tonight, I can’t show up empty handed” they said without stopping, catching a quick deep breath “. So Lucy told me to come here and say to you that she sent me and that you could arrange something with flowers that have meaning for, like��� now… could you?” they finished, looking expectantly at Y/n. The girl just blinked a few times, taking all the information in. “Which Lucy sent you?” she asked, testing the person’s connection to her, not truly trusting them yet, even though they looked like a decent person to her. “Ummm… Lucy Dacus?” they said, with caution. Y/n visibly lighted up, smiling at the thought of the black haired girl recommending her to her friends. “Well, you should’ve started with that.” She said, turning around and starting to walk to the back of the shop, turning around again to gesture to the still nameless person to follow her back.
          If the front of the shop was a dream, full of aromatic plants and antique furniture, the back of it was another level of etherealism. Besides another huge amount of plants and flowers, one wall was a window wall, made out of old looking stained glass of art déco style. There was a table with two chairs were Y/n would have tea, sometimes with someone else, and behind the table there was a bookshelf with heaps of books about flowers and their care and meanings. In the middle of the room there was a worktable with a few half-arranged bouquets of lilies of different colours. Y/n moved with ease around the space, and she turned to face the stranger once she got to the workbench, only to find said stranger with their mouth half opened in awe.
          “Are you okay?” Y/n asked, slightly amused with the reaction she was witnessing. The stranger blinked a few times as if to come out of some sort of trance, and responded after centering themselves in the conversation again “Yeah, yeah, fine” they said, making Y/n’s smile a bit brighter. “I’m Naomi, by the way” the stranger said, finally giving a name to the curious person. “Oh, yeas, from Muna, right?” Y/n said, eliciting a nod from Naomi. “Lucy has told me so much about all of you, I don’t know how I couldn’t recognize you the moment you walked in” she said, making Naomi smile a bit. “She really talks about me to you?” Naomi asked, feeling a wave of affection for their friend. “Yeah, she talks about all of you all the time” Y/n said, giggling a bit “. I almost feel like I know you personally sometimes, although meeting you in person makes me realize she forgot to mention some things” she said, standing behind the working table and moving the flowers around to make space for others. “Like what?” Naomi asked, furrowing their brows, thinking that maybe they had given a terrible first impression, when they had been mesmerized with Y/n since they had seen her. The girl standing opposite to them smiled at them coyly before saying nonchalantly “For starters, she forgot to mention you are even more handsome on real life than on pictures.” The comment made the curly haired blush, not expecting the sweet looking florist to be so flirty and straightforward.
          Naomi’s reaction made Y/n giggle, feeling like she couldn’t stop smiling around them. She didn’t know where the confidence to be so bold had come from, either. She then decided to stop messing around and get to work. “So” she said, clearing her throat before continuing ´´, what did you want for your mum?” Naomi shook their head for a second, pulling themselves together about the flirty comment from before, and answered the question “I truly don’t know, I just want to tell her I love her, and flowers seemed like a good option” they said, being truly bad at flowers. “So you want to send a message with these flowers” Y/n said, looking at Naomi attentively. “Yeah, basically” they answered, doubting a bit about the rightness of their answer. “Well, if you want I can arrange a bouquet with flowers that mean that you love her” Y/n smiled, always loving to do bouquets with deep meanings. “Do you mean flowers mean something specific?” Naomi asked, making Y/n clutch her pearls in feigned offense. “Of course they do! That’s my job you’re talking about!” she said, making Naomi laugh. Y/n smiled and walked over to the bookshelf, picking up and old-looking book, with a pink cover and golden details.
          Y/n sat down on one of the chairs of the table, signalling Naomi to sit in the other one. The florist browsed through the book, in which Naomi could only see beautiful illustrations and paragraphs of what they could guess was information about the flowers in the other page. When Y/n finally had all the information she needed, she closed the book and looked up, only to find the curly haired brunet already looking at her. This discovery made the girl blush and Naomi look away immediately, embarrassed about being caught. Y/n decided not to panic, clearing her throat before speaking “I think I’ve found the ideal flowers” she said “. If you follow me, I can show them to you” she continued, while standing up, already blushing a bit again. Where had all the previous confidence gone? The person now standing in front of her was truly messing with her emotions, and they had only met for roughly 25 minutes, even less.
          Y/n waltzed around the room picking up flowers, oblivious to the mesmerized client who was following her. She picked up the flowers and explained their meanings to Naomi “White carnations mean purity, love and beauty; the azaleas are a symbol of womanhood in China, and they are a symbol of love; daisies symbolize purity and innocence; and camellias represent gratitude and longevity” Although Naomi seemed like they were just hypnotized about the girl’s beauty, her words were also enthralling to them. After coming back with the flowers to the worktable, Y/n asked Naomi about their opinion, at which they could only stutter an OK, making the girl working in the bouquet blush and giggle.
          When she finished the bouquet, the mixture of carnations, daisies, azaleas and camellias looked beautiful. Y/n’s talent was something that had Naomi’s mouth open in amazement. Their head couldn’t wrap around the fact that two hands and a few flowers had given such result, the florist’s talent oozing from every aspect of the bouquet. Besides from the big possibility of their mum loving the bouquet, Naomi had also fallen in love with the care and talent Y/n had shown making it. Maybe they had also fallen for the hands responsible of such beauty, and the person who controlled them with so much grace.
          Y/n finished wrapping the bouquet, not really wanting Naomi to leave her shop. But she knew she couldn’t stop a big ass pop star that surely wasn’t going to fall for her. “I think this is finished” she said, nerves flowing through her whole body. “We can go to the front now” she continued, now moving to the front of the shop, bouquet in hand. While Naomi paid with her card, Y/n finished preparing the gift. When she turned around to get the business card she always gave out to first time clients, she hesitated when deciding what complimentary flower to give to Naomi. She finally chose a lavender coloured rose. She nervously put the flower and the card in a bag with the flowers. She didn’t know why she was so shaken, Naomi probably didn’t share her feelings; for fuck’s sake, they had known each other for something more than an hour. When Y/n gave the bag to Naomi their fingers brushed ever so slightly, which resulted in different reactions; Y/n let out a sigh, while Naomi froze immediately. When the florist realized they had spent more time than necessary in that position, she put her hand back as Naomi’s suddenly burned. They just blinked a few times, blushed, turned back and marched through the door mustering a rushed thanks and a farewell. Y/n sighed when Naomi was finally out, leaning on the counter and placing her head between her hands. What a naïve thought, that someone like Naomi McPherson could ever like someone like her. Now, she just had to move on, and try to forget about them.
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Lucy Dacus had decided to have a quiet night. She had a nice dinner, placed a few candles and played some soft background music. She then picked up her current read, and with a cup of a delicious tea that Y/n had suggested her, she got ready to relax, plunging down on the armchair she loved the most. That relaxing, though, didn’t last long, as she heard the doorbell ring. She groaned, detangling herself and getting up to open the door. If it was her annoying neighbour again, she was ready to throw hands. However, when she opened the door, there was no nosy neighbour on the other side; instead, Naomi was there, nervously biting her nails, and looking a bit miserable. “Naomi? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Lucy asked, worried about her friend’s state. “Where the fuck did you send me?” they just said, spreading their arms exasperated. “What?” Lucy just said, sincerely confused. Seeing as the only answer from Naomi was a pair of widened eyes, which lead to Lucy sighing and moving from the door, signalling Naomi to come in. Goodbye, quiet night.
          After a cup of tea, Naomi had calmed down, and they had told Lucy about those afternoon events. “And when I finished dinner with my mum I needed to vent, and as you were the one who told me to go to her, I just…” they finished, trailing down at the end. Lucy nodded in understanding, not needing to hear more from her friend before concluding “So basically, you fell head over heels for her and you think she doesn’t correspond your feelings”. Naomi just mustered a “yeah” while dropping their head in defeat. Lucy nodded again, leaning back on the armchair she was sitting in. “Well, we can kind of know how she feels about you” she said, smiling softly, making Naomi shoot their head up, waiting for a solution for their problems. “Did you keep the flower she gave you with her card?” Lucy said, already knowing the answer. Naomi slowly reached for a pocket in their jacket, taking out a lavender rose. Lucy got up and moved towards a shelf next to a window, where she saw rain starting to pour. She took a book from the shelf, under the curious stare of her friend. The book was a Victorian guide to flower meanings, which Lucy had somehow managed to thrift. She looked through the book sat on the armchair again. She could feel Naomi biting their nails and looking nervously at her. Finally, she found it. “It says here that lavender roses mean…” Lucy stopped, looking kindly at the meaning “It’s a flower that represents enchantment love at first sight” she said, looking again at Naomi, whose mouth was now partly opened in shock and eyes completely opened. They quickly recomposed and started shaking their head in denial. “Come on, Dacus, stop playing” they said, not believing what Lucy was saying. “I’m not” Lucy replied, showing the book to them. Naomi was feeling a weird mix of emotions, between shock, denial and complete confusion, with a tint of utter affection. Was this some kind of sick and twisted joke?
          Naomi got up and started pacing Lucy’s living room, not sure about what that really meant. They knew they had liked Y/n, call it love at first sight if you feel like it, but something had bloomed in that flower shop, and not only the plants. Lucy closed the book and laid back, deciding to leave Naomi to walk around and calm down. They finally did, sitting across Lucy again. Taking a deep breath, the curly haired talked for the first time in the last few minutes, breaking the silence that had settled itself on the room, mixed with the sound of drops of the still pouring rain. “What do you think I should do?” they asked Lucy for advice, with a hint of somewhat fear on their voice. “I can’t decide anything for you” Lucy said, shaking their head. “I’m not asking for instructions, Luce, I want your opinion” Naomi said, in a soft tone. Lucy sighed and leaned towards her friend “Do you like Y/n?” she asked, not really expecting a forward answer. “Yeah, I think I do” Naomi said with a sincere voice, astounding Lucy, who blinked and talked again. “Do you want to tell her that?” “I think I do” they replied again. Lucy questioned Naomi for a third time “I have her address. Do you want me to give it to you?” she said, and spoke again before Naomi could say anything “And don’t say that you think you do” she half-threatened. Her friend closed their mouth, opening it not much of a second later “I truly want her address” Lucy nodded, getting up to write it on a blue piece of paper. When she finished, she folded it and gave it to Naomi, who was standing up, nervously playing with their fingers. The moment they had the paper, they gave a heartfelt hug to Lucy, and then sprinted to the door. Lucy saw them get into their car and smiled softly. She didn’t mind a night not so quiet if it was for the sake of romance.
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Y/n was laying on her couch, one feet dangling off it. She laid there, looking at pictures of Naomi on Pinterest, although if someone asked, she was reading the Rilke book that was now laying on the coffee table next to her. She sighed, turning her phone off and keeping to staring to the ceiling. How was she so stupid that she had been so enchanted by someone who had been in her store for an hour. She stood up and picked up the book, deciding it was enough pining for someone she probably would never see again. She read a few pages, but didn’t last long before putting the book in her lap and looking out the window. She looked at the pouring rain, which she loved. She knew she should hate the rain, but she loved the romanticism of it all, even though she knew she would never have her ever so idyllic love confession in the rain.
          Just as she was lost on her thoughts, Y/n heard the doorbell ring. She wondered who the hell would be knocking at that time in the night, even more with that terrible weather, which truly didn’t invite to going out. She kept wondering who it could be as she walked to the door, expecting to see a neighbour or someone trying to sell her some stupid product. However, the only person she found waiting outside of her house was a drenched Naomi. Y/n’s eyes opened wide as she took the sigh in, with her breath getting caught in her throat.
          Y/n talked, although the lump she felt on her throat made it a bit difficult. “What are you doing here?” she said, not being able to move herself from her spot on the door entrance. “I needed to see you” they said, with a tint of hopelessness in their voice. Y/n felt like flowers were blooming in her stomach, with the leaves and petals tickling her stomach. “How did you know where I lived?” Y/n asked again, nerves now flowing through her system. Naomi looked a bit guilty before answering “Lucy gave it to me, I asked her for it”. Y/n made a mental note of scolding her later, but asked the last question she couldn’t stop pondering about. “And why did you want to see me, Naomi?” she said, not sure if she wanted to hear the response. Naomi breathed deeply before replying. “I like you” they said, making Y/n’ world turn upside down in a matter of microseconds. She tried to calm down her breath, that was now working, but too fast for anyone’s liking.
          However, Naomi misinterpreted the silence, thinking that Y/n was somewhat outraged by the statement, apologizing while moving back to what Y/n suspected was their car “I’m sorry, this was a mistake”. Y/n snapped back then, following Naomi to their car with a quick pace “Naomi, wait!” she said, trying to get Naomi to look at her. The curly haired, which hair was now not so curly as it was soaked and stuck to their face, turned around and looked at her with a pained look on their face. Y/n tried to find the words, but they seemed to be stuck to the walls of her throat. Naomi exhaled, turning back once more to unlock their car. Seeing as the opportunity of confessing was slipping through her fingers, Y/n decided to take matter in her own hands… literally. She got closer to Naomi and took their face into their hands, pulling them in for a kiss. The kiss was short and sweet, and Y/n pulled away to see what reaction that had elicited from Naomi. They just stared at Y/n with a look of shock on their face, that didn’t last so long, as their brain decided to finally act. Naomi took Y/n face in her hands and kissed her again, now deepening the kiss. The moment under the rain seemed to last forever, as both their hearts synchronized in loud thumps. When they finally pulled away from one another, the rain kept pouring over them with an astounding force that seemed to mimic the strength of their feelings for one another. They were both soaked as they stood outside of Y/n’s house, smiling to each other like the infatuated idiots that they were.
          “I liked the flower” Naomi said, still not getting away from one another. Y/n laughed, touching her forehead with Naomi’s. “It was not as subtle as I intended it to, I guess” she said, making Naomi laugh now. “I liked it better that way” they voiced, giving a small kiss to the side of Y/n lips. It that was a dream, they both hope they would never wake up.
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toournextadventure · 2 years ago
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I LOVE your Wednesday! I was wondering if you can write a Wednesday/gn!Reader where the reader writes to her a love letter and wants to give it to her with a black rose but they see Xavier give to her the cellphone so, thinking they're dating, Reader just throws away the letter and the rose.
Wednesday finds them..
Looky looky here, two fics in one day. This one was fun to write, I loved the idea!
im no poet
You were no writer. No amount of your rambling thoughts could compare to those of Shakespeare, Hemingway, or even Wednesday Addams. All those big emotions came out in actions, not words, and not even your mouth could keep up or properly convey all you wanted to. No, most of those big, bottled up feelings ended up left unspoken.
But for Wednesday, you gave it a try.
It had started with a very heated debate about the phrase “actions speak louder than words.” She, of course, had opted to disagree, claiming her words spoke pretty loud. They sure do, you thought as you shook your head and counter-argued. It was by no means an argument, much more of an actual debate with each side presenting their case.
You lost. Because, as you had previously pointed out, you were not good with your words.
Not a bad thing though, you realised once you sat down to try and write out how you felt. The first few paragraphs were messy; no structure, no reason, barely coherent. You crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the corner of the room, not even attempting to hit the trash can. But you pulled out another piece of paper and started again.
It took half a notebook before you could even start making sense of your words. Even then, it wasn’t what you wanted to say. How could you even start to explain why you were writing such a letter? Should you start it off with “Hello, I think I’m in love with you?” Words wouldn’t work.
Words wouldn’t work.
You put your pen to paper - the third pen you had ruined so far - and started explaining your emotions the only way you knew how: with actions. The feelings she envoked in you couldn’t be put into words, not so simply. No, because she made you want to live, and living was such a beautiful thing. That rare smile of hers made you feel as if you were running through the farm of your childhood. Laughing as you ran up and down the crop rows until your bare feet were dirty and tired and you collapsed in the field with the feeling of utter peace that only a child could experience.
Being with her made you want to do every little thing she had never considered was important to her. It made you want to bring her coffee whenever she was writing, or turning the page of her music as she played. You would connect your headphones whenever she came in because you knew she liked the silence. Or grabbing all the songs she enjoyed and turning them into a personalised record that she could use without having to switch them out all the time.
When it was all said and done, you had exhausted five pens, half a notebook, and came out with three pages of a written confession.
You had asked Miss Thornhill if you could raid the greenhouse. It wasn’t that you were a teacher’s pet, but you knew how to kiss up when needed. She agreed quickly, and all you had to give up were a few Saturdays of your time to help clean up and organise. A fair trade, no consideration needed.
The Black Dahlias weren’t in bloom, so you hoped Wednesday would settle for a black rose. That was still romantic, right? It was black, at least, that had to count for something. A small envelope, a single black rose, your bright shining face. What more could she want?
“I already put my number in it,” Xavier’s voice rang out even though he was talking fairly quietly.
He bought her a phone. The very thing she had adamantly refused to become a slave to. Yet she took it from him anyway. Oh, you thought with a furrow of your brows. Suddenly the items in your hand felt like lead, weighing you down and you almost wished they would drag you under the ground to escape.
It had been a crapshoot to make a move, you knew that anyway, but it still hurt nonetheless. Wednesday gave the equivalent of a smile, and you nodded to yourself in silent acceptance. You wouldn’t ever wish to put her in a position to “choose” between two people. So instead you turned around and started walking off. You only paused at a trash can to drop the rose and letter inside, patting the cold silver can twice before walking away.
You didn’t see Wednesday watch you leave with worry in her eyes.
“Go see,” Xavier said with a gesture of his head.
Wednesday didn’t hesitate to walk over to the trash can and pick up the rose and envelope. The sight of the flower made her heart race; had you gotten that for her? What had possessed you to get her something like that? You knew she was difficult to get along with, why would you go out of your way to get her a rose in her favourite colour?
And the envelope. It had her name on it.
“What’s their number?” Wednesday asked Xavier. He gave her a smile and gestured for her to hand him her phone.
—---
You practically fell onto the bench in the lockerroom of your hometown gym. After getting out of school a few weeks ago, you had thrown yourself into helping out at the gym. The owner was a family friend and he had quickly accepted your offer. It was an added bonus that he gave you full access to the gym, too.
It was almost time to start closing up, but you had managed to get a good workout in once everyone was gone. Hell, you deserved it, the girl you were in love with was very clearly not in love with you. In fact, she was nice and happy, and even though that’s all you wanted, it still hurt. 
You never even told her, your mind thought.
“Oh shut up,” you mumbled as your head fell into your hands.
With a sigh, you pushed yourself up to your feet and grabbed your change of clothes from your bag. Maybe you just needed to change and get home so you could wallow in your self-pity and fall asleep with some Kitchen Nightmares on in the background. That would surely keep your mind busy. God, you were pathetic.
You were pulling your clean shirt back over your head when your phone vibrated against the bench. No one should have been texting you this late, everyone you talked to knew you were usually asleep. Besides, why would they be texting you this late? Didn’t they know you were in mourning?
The screen lit up when you held your face over it, still adjusting your clothes to fit properly.
Unknown Number: You forgot this. 1 Attachment.
“Oh fuck.” It was a photo of the rose and envelope with Wednesday’s name on it.
You: I’m sorry. You can toss it I didn’t know about Xavier
Oh god, why was this happening? Why did this have to happen? Getting silently rejected was hard enough, but now there was going to be humiliation too? You lifted your hands to grab the sides of your head as you started pacing, trying to keep yourself grounded. That’s it, you weren’t going back to Nevermore. Nope, you were going to run away, maybe live in the woods and find a Bigfoot family to take care of you.
The phone vibrated again and you rushed over.
Unknown: Did you mean it? What you wrote.
“Fuck!” You shouted. What did you say? There’s no way you could say “Yes, Wednesday, I meant every word of devotion that I wrote on that letter. Tell your boyfriend I said hi.” But if you didn’t let her know now, it was going to eat away at you until the day you died. Fuck fuck fuck!
You grabbed the phone and typed out the one word, but your thumbs stilled over the “send” button while your heart tried to beat out of your chest.
You pressed send.
You: Yes
“Oh shit,” you groaned. Your hands were getting clammy. “Why did I do that.” Oh god. Oh shit. Why wasn’t she answering? There goes any chance of even being friends again. You were going to have to change your name and run away. Surely your family would understand, right? Yeah, they could even help you come up with a new identity.
The vibration against the bench was about to send you into a frenzy.
Unknown: Call me tomorrow night. We can watch the new Scream movie.
You had never typed so fast in your life.
You: Is this a date?
The text couldn’t come quickly enough.
Unknown: Yes. But if you tell anyone, I will remove your tongue.
You stared at your phone in utter disbelief. A date. With Wednesday Addams. A real date with the girl you were highkey in love with. Your letter had worked. It had worked!
You: It’s a date
A smile took over your face as you put your phone back into your bag. You had a date.
“Fuck yes!” You shouted as you threw your fist in the air. You were definitely calling out of work tomorrow.
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wol-fica · 2 years ago
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-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋. 𝟞-
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parings - wednesdayaddams x fem!reader
summary - wednesday and r learn about the wonderful world of taxes sksksksk
warnings - swearing but that’s it my dudes
an - big thanks to @myfturn for requesting this to become a series <3 ——————————
In your opinion, whoever invented weather was a terrible person. Winter nights in New Jersey were absolutely awful, considering the cold drop in temperatures and the humid air, you were suffering. Your body couldn’t decide if it wanted to bundle up under the covers or get away from them, which was excruciatingly annoying.
It also didn’t help that your heater had recently given up on you. Normally, you would assume your appliances in your luxurious gothic mansion would work perfectly, but all hell was against you and decided to make you suffer in the cold.
So that is why you were bundled up in your wife’s hoodie as you curled up by your fireplace. Payment files and your monthly taxes for november were spewed out around you as you jotted things down on a notebook. Your lip was in between your teeth, being chewed on gently as you calculated the prices for your water bill and electricity bill.
A frown of confusion made its way onto your face and you mumbled a small “fuck” as you stared at your water bill tax for the past three months. Your brain didn’t seem to want to work with you, so none of the written material was clicking as you read it.
Unfortunately, Nevermore never offered a personal finance or real world class, and now that you are an actual adult with an actual life you have to take care of, you felt overwhelmed and lost.
Usually Wednesday would be the one doing your taxes, being that she is the smarter out of the two of you. But, you being as stubborn as ever, you scolded her and told her you both needed to share the workload as you were now married and would share everything almost equally.
“Fuck!” You cursed again, throwing your pen away from yourself in frustration.
Now you could go ask Wednesday for help, you always did when you were frustrated or upset about things, but you acted cocky and overconfident about doing your taxes by yourself, in which she got irritated and told you not to ask her for any assistance.
Your eyes squinted at the pen, watching it roll around before stopping by the door to Wednesday’s private writing room. You could hear the faint ‘click clack’ of her type writer as she worked on chapter three of her fourth book. The full series could be see on a shelf in your bedroom; you would occasionally grab one to read and enjoy if you were bored.
You stared at the fire, it’s crackling becoming a comfort for you as you attempted to relax your emotions. For awhile, you just sat there, basking in the warmth and ignoring the tax papers laid out on the floor. You knew you needed to do them, and you knew the only way you could would be to ask Wednesday for help.
After contemplating your life or your pride, you caved in and chose to go request her presence. Carefully, as to not loose your cocooned shape, you stood up and shuffled to Wednesday’s office door. Your hand raised, pausing in a moment of hesitation before knocking on the wooden surface.
“Come in.” A voice called, prompting you to open the door.
There, was your gorgeous wife. Her usually braided hair was unbraided and tied back in a half up half down style as her wavy black locks cascaded around her shoulders. She was dressed in an over large white shirt and black panties, and surprisingly her feet were coved in fluffy black socks that you got her for valentine’s day.
Her back was to you, her legs tucked under her chair as she poured her little black heart out onto the pages of her book. You watched as her fingers danced across the typewriter, pause, and then begin typing again as she found a new perspective to write.
“You knocked.” Wednesday said as she typed speedily.
You gulped, pursing your lips as you shuffled forward so you stood beside her, peering over her shoulder at the paragraphs she had been writing. One of her hands slid away from the keys to caress your thigh, her thumb rubbing your hip lovingly.
“What do you need mi amor?” She questioned, her black eyes focused on her page.
You sighed, closing your eyes as you leaned into her comforting touch. The hand that was previously rubbing your thigh now wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you into Wednesday’s lap.
“Y/N.” She said softly, pressing her lips to your neck, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m frustrated.” You huffed, leaning your chin on top of her head as she continued typing.
“About…”
“Doing taxes…” You grumbled, a pout forming on your face.
Wednesday scoffed, squeezing you lightly as she finished her page. She gave your neck another kiss and hummed against your skin.
“I thought you didn’t want my assistance.” She replied as you hopped off of her, standing up to follow you.
“Well I didn’t, at first.” You mumbled, leading her to the fireplace where all of your papers were thrown about the floor, “Then I realized I wasn’t as smart as you.”
“You’re just now realizing?” She smirked slightly, sitting down on the carpet as you gawked in disbelief.
“My feelings are hurt.”
“That IS my job, is it not?”
“Nes...” You groaned, hiding your head in your hands.
“I’m joking, do you have a pen?” Wednesday asked, looking under a few papers for your previously chucked pen.
You nodded, walking to her door to retrieve the pen you threw from before, and came back to give it to her and sit with her.
Immediately she got to work, her eyes skimming each paper as she calculated numbers and signed her signature on certain papers that needed it. Your eyes shamelessly scanned across her face, taking in the small details that had you encapsulated every time you saw her. The freckles that dotted her face, the way her eyebrows scrunched up when she was focused, how her tongue would sneak out in between her lips as she worked.
“Stop staring at me.” She murmured, bumping her knee against yours.
You laughed, resting your chin in your hands as you gazed at with with a love drunk stare. She was your muse, your drug that made you feel all woozy inside; of course you couldn’t not stare.
“Done.” Wednesday finally said, setting the pen down on a neat pile of papers.
“How?!” You exclaimed in awe, staring at the finished tax envelopes.
She chuckled, music to your ears, and pulled herself into your lap. She unwound the blanket so she could slip into your cocoon, humming at the warmth you produced.
“I’m just flawless, cara mia.” Wednesday mumbled into your neck, placing yet another kiss there; her favorite spot.
“You sure are, mon cher.”
She blushed, landing you a sharp jab to your stomach that left you whining in pain as you doubled over against her. Her hand snaked around you jaw to inspect your face, her other hand running up you shirt to feel your ribs for any damage.
“You’ll be fine.” Wednesday droned before snuggling into you and staring into the fire.
You smiled, your arms going around her body to hold her closely. Silence was a precious part of your relationship, whether you both work in the same room quietly, or just gaze into the night skin together on the roof.
After a moment or so, Wednesday started to drift off into sleep, a small snore leaving her slightly parted lips as you cuddled her. In the rare chance that this happens, you soak in the peacefulness of just being able to love and protect her without her potentially getting angry with you.
What a wonderful world….
—————-
*sobbing*
taglist:
@theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @thenextdawn @alexkolax @crystal-lily-101 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @efectoangel @i984 @annalestern @vorsdany @deep-fried-egg @yomomisgay @cursedchar
i do not give permission for anyone to repost or copy my work onto any other platform
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nyasbae · 2 years ago
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sleep deprived
pairings: gustavo fring x fem!reader
summary: your boss noticed you’re overworking yourself and decides to do something about it.
a/n: gus got that email rizz
warnings: really messy lol
masterlist
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You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t. Gus had you making ninety pounds worth of meth every week, and due to your partners’ sudden disappearance, you were stuck doing all the work by yourself. You sighed, thinking back to how you got into this position.
You were a just a broke college student, trying to pay off your loans when you you met Jesse. You knew each other back in high school, and now he was your dealer. The two of you became buddies and one day you walked in on him and Walt talking about somebody named Gustavo Fring, the owner of a fast food restaurant with an undercover drug business.
You needed money and you convinced them to let join in. Realizing that the “the more the merrier” shit you had pulled really was just that, shit. After they had taught you the recipe, you ended up doing everything, always.
Gus had put to lines under the deadlines, signifying that if you didn’t get this done in time — there’d be consequences. At the same time you had a lot of due college assignments, and skipping all your lectures. So you practically lived in the lab, sleeping and eating there, until you had no time for either of those things.
You were leaning against the counter with a hand on your jaw, steadying your face. Your eyes shut and light snores coming out of your mouth. As Gus inspected your face, he realized you’d never once look so peaceful as you did in that moment.
“I see you’re getting a lot of work done,” he commented, knowing it’d wake you. Gus needed to talk to you about this. He had cameras everywhere and had been paying very close attention to how much time you’d been spending at the lap. You had your laptop and school books there, a few snacks and amount less cups of coffee.
The sudden sound of his voice startled you as you woke up with a final snore. “Shit– I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t even notice I was, uh’falling asleep” your slurred, your words blurring together due to your grogginess. You looked up at him with lazy eyes.
Gus looked at you through his glasses, his expression as emotionless as usual. You thought you saw a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, though it was probably just your sleep deprivation making you see things. Gustavo Fring doesn’t care for anyone. Especially not some random meth cook who can’t even do her job right… right?
“You should get home and get some rest, ___. Your drowsiness is affecting your work performance.” Stated as a fact, though functioning more as an excuse.
“I can’t, sir! I’ve only made like, half of the meth I was supposed to and–“ you rambled on, but he interrupted you almost instantly. “Stop it, ___! You have done your part. Your partners’s neglect of their responsibilities is not your problem,” as he shushed you, his expression remained the same though his voice got notably more aggressive. “I’ll consider getting you new partners, you’ve mastered the arts of cooking now.” In that moment, you couldn’t be bothered by his comment on your friends; all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.
“Are you absolutely sure? I’ll get back to work as soon as I wake up, I promise!” You insisted, and he shook his head. “No, you’ll have the rest of the week off,” he said. “I value your effort but I cannot have your drowsiness affect my product.” Gus explained while putting a gentle yet firm hand on your shoulder. You eyed the hand and as did he, though he didn’t let go before he you reluctantly agreed.
“Alright, I guess,” you sighed. He smiled professionally as he took out his notebook, scribbling something something. “Fantastic! Write down your email and we can discuss your work ethic further.” He demanded suggested, handing you a note and a pen. You smiled as you messily wrote down your email address and gave it back to him.
When you went to sleep that night all you could think about was your interaction earlier, and how this might’ve been his stiff attempt at flirting with you. Although you figured this could’ve easily been your head playing tricks on you agin.
When you woke up the next morning you noticed a gmail notification. Written bellow a [email protected] it read:
Hello, I hope you slept a worthwhile and woke up energetic and better. I suggest we meet up at my restaurant to further discuss our game plan.
Sincerely, Gustavo Fring.
Did Gustavo Fring just ask out out on a date?
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charles-simmons-fanfiction · 5 months ago
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Late summer nights - Todd Anderson / Neil Perry
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Description: Neil is a summer person, and Todd is a Neil person. That's the story. 💛 [fluff, 800 words]
By the way, this is based off of this post! It's a headcanon by the super cool and awesome @perksofbeingpoet <3 This was so fun to write, I might write more summer fics with dps <- me projecting how energetic I get during summer on them
Todd could swear he would pass out from the heat any second now. Neil, on the other hand, hadn't been this energetic it's been weeks.
"Physics homework, done!" Neil exclaimed victoriously, closing his notebook and throwing it on his desk.
"Already? How?" Todd had just finished the first half of his work, and he hadn't even started the one for chemistry. Soon summer break would start and the teachers weren't taking it easy on them, not that they ever did.
"It looks like it'll rain tomorrow, explains why today's so hot," Neil ignored his question. The window was wide open and he had half his body out of it, only a small push away from falling. "We should go outside! While we still can, y'know."
"What? No, I still have way too much work to do," the physics assignment in front of him was pushed aside before he could protest.
"I'll give you the answers and explain them to you tomorrow. C'mon!" Neil grabbed him by the arm. Todd wanted to insist, but he wanted to go with him a lot better.
They had to be silent while they sneaked out, so, naturally, they couldn't stop laughing. It was quite a struggle and they had to be constantly shushing the other.
Once they got outside, the hot wind blew on their faces. Todd considered going back in again.
Neil smiled and, without any warning, took off running to the woods, laughing way too loudly as Todd tried to catch up with him. They didn't stop running for a while, to not risk getting caught.
"Oh my god, shut up!" Todd covered Neil's mouth with his hands, pushing him against a tree to keep him quiet. "Are you crazy?? There's no way no one heard us!" Despite his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline, he could only laugh with him.
"Carpe Diem, my dear," Neil's voice came out muffled and he gently took Todd's hand off his mouth. "We'll be fine."
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, looking into each other's eyes, close enough to feel their hot breath on their already warm cheeks. A light breeze wiggled the trees and everything felt silent, except for the crickets probably not too far away.
Neil's deep brown eyes seemed to shrink when he smiled, almost sparkling as he looked at him so contently. His pink lips were slightly parted and a strand of hair had fallen on his face. He had an image of graceful disarray, and the night suddenly didn't feel as half as warm as his presence did.
"Your hair is getting long," was all that Todd managed to say.
Neil was caught slightly off guard and chuckled. "Yeah, I have to get a haircut soon."
"Please don't," Todd asked, maybe a little too fast. "It looks great like this."
"Thanks," they broke eye contact awkwardly, not knowing how to continue a conversation, and also not really wanting to.
It was way too hot. Todd couldn't understand how anyone could even like summer. He had always hated the way his hand felt sweaty, and how hard it was to fall asleep even with the window open. Also, any class outside was insufferable if there was sun.
At the same time, Neil seemed to be doing so well. And let the truth be said, it only took a little attention to see how depressed he could get some days. But not recently. No, Neil seemed to be genuinely doing fine.
Todd smiled at the thought, and for the first time, he hoped summer would last as long as possible. "Next weekend, if we finish our homework, we should go get ice cream. To make the heat more bearable," he shyly suggested, mentally repeating "carpe diem" to himself.
"I was thinking about that! I'm sure the other's would be super down for i-"
"Wait, no," Todd stopped him. "I meant like, you and me."
"Oh," Neil was taken aback, but nodded slowly, a smile creeping on his face. His tone was soft when he spoke. "Yes, I think we should."
The two went silent again, and Todd did his best not to smile like an idiot. The next hour wasn't anything but mundane chatting and walking around, but they wouldn't rather be anywhere else.
At some point, Neil tried to take his hand as they walked, but Todd pulled it back. "It's way too hot for this," he complained, yet eventually gave in and took Neil's hand back. Neither of them mentioned it.
"I love summer," Neil stated matter-of-factly. "It's easily the best season. To me, at least. What's your favorite?"
"You"
"What?"
"Autumn"
Again, neither of them mentioned it. Although Todd briefly considered hitting his head against a tree and just staying there forever.
That night, Neil fell asleep as soon as he got back to his dorm, without even changing. Todd didn't, it was too hot. He sighed, and looked at his roommate, who was smiling in his sleep.
"He's crazy," Todd thought, still not getting why anyone would like summer, but suddenly not feeling so bad about it. He fell asleep with a soft smile too. At least they'd get ice cream.
💛.
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dullgecko · 2 months ago
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Pulling this out separate because i know i said i wouldnt write anything but @yrbeecharmer this is your fault lol
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"We should f-uhhh hmm..." Fabians sentence cut off mid word when he coughed and covered his mouth with his fist, Riz looking up from his notebook to give him a confused look.
The fighter had him well and truly penned in against the wall with the way he was standing, the rogue having set himself up in the corner out in the open since he was currently without the ability to hide in Fabians gym bag. He was half watching the fighters class while he worked on some of his rogue studies for once instead of having a nap because he was currently too big for his favorite spot. It was fine, the teacher knew he was a rogue and didn't mind him skipping out on his own classes to hang out there. Plus, half the class still hadn't noticed he was there so technically he was practicing his stealth.
Ayda had asked Riz the previous day if she could test one of her spells on him, the wizard having been trying to extend the utility of the enlarge spell to last longer than a minute and he had been researching in her library at the time. Riz had obliged the request and technically she had been sucessful, the goblin now standing at double his height and eye-level with most of his party. They'd only expected it to last an half an hour or so but, after a little research, discovered that he'd be stuck like this for at least thirty hours instead. He didn't mind so much but it had been a shock for almost everyone he knew when he'd turned up to school like normal but was suddenly clocking in at a height of six feet.
The first thing he did with his new height was pick up Kristen, Adaine and Fig in a hug and spin all three girls around. All of them laughing at the novelty of it after he put each of them down. He attempted to pick up Gorgug too but had given up fairly quickly. The half-orc was still too heavy for him to lift so they just left it at a bone-crushing hug instead.
Their fighter had completely declined the hug when it was offered, simply shaking his head and holding up a hand which Riz clocked as a little odd. Since that first interaction Fabian had been acting weird all day, and staring, then looking away whenever Riz caught him in the act. This was the first thing he'd actually said to Riz all day and it wasn't even a complete sentence.
"What?"
"Fffight. Yes, fight. We're doing hand to hand practice today and well..." Fabian waved at Riz, the goblin currently stuck at double his usual height due to Aydas botched experiment. "Well specifically we're doing pin's... and grapples. It's a good opportunity for you to learn that we might not get again. I'm sure the teacher will be fine with you participating. Fig is constantly doing the same in Gorgugs classes."
Riz tilted his head to the side and flicked an ear, noting that Fabian looked away again when the goblin grinned at him. "Fabian I know how to do hand to hand combat. I have claws and they're kind of useless if you don't know how to fight unarmed. It's just that I usually practice with people my own size."
"Ah. Right. Of course." The fighter rubbed a hand along the back of his head, glancing at the rest of his class that were still practising on the padded mats laid out on the ground. "Well perhaps you could give me some pointers. Plus, I'm finding myself bereft of a partner since one of us is out sick today."
"Sure, if you need the help." Fabians logic was pretty sound, they were the same height at the moment and if the class was stuck at an odd number getting one of your party members to help you practice was considered pretty normal. Riz flipped his notebook closed, shoving it in Fabians bag for safe keeping before letting his friend drag him to his feet and towards the mats.
Riz ended up deciding that Fabians weirdness that day was just because he was feeling ill. His face was pretty flushed after all and the rogue managed to pin him more often than he would have expected if he was in top health. There was no way that Fabian was letting him win, that would be completely out of character for him.
The rogue decided that his assumptions were all but confirmed when, after several rounds of sparring, Riz had gotten a little too into their mock combat. The goblin managing to pin Fabian on his back with his wrists above his head, straddled his chest and growled at him. Eyes contracting to slits as he held Fabians wrists against the ground and bared his teeth. The next instant Riz had been fully bucked off the fighter to land on his own back on the padded mat, Fabian already halfway across the gym at a full sprint heading for the bathroom before Riz could even sit up.
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yuyuswrld · 11 months ago
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O Captain, My Captain || 2
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series intro, chapter 1
characters: connie springer x reader in this chapter, series is various aot boys x reader
notes: this is an explicit series, please do not follow or interact if you’re under 18! also, this chapter is a tad on the technical side of volleyball, so just bear with me here.
content warnings, explicit smut, marijuana consumption, vulgar language
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After two straight hours of dealing with his rambling regarding each team member’s techniques and flaws, you sigh in relief as you jot down the last of Armin’s performance review. Finally. You were on the last recording to review. You glance at Eren, shifting your focus from your notebook. Eren’s head rests on a propped-up fist, eyes abstracted by the recording of Jean’s practice match. He’s attractive like this, with his big ass mouth shut and engrossed in reviewing the recordings. As Jean blocks a spike, Eren’s eyes focus in, almost hawk-like, as he pauses the recording. 
“Right there, Jean’s foot crosses the line because he over-corrected after jumping. Looks like the motherfucker’s all talk about how he’s like an impenetrable iron wall,” He mocks, displeasure apparent on his face. “Write in the performance review section that he needs to work on timing and positioning during the one-on-ones.”
“He still blocked the ball, though. I have a hard time thinking that was a timing issue and not just an honest mistake.” 
His icy green eyes catch yours as he looks over in a disapproving manner. Oh god. Strike one, you cringe as you prepare for his oncoming verbal assault. You only had this recording left and you would’ve been able to go home and catch up on your already past-due schoolwork.
“Tell me why you think that.” It’s not polite. It hits you like an icy breeze. But it’s not as aggressive as you were expecting from him. You take a sip from your half-melted drink to clear your throat, thinking about whether you should appease him to go home, or just be honest. The latter wins. Since when were you a pussy? He might be 6’2, but you’ve never been a little bitch in the face of fear.
“Look at the alignment of his foot when he jumps to block. It’s almost like his foot slipped on the uptake, but he still attempted to stop the ball, so he shifted the direction in which his body tilted. During that, you can see his foot cross just barely past the centerline. I don’t think he just over-corrected out of self-doubt.”
“Mistakes like that cost games. It’s something that needs to be drilled out of them, no matter what.” He taps his finger against the coffee shop table as if deep in thought. “You’re right, though. But next time, don’t stick up for Kirschstein. Little shit doesn’t deserve it.”
You chuckle with him, pleasantly shocked at the moment of humor. Had you just misjudged him so much as to assume he was humorless? The gaze you two share holds for a second too long for comfort, silence filling the gaps as you break eye contact and resume what you had been doing before. The dull chatter of others in the coffee shop resumes its ringing as you finish writing down the notes for Coach Levi. Not much later, the screech of a chair sliding out from its place catches you off guard, leaving a harsh mark.
“I’m out. Gotta pick up my baby sister. See ya’.”
Oh. Okay then. 
You glance at your phone, checking on the text you had sent to Connie earlier to ask if he had any weed on hand. Sure enough, a text from Connie from 15 minutes ago. You attempt to speed up the process in which you clean and pack up your items, joyous that you finally have a chance to just relax and hang out with a friend. Grabbing your bag, you head out the coffee shop door and begin the trek to the men’s dorms. 
Connie was a bit of an oddball. His position as an outside hitter was hard for you to wrap your head around at first, considering how many of the sets go past him and to Eren. You even had to ask Armin to explain out of sheer confusion. 
“Connie’s our best all-rounder, just right behind Marco when it comes to receiving. Most of our sets are designated by Coach Levi to go to Eren if Floch and I think it’ll be advantageous. In our two-setter offensive style, both Floch and I prefer to set to him. But Connie being able to catch the enemy’s spikes is invaluable, especially when Marco’s off the court. Not to mention throwing off an enemy team by sending the set to Connie instead and knowing that he’ll hit it no matter what, that’s what makes him a great outsider.”
Despite your first interaction with him where he seemed like a total airhead, he grew on you with the witty jokes he’d make towards Coach and his willingness to help you with mopping the gym after practice. You’re about to text Connie to let him know you arrived just as he opens the door and greets you with an unexpected hug.
“Hey! What’s up?” 
Before you have a chance to respond, he’s tugging you into the elevator shaft, exchanging pleasantries with the men who’re relaxing in the common area. The ride up and walk to his room are both short but filled with small talk between the two of you. It’s about volleyball and how excited everyone is for the state qualifiers, stating how he’s beyond confident that they’ll make it to nationals again.
“Y’know,” Connie says as he digs through his closet to pull out his stash and pipe before packing it in. “I just have a feeling that this is our year. Last year, they benched me for a minor injury when we were competing and that was the worst feeling of my life. Especially watching Eren get all the fuckin’ spotlight,” he states, heating the flower. “Nothing wrong with the guy. Just think that he should spare some pussy for the rest of us.”
There’s no chance to form a response before he has the freshly packed pipe up to your lips, signaling for you to go. After you cough, it feels like you’re ascending for a second. You take one more before slumping against his couch, grabbing the sweet-tart ropes on the living room table.
“Those were supposed to be mine,” He teases, snagging one from the bag you clutch so dearly. “Did ya’ wanna watch anything?” Connie scrolls through Netflix’s catalog, gaze seeming unimpressed with their selection. 
“A horror movie, maybe?” You ask, watching as he flips through to the horror section. Connie settles on The Cabin in the Woods, placing his takeout in his lap before diving in. You watch from your seat next to him, hardly noticing as he begins to scooch in closer once the movie picks up. By the middle of the movie, Connie has finished his food and is sitting too close for comfort, arm now wrapped around you to seem like he isn’t terrified.
“You’re scared shitless, aren’t you?” You tease.
He only rolls his eyes in response before jolting, surged by pure fear from the movie. 
“How the fuck did that not scare you?” Connie asks, his arm on your shoulder almost pulling you onto his lap. You adjust, propping your legs onto his lap to accommodate the closeness.
“Guess I’m just better than you.”
“Is that right?” He questions and turns his head, making you realize the proximity of his lips. You close the gap between you two, lips intertwining like a glass medley. Connie’s hands explore, delicate across the surface of your skin, rippling goosebumps rising from you. The two of you adjust, with you ending up in Connie’s lap, your legs straddling his. 
His fingers move to raise your shirt above your head and you feel so vulnerable in the way his eyes almost eat you alive. He stares for a few moments before fondling them and moving his mouth to caress a nipple with his tongue. The way he laps at them as if you were to disappear at any time has you arching in pleasure, craving the pleasure even more. 
He detaches his mouth to focus his attention on your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and helping you remove them. The second they’re gone, he places a testing swipe to your clit, eyes wide in awe as you let out a pleasured squeak of surprise. He plays with your wet slit for a second before he bottoms the first finger out in you. 
Your hands fly to grip the back of his head, crying out at the pleasurable intrusion. Connie hums in satisfaction, allowing you to grind down on his finger before adding another.
“God, y’re so fuckin’ wet. Ride my fingers, baby.”
His words spur you on, desperate as you try to find release on his fingers. His unoccupied hand moves to your clit, fingers rubbing and moving in ways that have you nearing your limit. Right as you’re about to feel your vision go white, everything stops. You open your eyes to Connie’s face, a cocky smirk plastered all over it. 
“You’re better than me, right? So c’mon and make yourself cum ‘n my cock and we’ll see who’s better.”
Connie temporarily shifts you off of him to remove his pants and underwear, cock springing up as he pulls them off. It’s pretty, veins running across the bottom begging to be touched by your tongue. As you move forward, he stops you.
“No sweetheart, this is all about your pretty face ‘n pussy.”
He places you back in his lap, careful to line you up properly. You gasp at first, feeling the tip intrude, but welcome it as he sinks in. It feels bigger than it looks, catching you off guard with how well it fills you up. As Connie bottoms out, you find yourself once again desperate for release. 
He groans out as you follow the same pattern of grinding and bouncing you did on his fingers. You attempt to reach it, arms placed on his supports to support your riding, sweat beading across your body.
“Want some help?” He teases.
“God, please. Make me cum.”
Connie places his hands on your hips, beginning to thrust into places you weren’t able to hit on your own. His pace is full of fervor as he bounces you up and down, the both of you feeling as if he hits deeper every time you sink all the way back down. His fingers move back to your clit as he continues his pace and you feel the fuzzy feeling returning to your head. 
It’s not much longer before the two of you cum, Connie pulling out and spurting it on your stomach. He smiles at you before speaking.
“Did you want to spend the night and smoke another bowl? We don’t have classes tomorrow.”
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driftward · 2 months ago
Text
Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 14. Telling Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Solita Grey Rating: Teen Summary: Solita has two hands and two clients. One's a gadfly, the other's an idiot, this is a vexing evening. Notes: Weird Wild West AU, a Desertwalkers story
Solita was enjoying the pleasant turn in the evening at the Cat's Eye cabaret.
Her date for the evening had momentarily vanished, saying he wished to go refresh himself before retiring for the night. The man was a well meaning Hrothgar gentleman from Bozja. Apparently interested in local opportunities which he could leverage for his concerns back home. Kind enough, but she got the distinct impression he was not quite taking her seriously. He asked the right sort of questions, asking for her expertise on many matters, but was perhaps a bit too fond of his jests, and often seemed distracted. He had not been quite rude, nor quite condescending, but, well.
It was frustrating. But that was a common enough state of affairs in her line of work. She took a sip of her champagne. For all that, though, he had been charming, and had a likable demeanor. If he did not wish to heed her, that would be rather more his problem than hers, and she had high hopes for the momentary entertainments of the evening. In the morning, he would be on his way, and she could review what she had learned with the others.
For now, she found herself simply enjoying the atmosphere of the cabaret. She exulted in her senses, the taste of fine liquor on her tongue, the slightly spicy smell of people and cedar and food and drink that wafted through the air, the thrum of the music through the floorboards, the visual spectacle of dancers on the stage. Even the auras of the place were flowing and pulsing pleasantly, the Weave choosing to reflect everyone's good mood.
Her work could be frustrating at times, but it also had its perks, and moments like this were among them. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and just took it all in.
"Ah! Mz. Grey! I was hoping I would find you here!"
She pondered, for the briefest of moments, about the sheer relief and joy she might feel in getting help from Thancred to hide a body.
When she opened her eyes, she could see the bright starriness of Zoissette's aura before she caught sight of her big stupid grinning face.
Her ears went back immediately.
Zoissette didn't notice. She had one of her notebooks open, and was excitedly pointing at her entries in it.
"The petrified forest was a revelation! I have finished my spectral analysis, and you would not believe the aspects of the aether I found within them. Well, maybe you would, actually. I managed to confirm some of your-"
Solita reached up and grabbed the collaring on Zoissette's dress, pulling her ear down to mouth level.
"I am with another client tonight," she hissed. "Make an appointment."
Zoissette's expression immediately shifted to mild horror, and she cleared her throat as Solita let her go. "Oh, I apolo-"
"Why hello! Who's this!" boomed a cheerful voice.
Solita took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned. The Hrothgar gentlemen had returned, and he took her hand, bowing deep to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, before turning his attention to Zoissette, giving her a friendly smile.
"Hello, dear," said Solita stiffly. "Zoissette, this is the esteemed Pretorad Desasch, a gentleman from Bozja. Pretorad, this is Zoissette Vauban, who I believe was just stopping by on her way home."
Solita watched Zoissette sharply. Not giving a full introduction could be considered rude, but she did not particularly care just this moment. However, as she spoke, she could see Zoissette shift. The woman stood up a little straighter. Her previously open expression faded to a detached half smile. Her posture shifted, her arms pulling in to her sides, and she somehow made herself look more ... presentable? Elegant?
Not quite. Solita could now see what Thancred had already pointed out to her in an earlier conversation. Zoissette was a member of the gentry, possibly even nobility. She always had a certain poise and posture to her, but previously it had been open, care free. Now she was closed off but presentable, lightly guarded, somehow in that twilight between welcoming but not truly universally approachable.
This was a woman who was used to the upper echelons of the spoken and unspoken languages of power. A place where Solita herself lived these days, as part of her work.
"Pretorad Desasch, I do not believe I have known the pleasure," said Zoissette, her voice more airy than usual. Distant. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must offer my sincere apologies, however, as the Mz. Grey has the right of it. I am only recently returned from my errands, and perhaps should be heading for my home."
Zoissette offered a curtsy. Her words and tone were polite. She was being mildly deferential.
"Nonsense," said Pretorad, as he wrapped one arm around Solita and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Any friend of Solita's is a friend worth getting to know. Come, stay with us a moment! Tell me, Lady Vauban, was it? What do you do around here?"
He gestured at the bartender while Solita continued to stare daggers at Zoissette. "I would say she is perhaps more of an acquaintance."
"Well, as mentioned, Mz. Grey has the right of it, and I do not wish to bother either of you much longer," said Zoissette, her face still wearing that distant half-smile. "But if the sir must know, I am a naturalist. My interests lie in the local flora, fauna, and histories."
"Oh, and were you trying to hide this gem from me, dear Solita?" asked Pretorad, laughing. "Or perhaps you were eager to retire for the night? But please, Lady Vauban, entertain me for a few questions, would you?"
Zoissette tilted her head, a question. But in the motion was a subtlety. The tilt was towards Solita, and angled so that Solita could see her eyes despite her glasses, see that she was clearly looking to her. Solita, after a moment's hesitation and thought, gave the slightest nod. There was little helping the matter now, she decided. Might as well get this over with and quickly, if possible.
Zoissette gave Pretorad a curtsey, and Pretorad waved his hand towards the barkeep. "Splendid! Simply splendid. Three drinks, my good man, whatever they like, and I'll have some of that local specialty, what's it called? Mezzal?"
"Mezcal, sir," said Zoissette politely. "I shall follow the gentleman's example."
Solita simply gestured for the barkeep to top of her glass, and he nodded. It did not take him long to provide their drinks to them, and Pretorad leaned his back against the bar, facing outward. Space enough for Solita on one side, but able to keep his attention on Zoissette on the other.
"A naturalist! Tell me more. Anything currently have your interest?"
"Verification of local histories and folklore while I survey the local landscape. There is a cornucopia of information to be gleaned for those who seek it. I am only recently back from an expedition, and Mz. Grey's services proved invaluable in its success."
Zoissette gestured at Solita as she spoke, and bowed her head towards her.
"Surveying, hmm?" said Pretorad thoughtfully. He glanced over at Solita. "And how did the seer's insight help with that?"
"She knows the local area far better than I, and its histories, as well as having an intimacy with the land that I lack. Her findings, combined with my own, enabled me to create a more accurate map with increased fidelity and previously uncharted information on aetheric densities in the area I explored."
"Fascinating, fascinating, simply fascinating! Aetheric densities, hmm? Well, wonders never cease, when it comes to wonders! Any plans for another expedition?"
"Ah. Well. When she is once more able to spare some time for me, I was hoping to gain her insight to the fields to the north, and perhaps begin another survey."
"Hmn. Might I be able to convince you to show me where you are speaking of?"
Zoissette hesitated, slightly, but after a moment, she pulled a map out of one of her bags, and carefully laid it out over two nearby barstools. She pointed as she spoke. "This is not a political map, so kindly overlook the lack of recognizable landmarks. I can tell you that Stonewood, where we are now, is here; my prior surveys happened in the grasslands not so far from here. And here, near the southern buttes, and here, in the petrified forest. My next survey I intend to perform shall be here, the outer ceruleum fields."
Pretorad looked over the map with a practiced eye, rubbing his chin. "Interesting," he murmured. He glanced over at Solita. "Some of these are places I too am curious about. I notice you updated the topographical markers, and made note of mineral veins and other such areas of interest. And these markings?"
"The aforementioned Aetheric readings. You may use the guide in the lower corner, sir."
"Hah hah! Of course, of course. And next, I cannot help but notice that is near the outer ceruleum fields. I believe they are yet virgin. Perhaps trying to get in on a little early tapping action, hmn?"
Zoissette stiffened slightly, and while Solita remained outwardly relaxed, she felt a twinge of alert.
"My interests, I assure you sir, are not commercial in nature."
Pretorad laughed at that. "Of course not, of course not! A naturalist would never sully their good name with such matters, I am certain. Why, they know every number except the economic, am I right? The quantity of every mass, but the value of none, to mangle a phrase? Hah hah hah!"
Zoissette froze for a moment, and Solita was immediately very on edge. She did not know fully which insults that Zoissette was prone to taking exception to, but this was one of Pretorad's not-quite-rude comments she herself had been diplomatically ignoring all night. But now she wondered if she would be having to deal with her client being stabbed.
But then, Zoissette laughed, a hollow, tittering thing. "Ah, of course, good sir, of course," she said stiffly.
"The sir may know the price of ceruleum futures, but 'tis the naturalist that sees the value beyond the economic. Such true value may be a question of taste, but if the good sir cannot see nor understand that which the naturalist values, he will find himself all the poorer for it," said Solita bitingly. She was not sure why she had been so deferential tonight, anyroad. The man was pleasant, but becoming a boor, and she nor her reputation would suffer fools.
Galling though it was to be stuck mediating between a fool and an idiot.
"My, I'd almost forgotten what a sharp tongue you have," said Pretorad cooly. He reached over to gently curl a finger under Solita's chin, and smiled kindly at her. "I hope to not find out anything about the sharpness of those teeth, later.
"But! You are right, and I would be more the fool to not heed your counsel which I am paying handsomely for, after all," he said, letting his hand drop. "My apologies to both of you, ladies."
Zoissette relaxed, and curtsied. "I accept your apology, and choose to take no further offense, sir."
Solita just made a small noise of assent and sipped her champagne.
"Hah! Well, thank you, my lady. My, you certainly know your manners," he said thoughtfully. "And your terrain," he added, gesturing at the map, which Zoissette reached for and began to roll up. "I wonder what you might say to a potential sponsorship, assuming you aren't self sponsored or don't already have one? Even if you do, I think I would be best pleased to offer my support. Or even just purchase first rights, whatever that would cost me. You've the seer's faith, it seems, and now that I've seen your work, I think I would like to pay for my own faith in your future work."
Solita watched this exchange with mild interest. Zoissette did not tense up again, and this was rather more like the business sort of conversation she had been hired on for with Pretorad.
"I appreciate your interest, sir," said Zoissette. "However, I find myself deferring to the Lady Grey. My work would not be possible without hers. I would prefer that you confer with her, and perhaps she can serve as a necessary intermediary between your business and mine."
"Oh, of course, of course," said Pretorad thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He set his drink down. "Ah! I have forgotten my case and papers back at our table from earlier. How remiss of me to not bring them along for such important discussion. If you will give me a moment, I shall return."
He bowed to Zoissette, who curtsied in turn, then turn and gently took Solita's hand to give it a kiss. She gifted him with a smile, and a gentle wave.
As he left passed out of close distance, she turned on Zoissette just in time to see the woman deflate, turning to hold herself up against the bar.
She looked some kind of miserable, and Solita felt a pang of concern despite herself.
"I had forgotten how tiring all this could be," she said. "I meant to apologize earlier, Mz. Grey. I would not intentionally interfere with your work. And I must apologize now. I think, that I will be taking my leave."
Solita looked over at where Pretorad apparently was just finding his glasses in his briefcase, and beginning to flip through some papers he seemed to always have near or on him.
"He shall wonder at your absence," she said.
"Ah, the usual excuses shall suffice. I hate to be a further burden, but just tell him I excused myself with a case of the vapors. I doubt he is the type to be rude enough to insist on inquiring further after that. He should recognize the excuse for what it is." She paused. "Should." Another moment. "I hate all these stupid games."
"You seems to excel at playing these games of words and meaning," said Solita, feeling faintly baffled.
"I excel at being -polite-, which I choose to be," said Zoissette stiffly. "And - no. Forget it. I apologize, again. Good night, Solita."
Solita frowned at her as she went. "Hold a moment, if you would."
Zoissette paused.
"...you can make arrangements through Mz. Gohtawyn, if you still wish to speak to your findings."
Zoissette turned to her with a pained smile, pushing up her glasses, and just shook her head slightly.
"I will not waste any more of your time on this," she said. "Do not worry. If you are truly curious, I will publish to our local library before next season. Your contributions will be noted, and I do intend to seek you out before I make for my next survey. Take care, Mz. Grey."
Zoissette left, allowing no time for further comment, and Solita was left at the bar, feeling oddly bemused at the exchange.
Pretorad returned, with his case, holding some papers, looking around curiously as he did so.
Solita gestured to him with a champagne glass. "The Lady Vauban has retired for the evening."
"Has she now? I suspected as much. Damned shame, but understandable. I hope you're not too upset at my attempt to poach such a gem from your hand. I was told of your reputation, but to see the exact caliber of person in your orbit! Hmn. And her bearing... former military on top of all that, I'd wager. I have been short sighted."
Solita wanted to protest, but did not, instead just swirling her champagne in her glass. "More the fool you, then. You know my reputation. I can hardly fault you for not taking me at face value, but perhaps you might have verified such yourself."
"Hah! Forgive me my methods, but if you'll allow, I find that I have done exactly that."
"Well I hope you find yourself satisfied," said Solita, finishing her drink. She was tired of tonight, between these two. "Perhaps we might retire for the evening as well?"
He set down his papers. "Business before pleasure, if you don't mind. Indulge me?"
"If you insist."
They both sat down at the bar, and he began to go over his interests in the area once more, conversations they had already had. But this time, she noticed, to her rather deep annoyance, that he was paying more attention this time around, seemed more inclined to heed her words. Earlier in the day he had been more boisterous, more cheerful, almost at play. But now, he was clearly being more serious about matters, taking notes, deferring to her very expensive expertise.
She took the matter professionally, and hid her annoyance. At least he was finally taking her seriously, and frankly, that did give her a sense of satisfaction. As their conversation winded into the late hours and resolved, and they at last retired, Solita had one last annoyance, however, as she found herself wondering after one Zoissette Vauban.
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deryuj · 1 year ago
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Follow the curves
You wish you could focus on your case but truth be told, Connor is far too distracting.
(Or Connor is helping you with your case while you sketch him in your notebook instead)
Rating: General audience
Ship: Connor x gn!reader
I started my summer job and realized I have a lot of free time so I actually wrote a fanfic because I was bored. Enjoy!
p.s. Last time i wrote a fanfic was in 2017 and english isn't my first language, lol.
It's been three hours since you stepped your foot into the squeaky clean department. Also, it's been two hours and fifty-five minutes (minus ten minutes you spent making yourself a coffee and five minutes you took for a bathroom break, which was an excuse to just get up from your workspace and do something different) since you made yourself comfortable by your desk and started working again with the weird writings and drawings you found last night at the apartment, left by what you suspected was a deviant. Looking at the same set of lines for hours turned them into uncomprehensive scribbles and doodles at this point so you couldn't make anything out of them anyway. You needed to do something else rather than stare absent-mindedly at the same page for the next five hours until your shift is done.
You wish you could say you were going in circles with this investigation but honestly, there was no circle you could even walk in in the first place.
How frustrating.
With a soft sigh, you turned your gaze to your right where Connor sat way before you even arrived, his blue LED shining and flickering as his brown eyes stayed glued to the screen. It was funny that for an android he insisted to use computers to scroll through information like the rest of the DPD did. He didn't have to, it was probably more time-consuming and less efficient to do so, but somehow it was so endearing that he makes sure to act as human as possible and blend with the rest of his coworkers.
You haven't really spoken to him today though, he was assigned to you strictly because of the notes you discovered, it was the longest you have been in his presence, which is a bummer. Usually, you would see him casually follow Hank like a puppy, hand folded behind him, long legs easily matching his anger, quick steps, and a soft smile that was always plastered on his face. You weren't sure if he was designed to always smile or chose to do so, but you decided to believe that he wants it that way. Now though you could see that soft smile and adorable chocolate cowlick up close with him working mere centimeters away from you and you couldn't help but smile yourself.
Cyberlife sure did a great job designing him.
Connor was the newest addition to the team, assigned to help the lieutenant in his cases, which definitely did not make him happy since he oh so loved his broody and lone wolf reputation. You were pleased though, you never had a chance to work with an android (and you kinda never exactly did until now). You liked Connor, maybe more than you'd like to admit, and you found yourself doubting the whole 'friendship' if you could even call it that. Yes, he was an android and he definitely wasn't programmed to like everyone (based on his previous interactions with Gavin) but somehow you found yourself hoping that after all the small conversations you shared he, at least, considered you a friend because he liked you, not because his program told him so. Were you even making sense at this point?
You let out a soft sigh, reaching out to grab a half-empty cup of stale coffee before your eyes glided back to working Connor. He hasn't moved from his stiff position since morning, his warm eyes fixated on the computer screen, subtle nose twitches, jaw tightened, smooth hand gripping the notes you wrote down yesterday as he silently analyzed the same set of information written in your handwriting over and over again before looking up at the computer screen, trying to find some kind of clue on what exactly the deviant was trying to write down or show.
As if it was that easy to understand the maniacal scribbles they left behind before running away.
He looked so focused, so eager to prove himself and his skills to everyone that he completely shut himself off from the whole department and new information from his surroundings for now so nothing will take him out of the process of decoding the messages. You were almost curious if by any chance he knows you're watching him so shamelessly or if he even realized that you joined him by your desk to help almost three hours ago.
He was cute, really cute, and in some way you felt a little weird with choosing this word to describe a grown man, or more specifically someone designed to hunt down deviants and do it without any hesitation.
You'd rather keep your observations to yourself rather than get embarrassed though that's what you told yourself with your inner voice.
You comfortably leaned against your palm, letting your gaze dance across all the soft and sharp edges of his profile. His small, pretty nose, freckled artificial skin, pursed, plush lips, and extremely long lashes. Someone put all these details down into this single design just to make fun of you and your silly little crush on an android, that you were almost sure has no algorithm that could by any chance make him like you back. It was stupid, really, but God was he too pretty to not like.
Never mind your earlier praises, you hated Cyberlife for this design.
You felt your cheeks heat up just from thinking about this, definitely not your smartest thought of the day.
You tilted your head to the side, your hair moving with your move as you glanced at him from a slightly different angle. Still pretty. Dang.
One line, second line, join these two with another line.
Without thinking much your hand danced across your handy notebook, your pen leaving gentle lines and curves as you tried to memorize his pretty features. You weren't an amazing artist but you could at least make it resemble him. That's all you needed to do. You needed to convey his pretty profile somewhere where it won't disappear, somewhere you'll be able to look at whenever you'd feel like it, and not when Hank would get up from his desk to go to your communal kitchen with his partner in hand.
You poked the thin paper with the tip of your pen, spreading small, inked dots across his sketched cheek, dragged curled lines from his eye down to his cheek to mimic his long curtain of eyelashes, and made sure that the curve of his lips was the curviest, kissable line you ever drew on paper.
Your silly attempts caused you to let out a quiet snort. I mean the sketch wasn't bad… it's just that you finally caught up with what you were doing that caused you to realize that you were acting like a lovestruck teen if not worse than that.
Stupid- said your more sober side.
You still proudly looked down at the small sketch of Connor that popped up in the corner of your notebook, it was no longer accurate though since the model decided to finally rise his honey-filled eyes away from the screen and face you instead, clearly curious about what made you laugh during a long, boring investigation.
"What's wrong detective?" Your eyes snapped back up at his seeking expression, right in the middle of him tilting his head to the side as he would usually do whenever asking a question and being actually curious about it.
Now what?
"Ah" passed your lips before you could catch yourself. What exactly are you going to tell him and make it sound not weird?
"You draw a lot?" He took your silence as an answer and leaned in to trail his eyes along all the sketched lines, his lips curling into a soft smile to your dismay, a soft whir erupting from his chest.
You silently flipped your notebook to the next page, lips pursed as you turned your face away from him to hopefully regain your ability to say something smart rather than babble while looking at his handsome face. And yet he still watched you, or more like observed you, analyzing your mouth twitch, gaze shift, and muscle tense. Clearly, he was getting what we would call 'nervous' at his seemingly failed attempt at making a small talk and you couldn't help but feel a little guilty.
"Sometimes, helps me think or get myself to reboot" He could somehow understand the concept, maybe because you used a techy word he had some experience with.
He hummed in response, shifting comfortably in his seat, almost like he could feel his muscles sore from staying in one position, and looked down at the blank page, as if the drawing was still there and he was still taking in every single stroke of your pen.
"You are quite talented" He seemed honest, maybe there was a hint of something else, and you couldn't help but chuckle. There was something so innocent behind his words, he almost sounded excited to face a new quirk humans had.
He always liked those. The quirks. Things that made people unique and so interesting.
"I guess once I retire I'll move out somewhere quiet and spend the rest of my life painting landscapes" You mumbled sarcastically, your eyes rolling as you tried to get Connor off his path to compliment you more. He would always be painfully nice to get people to like him and accept him in the department. It worked, sure but you don't need him to get you flustered at work where people can see. Especially where that asshole Gavin can see and use it to make you annoyed.
He let out another soft, vibrating hum at your small joke, leaning down to comfortably lean against his smooth hand. He was thinking, processing and rinsing your words to find a suitable answer to your lighthearted response and hopefully match your tone.
"That sounds nice, I'm glad that for now, I can enjoy your work here at the department." He replied and you let your lips form a smile at his response. I mean you could interpret it as if he wanted to work with you more. You wouldn't complain, your work quality would suffer though. Or maybe you're looking too hard into it.
"Have you tried drawing Hank before?" You let out a sharp exhale from your mouth, your laugh stuck somewhere in your throat, safe from being let out to the world. You weren't sure if it was a joke or not, if it was it was funny, if it wasn't then it was cute but still, you don't want him to feel bad for laughing at him.
Connor didn't mind, in return, his plushy lips quirked up into a bigger smile, doe eyes narrowing as the smile finally reached them while he happily watched you light up after working with papers.
"Don't know, I guess I'll ask him if he wants to model, sounds like a cute date" You wanted to continue the banter, it was somehow of an anomaly to see Connor try to joke like this, hopefully, you weren't expecting too much of him. On the other hand, hopefully, Hank didn't hear that because even though you two are friends he'll scold you for joking around at his expense and giving 'the android weird ideas'.
In return he let out a quick, soft chuckle before clearing his throat to get back to his professional self, his pale cheeks dusted with a soft, blueish color. Seems like he doesn't want to make you feel bad for laughing at you as well.
"Sounds like a lovely evening" He admitted before falling silent once again, his brown, gooey eyes now staring deep into yours, analyzing you. In moments like this, you were always envious of how he can pretty much see through you and see what you think while you're left with his pretty face and zero ideas on what might be going on through his head.
"Let's… check the notes again and work through it together" You finally suggested, trying to put the awkward conversation (on your part) behind the door and focus back again on your actual job. You let Connor shift closer to you, his shoulder bumping against yours as you flipped pages back onto the one with your infamous little drawing.
Seeing the real deal up this close made you realize how much longer his lashes actually are, how his lips are far more softer than what you left on the paper and how many freckles you haven't even put down on your drawing.
You should probably try again, maybe at home.
Maybe with him in your apartment.
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lazskum · 6 months ago
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wilson x reader fanfiction becaude im deranged
You’d been on this terrifying Island for a good year now. Something about it made you want to look, even though you’d known for a while this place didn’t have one other person on it. Every single inch more, you’d hoped that there was someone just beyond the tree line, just over that hill, through that grass, but there was never anything. It was always empty, just more landscape to cover. And yet you still walked the miles and discovered the world around you. After another unsuccessful trip, you returned to your base and sat down next to the fire pit. It was getting dark, and you were hungry. As you glumly pulled out a spare morsel and started to cook it, you heard movement nearby. Your head perked up and you grabbed a spear, hoping it was a kolefant. But as you approached, you heard something you thought you’d never hear.
Another persons voice.
“Dang brambles-! oh, this is so unsightly, i do hope nobody else sees me in such a state-“
A young man in his early thirties appeared from out of the shrubbery, at the end of your spear. He jumped back a little and held his hands up slowly, an awkward smile appearing on his face.
“Haha, seems like you’re a little…on edge?”
He gulped as you pushed the spear closer and looked him over to make sure you weren’t dreaming. He wore a red cardigan with a white collared shirt visible underneath, a set of black gloves going all the way from his shoulders to the bases of his fingers. His hair was wild and untamed, filled with leaves and sticks. He was also injured and half-starved, his gaze drifting to the fire as he drooled a little.
“Uhm…I don’t mean to interrupt, but that meat smells simply amazing…”
You shake your head and pull the spear back. You sign and ask for his name. The man looked confused so you mouthed it to him. “Oh, my name! Sorry, I didn’t realise you were mute. My name is Wilson Percival Higgusbury, Gentleman Scientist and Survivor…Well, not extraordinare, but i’d say pretty good. Now, about that meat…?” You nodded and he slowly walked to the fire, before grabbing the hot meat and biting into it like an animal. It wasn’t really any of your concern as you dumped another log onto the fire and pushed it in a little with the end of your spear. You looked at him again and asked for where he came from.
“Hm…I come from Britain, the centre of enlightenment at the moment. They’re very keen on bills, you know, and their advancements are certainly fascinating.” He said through several mouthfuls of meat. As you got up, he continued to talk at you, something about science. You didn’t really care. You found a few spare spider glands and asked him to show where he was injured. “Injured? Oh, just my arm. Don’t tell me you’re going to-“ Without any indication of being about to do so, you grabbed his arm and rolled down his gloves. Then you squeezed the glands into his cut and rubbed. Wilson yelped and covered his mouth with his hand, watching as you continued to apply more glands until his skin healed over. “Amazing! I must write this down, somewhere…” He grabbed a notebook and began to pencil in some words. Again, none of your concern, though you glimpsed the title and it made you smirk.
‘Wilson’s book of wonders’. Certainly sounded like a smash hit. You looked up at the sky whilst it slowly turned to a nice, orange colour. “How long have you been here for, erm…?” You mimed a year. “And your name?” You shrug. You tell him you don’t bother with names, since you haven’t been around people for so long. “…Right..Hey, I’m still hungry, got anymore morsels?” Hesitating for just a moment, you considered if you should lie or not. You didn’t really want this stranger to just take all your food. But checking the fridge revealed you didn’t have to and you shook your head no.
“Then…why don’t we catch some rabbits?”
You blinked. Rabbits, right. You’d forgotten that those were a viable source of food since you’d stuck to hunting or farming. You nod and Wilson excitedly took out some traps and started to run to the nearest rabbit hole, setting one up and standing back to watch. Actually, he was just watching. He stared at the hole, waiting. You were confused. Why wasn’t he just going off somewhere else? As you watched, a rabbit slowly inched closer to the trap. Wilson tensed and spring forward, grabbing the rabbit and promptly killing it. You blinked. Then you asked him why he didn’t jsut let the rabbit go in the trap.
“Because they don’t always go in! They always get tempted, though, and then if you jump and hit them they die. It’s easy once you get a hand of it.” Curious, you peered down the rabbit hole. Not too far away was a small collection of rabbit holes, so you wandered over and watched as the rabbits ran away and hid. Wilson followed and watched you. “What are you going to-“ You shoved your hands down the rabbit holes, grabbing rabbits and smacking them against the floor to make them unconscious. Some of your hand poked out the other side of their connecting tunnels, and by the end of it you’d managed to harvest 32 sets of morsels. Wilson laughed a little and made sure to collect them all
“…You said you don’t have a name, right?”
You nod.
“How about…Warren? Cuz you love to put your hands in them!”
You consider the name, and then nod, smiling slightly.
Warren it is.
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