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discopaddock · 1 month

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THE MAIN CHARACTER FROM MY BOOK - SEBASTIAN VETTEL

SUMMARY: reader is only a fantasy and romance writer and a huge fan of sebastian. he's fan of her book. when he reveals that to the public there's no way their fans are going to lose an opportunity to have them meet.

PAIRING: rbr!sebastian vettel and author!reader

GENRE: smau, fluff pure fluff!!!

WORD COUNT: +/- 1K

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya! this was based on this request! also if you see any similarities to one of @hrts4scarr ’s recent works, that's because we got the same request! also go check scar’s work, it's so cool! once again, english isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes!

“You’ve checked Twitter recently?” Senna, Y/N’s manager from the publishing house, asked extra happily. The author only shook her head between drinking water, exhausted from another day of signing books for long hours.

Of course it wasn't that she didn't like it! She loved it! But if she was doing it for eight hours six days a week for two months now it was getting boring.

“Then do it!” Senna said, almost shrieking.

Y/N only gasped but opened her laptop and searched Twitter to see her whole feed in Tweets of Sebastian Vettel talking about her book.

That Sebastian Vettel she had the biggest crush on and created him in her book series.

The author looked at the other girl with opened mouth and she only said:

“You're gonna see him tomorrow, we've already arranged it with Red Bull. Sign some books for him with special dedications baby”

Y/N only started smiling like a stupid teenage girl.

Oh what she was gonna do in front of Sebastian?

Nice is beautiful.

And so is Monaco.

Sebastian found himself in a car in the passenger seat. He wasn't sure where he was going. He only understood that there will be books? Like a lot of books.

He entered the library with his PR manager and some photographer and when he saw that one book on the poster, he immediately knew why he was there.

There weren't a lot of people.

The queue to the author desk wasn't too long, only five people before him.

Sebastian knew that the author of his beloved book was pretty attractive. He had seen her photos on her website.

But in real life she was even a hundred times prettier than in photos.

He was close to saying she was beautiful in that interview. So close but he didn't for his own sake. Now he could say it to the first person that walked beside him.

Finally the queue ended and he was standing in front of the girl.

“Hi, I'm Sebastian” he said only with a smile on his face and she quickly stood up from her chair and fixed her hair.

“Hello, I'm Y/N” she answered with a shy grin and shook his hand.

“I can say that I'm a fan of your writing,” Sebastian announced with a laugh, making her blush.

Mein Gott, she looks so pretty with rosy cheeks – he thought. My God

“Great, because I have something for you” she said and showed him all of her books excluding “Young and beautiful”. “For you, for the longer flights to Australia” she added.

Oh, Sebastian was speechless. He didn't expect to get anything from her, especially since he found out about meeting her like half an hour ago.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he said with a big smile and looked at all the books. The covers were pretty, just like her.

“I don't know if fantasy is your favorite, so I put here most of the romances I have” Y/N laughed a little, looking at him as he carefully watched all of the books.

“I actually like it a lot, even if I don't look like it” he answered, holding in his hands the book where he was in as the main character.

He read the text at the back and when he saw a review from a Twitter user he couldn't believe it.

“Book is great, especially since Hugo gives me major Sebastian Vettel vibes”

“Haha, what is this?” he asked, showing her the review and she only blushed and shrugged.

“Well, I can say that I was lacking in character personalities” she wasn't, he put him in that book on purse. She was writing that book on Wattpad years ago before it was published, when she was watching him in Formula 3.5 and was dreaming of him.

As if she wasn't doing it now.

“Okay, I'll remember that,” he said and laughed. Oh, she loved his laugh. His laugh on TV wasn't as good as in real life.

She was in love with him.

She thought to herself that she was crazy.

But did he care? No, he didn't. Not at all.

“Can I get your number? I want to do something for you as a thank you” Sebastian asked and Y/M speechless and in shock, nodded and grabbed a pen and one of the books to write the number next to the dedication. “I'll text you, don't worry” he winked at her and left with his team and all the books in his hands.

Getting Paddock Passes for the European Grand Prix didn't sound wrong, did it?

And with that Y/N ended in the Red Bull garage in Valencia, extremely happy since it was her first Grand Prix in real life ever.

Also when the fans saw the photos of their little meet up in Nice they went crazy. She had never seen anything like shipping her with someone before that but did she like it? Yes, because Sebastian seemed to like her too.

And now he looked so hot in post race glow and champagne.

“Hey Y/N, I was thinking if you would want to join me at dinner after the whole post win thing?” Seb asked when he came back to the garage, covered in sticky alcohol.

“I don't want to intrude on you-”

“You won't! I'm the one who's asking you to join me” he smiled at her shy personality. She was adorable as hell.

“Okay, I'll go” Y/N said and Sebastian grinned widened and he left a kiss on her cheek.

“See you soon, pretty girl” he said and left to take a shower. She was just standing here without any words, red on face and with butterflies in her stomach.

Oh the thing that she had for Sebastian was big, very, very big.

masterlist

#discopaddock #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian vettel angst

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bookyeom · 3 months

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pairing: woozi x reader word count: 3.4K warnings: a couple of swears, kissing, alcohol, sad!reader, sad!jihoon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

flatline by 5 seconds of summer

someone just like you, no one else i’m falling for the first time heart is gonna flatline now i can’t even look at you you’re like staring at the sunshine

You stand outside the crowded bar, grateful for the respite of fresh air after your time in the hazy, grimy dance club. There are only a few other patrons smoking or loitering outside as you wait for your ride to arrive, because it’s only midnight and inside, the party is just beginning.

Your head is buzzing pleasantly as you squint at your phone to check the time, the bright light from the screen making you wince. 12:07. If you were more sober, you would probably laugh at yourself. You’d gone out for a friend's birthday, but as soon as you had said the satisfactory hellos and gotten sufficiently drunk — which, arguably, didn’t take long — you’d been ready to go home. At midnight.

Your younger self is cringing.

As you gracefully get into your Uber and the driver begins to wind through the streets from the bar to your apartment, you pull up the last text thread on your phone. A smile is already on your lips just at the sight of the contact name.

Y/N [12:08am]: On my way hoooome. Hope u waited up for me!!

Your roommate shoots back a reply almost instantly, and you giggle at his response, your hand lifting to cover your mouth.

Jihoon-Ah [12:09am]: Ok. I’m still working, so keep your drunk ass quiet.

If you had it your way, he’d have come out with you. He knows all of your friends and you know all of his, but the club scene isn’t really his vibe. Plus, he has a music final due tomorrow – today? – and if there’s one thing he’s dead serious about, it’s his music.

Jihoon-Ah [12:13am]: Door’s unlocked. Be safe.

You feel a flush spread across your cheeks as the second message comes through, and warmth floods all the way down to your toes.

Jihoon always manages to do that to you. Make you blush, make you feel warm and fuzzy, make you laugh. It’s funny, because to those who don’t know him, he seems quiet and private, and maybe even a little bit closed off. But with his friends, with those who get to know him, he’s brash and hilarious, and he cares a hell of a lot about those who care about him. He’s one of your best friends, your roommate, and quite possibly the love of your life.

He doesn’t know about that last part, though, and you don’t plan on telling him anytime soon.

“Jihoon-ah,” you singsong as you finally make it into your shared apartment. He doesn’t turn to look at you from his spot on the couch, but you know he’s heard you come in by his grunt of acknowledgement. He remains where you left him, on the couch and hunched over his laptop, black hair mussed from where he’s probably been running his fingers through it as he agonises over his piece. You hastily take off your shoes before you cross the room, flopping down next to him unceremoniously. He glances at you briefly before turning back to his screen.

“Did you have fun?” He asks without looking at you.

“Mhm,” you mumble back. It’s quiet for a few moments, the sound of his fingers clicking away lulling you into a daze until he speaks up once more.

“You should change,” he says, and you turn to stretch out your legs, pointing your toes. He glances at you again as you do so, eyebrows raised. “You took off the shoes, thank god, but you’re probably not comfortable in that dress anymore.”

You yawn, smiling at his thoughtful comment before replying, “It’s called fashion, Jihoon, look it up. Beauty is pain.”

“I already told you before you went out that you looked nice, don’t push it.”

You let out a laugh at that, and the quiet smile on his lips betrays any real irritation on his part. You watch him for a moment, your eyes lingering for far too long on the softness of his mouth as he focuses back on his work.

You really hadn’t stood a single chance against falling in love with him, had you?

“I’m too tired to change,” comes your weak mumble.

“Okay,” he responds easily, his attention back on his computer again. You take the opportunity to let your eyes trace over his profile one more time; his eyelashes, his nose, the curve of his lips. The quiet contentment remains on his face, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed knowing that you’re part of the reason for it.

Your eyes finally turn to wander across the laptop screen to see what he’s working on, your head falling onto his shoulder. You’d have done it sober too, but with a bit of alcohol in your system, you’re just slightly less nervous. You can feel him tense. Your eyes fall to where his hands have paused, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve stressed him out with the physical contact, but then his shoulders relax. It takes only a few seconds before he begins clicking and typing again, and you can’t help but smile.

You’re looking at his computer and, subsequently, at his unfinished work. You can still recall when he’d been hesitant to let anyone see his music — let alone his drunk, touchy roommate. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to secure a coveted spot in the small group of people Jihoon trusts enough to share his work with. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still freak out every time he shares a piece he’s working on – he does, and you know that – but he insists that he wants to show you anyway. You often feel a strong sense of satisfaction in knowing what that means. It means that he trusts you — and that’s an incredible privilege.

You stay on the couch like that for a few more minutes as he continues to work, until a yawn overtakes you and on instinct, your nose turns to burrow into the crook of his neck. You let out a sigh, falling into a false sense of security for just a moment — into a world where Jihoon is yours to be with like this. Your eyes fall shut. You hardly register your own movement until it hits you that Jihoon’s entire body has gone rigid, and your eyes shoot open in a panic. You don’t think you’ve ever done that before – nuzzled into his neck like you belong there.

And now you’re terrified that you’ve finally crossed a line that you can’t come back from.

Another thing that Jihoon allows you to do more than anyone else is initiate physical contact. You’d taken advantage, and lately you’ve been toeing the line of too much. It just feels so easy to do, because you’re so drawn to him, to who he is, to the way he makes you feel — but you know it’s not fair of you. Not when he hasn’t ever expressed feeling the same way, not when he hasn’t ever protested as you go on dates, not when he hasn’t ever initiated anything himself. Jihoon always tells you it’s okay when you’re touchy, that he doesn’t mind it every once in a while, but you can’t help but feel like a complete fool.

He’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be.

You abruptly feel yourself sober up as you scramble to move away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“You didn’t have to move,” comes his blunt reassurance, his eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop.

“I know you hate being touchy. I should have asked first. Sorry.”

“You’re always like this, especially when you’re drunk,” he retorts, “I don’t know why you’re only apologizing today.” You can’t help but shrink back against the couch, defeated.

“Sorry,” you say again, your voice small.

Jihoon looks at you then, eyebrows raised in surprise, like he really had no clue you were actually upset. “Hey, it’s okay. I always let you do it,” he adds after a moment.

“Yeah…” You trail off, and you hate the way you sound a bit like a child as you repeat, “but you hate it.”

Normally, Jihoon would ignore your tipsy pouting. He’s usually not the best at reading people – self-proclaimed – but this time, he seems to sense something’s wrong. He searches your face, and when you look away, he gently nudges your foot with his. “I don’t hate it when it’s you,” he says, quiet and serious, and you can feel his eyes still on you.

“Soonyoung and Y/N privilege,” you try to joke as you meet his eyes again, and Jihoon nods slowly. His eyebrows knit together, like he’s trying to figure something out. Whatever it is, you don’t think you want him to. “I’m going to bed,” you say, and he nods again. Neither of you says anything else, but you can feel his eyes following you as you disappear into your bedroom.

It’s not unusual for Jihoon to emerge from his room around midday. What is unusual, however, is for him to be up any earlier than 10:00am. So when you leave your room at 9:30 a few days later only to find him hunched over your kitchen island, to say you’re surprised is an understatement. He’s got a near-full cup of tea in front of him, and he’s staring into the void. He doesn’t turn, even when you clear your throat, and you’re beginning to panic now.

“Jihoon?” Your hand itches to reach for him as you approach, but you don’t. You feel distinctly as though you’re trying not to startle a deer.

“Hm?” The sound of his name seems to finally jolt him out of it, and he turns to meet your eyes. Your heart breaks a little. He looks exhausted — more than usual. There’s something about his face that suggests it’s more of a mental than physical kind of tired, and you want nothing more than to give him a hug.

You tread carefully. “Did you… Go to the gym already?”

Jihoon shakes his head. You didn’t think so, given that he’s still in the shorts and t-shirt he usually sleeps in, but it seemed like a safe enough topic. He says nothing more. Why else would he be up this early? Your brain is running a million miles a minute. Something is clearly wrong, but how can you help?

You’re silent as you go about your morning, making breakfast as usual — except that this time, you make twice as much. When you place two boiled eggs and some cereal in front of him, it takes him a second to react. You try not to flush when you feel his eyes on you as you sit across from him, scrolling through your phone and taking a bite of your own food instead of acknowledging it.

“Thank you.”

You look at him when he speaks. The corner of his mouth is tilted up just so, in that quiet, wonderful Jihoon way, and you can’t help but smile back. “Of course.”

It’s quiet between the two of you as you eat. You try not to think too much about it, but lately, sitting in silence around your friend has been almost unbearable. There’s just so much you want to say, especially after the other night.

“How do you always know?”

You look at him again, eyebrows knitting together as you process his question. “Know what?”

He gazes at you for a moment, and the intensity of it has your neck flushing. Then he looks down at his plate again, and you remind yourself to breathe.

For a second you think that there's something there, something hovering between you. You just don’t know what.

“You always know when something’s up with me.”

You shrug, trying desperately not to show just how flustered you are that he’s noticed. “I’m an empath,” you offer, and Jihoon lets out a soft breath of laughter. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and it almost feels like you’re both holding your breath now.

Neither of you had mentioned that night the week before. Though a part of you knows that it’s best to just let it be, another part of you almost wishes he’d brought it up. You’re so in love with him that it makes you nauseous, and you’re so aware of it. He’s all you think about, and you worry that if you don’t say it out loud soon, you’re going to explode during one of these quiet moments. You’ve tried so hard to ignore it, to push it down, but the feelings just won’t quit.

And you have no idea what to do about it.

Y/N [4:12pm]: what’s my favourite music man up to?

You sniffle from your spot on your couch, curled up in your favourite fuzzy blanket. You’re miserable, despite your sunny sounding text. That’s your job, though, isn’t it? To be the happy friend? To pretend everything’s fine when it’s not?

You’d just gotten home from a grueling day at work. You’d been hoping that your roommate was home – not because you’d actually have told him you were upset, but because seeing his face makes your day brighter. But he’s not, and you’re alone.

Jihoon-ah [4:34pm]: working. I’ll be late today

Y/N [4:35pm]: classic jihoon. guess I’ll just eat alone :(

Usually, Jihoon’s short texts don’t bother you, because you know him and you know he means nothing by it. It gets to you tonight, though, because all you want right now is for him to hold you.

You wouldn’t ever ask him for it.

You selfishly wish that he would just know that you need him, but he doesn’t. He’s busy, and he’s not very affectionate at the best of times. The worst part of it all, though, is that deep down, you know he would do anything for you if you asked. But you won’t.

It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. If you don’t tell people what you want, you can’t expect them to know.

You’re in your room a couple of hours later, curled up as you watch an episode of your newest binge. You’d let yourself cry, let yourself feel everything even though it hurt, and now it was on to phase two: distraction.

You’re so enthralled in your show that you don’t even hear the front door open and close. When a knock sounds at your bedroom door, you jump and sit up straight. The knock comes again, and you freeze.

“It’s me.”

Your eyes fall to your phone to check the time. You hadn’t expected him for another hour at least. You get up slowly, grimacing as you pass your reflection in the mirror, and move to open the door. He looks out of breath, almost as if he ran home, his eyes wide and his jacket still on.

“Jihoon?” You blink. “Why are you here? I thought you were working.”

“Can I come in?” He asks instead of answering. You step aside, trying to figure out why he’s home early — and why he’s knocking at your bedroom door. It’s quiet for a minute before you sit back on your bed, gesturing for Jihoon to join you. He does, hesitantly, and the room is so quiet that your heart starts to race a little.

“Is everything okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Are you…” He winces as he trails off, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He tries again. “Are you having a bad day?”

You blink at him for a moment, surprised. “Huh?”

“Seungcheol told me that you were having a bad day.” He looks embarrassed as he says it, and you remember that you’d told your mutual friend about your shitty boss’s latest antics at lunch.

“Oh,” you manage, reminding yourself to scold Seungcheol later.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to ground himself, and then he’s pushing forward again. “So… Are you? Having a bad day?”

You debate lying so as not to worry him, but he’s looking at you so intently that you just know you can’t. You look down at your hands. “Kind of.” Your voice is quieter now, and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet, and you kind of wish to be swallowed whole.

“I wish you’d told me,” he admits.

“It’s okay. I didn’t want to interrupt your… stuff.”

He shakes his head, almost like he’s frustrated, and you wish — not for the first time — that he was a bit easier to read.

“Your stuff is important to me, too,” is what he finally says, and you can feel how warm your face is getting.

“I know, but it’s okay. It’s nothing big,” you try to reassure him. “I’ll get over it.”

Jihoon hums, and when you look over at him again, you find him with his hands clasped together in his lap as he leans forward. He still seems frustrated, but you’re not sure why. “I came home as soon as he told me,” he tells you, and your stomach flips.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I’m sorry I’m bad at reading between the lines.” His interruption surprises you, and you blink back at him.

“Huh?”

Jihoon sighs, turning his body towards yours. “Even when I don’t tell you, you always know if I’m upset about something. I wish I was better at that, but I just get so focused and I don’t notice things. You know how I am.”

“It’s okay, Jihoon,” you say again. “I can’t expect you to just know how I’m feeling.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. His gaze on you is intense, his eyes wandering across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. “I guess I just wish that you, and everyone else, would be more straight up with me.”

You bite your lip. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t be sorry, just…” He takes in another breath. You’re holding yours. “Can you please tell me next time?”

“I will. I just… don’t want you to worry about me.”

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time,” he says. “Not with me.”

Your heart is ready to beat out of your chest. All you can do is say, “Wow, Jihoon, it kind of sounds like you care about me.”

When he responds easily with, “I do,” your mouth falls open a little.

The soft tone of his voice is so tender, so serious. What surprises you even more is the way he’s avoiding your eyes now, hand scratching at the back of his neck. Is he… blushing?

“I want to be there for you,” he adds a moment later, and you think you must be dreaming. He straightens, meeting your eyes again, and your breath is caught in your throat. He searches your face for a moment before he says, “I’m bad at knowing when people need me. I know that. But I’m telling you that I want you to tell me when you need me, because I want to be there for you.”

“Jihoon…”

“Please tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

The room falls silent. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you process, but you know you have to take the risk — so you do.

Your fingers find his, a slow brush of skin against skin as you wait for him to make the next move. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest when he closes the gap, lacing his fingers through yours, and squeezes.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I understand exactly what you’re saying.”

“And?”

“I care about you too, Lee Jihoon. So much.”

“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper, and you’re rewarded with a smile when you nod.

“Yeah.” You flush, opening your mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. Jihoon tilts his head as you play with his fingers nervously.

“What?”

“Can you… Would you kiss me?”

Jihoon’s smile widens, even though you can see the tips of his ears turning red in the dim light of your room. “I can do that,” he murmurs, his free hand finding your face, and your nervous inhale is quieted by his mouth on yours.

It’s gentle and slow. It’s Jihoon, and he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

When you pull away, you’re blushing. You let your forehead fall forward against his shoulder, and you can feel him laugh as his hand lifts to your back.

“Do you want to talk?“ He asks gently. “About your day?”

You shake your head no, moving back to look up at him as you say, “Don’t worry. My day is much better now.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov and idk! Here’s the third of our Thirteen Valentines. Nana Tour!Woozi has ruined my life as much as he has ruined yours. xoxo

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed <3

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

#woozi fluff #woozi angst #woozi imagine #woozi x you #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #ljhfic #my writing #thirteenvalentines #seventeen fluff #Also yes i changed his song don’t @ me

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esmedelacroix · 6 months

Text

Coffee Shop Love Pt.1

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, fluff, fluff, and more fluff

author's note: Hi lovies, this is the very first part of my first series. I hope you enjoy it! I suggest you listen to "Bittersweet Faith" by Bitter:Sweet on loop while reading this. It does a nice job setting the vibe I'm going for. Enjoy...

word count: 1.1k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

Yet another slow night at the Mug & Muffin Coffee House, to no one's surprise, not a single soul drinks coffee at night. You always keep the shop open in case someone wants to swing by and get some baked goods for the night. The rest usually goes to the homeless shelter five blocks away. You sit by the counter chin propped up on your hand, as fatigue droops your head down, and Peter Pan sprinkles fairy dust on your eyelids dragging them down.

The lethargic vibe of the shop with slow jazz playing in the background is suddenly disrupted by the frantic ring of the doorbells. Your head shoots up immediately with the sudden burst of noise. The cool winter air bites at your skin until the door is closed and you are back in the embrace of the blasting heater. Your eyes readjust to the warm lights bringing you back into your shop surrounded by the endless coffee beans, leafy green plants, books, and the myriad of photos framed in rusting gold Victorian frames. The shop is completely empty, snapping yourself back into reality, you direct your focus to the customer who had just walked in.

Your lips parted slightly as a little gasp left your mouth. He was a middle-aged man, with golden skin the color of black coffee with a bit of creamer, his mahogany hair was slicked back in a perfect disaster, with wisps of stray gelled hair strands framing his face perfectly. He had the sharpest and highest cheekbones, a cleanly shaved face, and pearly white teeth. He stood at almost seven feet and struggled with getting the mistletoe above the door out of his hair.

Holy smokes he's hot. Where did this man come from? you asked yourself.

He huffed as he finally freed himself from the clutches of the mistletoe. "What a low doorframe," he mumbled to himself in annoyance.

"Or maybe you're just wicked tall," you answered offering him a bright smile.

He quirked a brow at your playful comment. His face gave no gateway to his thoughts.

"Welcome to Mug & Muffin, what can I make you tonight?" you asked looking up at him to meet his gaze.

"I'll have a hot black coffee please," he replied as he took his wallet out.

Your facial naturally contorted at this odd request. You checked your watch to make sure you weren't going crazy. Yep, 9 pm, why is this psycho getting coffee? You looked back up at his unbothered face.

That perfectly chiseled unbothered face. Fuck you for being so perfect mystery man. You thought to yourself as you started to type the order into the machine.

"Would you like any cream or sugar with that sir?" she inquired as their eyes met briefly.

"Nope just black coffee," he responded in a passive-aggressive tone.

"Okay, and can I get a name with this order?" you chirped, to which he replied, "Miguel O'Hara,"

You hummed as you printed his receipt out and handed it to him after he had paid. He chose to get a seat facing the counter. Lucky me, you thought to yourself. You were quite content that you had some eye candy to feast on tonight.

You quickly made his black coffee while sneaking little peeks at him. A pair of reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose as he taped away at his laptop. You brought his piping hot black coffee to him, and he thanked you with a little head nod, eyes still glued to his computer screen before he looked up at you.

"Would you like coffee cake or some kind of muffin with your coffee? I have a bunch of extras, it'd be on the house," you suggested.

"No thank you, I don't like sweets," he answered. You exaggeratedly gasped at his sudden revelation.

"You don't like sweets," you demanded as you placed your hands on your hips, trying your hardest to give him an angry face. He found your efforts to look angry cute rather than intimidating. He stifled laughter as he answered, "No, I do not," cooly.

"Are you even real?" you grumbled to yourself as you shook your head and ticked your tongue. You sashayed back behind the counter to pack up the sweets to drop off at the Nueva Hope Homeless Shelter. You watched Miguel sip his coffee from the corner of your eye, surprisingly he didn't burn his tongue. His head shot up and surprise marked his eyes as he looked down at his drink and then back at you, before letting out a satisfied hum of approval. He quickly finished his mug while doing his work.

Truthfully the shop closed 15 minutes ago but Miguel sat there too lost in his emails, documents, and reports to realize that you had shut the light off at the counter and put up every chair but the one he was sitting in. He only came back to earth after you had 'accidentally' dropped your keys on the ground next to him. As cliche as the night already was, you both went to pick them up, both your hands grazing each other. He quickly retreated his hand and looked around realizing that it was beyond time for him to go.

He packed his work bag as you loaded the back of your car with boxes upon boxes of extra baked goods. Closing the trunk of the car, you peeped back into the shop to see Miguel placing money in the tip jar. You chuckled to yourself as he stepped out walking up to you. "That was the best coffee I have ever tasted," he started. You crossed your arms and smiled warmly looking up at him.

"I never got your name though," he trailed off.

"And you'll never get it," you teased

"Everyone in the area calls me Baby though," you explained.

"Yeah I'm not calling you that," Miguel said flatly. You laughed at his response as you locked up.

"You have a good night Miguel!" you called out as you opened your car door.

He gave you a lazy wave and you drove away. Night fell on Nueva York along with the snow. When you finished your delivery, you entered your apartment right above the shop with the tip jar in hand. You had emptied it before but Miguel had put something in it. When you opened it your eyes widened at the several twenty dollar bills. There was a small sticky note folded in the jar. You pick it up and unfold it. The sticky note read, "You are way too energetic at nine o'clock at night, but that was the best coffee I've ever had, will be coming again,"

Next... Pt.2

a/n: should i make a tag list?

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dontexpectmuch · 1 year

Note

hii im obsessed with your writing like pls send help-

i was wondering if you could write a lil fic abt Jude where he and the reader have like a rlly cute relationship and they have special daily things (kiss before he leaves, cuddles when watching movies, etc) but then Jude breaks up with her bc she's too 'needy' and then he regrets it bc he misses her antics and its just a whole lot of angst. no fluff, bc your sad stories with sad endings are to die for ✨❤

where did you go wrong? were you really that clingy, needy even? did he feel uncomfortable, like he didn’t have enough space?

were all the kisses fake, something he did to please you?

“‘m leaving!” he yelled, standing by the door with his bag on his shoulders, leaving for training.

hearing his voice, you moved to him to kiss him goodbye, lips already puckered as you angled your head up, his lips finally meeting yours.

“take care and text me if you need anything, yeah?” you asked him, smile reaching your eyes.

jude fought the urge to roll his eyes, what could he possibly need when he was at training? however, he just nodded, telling you he would before closing the door behind him.

or what about the sweet nothings he’d whisper in your ear when you were cuddling on your couch, watching his favorite show. the way he’d hold you close, drawing loose shapes on your waist as he looked at you, smiling softly.

“i love you, you know?” his voice was soft, suitable for the current vibe.

he came back from training, immediately closing his arms around your body. even though you didn’t live together officially, it surly felt like it, since you spent most of your time together in your flat.

“i love you too, jude.” you said, head leaning against his shoulder, eyes looking at his.

surly, you weren’t the only one in this relationship that liked to cling on to their partner, trying to be as close to them as possible. jude also always had to touch you somehow, wether it was your waist, your shoulder or even your pinky finger.

if that was the case, why did he want to end the relationship then? everything seemed to be fine, where did that come from all of a sudden?

jude looked at you with empty eyes, no smile on his face, like he lost an important game. but, that wasn’t the case. these last few games only ended with positive results for the team. so, why all of a sudden?

“we should break up.” he began, voice stoic, sending shivers down your spine.

“huh?” did you hear wrong? what was he talking about?

“‘m bein’ serious, i don’t feel like bein’ in a relationship with you anymore.” he continued, stabbing you in the heart with every word that left his lips.

you shook your head lightly, as if trying to wake yourself up this nightmare. “i don’t understand, why? did something happen?”

jude sighed, he knew that it wouldn’t be easy, you were always like that, questioning his any and every move. “i need space, and it seems like you don’t want to give me enough. always clingin’ onto me like your life depends on it, y’know?”

you would have never thought that jude, your sweet and considerate jude, could ever be able to hurt you like that, making you feel small and questioning your relationship in ways you never did before.

“but-“

“please, just accept it and let go, will you? i’ll get the rest of my stuff some other day.” he cut you off, patience running thin as he gets up and leaves your home without even bidding goodbye.

he just left you, broken hearted, tears running down your cheeks as you desperately tried to comprehend what just happened.

now, months passed by and you slowly but steadily moved on from the break up, going as far as to dating a few people here and there. still, the thought of being in another committed relationship made you shiver, the scars still too fresh.

you were once again in your flat, typing away on your laptop as the sudden noise of your doorbell pulled you out of your concentrated state. sighing, you leave your desk and move to the front door, opening it without checking first, a huge mistake.

there he stood, in all his pride, looking down at you with an uncertain look in his eyes. he was wearing some tracksuit and a beanie, maybe coming here after training. you wouldn’t know, however not knowing about his growing success wasn’t as easy as you thought.

while you tried your best to move on from jude, he made it quite hard for you. his face plastered on posters on the street, multiple pictures of him online on your feed and what not. it made you boil internally, mad at the universe for doing that to you.

“hey.” jude is the first to speak up, not being able to bear the awkward silence hovering between any longer.

“did you forget something here?” is all you reply, coldness radiating from you as you stood firmly on your spot.

what was he doing here?

“i miss you, i miss us.” he mumbled, face looking down, yet his eyes peaked though his lashes, scanning your face for any reaction to his words.

scoffing, you roll your eyes and try to close the door, however jude reacts fast and puts his foot between the frame and door, hindering you from hiding yourself from him.

“please,” he almost begs, desperation laced in his voice, “i was an idiot, i didn’t think clearly. i mistook your love for clinginess.”

“am i supposed to care?” you wanted to laugh.

did he really think you’d forgive him? after what he has put you through? you weren’t dumb nor blind, you have seem all the posts of him with various women in clubs or on the street, kissing, touching and much more.

“i’m not some bed warmer, jude. i won’t wait for you to play around a bit and then come back, especially not after how you ended things.” you tell him, eyes stern.

jude sighed, closing his eyes to compose himself before he spoke up, “i know, but i changed. after all this time i came to realize that i can’t do it without you, please, babe-“

“don’t call me that, i have a name, you know?” you interrupted, shaking your head, “don’t call me in general, jude. leave me alone.”

this time, you shut the door completely, turning your back and leaning against it as you inhaled deeply.

this is not how you imagined your saturday night to be like, but whatever.

though it hurt, rejecting the man that you once called the love of your life, you also felt really proud for staying true to yourself.

yes, you missed him, dearly, and seeing him again resurfaced some of the feelings you still had. but you proved to yourself that you were on the right path.

you were moving on.

————————————————

fuck sleep

#football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff

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mayajadewrites · 5 months

Text

Stained Red

Chapter One: Routine

Hell's Kitchen. Your home since you were born, the place where you've lived, loved, and will stay for the rest of your days.

New York born and raised is a saying that should be tattooed on your forehead. Your daily routine consists of stopping at your favorite bodega before work, grabbing an iced coffee from your favorite small cafe, going to work, then to the gym. That routine repeats every day without fail - and you like it that way.

"Good morning mija," Pedro, the bodega owner said behind the counter. "Que tu quieres?"

"Hm, I think I'll just get a bagel with veggie cream cheese today. Thanks Pedro." You pulled your beanie down your head and started mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

It's Autumn in New York, your favorite season. While shows like Gossip Girl make the city look picturesque, it's not always what it seems.

You grab your wallet out of your trench coat, handing Pedro a $5.

"Thank you, have a great day at work!" Pedro's smile always brightened your day, he never seemed to have anything else on his face.

Meanwhile, your face was usually a stern RBF (resting bitch face) and people were more likely not to utter a word to you.

Your favorite coffee shop is two blocks down from the bodega. You check your watch for the time - 7:15AM. Right on time, just how you like it.

Routines are very important to you. Without routines, your world would be turned upside down.

Little did you know a man with red glasses was about to turn your world upside down, backwards, and everything in between.

After you grabbed your usual iced coffee, you headed to work. You're a writer, a pretty well established one at that. You're not as big as Colleen Hoover, but you have readers which is all you care about.

You rent out a small office space above a law office, Nelson and Murdock. This is new for you, but you couldn't stand working from home anymore. You've set up your office over the past few days and it's finally the way you wanted it, for now at least.

It's a cozy, bohemian vibe in your office, perfect for you. It's a large room, with plants at every corner and your desk in the middle.

It's around 8AM by the time you get to your office. You look down to take your keys out of your pocket, when you walk right into a stern shoulder that smells like musk and vanilla.

"My bad," You looked up finally, seeing a man with red glasses and a cane. "Fuck, I'm so sorry." You put your palm to your head.

"No need to apologize. Are you the new renter that moved in upstairs?"

"I am. I just finished moving my stuff in over the weekend." You ended with your name, holding out your hand.

"I'm the Murdock half of Nelson and Murdock. Matt." He grabbed your hand and shook it. His hands were soft, yet callused in some areas. "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, can I buy you a coffee? I've made a terrible first impression, and I bet you'll love my favorite coffee shop."

"Rain check on that. I'm holding you to it too." Matt raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Have a good day." The way he said your name was like he has known you for 1,000 years.

During the walk up to your office, you thought about Matt's face. His eyes behind the red glasses, his nose, and my god - his lips. You shook your head to get rid of these thoughts because... well, you just met him.

Entering your office felt so... good. You set your tote bag down on your chair and slid your laptop out of your bag.

You decided to put off continuing your novel for a bit and did some Googling of your new neighbors.

Nelson and Murdock weren't terribly well known, but they take on cases that truly mean a lot to the community. They don't take cases for fame or money, they do it to help the people of Hell's Kitchen. Very admirable.

Your latest novel, a romance with a hint of darkness, has been a pretty big hit, online at least. Thank god for BookTok, or else your bills might not get paid.

As you're typing away, you hear footsteps close to the door and you see familiar red glasses through the glass of the door.

Matt knocked softly, making sure he didn't startle you. "I'm cashing in on your coffee. The one Karen brought me today was disgusting."

"I'm sorry, who's Karen?" You asked, almost with a little too much attitude. There's no way you felt jealous over a man you met 2 seconds ago.

"Ah, sorry, she's technically our admin, but she does so much more. She's been working in our office for awhile. Anyways, she went on a coffee run and it tasted like shit."

"Sure, let me grab my bag. Come in." You say, motioning with your hand for him to open the door.

"This is... cute."

"How would you know?" You half laugh. Luckily, Matt laughs with you.

"I can sense the positioning of the furniture and I smell the plants. And I know you've cleaned because I'm not sneezing from the dust." He paused, looking down. "But I can also sense that this isn't the biggest spot, but it feels cozy."

"Exactly what I was going for." You smile, pushing a curl behind your ear. "Let me put my jacket on and we can go." You grab your long tan trench coat, looking in the mirror as you do so. Your outfit consisted of an oversized sweater, leggings, combat boots, a beige beanie and your coat.

For whatever reason, you wanted to make sure you looked okay for this little coffee... outing? Date? It's been awhile since a man shared his time with you. You're last relationship was toxic to say the least, so you've been staying clear of the male species for awhile.

That is, until today.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock imagine #marvel #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox #the defenders #foggy nelson #karen page #mcu #daredevil born again #matt murdock

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look-at-the-soul · 5 months

Text

The Photoshoot -Peaky Blinders edition

Modern Tommy Shelby x reader (+Alfie)

Summary: Y/N is hired to do a Photoshoot at a pub, but she’ll find much more than just an object to capture.

Word count: 4,500

A/N: I’m practically drooling with the Photoshoot series (for Cillian), so I thought why not give it some kind of twist and create the same magic for the peaky world… my dear @raincoffeeandfandoms this is for you! For your 3K followers celebration 🎉 thank you for being a lovely mutual, for your kindness, for your stories, I’m so grateful that I’ve met you here ✨ps: there are two moodboards as part of this story 🤭

Ps2: if you’re ever to Texas let me know! The bar that’s mentioned in the story is real! And it gave me all the peaky blinders Garrison’s vibe 😍 and brisket is OMG!

“Look at the numbers brother.” Arthur walked in without knocking first into his brother’s office.

Deep blue orbs hardly looking away from his laptop as Arthur placed the papers with numbers and graphics next to his glass of whiskey.

“Hmm.”

“The place is packed again.” Arthur’s mustache moved up and down as he smiled pleased.

Tommy took the almost consumed cigarette from the ashtray and took a long puff as he ran his eyes across the papers.

“That’s great brother.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, two pairs of eyes looked back.

“Arthur, the photographer is downstairs.” Lizzie announced.

“Are you a model now Art?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow.

Arthur giggled nervously, but shook his head. “Finn hired her to get photos of the place for our social media.”

“Fucking social media.” Tommy mumbled to himself, it was all everyone was talking about lately, are you posting that? That’s so asthetic, why didn’t you like my post?… he was so done with that shit.

“But works like a charm, look.” Arthur showed him the screen of his phone, a video of someone making a cocktail and then the door to The Tavern. “We’re getting lots of likes and comments.”

Tommy hummed, he had been listening a lot about this photographer lately and all the fantastic work she was doing with the pub. And now he had to admit curiosity was winning over.

Secretly he had been watching her photography media, the videos she created to give tips and tricks to achieve certain images or effects, she was a natural and had a very sharp eye to find little gems everywhere. It was such a surprise and a treat to see flirty sneak peek she shared about the pub. He was particularly curious about the profile photo of her Instagram account, because her face was hidden behind the camera, he could only see a blurry reflection in a mirror

An incoming call kept him busy for a while as he was trying to solve a problem with one of the tobacco vendors, a new law affected the price and now he was in the middle of an endless negotiation.

It was until a few hours later when he finally called for the night at the pub and decided to head somewhere else, one look at his phone and he practically had a catalog to choose from, these women weren’t exactly discreet or lady-like…

Placing the peaky cap on his head and he stopped on his tracks as his eyes fixed on the woman holding the camera in front of the bar, her hair in a messy bun at the top of her head with a few loose locks here and there, she adjusted something and a bright light focused on a couple of empty glasses.

He observed her checking the camera angle and she walked again towards the bar to adjust one of the glasses she previously placed.

After blinking for the flash, she focused on the screen placed at the end of the bar.

Tommy saw her smile forming from the side and felt as if time stopped suddenly.

The petite form moved to the side with the light and tripod close to her and without saying anything, she captured the captain of The Tavern placing an order.

“Sorry, I wanted to capture your natural essence, without posing.” She announced in a soft tone that had a lot of effects on Tommy. “Look! You’ve a nice profile.”

As she showed Pablo her camera, Tommy saw him smile shyly.

“You make me look good.”

“Can I squeeze in behind the bar? I’d like to get a few shoots of the barrels.”

“Of course.” He winked. “All yours.”

As Pablo moved back, she squeezed uncomfortably between him and the bar, holding her camera above her head.

She removed a piece of cloth to the side and then Tommy saw her do something equally weird and funny, as she closed one eye from different heights, he was fascinated by the way she moved and arched her body to capture the image she wanted. After a few clicks, she kept staring at the small screen in the camera.

“Can I have a pint please?” A deep voice startled her.

Looking from side to side she blinked nervously.

Struggling to find her voice at the bluest eyes of them all staring back at her with a smile. “Sorry, errm I’m just a photographer.”

“Oh! Apologies then, I didn’t see the camera.” Tommy lied leaning closer to the bar and extending his hand to her. “Thomas Shelby.”

“Y/N Y/LN. I better get going and leave you to a real bartender.” She chuckled and the dim light didn’t hide her blush.

“‘S okay… how’s The Photoshoot going?”

“Great! I’m in love with this place.”

“Are you drinking something?” He asked as she walked around the bar to stand in front of him now.

“Just water, I’m in working hours.”

“I’m sure the owner won’t mind a glass.” Tommy winked at her.

“Thank you, but I don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

“A snack then? Have you tried something from the menu yet?” Tommy tried again, raising his hand he called for the closest waiter. “Make sure to provide Y/N with anything she needs please, on the house she’s our guest tonight.”

Y/N gave him a confused look before realizing how he matched the atmosphere of the place in total sync. He belonged there, he owned such an interesting presence, elegant, business-like, a troublemaker. As he nodded, she went back to focus on her task, the one thing that was consistent in her life; her love for photography, to capture an instant, not noticing that Tommy instead of going home to an unknown blonde, stayed close to the bar to see her work.

The following days, Tommy took a moment to step out of his office upstairs once he heard she had arrived, he would casually walk past her and sit in a corner where he could see her working, not wanting to interrupt her in the middle of shooting something at the pub.

Even if it was for a brief moment, they’d engage in a interesting conversation.

Arthur even teased him for leaving his cave for once, oblivious to the real reason behind his actions, he’d just brush it off saying he wanted to see people’s reaction over the drinks and he even made a few adjustments in the music choices that were being played.

But deep down, he was really enjoying seeing Y/N in her element as she kept pressing the shutter.

As she finished another day of photos, she placed the camera strap around her neck, ready to pick up her equipment. Secretly she was looking forward to see certain Shelby brother around.

“Ready to go Miss Y/LN?” A deep voice called.

Y/N turned around to find Tommy in one of the booths.

He stood up slowly, giving her this predator vibe and walked towards the bar, leaving her speechless for an instant.

“Sorry to ask you this, but… would you mind if I take your portrait?”

He never posed for pictures, but there was something about her that made him say yes to anything she asked. So he listened to her guidance and leaning against the bar, he looked at something in the opposite wall.

“Hold it for me…”

Click.

She didn’t even use the extra light on him, his cheekbones caught it effortlessly, and his eyes… she wanted to make a whole photoshoot for them.

“Yeah, I gotta start editing tonight to put together the work and hand you guys the final version.”

“So you’ll be done with the project?” He asked without hiding the disappointment in his voice, but soon he cleared his throat.

The hostess walked past him, trying to get his attention, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N’s.

“Is there anything you might need to carry on?”

She bit her lip.

“Actually yes, I’d like to get a few shoots of the place without customers, if that’s possible.”

She saw him produce a smile and a nod. “Stop by tomorrow at eleven o’clock before the doors are open to the public.”

“I really appreciate it.” She sighed and threw a quick glance at the place. “The design and vibe makes me go back in time to one of those pubs from back in the day.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to achieve.” Tommy smiled proudly dragging his eyes around the room.

“Well you have good luck, I’m here to capture the beauty of this place and immortalize so more people can know about it.”

“A woman with a strong drive and passion I reckon?” He guessed giving her a nod in approval.

“Photography is one of the rare tools that help us remember someone or something forever.”

She made him remember an ancient photograph he kept of his mother as the most precious treasure he possessed. It was a bit damaged on the edges and the paper was so old and fragile but it still held such sentimental value.

That was all he got left of her.

Sensing she touched a sensitive matter she excused herself to continue photographing the place while he was watching her every move intensely. Canceling the original plans he had for some booty call.

***

Y/N cursed herself for not hiring an assistant for the day to help with the lights, computer and camera, but these days it was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Luckily she wouldn’t be photographing people as they were harder to deal with, barely paid attention to the clothing suggestions she’d made or taking any instructions in general.

“Need a hand with that?” A husky voice called from behind her back, she had been so focused on planning to how get everything in just one round to avoid the stairs twice that she never noticed Tommy had been watching her.

“Hmm…” a blush covered her completely, it was impossible to not being smitten by his presence. “I don’t wanna bother you.”

“None of that, gimme.” He mumbled with the cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you.” She smiled but soon it was replaced by a gasp when he took the laptop case and lights from her, his hands covered in leather gloves holding the equipment as it weighed nothing.

Climbing the stairs, Tommy couldn’t stop himself from looking at her bum swaying from side to side as she took the steps, that sweet little thing had a huge impact on him.

“You can leave it here, I’ll set up the lights, thanks again.”

“My pleasure, if you need anything just shout.”

She saw him disappear upstairs and decided to shake her head a little because his cologne was too masculine that it was even intoxicating and her heart was beating so fast.

The place offered her a million different perspectives to shoot, she loved catching the lights of the vintage chandeliers, the details on the booths were absolutely gorgeous, the bar, she was in love with every touch she discovered through her camera lenses.

Adjusting the height of the tripod, she got a fabulous shoot of the private area with comfortable couches, the oil lamp was a lovely detail that captivated her.

Time flew, she got carried away with the endless images she was capturing.

With a content sigh, she pressed the shutter one more time, to immortalize part of the table with a Reserved sign, the oil lamp blurred, but the final shoot looked fantastic.

Two things happened simultaneously; her stomach protested for the cup of coffee and the granola bar she eat for breakfast and Tommy emerged from the kitchen.

“Not to hurry you or anything, but are you done there?” Tommy’s voice startled her, she noticed he wasn’t wearing the suit jacket, he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, showing his forearms.

“Yeah, got everything I wanted.” She answered adding a lovely smile.

“Good, now.. this way.” He motioned her to follow him and held the door open. “Pictures here are forbidden just a little FYI, specially because you’re about to taste a piece of heaven.”

That’s when she realized he had been working in the kitchen all this time.

“Oh! That sounds promising.”

“It is.” He reassured her. “But I need your honest opinion though.”

Tommy turned around to face the grill again, pressing the sandwich.

“Finn told me he saw you taking photos of a building and asked you to do a shooting for us.”

Y/N studied his back, broad shoulders, the sides and back of his head was shaved sharply, intimidating posture. Yet somehow it was a huge contrast while he was enjoying preparing the food.

“Yes, it was a new condo and I had already done the interior photos, so he photobombed one of my shoots.”

“That’s such a Finn thing to do.” Tommy chuckled. “But I’m glad he did, so now you’re taking care of our media.”

Placing a plate in front of her, he added a separate bowl full of French fries. Her mouth was watering so bad.

“You’re not going to complain about the calories, are you?”

Closing her eyes at the taste, she ran her tongue over her lower lip to remove the crumbs. To Tommy it was a simple gesture that had a different -sexual- effect on him.

“You were right, this is heaven.”

Y/N took a bite of the brisket sandwich and a small satisfied groan escaped her mouth.

“I didn’t see this on the menu last time I was here. It’s so good!”

Tommy cleared his throat while resting his palms on the industrial island.

“That’s because it’s not… yet.” He admitted cutting a piece of the sandwich to eat it. “Been trying to decide if it’s a good addition or not.”

“You definitely have to, it’s amazing!”

There was something about her that pushed him to do this. He thought she could see something else in everything judging by the way she took photographs, to her it wasn’t just a vintage oil lamp, it was the main focus of the shooting.

“Why are you doubting?” She called, making Tommy pull out from his daydream.

“I don’t know if people will like it.”

She noticed the doubt in his eyes and his eyes flashing for a second.

“This is Michelin worth it, trust me.” She admitted taking the rest of the brisket with a fork. “It’s perfect.”

“If it fails you’re the one to blame eh?” He smiled, aching for a cigarette, but it was forbidden in the kitchen.

“I’m sure it will be a success!”

Tommy felt grateful for the encouragement, cooking had been once of his hidden passions and he realized showing it to her could only be because she was special.

“I could bet you anything it’ll get a high demand… if I could I’d have this everyday.”

He wondered if she was always trying to please and compliment people with her comments or if it was out of pity, but after seeing her interacting with the staff, he knew this was a natural and genuine thing for her.

“Well you could if you wanted, love.” He arched one of his eyebrows seductively that made her blush immediately.

Reaching the desire effect, he added a wink.

She felt both excited and scared, because of the meaning behind his words, what he was implying it wasn’t something to take slightly and the alarm started ringing inside her head.

“Guess you say that to every woman that sits in front of you.” She knew how men like him acted all the time.

Tommy was about to answer that no, as a matter of fact he had never cooked for another women. This was a first time for him and he wasn’t even completely aware of what made him do that, he just felt the urge to be close to her.

But he wasn’t able to because Arthur stormed in, interrupting the moment.

Tilting his head, he stared at the crumbs on the plate, to the girl and then to his brother. Confusion written all over his face, he wanted to ask why the hell he ordered the pub to be open later, but judging by Tommy’s eyes, he decided to not do it.

“Oh, sorry about the interruption, brotha.” he made a small reverence and pointed at the door to disappear, but it was enough to break the moment.

“Actually I’ve to go and do some editing, thank you for lunch.” Y/N stammered, giving Tommy a small look back, taking that as her opportunity to leave. A heavy ache pressing her chest.

Arthur looked at his brother from the corner of his eyes. “Wha-?”

“What the hell are you doing here? Thought you had to be out of the city.” Tommy barked, far too annoyed now. “You better keep this to yourself if you want to be on one piece for the holidays.” Tommy warned with an accusing finger before leaving the kitchen.

If someone knew him, it was Arthur. And deep down, Tommy knew all of his effort it wouldn’t go unnoticed by his brother and the huge meaning this had.

“I was just going to say that she’s a fine gurl.” Arthur whispered, hands up in surrender. “And that I think you found the one.”

***

“Tommy,” Lizzie poked her head inside his office after knocking the door, he had been starting absently at his screen, “the photographer is here.”

Tommy felt his stomach making a sharp turn at the announcement. He felt torn between wanting to see her one more time and feeling rejected that one time he decided to cook for her.

“Ask Finn to handle that matter.”

Lizzie gave him a deep frown, these past days he was very adamant to be informed once she arrived. “He’s busy with something else.”

“Then ask Arthur. Or take care of it yourself.” Turning off his laptop, Tommy took his wallet and keys to walk out of his office, taking the stairs quickly he rushed past the hall and then the bar, eyeing Y/N siting close to the door.

She went there with two objectives that day, first present her final work to the Shelby brothers and last but not least, find a moment to talk to Tommy about what happened in the kitchen the other day, she had been terrified by the intimate moment they shared over him cooking that delicious sandwich for her, she wanted to explain that she had been hurt in the past and over therapy she had been able to slowly work things around, but the constant fear was in the back of her mind.

He wasn’t going to admit out loud to anyone that the photographer had been on his mind ever since he met her. There was something about her that caught his attention, the way she smiled or the way she saw things through the lenses of her camera.

But she also hurt his fragile ego by rejecting him. So when he was close for her to listen, he pretended to get a phone call. “Yeah Mandy, I’m on my way sweetheart.”

He never noticed the long look she gave him, because if he had, he’d have noticed the way her heart broke into million pieces by listening to his words. So she decided to let him go that day.

And somehow that’s exactly how life is, it’s messy, it goes badly and you meet the right person at the wrong time.

****

Y/N nerves started growing with every minute passing at the auction. She decided to donate one of her photographs to raise funds for women in need at a local charity, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it would sell or not.

“You never told me what happened with that Shelly boy.” Flor asked casually as she started eyeing the entrees.

She wanted to get one of each, but her stomach was completely closed and the butterflies in her tummy were out of control.

“It’s Shelby… and nothing happened.” Y/N remembered the photographs she took of The Tavern a couple of months ago now.

“You can’t keep sabotaging yourself!” Flor hissed. “What happened?”

“Look, he had trouble written all over his face, maybe it was for the best.” Y/N brushed it off, or she tried to at least.

“And you let him go why exactly?” Her friend pressed, waving at someone.

“I got scared because he was too much, he was… never mind.” Her voice trailed off. “The auction is about to start, we should move.”

But Flor had a different idea, so she stopped her friend by the arm. “You actually like him! And don’t even try to lie to me.”

“It doesn’t matter how, he’s probably busy with Mindy, Randy… whatever.”

“Maybe it’s not too late… but you gotta stop doing this to yourself, you deserve to be happy.”

“I was still healing and I literally stormed out, he probably doesn’t even remember my name. He just flirted to busy himself.”

Flor shook her head in disbelief. Y/N got the chance to be happy and she decided to hide in the dark too afraid for it to be a reality.

But they were both oblivious that across the gallery, there he was, the man himself staring at Y/N with his eyes fixed on her every move. Realizing that his memory hadn’t made a mistake of remembering her soft features, or the dimples on her cheeks, neither the sparkle of her eyes. As much as he tried, it was impossible to forget about her.

“Tom, it turns out Y/N listed a photograph for the auction.” Arthur informed him in a low voice, he had just his brother to investigate as soon as he found her among the people gathered for the event. She looked more beautiful than he remembered and there it was again, the same force that had been pulling him towards her from the moment they met.

“Buy it.” He stretched his neck to find her walking around, the sequins of her black dress catching the light.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed, there hadn’t been a day or night where he didn’t end up thinking about her, she was stuck in his mind.

“But it’s-”

“Arthur,” Tommy pointed at his brother in a warning tone. “Buy the photograph, I don’t want anyone else getting it.”

“Man you should try this…” John shoved something into his mouth and as a waiter passed by with a tray of drinks, he got a glass of champagne.

“John, I need you to-”

“What the hell are you doin ‘ere?” Alfie’s voice interrupted them.

Arthur found him midway with a huge grin on his face.

“They started whining about the price it might reach, so I doubled the amount.”

“Good.”

And in that very moment he saw someone approaching Y/N’s piece to place a card that could be read as SOLD and a woman walked towards Y/N to let her know her photograph had been bought by someone anonymously. And he’d pay an absurd amount of money anytime to see her reaction again. The shock of her face, her hand flying to her mouth, the small jumps she was making… she looked at the woman next to her and asked her to pinch her arm.

“I thought you’d only send the donation over, mate.” Alfie joined them, giving the Shelby brothers a long look, one of his hands rubbing absently his beard.

“What’s the fun in that Alfie?” Tommy answered, giving Y/N one more look. “Actually I just bought a photograph.”

“You can’t do that, there’s an auction!”

Arthur showed him the cheque he just signed off, enjoying the annoyance in his face, but Alfie’s eyes were fixed somewhere else, Tommy realized that he was looking at the woman standing next to Y/N.

His smile grew even bigger in that moment.

“Tell me this is real!” Y/N squealed squeezing her friends arm.

Turning her head around, and her eyes crossed with Tommy’s, who raised his glass at her. Embarrassment flashed through her eyes, so she took a small step towards him, holding his gaze at all times.

An apology would be a first step.

“You’ve to introduce me to that bearded man.” Flor whispered behind her back, making Y/N chuckle.

As the small group reunited, Y/N felt a blush covering her face.

“Just heard your photography sold, congratulations.” Tommy announced.

“It’s a night full of surprises,” she admitted and then looked at Alfie. “Mr. Solomons, I want to thank you for the opportunity to join the auction.”

“It’s my pleasure dove, now I don’t think we’ve been introduced… Alfie Solomons.” He extended his hand at Flor, whose smile couldn’t be bigger.

And before anyone could react, the pair moved away from the group.

“Y/N and her friend should be present at the next business meeting with Alfie.” Arthur pointed out, then noticing that his brother and Y/N were staring at each other, he waved at John. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“If he makes more brisket let us know!” John shouted over his shoulder.

Tommy rolled his eyes at the comment, but a chuckle escaped his lips.

“I hope you won’t run off this time around.” He raised his eyebrows, half joking, half serious.

A veil of embarrassment and shame covered her. “I’m sorry about that…” she began to explain Tommy how after realizing how attracted she felt towards him, she didn’t knew how to handle her feelings and how much she regretted it, that’s why she came back to try to explain him that, but well, things took another turn.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Tommy assured her as they moved towards the balcony.

“So… shall we start again?” She asked with hope sparkling in her eyes, just like the stars in the background. He nodded.

“On one condition.”

“Anything.” She agreed looking from his eyes to his lips.

“Over a brisket sandwich?”

Y/N nodded, the smile reaching her eyes.

He could take her to any restaurant in the city, the best place out there, but to her seeing him cooking, it mean a lot more than words could explain. And his brisket was to die for.

Finally leaving her fears behind, she wrapped her arms around his neck and his hands sneaked around her waist, lips connecting in a kiss they both had been longing since the first time they met.

Mouths molding perfectly against each other, it felt much better than they imagined.

After a moment, they pulled apart, but remained close with a satisfied look in their eyes.

“Good because I was going to call you anyways, I need a photographer for my son’s birthday party.” Tommy explained and captured her lips once more, but now, it was the right moment to start over… and everything thanks to a Photoshoot session.

****

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, your feedback means the world to me ✨🥰xx

Photo credits to The Tavern@ig

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @elk96 @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @lau219

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#that’s what Cill said #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x y/n #modern!tommy shelby #modern peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine

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misshoneyimhome · 5 months

Text

Happy 1st of December ❤️

This One Shot was created based on this request, and I genuinely hope you find it enjoyable 🎄 I had a lot of fun writing it, and I think it turned out rather well 🙂

Anyway, let's start December with some love and joy, and spread those positive vibes as the festive season is here 🥰

・✶ ｡ﾟ

In Scandinavia, we have this concept that has no clear definition, no direct translation - yet the feeling, everyone can understand;

'Mys' (or 'Hygge' Swedish/Danish/Norwegian)

Oxford Languages

noun

a quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Scandinavien culture).

Julmys

"Shit," you quietly muttered to yourself, quickly closing your laptop together as your boyfriend William Nylander walked through the door of your condo. You were perched on a tall stool in the kitchen, browsing through various websites in search of inspiration when William arrived, greeting you with a kiss. He held shopping bags and wore a satisfied grin, eager to share his day's finds.

"Hey babe, check this out," he said proudly, displaying his new sweater sporting the Balenciaga brand name across the chest.

"It's beautiful, babe," you replied, attempting to muster your best smile, but William sensed something was amiss.

"You don’t like it?" he asked.

"No, no, I like it," you reassured him with a light chuckle. "It's so your style! I'm just surprised you're treating yourself to this so close to Christmas."

William chuckled along with you.

"It's November, hjärtat..."

"Well, exactly! I've got to start planning out all the Christmas presents I need to buy," you said with a smile, feeling excited about the upcoming holiday.

"And I'm on that list?" William asked, as he began rummaging through the cupboards for a snack.

"Of course, you're my boyfriend, and I want to get you a gift, you know," you forced yourself to sound more enthusiastic than you truly felt.

It wasn't that you weren't thrilled about buying Willy a present for Christmas – quite the contrary, you were incredibly excited. However, there was a tiny issue: the boy had everything. Everything he needed or wanted, that is.

And it was driving you mad that you couldn't figure out what to give him. This marked your first year together as a couple, and you wanted it to be perfect. You loved William with all your heart and simply wished to show him that you could also buy him things instead of it always being him paying for your stuff.

He had money, and he enjoyed spending it. And luckily, he also spent it on you, but that's not the point. This time, you wanted to be the one splashing out on him. However, the problem was you couldn't figure out what to get him.

"You know you don't have to get me anything, right?" William chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter in front of you, snacking away.

"I know I don't have to... but I want to," you smiled. "Are you not planning to get me something?" you asked, trying not to sound too eager, just genuinely curious about his plans.

"Of course."

"Then why shouldn't I get you something too?" Your voice unintentionally rose a little, frustration building inside you.

But once again, William just chuckled softly, as he walked over, gently turning you around on the bar stool and stood between your legs, resting his hand on your hips while brushing a few strands of hair from your face.

"Because I can always buy whatever I need for myself... you don't have to spend your money on me," he offered you an affectionate smile.

Although he understood how much this meant to you, he also found it senseless for you to spend your hard-earned money on him. He could easily buy things himself without worrying about his bank account.

"But I really want to, Willy... I know I don't earn that much, and I'm incredibly thankful that you always cover our expenses when we go out or insist on paying for things I want," you took a small breath before continuing. "But this is Christmas, and as your girlfriend, I just want to give you something..."

William couldn't help but feel immensely touched by your determination. And he knew you well enough by now to understand that this wasn't an argument he'd win.

With a sigh and a slight shake of his head, he let it go and simply planted a soft kiss on your lips, gently stroking his thumb along your cheek.

"I love you, babe... you're a bit crazy, but I love you," he sighed and chuckled softly, and you couldn't help but join in.

"I know... but you've chosen to be with me, so maybe you're the crazy one here."

Both of you burst into laughter.

"I guess so," he said before returning to his post-training snacking.

However, as determined you were to get William a Christmas present, you found it equally challenging.

During the following days, luckily the boys were away on a long road trip, so you had the time and space to spend every spare moment making lists and brainstorming.

Clothes – nope, he's got a plenty of that. Besides, he kept adding to his collection, and you could never predict his current style preferences.

Suits – they needed tailoring, so that's a no-go.

Home décor – that's probably more of a gift for yourself.

Shoes – absolutely not. Trying to guess his size or preferred style in that department? No chance.

Hats, accessories, underwear… no, no, and no. He already had everything, and everything you found seemed like something already in his drawer.

Fucking hell!

Your next idea seemed like a perfect solution at first – reaching out to the other wives and girlfriends. Surely, they knew what to get for their partners. Right?

They were facing a similar situation, at least those without children, so it should be easy - it was anything but.

The girls proved to be of no help at all. They had all planned extravagant trips or bought big, expensive gifts that surpassed your yearly budget.

Who even gets their husband a car just like that, by the way?

Sure, William might have mentioned that a red Lamborghini was his dream car, but there's absolutely no way that's a feasible option.

Despite getting along well with the ladies, attending dinners, nights out, and engaging in late-night chats together, there remained a subtle difference between you and them.

Many of them had grown up in the world of hockey and NHL players, whether as a sister, daughter, cousin, family friend, or in similar roles. However, that wasn't your background.

Among the group of Toronto Maple Leafs wives and girlfriends, you were simply an outsider. A regular person from outside the hockey world.

Not that anyone ever intentionally made you feel that way or explicitly mentioned it. No, they were not like that at all. But there were moments like this when it became apparent that you hadn't been immersed in that world your whole life.

Firstly, you weren't from a big hockey city. You were more of a "small" town girl (well, smaller than Toronto, at least) who had moved to the city to pursue your dreams.

Secondly, your job was quite ordinary compared to many of theirs. You weren't an influencer of any sort, nor a yoga/fitness/Pilates instructor, or any other trendy profession. You weren't a stay-at-home mum involved in daily activities like volunteering at children's schools, homeless centres, or local church and clubs.

No, you were just you.

And for the record, there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, you were quite content with yourself and your life situation. But every now and then, it was hard to deny feeling a little out of place.

Furthermore, that was also one of the things William had loved about you right from the start.

He had met you in a downtown bar, where you were out with some new friends, and when he had introduced himself, you had had no clue who he was. For some reason, while you had been completing your education and focusing on your career, you'd been a bit out of touch with the world. And William had found that endearing.

He then quickly struck up a conversation with you, and as the evening unfolded with shared laughter and personal stories, he swiftly asked for your number, a request you happily granted.

There was just something about this handsome Swede that had made your knees weak from the first encounter. His laughter resonated straight to your heart, and you knew you were done for.

You did your best to play it cool though. Keeping things as casual as possible during your coffee meet-ups and walks with his dogs, which, by the way, were crucial for you to get along with. Those fluffy creatures meant the world to him, and that was crystal clear.

You even tried to maintain composure and resist giving in to the undeniable sexual attraction you felt towards him. Goodness, he was incredibly good-looking. But you had no intention of being just another fleeting encounter for him, so you held back. Well, at least for about a month.

And William was nothing but laid-back about it. He never pushed any boundaries or hinted that he was struggling to hold back. He simply respected your decision.

Or at least that's how he wanted to appear. Sure, he respected your wish to wait, but it was tearing him up inside. You were stunning, and the more time you spent together, the more he longed to hold you close and share the most intimate parts of himself with you.

Especially after that first kiss. It had happened after only a few dates, almost two weeks in, when he gently pressed his soft lips against yours, sharing breaths between you. And from that moment, he yearned for more.

But he didn't want to risk pushing you away. If waiting was what you needed, then he was willing to wait. He didn't want to jeopardise this wonderful thing that was blossoming between you.

And to put it lightly, the wait had been incredibly rewarding. Sure, a part of you wished you had acted sooner, but your rational side had prevailed. And when he finally touched you the way you had imagined to yourself, and you both experienced that tender and heartfelt closeness, where your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, you became certain that there was no one else you wanted to be with but him.

****

So, here you were, feeling deeply frustrated about finding the perfect present for the man you loved so dearly.

And as a last resort, you turned to the one person in the world who had the deepest understanding of what makes a meaningful gift for a man. Someone who had cherished and loved her significant other for nearly 58 years: your grandmother.

She had always been the family's go-to person for advice and had an uncanny understanding of who you were. Plus, with her Norwegian heritage, you hoped she might suggest something that resonated with William's Swedish cultural background.

And fortunately, luck was on your side.

She came up with the idea of an old-fashioned, hand-knitted jumper featuring classic Nordic patterns. She thought of including some personal photos in the package, along with something sentimental that you knew would strike a chord with him.

And so, you set yourself to work.

Fortunately, your granny had been the one to teach you knitting, and though your skills were a bit rusty, you quickly brushed them up.

As for the photos, that was a breeze. Despite not being the greatest Instagrammer, you had captured many moments in pictures and shots during your time together with William.

They were all just perfect.

Lastly, the emotional touch. Or more emotional touch.

William had a penchant for jewellery. He often adorned himself with thick chains around his neck or wrists, including the light chain he had received from his mother and sisters, as well as chunky rings. But instead of trying to find something expensive that resembled what he already had, you opted for something different. It was a delicate chain with a small, flat metal pendant – just right for engraving.

However, as time passed and Christmas drew nearer, a sense of uncertainty crept in regarding your gift idea.

Listening to everyone else's suggestions and hearing William talk about what he had received in previous years from friends and family, you began to doubt your idea. It started to feel somewhat inadequate and silly. How could he possibly appreciate your homemade gift?

William was all about style, cool fashion, and projecting a tough and flashy image in front of his friends and the public.

But it was too late to turn back now. You had invested too much time and effort into your gift to abandon it. So, regardless of your doubts, this had to be the final result.

***

As Christmas finally arrived, and you nestled up with your beloved boyfriend, you felt your breathing becoming harder to control. You were extremely nervous about how he would react to your gift, fearing that he might find it laughable and not want to use it at all.

But despite your apprehension, you couldn't deny that you were also proud of your hard work. You had poured your heart and soul into it, and if William didn't appreciate that, then it was his loss.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had planned the evening together. Since most of the team had organised a gathering for the 25th, you decided to follow Swedish holiday traditions on the 24th, with customary foods, singing, walking around the Christmas tree, and exchanging presents tonight.

And after a day filled with video calls to both your and William's families, followed by enjoying signature dishes (with some recipes help from Willy's mum, of course) while soft tunes played in the background, you made your way to the sofa, where William was already settled in, ready for some festive "julmys."

"Hey, älskling," he spoke gently, adjusting himself on the soft couch. "Are you ready for your present?" A mischievous, confident grin stretched across his face, giving away his excitement about what he had bought for you.

But his enthusiasm only heightened your nervousness about your own gift.

As you settled next to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you took a deep breath and offered him a sweet smile.

"Actually, can I go first?" you asked timidly, feeling your heart race and your pulse quicken.

"Sure," William replied casually, as always. "But I did tell you not to buy me anything," he added with a light chuckle, as you handed him three wrapped boxes, adorned with colourful paper and golden satin bands.

"Well," your voice wavered nervously, "I haven't exactly bought you, anything..."

William gave you a curious glance as he accepted the presents. A smile still graced his handsome face as he kept his eyes fixed on you a little while longer.

"Babe, are you nervous?" he chuckled.

"Very much indeed," you replied with a smile. "So, please no more stalling, Willy. Start with the big one."

With a mischievous grin, William set aside the smaller packages and began unwrapping the largest one.

Your eyes were fixed on the process, watching as the paper came off and William's hands touched the wool of the colourful jumper. You had chosen the colours of his favourite country, blue and yellow, with a touch of white to balance the contrast. The carefully selected soft yarn was knitted into intricate patterns, zigzagging and forming delicate shapes of snowflakes. And at the back of the neck, you had attached a small tag that read, "homemade."

At first, William's expression was hard to decipher, but as his smile widened and his eyes met yours, you felt a wave of joy wash over you.

"Shit, babe, you made this?" he asked, clearly astonished, to which you nodded. "It's amazing! How did you... I mean, I didn't even know you could... that's incredibly talented."

His words left you stunned.

"So, you like it?" you asked with a hint of uncertainty.

"Baby, I love it," he exclaimed before leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. "I can't believe you actually did this."

"Well, you said I shouldn't buy you anything... so I went a different way," you chuckled lightly.

"So, you did, and you've definitely already outplayed my gift to you," he added.

"I don't believe that – but please, open up the others," you smiled, feeling more excited now that you had seen his reaction to your first present.

Taking the slightly smaller item and carefully unwrapping it, a photo album appeared. It was a medium-sized, dark brown, leather-like book where you had compiled cherished moments of your time together.

And as William flipped the book open, he saw candid photos of himself, both of you together, and his family. These were photos he didn't even know you had taken—capturing everything and everyone he loved and cared about. They depicted the memories you had built together over the past several months and the moments showcasing how his family had embraced and cherished you from the very beginning.

It was all so perfect.

His fingers traced gently over the various images of his parents, sisters, Alex, and the rest of his friends during the off-season. There were also photos of him napping on the sofa, with Pablo and Banksy by his side, and moments captured from your strolls together. Each photo held a special memory.

And William struggled to find the right words. "You've really outdone yourself, hjärtat," he said softly now, a smile still on his lips as he glanced at you again. "This is… this is incredibly sweet."

As your lips curved into a gentle smile, you couldn't contain your excitement at how thrilled he seemed with your gift. He appeared genuinely happy and appreciative of your thoughtful gesture.

"Well, then I suppose you should also open the last one, hopefully you'll like that too," you suggested timidly. And without further ado, William set the album and the jumper aside and picked up the smallest box among them.

This was probably the one you were most nervous about, as it held the most significance to it.

Unwrapping the paper, William delicately took the small box in his hand and opened the lid, revealing the item inside. It was a necklace that not only matched the style he typically wore but also held a tiny amulet, which he gently held between his fingers to examine closely.

On the tiny metal was inscribed a date. A date that held immense significance for both of you, representing the day you officially defined your relationship.

It was the date following months of wonderful moments, a day when you had felt anxious about your status, uncertain about Willy's true feelings and level of commitment. So, you had been forthright and asked him directly what he wanted from you. And in response, he had candidly asked you to be his girlfriend.

William was left speechless.

Never in a million years had he imagined you would put this much effort into his gifts. You had considered every little detail and poured all your love into something you believed would bring him joy. And you were absolutely right.

Nothing stirred a greater sense of warmth and being cherished within him than something that reminded him of home, his family, and you.

And as you eagerly awaited his reaction, you noticed a slight glistening in his eyes. Not quite tears, but something akin to it.

William turned to you again, slightly parting his lips as he searched for words that could convey his deep appreciation.

"Y/n/n… I—" he began, pausing to take a deep breath, his deep blue eyes locked with yours, the necklace still in his hand.

"I love you," was all he could say.

Because in that moment, that was exactly what he felt.

It wasn't solely about the items or the occasion. It was about what they symbolised; your love and dedication to him. It was something he had never experienced with anyone else before. No one had ever invested this much time and energy just to give him something for Christmas. No one had ever made him feel the way you did.

"So... you like what I did? It's not too cheesy... is it?" you asked softly, your eyes locked with his, feeling your heart flutter in your chest.

"I fucking love what you did, babe," he breathed out, leaning in once more to draw you into a kiss. However, this time, it was deeper and filled with heartfelt emotion as your lips met, and his hand gently caressed the back of your head.

And when you broke apart, both of you were gasping for air, yet still keeping your heads close together, sharing gentle chuckles.

"I love you too, you know that, right?" you inquired timidly.

"I know."

For a brief moment, tenderness filled the air amidst the Christmas tunes and delightful aromas wafting from the kitchen—a pure exchange of love between you and William.

But then, he broke the silence.

"But uhm… now I sort of don’t want to give you my gift," he chuckled lightly.

“Why not?”

"Come on, after this?" he laughed, leaning back on the sofa and gesturing towards all the items you had presented to him. "I can’t live up to this!"

You joined in with laughter.

“Oh, come on, I know your present is just as good as mine,” you smiled, feeling a bit proud of his reaction to everything.

“No way! I have not been anything near this creative and romantic. This is insane.”

“Still! I want to know what you’ve got me,” you said, intrigued. Initially, he had seemed so confident, but now he appeared somewhat insecure.

“Alright, but just to be fair, it does not come anywhere near yours,” William said, grabbing two small boxes wrapped in shimmery paper.

“It’s not a contest, babe,” you chuckled, accepting the gift.

“Which I'm really happy about right now.”

With a smile gracing your lips, you began with the slightly larger box, and a small gasp escaped as you saw what was inside. It was a delicate brooch—a piece you had admired in a shop window months ago. At the time, you had mentioned to William that it reminded you of one your grandmother had given you as a child, but that you had lost long ago. He had offered to buy it for you, but you had declined, not feeling ready for him to gift you such an emotionally significant item.

“Willy, it’s gorgeous,” you softly spoke, looking at him with the same intimacy you had shared when he opened his presents.

“Not as much as your gifts.”

“No, even more,” you gently whispered, leaning in to give him a tender kiss before turning to unwrap the other, smaller box.

Here, you had to catch your breath.

Inside was a small yet to you, seemingly significant, diamond-like stone set on a silver ring. The sparkle from the piece stole the air from your lungs, and your expression shifted to a puzzled 'o' as you turned to William, looking baffled by your own reaction.

“Babe are you alright?” he asked.

“Willy... just to be sure, this is a ring with a diamond, and not a diamond ring… right?”

William couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, slightly as he slowly comprehended your reference, letting out a small sigh.

“No, no, it’s... it’s just something I thought was really pretty,” he admitted, almost blushing as he hadn't considered how it might be misunderstood. “I just thought it would be nice for you to have something to look down at... and think of me, you know... when I’m on the road, or not around.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, as he looked at you, hoping you wouldn't be disappointed.

And you were far from disappointed.

Although your love for William was deep, neither of you were prepared for that level of commitment, especially since it was only your first year together. Nevertheless, you pulled him into another heartfelt kiss.

“So, you like it?” he chuckled.

“I fucking love it,” you echoed his words from earlier, gently taking the ring and slipping it onto your finger. “So incredibly gorgeous,” you whispered, earning another chuckle from William.

“Don’t worry, maybe one day it’ll be... you know... that,” he said in his best attempt at being boyishly charming.

“And I’ll look forward to that, but for now, how about…” you smirked, setting the lovely gifts aside on the coffee table and leaning in closer to your boyfriend. “Let’s just cherish this moment, just you and me,” you whispered before reconnecting your lips with his.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” he replied, his hands gently resting on your hips, drawing you closer to him.

The ambiance, the company, the presents—it was all so perfect.

It was truly a cosy and special Christmas moment.

#my asks #william nylander imagine #wn88 imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction

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sentientcave · 4 months

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And They Were Roommates

Got brainworms from Ceilidho talkin' about Fem!Soap and wrote out a few scenarios, and landed on this one as my favourite. Maybe personal trainer Soap and hot woman complimenting you in a dive bar bathroom Soap will get written about later on.

Part 1

Part 2 Here

(Fem!SoapxFemReader) ~2.2k words

Alcohol mention, but no other major flags at this point. (A few jokes about axe murderers) But also MDNI because this is an 18+ blog and there will probably be NSFW content in future parts

You had put an ad up online.

Your best friend had moved in with her boyfriend, leaving you with more apartment than you could afford. You had enough savings to get you through till the next month, but things were going to be dicey if you didn’t find someone to take over Fern’s half of the rent soon.

You’d had plenty of responses, mostly from men that gave you creepy vibes, even through digital means. You’d actually met with only one person, and she was allergic to cats, which made her a no go.

She’d been nice enough, though. If it really came down to it, maybe Fern would take Red Herring. She did love that fat orange bastard. And so do you. The thought of giving him up, even to Fern, doesn’t sit right.

Red meows loudly through the door as your key scrapes in the lock. You nudge him away with your foot while you enter the apartment, wary of any escape attempts. You feed him so he stops yelling at you, and boil water so you can feed yourself some instant ramen for dinner, and boot up your laptop to check the ad again.

A few more creepy responses, one of which is just a slightly blurry dick pic. You delete them. One that looks promising.

>Hey! I’m interested in the room if it’s still available! Can we meet soon? I’m a military gal and I’m being deployed again next week and I already gave notice at the last rat-hole I was renting. Seemed like 60 days was plenty of time for apartment hunting 60 days ago, but I haven’t found anything lol. Hopefully we get along! You can give me a call any time in the next few days, and we can set up a meet’n’greet. Thanks a bunch! Jamie MacTavish

Her number is in brackets below that, next to the soap emoji, for whatever reason.

No sense waiting around. You call the number right away.

“Hello?” The voice is a woman’s, a dusky alto, which is a good first sign.

“Hi, Jamie? I’m calling about the apartment. Or, um, from the apartment.” You give her your name as an after thought, feeling silly that you hadn’t led with that.

“Yaldy! I was hopin’ ye’d call. I’ve got a friend I can move in with if it comes down to it, but I really don’t want to. He lives in a worse rat hole than I do. Are ye busy now? I’ll buy ye dinner if you like, just for the short notice and the trouble.”

Anything would be better than ramen for dinner a second night in a row. “Yeah, alright. There’s a decent pub down the street, Keeler’s? It’s close so I can give you an apartment tour if you pass the ‘not a murderer’ vibe check.”

There's a beat of silence. “Does killin’ people in the line of duty count?” she asked. “Because, er, I have. But I’m not like, prone to doin’ that kind of thing in my spare time.”

You think about it a moment. State sanctioned violence does feel different than personal time violence, although you're pretty sure that speaks to some sort of unaddressed bias. Something to think about. “I appreciate the honesty, at least.”

She laughed. “I can meet ye at yer pub in half an hour. That work for ye?”

“Yeah. That works.”

“Great. I’ll text you a picture of me so ye know who tae look for. See you soon.”

You get the text a minute after you hang up. A picture of a gorgeous woman with big smile and bright blue eyes, the sides of her head shaved, the rest of it left long and braided back from her face. She looks normal enough.

You get ready and head out, texting Fern to let her know where you’d gone, just in case Jamie actually was a murderer in her spare time.

Jamie’s already there when you get to the pub, sitting at the bar with a pint, watching the door intently, her leg bouncing. You give her a little wave, and she beams at you. She’s even hotter in real life, wearing tight, ripped up jeans that cling to her muscular thighs, and a tight black tank-top under a cropped leather jacket. She has almost no jewelry, other than the dog tags around her neck and the silver hoops in her ears. She looks, well, normal. Friendly.

You go up and introduce yourself, earning a firm handshake. She’s strong.

“Hi!” she says excitedly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jamie, but my friends call me Soap. I’d tell ye why, but it’s classified.”

“Is it really?”

“No. But it’s fun to say.” She flags down the bartender. “A pint for my friend here, if you don’t mind. You want to grab a booth? Or stay up at the bar?”

You look around, and there’s a few empty booths, but it’s early yet, and they tend to fill up quickly. “Let’s move. If we stay up here the single dads are going to start hitting on us.”

"We are a couple of dolls, aren't we?" She flashed another big smile at the bartender as he set a second pint out. "We're movin' to a table, if ye don't mind."

"No problem, love," he says, obviously besotted already. "I'll send Jenny around to take your order."

"Thanks, pal. Appreciate it."

You pick up the pint and follow her over to a booth, sliding in on the opposite side.

"So, you said you're military?"

"Ah am. SAS no less. Best of the bloody best. Not many jobs where ye get tae blow things up awl the time." She sheds her jacket, revealing impressively muscled arms. "I could just live on base, if things don't work out here, just so ye ken. No pressure on ye. But I hate stayin' on base when I don't have to. It's the communal showers. Most of the lads are, well, lads. Gotta shower in the middle of the night, and I keep bumpin' into my LT when I do. And he said I could move in with him too. I’m in a rush but I willnae be homeless, so ye don’t need to worry about me if you dinnae think we’ll get along."

You wince in sympathy. "That sounds terrible. I don't think I'd ever be comfortable showering in front of other people."

"Is naw so bad, if it's someone ye like seein' naked. But most of em are munters anyway. Wouldnae mind so much if more of 'em looked like you." She winked over the edge of her pint glass and took a swig.

You laugh at her little joke. She's fun, and you already feel at ease with her. She tells you about her old rat hole apartment, and a little about living on base, although she's a bit vague on the details of her actual job, beyond blowing things up.

She asks you about your work, and you tell her about the used bookshop you work at down the road. You're basically the only employee, and it's usually not too busy, although it can be annoying when you get a rush in the middle of pricing 'new' books. But it pays the rent, more or less. You talk a bit about Fern, and about Red Herring too.

"I love cats," she said excitedly. "Never been able to keep one, bein' away so much. LT had a dog, and he was awlright, but I'm definitely more of a cat girl. Got bit by a few too many pups in my day."

"Well, Red's a real love bug. Once we're done here you can meet him. I think we're going to get along fine."

"Och, really? Just like that, aye? Thought I'd have to work harder."

"Honestly, I thought I was going to have to accept some weirdo or give poor old Red away. You're a much better fit than I expected to find. I think we could be friends."

Her blue eyes track something behind you and narrow slightly. "Well, I'm holdin' ye to that. We're about to be accosted by my lads. Don't let them scare ye." She shoves her plate across the table into the spot next to you and clambers out of the booth. "Oi, what're you munters doin' here? I'm gettin' interviewed for an apartment. Dinnae need you scarin' my girl."

You look behind you, spotting a giant wearing a skull-print balaclava, and a more regular-sized (though no less muscular) black man with a brilliant smile. "We wanted to make sure she wasn't an axe murderer," he says pleasantly.

"Or a chainsaw murderer," the giant adds.

Soap cuts him off before he can take the seat beside you. "Over there," she orders, pointing at the opposite bench, where she'd been sitting. "I'm not lettin' you box her in." She grimaces at you apologetically as she drops into the spot beside you. Her thigh presses against yours for a moment, before you shift further down the bench. "They're sweet, in their own way. Think I need lookin' after. The big guy's Ghost, or LT. This handsome pain in the arse is Gaz. Don't let him sweet talk ye intae callin' him Kyle unless you want him tae put yer ankles up by yer ears. Made that mistake before."

"You don't have to bring that up every time you introduce me to a woman," Gaz says, clearly exasperated.

"I do. How else are they gonna know to call you for a good time?" She smacks his hand away from her plate when he reaches for it. "Oi! Order your own chips ye bastard."

"I only want a couple," Gaz protests.

"Ye always say tha' and ye always lie. Ah umnae fallin' for it again."

"You can have a couple of mine," you offer. "I wasn't going to finish them anyway."

"When do we get to see the place?" Ghost asked.

"Ye don't, unless yer carryin' boxes for me. I willna ask her to let three strangers in her home when she's only just met me."

"Well I guess we're helpin' ye move," Ghost said. "Was gonna leave it all to Price."

"Lazy cunts. Ne’er around when there’s work tae be done.”

“I was gonna help,” Gaz protests. “I already told you that.”

“And I did tell you that you could move into my place if you didn’t find somethin’ in time,” Ghost points out. “We’re not all bad.”

“Well, they’re not bad lads tae have watchin’ yer back in a fire-fight,” Soap admits. “But they dinnae know how to be normal about anythin’.”

“Are you supposed to be the normal one?” Ghost asks.

“Aye. And I willnae have you say otherwise in front of my new friend.”

She finishes eating long before you do, with the speed and gusto of a woman who often has to defend her plate against hungry scavengers. Gaz, true to Soap’s complaint, eats the majority of your chips, although he does thank you and give you a big, wide smile, the sort that could sell someone a bridge. He’s definitely a charmer.

Soap asks for the bill while you’re finishing up. You reach for your purse, but she puts a hand on yours and gives you an intense blue stare. “No, kitty. I told ye I was buyin’ ye dinner, I’ll no’ let ye make me a liar, especially when Gaz ate half your plate.”

God she’s strong. You’re not sure that you could shake her off to insist even if you tried. “Alright. I just—”

“Oh I ken. But I wouldna offer if I didna mean it. I’m a woman of her word.” She pays with cash, and offers you a hand up and out of the booth. She points a warning finger at her friends. “And dinnae follow us, ye creepy bastards.”

They laugh, like they hadn’t followed her to the pub in the first place.

“They really do mean well,” Soap says, linking her arm with yours as you step out onto the street. “But they’ve go’ a bad habit of thinkin’ they dinnae need to respect my space just ‘cause we’ve all spent nights crammed into one room sharin’ cots. I think if the captain had his way we’d all live in his house and sleep in a big fuck-off pile like dogs.”

“Sound a bit claustrophobic.”

“Aye. Ye understand why I’m so eager to make this work with ye, kitty-cat. If I move in with LT it’s just a matter of time before Price comes over tae help us fix somethin’ and says ‘Oh, I dinny know why ye both stay in this shitehole. Whyna stay with me a while, till we find ye somethin’ better?’ And then before we know it we’re all sleepin’ in the same bed and usin’ the same toothbrush.”

You giggle, hoping that's just a joke. “That’s gross.”

“I ken! Horrible men, they are. I need some girl time before I go mad.” She squeezes your arm and knocks her head against yours gently. “We’re goin’ tae be best friends in no time, kitty. I wish I wasna goin’ away so soon.”

“You haven’t even seen the apartment yet!”

“Och, tha’s a formality. I was more wurried about us gettin’ along, kitty. The apartment doesna matter all that much, so long as it’s got a workin’ shower and a place for my bed. If I pass Mr. Herring’s sniff test, I’ll give ye cash on the spot, aye? For next month an’ half of this one, since you’d be lettin' me move in before the first.”

And, well, it’s hard to think of a good reason to say no.

#cod mw #Fem!SoapxReader #And they were roommates #Soap Mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #Don't worry Jamie will be just as much of a menace as Johnny #she's just on her best behaviour right now #Call of duty #Modern Warfare #Cave Writing #Fem!Soap #Sorry if the scots is bad I'll adjust it if it is it's just real fun to write

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just-my-type-x · 4 months

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Curly Heads and Caffe Lattes

A little something from me to u bc i had this idea rotting in my drafts for months now. Hope u enjoy it ♥️

Smut, mentions of alcohol

I walk inside the coffee shop and take in the comfy vibe of the dim lit room, with several tables and chairs for upcoming visitors. I sigh in relief when I see the coffee shop almost empty, the early morning not being suitable for everyone.

I order my coffee and I sit at a table close to the window, with a cozy view of the neighbourhood, and I take out my laptop to start working on my project. Deep inside my thoughts and several opened files on my computer, my attention is captured when a man starts swearing and the sound of spilled coffee makes me check my own table to see if my cup is still intact. I sigh in relief and check the incident out.

The curly headed man shakes his hands in a manner to get all the liquid off, while checking out his jeans and the bottom of his white shirt, while the barista is trying desperately to clean the counter and the cashier's machine. The barista mumbles a lot of sorry's, but the curly head keeps on assuring him everything is fine. He picks up his new coffee while he's looking around for a pack of napkins. I look on my table to check if there's any on mine and I pick it up, waving it towards him.

"Here. You look like you need it", I smile and he approaches me, smiling back.

"Thank you, tho it won't help me much.", he chuckles as he presses the napkins onto the fabric of his jeans.

"I heard cold water might help, tho I'm not sure your shirt is going to survive the coffee attack"

He laughs out loud and I smile, his laughter being way cuter than I expected. I take a sip of my drink to hold back the huge smile on my face.

"I'd probably give it to my mom. She handles everything, especially clothing emergencies. They're her favourite.", I chuckle at his confession and I nod.

"Same, whenever I need anything, I call for help. I send an SOS emoji and she sends me a full on screenshot of her notes. They're even sorted, stained clothes, salty food, headaches. Those are the problems and each has a solving.", I laugh and he joins me, which makes my cheeks burn.

"She sounds exactly like my mom.", he throws one last tissue in the bin close to our table. "I'm Brad.", he extends his arm towards me and I shake it happily.

"Y/N, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. So, what are you doing here? Actually no, let me try to figure you out on my own.", he narrows his look and studies me, looking me up and down. I turn my head away, smiling, unable to hold his eye contact anymore.

"Be my guest"

"You seem pretty basic", he says as he sits more comfortable in the chair right in front of me, leaning back.

"I beg your pardon", i blink a few times to see if i understood his stereotyping correctly.

"You look like the type of girl who wouldn't trade her caramel macchiato for anything in this world. You might've gotten the ham and mozzarella croissant as well, got it a little bit heated in the oven.", he checks our surroundings. "You got your laptop right there, you're probably behind with a uni project. The fact that you had time to put make up on shows you're not stressed about the deadline, because you know you're gonna nail the subject and you can touch all the topics in a short amount of time." Brad scans my face for any more clues, but i relax and let my frown disappear, switching to a mischievous grin on my face.

Brad smirks and takes a sip of his latte, pointing at me. "It's not that hard to read you. I've seen you around lately, which leads me to adding that you're here from another country, based on your accent. And", he raises his finger one more time, drawing a circle up in the air, "this is a café where the same 20 people from the neighbourhood come every day. I've only seen you in here since, I'd say... October? That's Uni schedule"

He intertwines his fingers together on the table and straighten his back, waiting for my approval, his smirk never leaving his face, which makes his dimples pop out. I smile and shake my head, leaning forward on the table, sitting just the way he does. We both look like we're about to spill some call-the-police worthy secrets.

"Trying to read me was pretty hot, I'm not gonna lie.", i lean back down on my chair. "Too bad you're too far off the map, Bradley.", i take a sip of my coffee and smirk at his confusion.

"Oh, really? Then tell me where I'm wrong. Is it the coffee? Is it a pumpkin spice?", we both laugh and i take off the plastic cap. "And why didn't you say you know me?"

"Nope. It's an unsweetened latte, actually i don't even know what's it called, it's 2 shots of espresso and some milk", i pause as we chuckle at my dumb self, who all of a sudden started looking inside the cup. "And it's nicer to have a normal and actual conversation with you, other than spoiling that I might know you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.", I take a sip from my cup.

"Are you a coffee fortune teller now?", he laughs and i hit his arm playfully.

"Yes, it says I'm gonna beat your ass up"

"Please don't, i need my face next week for our concert. And I really appreciate it, but it's fine, don't worry. Now, tell me, what else was wrong?", he intertwines his fingers on the table, waiting for my answers.

"I am working on a project, but not for Uni, it's for an agency. I'm way ahead of my Uni duty, thank you for underestimating me tho.", i tap him on the arm and sarcastically thank him, which makes us both laugh.

I turn off my laptop and put it inside my bag, carrying on with my conversation with Brad. We talk about how I moved to Birmingham for school and work opportunities and he listens carefully to everything I tell him that happened leading up to this moment. We order another set of coffees and I pick them up carefully, not like he did earlier. He talk about touring, his bar and songwriting.

"Oh, I wanna go to your parents' bar so badly. I didn't have enough free time to get there yet", I lay my hands on top of the table like I've just made a huge realisation. His eyes widen.

"You've been here for two months, y/n, stop overworking yourself. Tonight we're going out. How does that sound?", Brad smiles proudly and picks up his phone to check the time. It's 12, how does 6PM sound?"

"Uhhh I think it's ok?", I stutter but nod, smiling. "You don't have to do this, Brad. It's fine."

"It would be my pleasure. Plus, you saved my pants.", we laugh at his statement.

"That's a way of thanking me", I chuckle and we carry on with our coffees.

Hours pass and Brad and I pull up to the back entrance of the bar and he holds the door for me.

We get a table and he instructs the waiter to bring us their specialties, which I don't say no to. We munch on a few almonds and chips and we drink a little bit of everything, while talking about our lives and getting to know each other better. Later into the night, the music and the idea of dancing the night away is becoming more and more appealing to the both of us. As if he read my mind, Brad takes me by the hand and I follow him into a back room full of supplies, where the music is still loud enough to be heard by us. We end up dancing around, stumbling upon boxes of liquor and kicking down bags of all sorts of nuts.

"I'm a sure victim tonight if we break anything", he laughs as he picks up a bag off the floor.

"If anybody asks, I've never met you", I raise my hands in defence and I jump on a free table, sitting on it. I let out a yawn. Brad looks in my direction and approaches me, the same action of eyeing me up and down present. I smile and bite my lip, looking away from him, the alcohol and the entire day adding up to my growing frustration.

Brad touches my face gently and turns my face towards his, so I could look him in the eyes, but my eyes drop on his lips. I try to look up, but I find myself looking back at his lips. He licks his lips and I feel my body warming up. As if he knew, both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.

"Wanna go out of here?", he asks, looking back and forth from my lips to my eyes.

"We live far from here", my voice comes out shaky, my breath heavy. I let out a muffled moan as he crashes his lips on mine and uses his hands to push my legs apart so he would fit between my legs, closing the distance between us. I part my lips, allowing his tongue to take full control over me and my feels. I grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, my free hand travelling down his torso.

"Fuck", he whispers, kissing abd biting my jaw. His hands grab me by my hips and squeeze with force, making me gasp in slight pain. Brad moves his hands higher, grabbing the hem of my blouse and hiding his hands under it, rubbing the exposed skin. I do the same, but i pull his sweater up, until he takes it off by himself. He allows me to trace his torso with my finger, while my eyes expect his chest and abdomen.

"That's too much staring, love, i don't have the patience for that", he smirks and i bite my lip, pulling him back into a kiss. He takes off my top and kisses my breasts, pushing me to get lower on the table so he could have full access to my jeans. "May i?", he looks at me with a raised eyebrow and i nod. He kisses under my belly button and i chuckle.

Brad takes off my jeans and I'm quick to unzip his, letting gravity do it's thing.

Brad's hot breath falls on top of my chest as he lets out a soft laugh. His fingers run softly on my leg, drawing small circles on my skin, teasing me. His fingers find their way between my legs and he traces the outline of my pussy through the panties i wear. With my head fallen backwards, i moan frustrated when he takes his hand away, only to take off my bra.

"I just want you to know that I'm not like this usually", I say breathing heavily.

"Like this meaning so fucking horny, wet and so desperate for me to fuck you?", he smirks on the side of my neck, his lips pressing on my hot flesh. Kissing down my neck, he bites on my collar bone, his hand wrapping around my neck, only for him to drag it downwards, over my exposed chest and breasts.

"You get what i mean", i whimper almost, as his fingers start teasing me again through the fabric

"Don't worry, love, it's been enough stereotypes for one day.", he laughs and kisses me one more time before taking my panties off. He takes off his boxers and i stare respectfully at his length, feeling my cheeks heat up.

Brad grabs a condom from his wallet and rolls it on himself, positioning the tip at my entrance. We gasp when he is fully inside, the fullness feeling unbeatable all of a sudden.

"Fuck, move Bradley", i grab on his shoulders and he pulls me closer to his body, his hands on my back.

Brad moves slowly in and out of me, sighing and holding back his moans.

"You're so tight, fuck. You feel so good, y/n", he grabs my hair in his fist, giving himself enough space to bury his head in the crook of my neck. I try holding back my moans with every stroke, and i let go of Brad's shoulders and i lean back on the table. He wastes no time and grabs my hips harshly, building up the speed. "What a sight, oh my God", he groans and throws one of my legs on his shoulder. I bite my hand in order to stop a loud moan to come out and he chuckles. "Let it out, babe. I know it feels good"

"It feels amazing, keep going like this", i plead and he keeps pushing hard between my legs. The rhythm makes me lose my mind and i feel the familiar tingling feeling building inside my body. "I'm close"

Brad squeezes my hips harder, building up his pace. I throw my head back and arch my back, my body trembling from the intensity of the moment. Brad's orgasm follows soon after, his moans proving me that he enjoyed it as much as i did.

We get back to our senses and get dressed, both of us still breathing heavily and smiling.

"Thank you for that, i didn't realise how much i needed that", i say as i run my hands through my hair.

He walks next to me and kisses me quickly. "It was amazing. I'm sorry for the circumstances, i promise next time it'll be in a proper location", we both laugh

"I'm patiently waiting for that next time.", i wink at him and i start walking towards the door, him following close behind.

"Hmm, tomorrow?"

I laugh at his impatience. "I'll make it work", i shake my head,smiling

"Perfect"

#brad simpson #brad simpson imagine #brad simpson smut

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totentnz · 2 months

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@silverv-week day 1 // soulmates

set in: au: watch the world burn, circa 2018 v & johnny are soulmates but it's complicated, this is probably confusing for those unfamiliar with my v & my AUs but this was fun!

"you still talkin' to v?"

"who?"

"v. you two were... nevermind."

johnny hadn't seen her in months, he genuinely forgot about her. though that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about her. he used to run into her all the time - by accident, but these days she was nowhere to be found.

a cracked cellphone screen reminded him of her, about that time he asked around about her day job on a hot summer day and how he ended up at a tech shop in some alley, an annoyed v sitting inside, fixing some gonk's gunked up phone.

he entered the shop, a bell rang as he opened the door, she was unphased by the sound. the place was small and somehow it was even hotter inside. the netrunner was the only person inside though light spilled out from the room in the back. a speaker was sitting on her desk, slipknot was playing at what he guessed was maximum volume.

"you work in this dump?" he asked, his voice raised in an attempt to overpower corey taylor. v had been mouthing the lyrics of the song but stopped as soon as she heard him though she continued to move her head to the rhythm of the song.

"no, i'm here 'cause o' the wicked vibes." there was sarcasm in her voice which seemed uncalled for, this place must've been heaven for any runner, so much information was stored on these devices and folks were even paying you to take it off of them.

she was prying the protective layer off the phone in her hands when she pointed at a screen on her desk. "input whatever's wrong with it on there. then give it to me." she explained, not even looking up at him, clearly customer service wasn't her forte.

johnny wasn't here to have anything fixed however so he placed the laptop he had brought with him on her desk. "i can't help ya if ya don--" she began as she placed her tools down, clearly ready to give him an ear full but stopped when she took a look at the device.

"huh." she tilted her head and looked at him, then back at her laptop. she grabbed it and opened it up, typing something in before closing it again. "where'd you find this?"

"in my car. where ya left it." he replied and she finally looked at him now, scanning him from head to toe. she took her time and it was all there: the lingering gaze on his cock and prosthetic in combination with a quick bite on her lower lip. she knew who he was and it got him excited for the inevitable revelation.

"oh. it's you." she paused for a moment and he gave her his best shit-eating smirk - she squinted. "jimmy?"

"johnny." he corrected, there was no way she was being serious right now, she had to recognise him, he was known for more than just his music, especially in night city. "silverhand. hired ya for a gig yesterday?" he tried to jog her memory though her gaze remained unchanged.

"right, right. 'course." she pointed at his arm and then at his face, nodding. "thanks." she tapped the closed laptop with her fingers before placing it underneath her desk. she leaned back and looked at him again before resting her feet on the table. johnny pulled up a chair and sat down, crossing his arms.

"so, johnny silverhand. got a feelin' ya didn't return this outta the kindness o' ya heart." she grinned and with a flick of her wrist checked the time on her watch.

truth be told he wasn't sure why he decided to find her, if she wanted her shit back she should go look for it herself but she had intrigued him last night.

the second random encounter was perhaps the best one: he didn't expect to see her there in her stupid little borg-burger uniform, putting on her best customer service voice, being nice. he found out later that she was fired from that job, supposedly she assaulted a customer after they were being rude, that was more like her. sometimes when he would enter the diner late at night after a show there was a tinge in his chest, half expecting half hoping for her to be there but she never was there to wait his table.

when he was on stage, looking down at the pit he often thought he saw her moshing with some guy like she used to when they were... not dating but it was never her. they idea of her being there -- or perhaps her absence lit a fire in him though and the performance that followed was fuckin preem every time.

but she wasn't on his mind and he didn't want to know where she was or what she was up to. she was just another pair of tits that mixed in with countless others, a few nights of fun, meaningless.

---

"'member johnny?"

"who?"

"johnny. you got his signature on your ass?"

"riiiiight. actually, it's on my thigh."

the image of him did flick through her mind every now and then, like the dias she used to look through when she was working at the retro store.

he taught her about lucky cigarettes, cursing her with the memory of him every time she opened a new pack, maybe that was the reason she swapped to rolling her own.

she had just pulled a cigarette from a freshly opened pack and was about to start smoking it when he stopped her.

"what're ya doin'?" he almost yelled, taking a step towards her to pull it out of her mouth.

"what?!" this irritated her, she needed that smoke right now and could do without his little games.

"never heard of lucky cigs?" he placed his own cigarette between his lips and took the pack from her.

"it's a lil' ritual." he explained and with a flick of his finger he flipped the cigarette around.

"pick a random cig," he raised the hand holding the flipped one slightly.

"put it back in, that's the lucky one." he winked.

"ya don't say." she retorted, rolling her eyes and taking the pack back from him with some force.

"ya smoke that one last." he pointed at the pack and v pulled out a different cigarette, placing it between her lips.

"if anyone wants to bum one and it's the lucky one." he exhaled some smoke into the cold night air. "they buy ya a new pack." he reached into his pocket with his free hand to get his lighter.

"how often does that happen?" she asked and johnny leaned in to light it for her, the fire illuminated his face, bringing out all his beauty and flaws at the same time. as she took the first drag and their eyes locked onto each other she wondered what she looked like to him.

"more often than ya might think." he shrugged and leaned back, putting some distance between them.

occasionally when she entered the atlantis she would scan the bar for his figure, she still owed him a drink or maybe he owed one to her, she wasn't sure. she would listen to rogue talk about him - they were fucking now - and conveniently disappear whenever he would show up.

one day she noticed that there were no more samurai patches on her backpack. she did enjoy their music even before she started fucking the rocker, though she never admitted that to him. the patches were constantly rearranged and maybe she had forgotten to sew those back on, replaced them with other bands, better bands.

after some time she forgot all about him. she knew who johnny silverhand was, especially after he went out with a bang, but none of the moments they shared were attached to that name, he was some guy she had fun with, nothing more.

#sammy says shit #sammy writes shit #silvervweek #otp; just the two of us #au: watch the world burn #oc:v #not to sound like a broken record but i needed to stop looking at this LMAO #as usual im not satisfied with it but i dont think i will ever be #still fun though #to elaborate a little: v and johnny *are* soulmates #but that doesnt mean they always end up with each other for good #in this they think about each other all the time but then ... also forget they remembered? you know memory is funny and all that

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specialinterestshows · 7 months

Text

Back to the reader’s POV, but still keeping it smutty for this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic.

Warnings for this section: Kink (dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, voyeurism, praise)

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 52 of ?): Vibe Together

“Good girl, wearing your collar for Mami,” Rhea purred from your laptop speakers, “Do you have the toy inside you, like I asked?”

“Yes, Mami,” you said, shifting on your bed, muscles involuntarily squeezing around the pink toy in anticipation. While Rhea was entirely clothed, you had nothing on but your collar and blushed as you accidentally caught a glimpse of yourself on the screen.

“Perfect,” she said, licking her lips, “Play with your nipples for me, darling. I'll start the vibrator when you start sounding desperate enough."

Brushing your fingers against your nipples, you start gently twisting them and bite your lip. Gradually increasing the pressure, you whimper slightly and look pleadingly at the image of your girlfriend on the screen.

"Keep going," Rhea encouraged you, smirking. She had that glimmer in her eyes that tended to show up when she was being sadistic - it turned you on even more.

Pinching and groping yourself roughly, your whimpers get louder and slightly higher in pitch.

"Please, Mami," you beg between desperate whines.

"Dom?" Rhea says suddenly, followed by the sound of a door shutting as she looks offscreen. You freeze, unsure whether or not you should cover yourself up.

"It hasn't been anywhere close to an hour," Rhea says, raising an eyebrow.

"Pues, I ended up getting out of the hot tub to get some water," Dominik explained faintly offscreen as you strained your ears to hear him, "and when I came back and looked in before opening the door..."

"Christ, are they fucking in the hot tub?" Rhea sighed, bringing one hand up to her temple.

"I think they're fucking in the hot tub," Dom confirmed, "And as much as I wanna watch, Finn is... really not into that."

"Y'know what," Rhea said, slowly lowering her hand and grinning, looking back over at you for the first time since Dominik had interrupted, "That gives me an idea."

Rhea looked directly into the camera, her gaze piercing through you despite the distance, and asked, "How would you feel if Dom Dom watched me get you off, beautiful?"

The question threw you; you realized you had been waiting for Dom to leave, but the thought of someone watching Rhea dominate you made you blush and bite your lip. You nodded shyly, watching her smile as you did.

"You're sure?" Rhea checked, grinning harder when you nodded again, more vigorously this time, "Dirty girl."

The video on the other end of the call wobbled and then froze for a couple seconds at a time, until it settled once more. Now, you could clearly see both Rhea and Dominik sitting on a well-made bed, the latter with a towel wrapped around his waist and chest bare. Your face grew warmer when you watched Dom's jaw drop upon looking at you.

"Did I say you could stop touching yourself, slut?" Rhea growled, making you realize your hands had been resting on the bed.

"Sorry, Mami," you apologize, bringing your hands up to your nipples again.

"There's my good girl," Rhea said sweetly, giggling as you began whimpering again.

"Fuck," Dominik half-whispered, eyes still fixed on you as your whimpers turned into desperate whines in response to the reminder that you were being watched.

"Poor baby," Rhea mocks you, as you whine louder, "You really want it, don't you?"

"Mm, please," you beg, looking at her smirking image on the screen, "Please, Mami."

Without a word, Rhea taps her phone screen and the toy inside you begins to vibrate on a surprisingly high setting. You cry out at the intense waves of pleasure that wash over you. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the motion stops and your moans become whines again.

"You're so much fun to play with," Rhea purrs, and you open your eyes, not realizing you had closed them. She was leaning in closer to the screen than she had been last, and Dominik's face was red.

"Thank you, Mami," you say when you remember how to speak.

"Now don't forget to tell Mami when you're close," Rhea reminded you before tapping her screen, turning the toy to a high thrust setting this time.

The sensation makes you gasp at first, then noises escaped your mouth that only barely matched how badly you wanted more. The sound of your own moans seemed somehow more embarrassing when you knew someone else was listening, which added a rush to your building pleasure.

"Mami!" you cry out, and the toy is still once more. Your frustration now impossible to ignore, you start begging. "Please Mami, can I have more? Please may I come?"

"Already?" Rhea laughed before considering it, "Hmmm, what do you think, Dom Dom?" - she turns to him - "Should I let her come?"

Seeing him hesitate, you ached around the toy before hearing yourself say, "Please, Dom? Please?"

"Fuck," he says again, adjusting the towel around his waist, "I want to see her come, Mami."

"I think I can arrange that," Rhea says before tapping her screen again.

Both vibrate and thrust start up at once, making you grip the sheets as you moan loudly, unable to control yourself. The knot in your stomach tightens quickly, ecstasy mounting so exquisitely that the moans you filled the room with no longer embarrassed you.

"That's it," Rhea cooed, "Come hard for Mami."

Almost as soon as she said it, you obeyed, surrendering completely to the pleasure she was allowing you to enjoy. Your body convulsed as you struggled to stay upright, moans turning into contented laughter at the end of your orgasm.

"That sounded like a good one," Rhea said as you opened your eyes again.

"So good," you breathe, smiling as you notice Dominik now has a pillow on his lap.

"Dom Dom," Rhea says, noticing the pillow as well, "Don't be rude. Show her how much you liked watching."

Looking somehow even more embarrassed than you had felt at any point tonight, Dom removed the pillow, revealing how hard he was.

"Good boy," Rhea praised him, then turned to you, "You both did so good for Mami. Did everyone enjoy that?"

You and Dominik both nod and Rhea smiles, "Good. Then maybe we can do this again sometime."

[end part fifty-two of ?]

Part 53: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/731576713346154496/absolute-smokeshow-part-53-shot-lime-salt

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domlynch

#wwe fanfiction #the judgment day #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #damian priest #finn balor x damian priest #finn balor #smut #the judgement day #lady!reader #specialinterestshows presents #absolute smokeshow

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gracebutnotgraceful · 2 years

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Ted Lasso ask:

Reader has had a terrible week and everything is going wrong for the reader and by the time Ted comes home on Friday night, reader is drunk.

And things ensue from then on ...

i didn’t really focus on the reader being drunk because that’s just not my vibe. that being said, i do hope you enjoy! thank you for reading and requesting! i could not for the life of me decide what to title this...that's what took the longest haha.

lose a day (or two) - ted lasso

pairing: ted lasso x gn!reader, established relationship

warnings: drinking for the wrong reasons!!! no good very bad days, overwhelmed reader, talks of burnout

word count: 1.2k

summary: the wine might not make you feel any better about your terrible week, but somehow ted knows exactly how to.

This just might have been the worst week of your life. No, this had definitely been the worst week of your life.

It all started when you dropped your laptop. You don’t even know how it happened. As an editor, that thing was your livelihood. You were usually so careful with it.

Of course you had to trip with it while it was open in your hands.

Of course it had to land that way, cracking the plastic holding the two pieces together and snapping your poor laptop in half.

“No, please, please please,” you cried, trying to hold the laptop together, pressing the power button and swiping on the trackpad in desperation. The screen stayed black.

You held your breath as you checked your warranty, begging to whoever it was that watched over you that it was still covered.

Of course it was not; the warranty had expired two months ago. You were lucky that you’d had enough in savings to go ahead and buy yourself another laptop.

To try and cheer yourself up a bit after ruining your laptop, you decided to put on your favorite outfit and go out for a tea the next day. Sure, it was another expense, but you felt like you deserved it. It was a little treat to make up for the fact that you were out of work and a decent chunk of money. It would at least help calm your nerves as you messaged the clients you were set to work with this week that you would be out of the office until your new computer came in.

Yeah, that worked out great.

Your favorite sweater had a hole in it. You settled for a different one and headed out, only to find that your little tea place was closed on Wednesdays. Frustrated, you just decided to go back home.

“I guess it works out fine,” you’d told yourself. “I should’ve just made tea at home anyways.”

Everything seemed fine for a moment. You thought your couple days of bad luck were just that: a couple days.

That is, until you started to get emails back from your clients. Frustrated emails. Emails about how your not working was holding them back from continuing their own work. You tried to reason with them, tried to let them know that it was temporary. Your new computer was supposed to be in by Friday, and you’d be back to work as normal by Monday. A few understood. A few others…not so much.

You weren’t usually one to be incredibly vocal or expressive with your feelings, but it probably would’ve made a week like this weigh on you a little less to even just have people around. Unfortunately, it was an incredibly important week for AFC Richmond which meant you had to cope pretty much by yourself. Ted had been leaving so early and coming home so late that it felt like you guys were practically on opposite schedules. In fact, you’d only seen Ted twice this week. You’d not seen any of the others at all.

And that’s how you ended up here: alone on the couch, one empty bottle of wine on the table and another glass curled into your hands. Somehow, you still hadn’t cried. It was like no matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You just stared at the television. You’d put on a movie, but at this point it was already halfway over and you’d not paid enough attention to have any idea what was going on. You didn’t even register the click of the lock as Ted came in.

“Oh, you’re still up! Been so busy this week I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow to finally be able to see ya!” He quickly slipped off his sneakers before making his way over to the couch. You looked up at him blankly.

“Hey,” you responded, barely a whisper.

He glanced down at the bottle on the table, at the glass in your hands, and then finally back up at you. You still hadn’t said anything. He crouched down, taking the glass from your hands and setting it next to the bottle. He put his hands on the tops of your thighs to steady himself.

“Everything okay, Billy Ray?” he asked, eyebrows knit in concern as he took in your appearance.

You knew it was meant to be lighthearted. It was just Ted being Ted, trying to gauge a situation and fix it to the best of his ability by being the funny guy. Somehow, though, that’s what broke you. Before you could even try and stop it, a tear leaked from the corner of your eye. Then, it was like they just wouldn’t stop.

You gulped hard, shaking your head and looking down so Ted couldn’t see you crying.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” His hand found your cheek, wiping away some of the tears. He raised up, sitting next to you on the couch and pulling you into him. “Let’s talk about it.”

You told Ted about your week. He knew you’d broken your laptop—that’s one of the few things you did get to tell him about this week—but he didn’t know about your clients. You felt stupid telling him about your sweater and your tea shop; they felt so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He listened to every word though, patiently nodding along and rubbing your back as you slurred through your story.

“Well, clearly those clients never had an emergency of their own to deal with. There’s just nothing you can do to change their minds, and that’s okay. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.” You shook your head, giving him a small smile.

“You’ve been busy. You’re here now.” You kissed his cheek before trying to get up. You stumbled almost immediately, the floor swaying beneath you.

“Yeah, let me help you with that,” Ted chuckled. He snaked his arm around your waist, helping you balance.

——

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of cinnamon. You rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up. Oh yeah, the headache was strong.

“You’re up! I brought us breakfast.” Ted came into the bedroom, setting a tray on the bed before crawling back in next to you. It had a plate of cinnamon rolls, two glasses of water, and some ibuprofen.

“God, you’re the best” you responded, grabbing the water and the ibuprofen.

“I thought maybe we could chill inside today, maybe watch some movies. Then maybe tomorrow, you know, since it’s not Wednesday, we could go pick you up some tea and then hunt for a new sweater. How’s that sound?” He smiled.

“Oh, Ted, we don’t have to. You’ve had such a busy week. You deserve some rest, too.” You answered, grabbing one of the cinnamon rolls and taking a bite.

If this man’s kindness wasn’t enough of a reason to be in a relationship with him, his baked goods really seal the deal. How’d he learn to bake like this?

“Spending the whole day with you? That is rest to me!” He reached over you to grab a cinnamon roll for himself.

“I love you so much.” You looked up to find him already looking down at you.

“I love you more.” He wrapped his arm around you. “Let’s have a better day today, yeah?”

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso x you #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #grace writes!!!

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a-little-birdie · 1 year

Text

MOVIE NIGHT WITH CASSANDRA

requested? NO BUT YOURE STILL GETTING MY BRAIN ROT

This can be read as platonic or romantic! It leans towards platonic and I wrote it with the intention to be platonic but view it as you want! This was also rather self indulgent, I love Cassandra so much.

AIGHT SO *claps hands* we all know this girl goes above and beyond

She will casually (not casually at all. It’s very abrupt) bring up movies into the conversation and ask you your favourite movies and genres as well as snacks.

After that she’ll ask you if you wanna hang out for a movie night at her place. You accept and the two of you work out a time and date that works for both of you.

Now that Cass has gotten all of the first steps finished, she just needs to prepare and get everything.

Laptop and movies at the ready? Check. Popcorn, chips and candy? Check. Comfy pillows and blankets? Double check. And yeah of course she’s got some LEDS and fairy lights! Besides I t’s really bad to watch a bright screen in a dark room but you can’t watch a movie with the lights on so. Fairy lights. Plus it helps the aesthetic and sets the mood!

When you finally come over Cass is VIBRATING. While excitedly talking about all the movies she has and the food she takes your coat for you so you can get comfy and pop open a bag of chips and grab a can of pop (or soda, there’s no difference except name)

You two sit close together on the couch while watching the movies together. You two go through a whole bunch of movies of all kinds. Action, comedy, kids and at least one really bad movie you two can trash talk together and laugh at. To top it all off you get into a pillow fight and neither of you win, you both just lay on the floor out of breath and laughing. It’s great fun.

By the end of it you wind up staying so late you just sleep over and you guys have cereal and milk while sitting on the counter together for breakfast.

All in all a movie night with Cassandra is really fun if at least a little chaotic but the vibes are always impeccable. Good food, good company and one hell of a good time.

#fandom: rottmnt #c: Cassandra Jones #Cassandra Jones x reader/p #Cassandra Jones x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt cassandra jones #movie night #x reader #rottmnt x reader #this was so much fun #i loved writing this

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jq37 · 1 year

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Oh, my god. I think my soul almost shat itself when Lou landed that Nat 20. Snow better not have done anything to Scheherazade and the Lines-Between Squad or I'm....gonna stew in impotent anger behind my laptop cause I'm only a viewer. And last but not least, if Tim is the Golden Goose's human-sona, who's the Ganders?

What an INSANE moment. This season has been all over the place but geez, I think this goes up there with the other legendary Dimension 20 Nat 20s. I seriously thought they were toast when Brennan set the minimum DC to 25. What a crucial moment for the dice rolls to go your way. Absolutely wild.

This was one of my fave episodes from a storytelling standpoint because I feel like there was a lot of positioning towards a conclusion. The Goose investigated what it is that the PCs actually want to do which I think is important. They don't really have a big overarching thing that they've decided is their goal since their plan initially was to just join up with the princesses and that super didn't work out. Now that they have the book back, they've gotta figure out what it is they actually wanna do (and I would say some of that lack of direction is due to lack of understanding of the holistic situation but we are so close to the end of the season at this point so I'm not even gonna harp on that).

We're also finally getting back to the Lines Between stuff which is like a split "yay!" and "oh no!" situation. Yay because we're finally checking back in with Scher who is one of my fave if not my fave NPC but oh no because it's not like she's drinking pina coladas and having a good time. Clearly they want to use her for the princess plan--which points to a specific princess not being needed if they can just swap out Roz and her. I do wonder how much of an element of buy in they need. Like, the vibe I got is that snatched Scher, not that they convinced her. She doesn't seem the type to be like yeah, sign me up for the death cult (though neither did Cinderella with her "don't lay the sins of individuals on the entire world" talk) and the princesses are totally chill with lying or withholding elements of the truth. If they just need a body and no buy in, they possibly could have just grabbed her. If they need buy in/wanna play nice, they might have half lied to her like they are presumably doing with Elody.

I will say, if she is kidnapped in the traditional sense, Scher has a LOT of experience being imprisoned by a captor who plans to kill her and changing their mind, so as annoying as this is for her, it is also her favored terrain so to speak. If Brennan wants, he could very plausibly have Scher do some of the princess schmoozing that the PCs utterly failed at. Just for story efficiency's sake. I'm getting the sense of, "We are getting to the end game so let's get all the pieces where they need to be on the board." So Tim gets his book back. Tomas and Henry returned. Scher back in the main story. Muffet and Itsy Bitsy in the book to tie up those loose ends. DM housekeeping.

I don't know if the Gander HAS a human-sona. The Goose has Tim as a human-sona because in stories the "Mother Goose" character is sometimes a person who rides a goose and sometimes a large anthro goose (usually with a bonnet). It's interesting though because in the main mother goose poem it says that Mother Goose rides "a very fine gander". Which just makes me wonder how that connects. And then of course, there's the saying about what's good for the goose is good for the gander. There's a thread that Brennan has mentioned a couple time but no one's followed up on seriously. About what is the gander when it's not stuck in the Neverafter. We don't know exactly what the Gander represents. It's not death or the end of stories because that's the wolf. My best guess is that the goose is like positive (for the protag) plot developments and the gander is bad ones. So I'm wondering if, for example, the gander was to move to the horror section of the library, would it just turn into a creepy killer clown or a ghost or something? I dunno, just spitballing.

Anyway, looking forward to tonight's ep! Maybe we're finally gonna get an answer on those red beads!!!

#asks #farmer 10 #neverafter #dimension 20 #spoilers #neverafter spoilers #d20

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magmahearts · 7 months

Text

TIMING: recent PARTIES: @animotoph0bia & @magmahearts LOCATION: worm row SUMMARY: when a late night grocery run leaves finn in a tight spot, wicked's rest's resident superhero comes to the rescue. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

One day, once he’d figured out what made his brain an antenna for other people’s feelings, which would obviously fix the rest of his life instantaneously, Finn would sign up for grocery delivery. Even without being swaddled in the stress, the hurry, the self-hatred from people in the candy aisle, grocery shopping was a nightmare. Not doing his own shopping was still a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Doing his shopping right before closing time helped, even though it meant a lot of angry vibes from bone tired cashiers that just wanted to go home to hate their jobs. At least he was quick, rarely straying from the grocery list that had been a staple for the last year. The basics, cheap stuff but good coffee. Necessities only, a shopping cart that probably looked dirt cheap considering the headphones around his neck. Aside from his precious laptop, they were the nicest thing he owned.

Mumbling his thanks to the cashier who honestly, was a bit too snippy considering it was only five minutes past closing. And he hadn’t even been the last person to check out. Letting the last of the cashier’s anger dissipate as he left the store, Finn took a deep breath, trying to let his own feelings resurface. It was only a quick, five minute walk back to the shitty apartment, once he’d realized the shortcut between the two buildings. A shortcut that was usually empty but now, as Finn passed through, filled him with rippling waves of tension. He’d just picked up the pace when a form emerged from the shadow. Spinning on his heel to go back the way he came only provided a view of a second stranger.

“Shit,” he breathed, putting down the two plastic bags. “Look, you can take my wallet, alright? I think there’s still like ten bucks on the card and I’m like… two coffees away from a free one on my punch card.” Moving slowly, he reached for his wallet, tossing it in one guy’s direction. Finn wasn’t lying - his wallet was a terrible choice for a robbery. Handing it over was a much better alternative to getting stabbed.

The strangers approached, one picking up the wallet, the other cocking his head. Finn could feel his nerves but also, annoyance. Desperation. They definitely agreed that Finn had been a shit target. “The headphones,” one of them finally spoke and he blinked. Oh. No, not the headphones…

—

This was fine. She was fine. She was out, she was doing her thing as Magma, she was normal. She wasn’t thinking about that dark pit in her chest, wasn’t thinking about how much she ached or how sad she was even when she was pretending not to be. She wasn’t thinking about the way people kept disappearing from her life no matter how much she begged them to stay, wasn’t thinking about the friends she’d made and the quiet question of how long she’d be allowed to keep them.

Instead, she was thinking about this. About the thrill of what she was doing, about how exciting it was. About how, when it was finished, she’d help someone and she’d feel better for it. Maybe it wasn’t a perfect system, throwing herself into situations like this one so she didn’t have to think about the things that were bothering her, but it worked. It helped push those intense feelings of loneliness and grief a little further down, helped her feel useful instead of inconvenient. And it helped other people, too, didn’t it? It couldn’t be bad if it helped her and the people around her.

Like this guy, for example. She’d clocked the people following him, trailed along behind far enough away that she wouldn’t be spotted just in case they were his buddies playing a mean prank on him or something. But then he was throwing his wallet and they were asking for his headphones and he looked way too despaired about the whole thing for it to be a joke. Dropping her glamour, Cass let the faint glow of her magma fill the space as she approached.

“I don’t think that’s yours,” she said lowly, voice crackling like gravel. “Give him back his stuff and leave him alone. Or else.”

—

Emotions were becoming a bit of a blur now, everything threatening to overpower Finn’s own panic at getting stabbed or worse, losing his headphones. Perhaps some of that anger was his own, at this whole situation, at this whole town for a rather shitty welcome. It didn’t seem to be done with him, however.

Finn had read all of the weird articles and stories that originated in this town. It had been the reason for coming here after all but to say he was skeptical about it all was… an understatement. A bit hypocritical for someone who could read emotions but strange creatures, vampires and magic users? It was a bit far-fetched. Or so he’d thought until he was staring down one of those strange creatures in person. “Woah… You can see that, right?” he asked the muggers but one look at their faces confirmed that yes, they were seeing the glowing magma creature too. At least Finn wasn’t delving into the realm of hallucinations. Yet.

The voice demanded authority, lending power to the ominous ‘or else.’ At least it seemed this thing, whatever it was, was rooting for Finn. It was confident, too, which was a great ease for the empath’s panic. The muggers were deliberating, looking between one another and then to Finn, who simply shrugged. “I’d listen to the magma person,” he offered, never having been able to just shut up in situations like these.

—

She hoped the would-be mugging victim wasn’t afraid of her. That was the problem with being a superhero who looked like a mass of stone and lava — most of the people you rescued took off in the other direction before you could make sure they were really safe. The man she was saving tonight seemed uneasy, disbelief dripping from his words as he spoke, but he didn’t seem terrified. Not yet, at least. That might change if Cass had to actually use the parts of herself that made her scary.

She smiled a little as he said the muggers ought to listen to her, though the expression was difficult to distinguish on her rocky form. Most things were, when she was like this; she was all stone and magma, shaped like a person but only in the vaguest outlines. Her eyes glowed, but the rest of her features were often hard to make out. The slope of her nose looked like just another bumpy stone, and her mouth, when closed, looked more like another crack on the surface.

The muggers seemed uncertain, like they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to try to continue their crusade or not. Cass held out a hand, palm flat and facing the ground, and let magma ooze out from between her fingers. It dripped onto the sidewalk, melting it away, forcing it to give way to the natural ground beneath it. The way it should be, really. Who built a sidewalk over the Earth’s natural soil? It was criminal. “That’s what I can do to concrete,” she said. “You don’t wanna know what I could do to you. Give him his stuff back.” It was an empty threat, of course. Cass didn’t want to hurt anyone; she never had. But these guys didn’t really know that, did they?

—

Finn was used to uncomfortable situations, more often than not orchestrated by his own actions, and at a certain point everything had just gotten the designation of ‘well, shit happens, I guess.’ Sure, he wasn’t overly fond of this whole mugging situation and getting stabbed wasn’t an exciting prospect but deep down, he knew the fear should have been stronger. Especially with the appearance of this living volcano, reminding him of the giant monster in Moana, joining the scenario. Maybe every instinctual feeling of fear was bogged down by everyone else’s emotions but honestly, Finn knew it was just a symptom of bad preservation skills.

From someone, the faint twinkle of amusement made its presence known and since it didn’t feel malevolent, Finn took a wild guess that it was the vigilante who was happy for some reason. Brown eyes widened as lava started to eat away at the ground, hissing and crackling and wasn’t that just a sight to see? Momentarily occupied by the way the lava grew dark again, hardening quickly, Finn missed the muggers’ decision to not anger the magma monster. His wallet hit him square in the chest before flopping to the ground. Blinking, his eyes followed the retreating forms of the muggers, one hand finding the precious headphones still in his possession.

“Pretty cool,” he finally said, crouching to pick up his wallet, still trying (and failing) to process everything. Were his hands shaking? Whatever. “I really thought they were lying when they said this town was full of strange shit.” A part of him wanted to ask whether it was rude to take a picture because honestly, Finn was worried he’d wake up tomorrow thinking this was all part of some bad trip or a mix up with his meds.

—

Her scare tactic worked. They usually did, when she employed them. Most of the time, Cass disliked being scary. People were afraid of her, and all she could see was Kuma and her reaction to seeing Cass’s volcanic true form for the first time. And it stung, it really did. It made her feel like all her work to fit in with humanity was for nothing, that what she was would trump who she was every single time. But… It did come in handy sometimes.

The would-be muggers tossed the wallet back to the man without a word, and that was good, wasn’t it? She’d solved a problem, she’d done something right, she’d helped someone. And she’d done it without any violence, without any bloodshed. It was something to be proud of, something to revel in. It did make her feel nice, even if there was a hint of something else beneath it. Rejection stung, even when you were trying for it. Brains were stupid like that sometimes, weren’t they?

But, hey, at least not everyone was afraid of her. The man whose wallet she’d rescued didn’t seem scared, and Cass couldn’t help but grin at him as he kneeled down to pick up his wallet. “Yeah, I’m, like, the town superhero,” Cass replied, a hint of bragging to the words. She was allowed to brag. She’d just saved the day. “But this town is full of all kinds of weird stuff. Is this, um… Your first time running into… something like this?” Something like me, lurked beneath it, though she didn’t know what answer she was hoping for.

—

At the very least, it was good to know that social anxiety shut its mouth when the feeling of ‘what in the fuck am I looking at’ was present. Didn’t shut down the feeling radar, of course, which was pinging with something akin to disappointment. Had this thing wanted him to get stabbed? Was it expecting some sort of payment for the rescue? Maybe it hadn’t heard him describe his abysmal financial status to the robbers. Pocketing the wallet, Finn tried to read into the unreadable expression of rocks with slits and holes that were probably eyes. Not that helpful.

The description of superhero did imply that this person wanted neither violence nor payment… right? “Lucky town,” he said, shifting on his feet, wondering if it would be rude to get going now and yep, more questions were being asked. “Hmm? No, totally used to seeing living rocks and lava talking to me.” Finn shifted a step closer, feeling the heat on his skin. “To be honest, still not completely sure I’m not just hallucinating right now,” he admitted, trying to quell the urge to reach out and touch. Damn, those idiots online talking about wanting to taste running lava were kind of right. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you vanished or I woke up face down on my couch suddenly.”

—

The guy still seemed a little apprehensive, which Cass felt was a little unfair. She’d just totally saved his ass from a bunch of muggers, and she’d barely lifted a finger! He got to keep his headphones, was stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. It was usually fifty-fifty whether people would tell her thank you or run off without saying anything at all. The fact that this guy wasn’t screaming yet, at least, meant something.

“I’m not living rocks and lava,” Cass said, a little offended without knowing why. The description wasn’t technically wrong, it was just… lacking. “And you’re not hallucinating. Do you hallucinate a lot? You should probably, like, get that checked out. I think they make doctors for that kind of thing? Where you sit on a couch and hug a pillow. I saw it on TV.” Maybe television wasn’t the most accurate depiction of a psychiatrist’s office, but, hey, it was all Cass had to go on. “Anyway, are you okay? Those guys didn’t beat you up before I showed up or anything, did they?”

—

Hearing the offense, even through the garbled and ominous voice, Finn winced slightly. Pissing off someone who could melt off his skin with a flick of their wrist definitely seemed in line to the rest of his fuck ups. “Sorry, I’m maybe freaking out a little bit. No offense.” Things were always fine when you added a ‘no offense’ as an afterthought, right? Sniffing slightly at the mention of a psychiatrist, Finn’s lips quirked in self depreciation. “Ah, the pillow hugging doctor. Yeah, I’ve been to that one plenty of times.” Even had a live in one which was just as much fun as it sounded. “But I don’t hallucinate a lot. Not sure I’d even have the imagination to come up with something like you.” At least he didn’t when he was sober.

Shrugging at the question because he felt pretty far from okay at the moment, Finn finally nodded. Physically, he was unharmed. “Nope, no beating.” Pausing for a second, thinking about the moments leading up to lava-person’s arrival, he wondered if he’d really been zoned out enough to not notice an actual glowing creature of this size just hanging around the corner. “You don’t always look like that, right? If you’re a superhero, I mean. Must have some sort of secret identity that’s a bit more… inconspicuous.” Was that rude? Asking about someone’s secret identity wasn’t something Finn had ever had to think about since up until now, superheroes weren’t real.

—

No offense? No offense? Cass was offended! She’d just totally saved his butt and he was still looking at her like she was going to throw lava in his shoes or something! How could she not be offended? She huffed, crossing her rocky arms over her chest. “The guys who were trying to rob you left, in case you didn’t notice. So you can probably stop freaking out now.” It probably wouldn’t work, but nothing ever really did. People were scared when they wanted to be scared, and most of them wanted to be scared when they saw her. Offense gave way to curiosity as he continued, though. “Really? What’s it like?” She wanted to know everything about humanity, including the weird stuff. Pillow hugging doctors were weird. “Something like me? I’m just a person, dude. Not a something. You could say someone, if you wanted.”

At least he wasn’t hurt. There was always a sense of failure when someone was hurt even after she’d stepped in to save them, like she hadn’t done her ‘job’ quite right. It was nice to know he was okay, even if his apprehension stung a little more than she’d care to admit. At least he wasn’t running away. That had to count for something, Cass thought. Glancing down at herself, she shrugged. “No,” she replied, “I don’t always look like this. But if I stopped looking like this, you’d totally know my secret identity, and you might be a supervillain or something, soooo…” She trailed off with another shrug.

—

Complete and total disapproval crawled up Finn’s spine as the nameless superhero started to chew him out and yup, there was that familiar sense of ‘talking to people is shit, I need to get out of here.’ Surprise and awe had managed to overpower it for a while but nothing good ever lasted, did it? Even as they forgot to be pissed off for a moment to ask about his psychiatry sessions with alarming curiosity, Finn was starting to fiddle. He’d fucked up this conversation to a point that felt too far to drag his ass back from and the urge to pop on his headphones and leave only grew with every passing second.

The sight of glowing lava that had been enchanting at first now felt overwhelming, the full force of what had taken place in the last ten minutes finally hitting him with the force of ice water running down his back. And the whole thing was mixed with this person’s annoyance and offense and shit, they were chewing him out again and he hadn’t even answered the weird as fuck psychiatrist question aside from a drawn out “uhm”.

“Someone, yeah, that’s…” His own voice sounded far off, just as strange and garbled as the superhero’s and Finn didn’t even get to appreciate the hilarity of being dubbed a plausible supervillain. Swallowing thickly, trying to think over the ringing in his ears, feet had already started to shuffle shakily in any direction away from this confrontation. “I should… thanks and all but…” He was jabbing his thumb in some unofficial direction, vainly trying to get the point across that he needed to leave.

—

She’d taken it too far. She could tell, could see the exact moment things shifted. She was supposed to be a superhero, supposed to be the kind of person who helped people in a way that mattered, but she’d taken things too far and now this guy probably didn’t want a thing to do with her anymore. And that shouldn’t have mattered — it shouldn’t. He was a stranger and she had friends, had more than enough of them, but the perceived rejection felt sharp and painful all the same. She’d taken it too far and he was upset now, and Cass didn’t know how not to care about that. Even from a stranger, even from someone she’d probably never see again.

She shifted, the weight of the discomfort sitting so heavily on her shoulders that she felt like she might collapse beneath it, might crumble under the ridiculousness of it all. You’re being childish, she told herself firmly, but it didn’t change anything. She still felt the way she felt. She still didn’t know how to change it.

He said thanks, and Cass clung to it. “Thank me by not walking this way alone at night anymore,” she said quietly, binding him to the word in hopes of keeping him safe, because she was sad and she felt heavy but she still wanted to be a hero. And this was what heroes did, wasn’t it? They kept people safe any way they knew how, used their superpowers to make people’s lives better even when their superpowers were — were manipulative and controlling and maybe a little bad. She uncrossed her arms and crossed them again, taking a step backwards. “Just — go home or whatever. Okay?”

—

Even as loud as her emotions currently were, they were easily drowned out and merged with Finn’s own feelings of discomfort and panic. It hadn’t been the intention of moving out here but part of him had foolishly hoped a fresh start would change something. Prevent an abundance of messes like these, where his own dumb mouth and others’ dumb feelings wouldn’t cause spiral after spiral. Thankfully, he’d grown used to wishful thinking being just that. He hadn’t expected to feel this sad about it, though. Was it even his own sadness?

Nodding, a bit frantically, at her words, Finn clung to the edges of his jacket in a vain attempt at grounding himself. Still shifting away from the rising confrontation, still being an asshole to someone who had saved his most precious possession and quite possibly more than that. They were shifting away, too, but it did little to ease the weight in his chest. Go home. That was the plan, as tempting as curling up on the concrete for a few minutes or hours sounded. A ‘sorry’ caught in his throat as he glanced once more at his savior before quickly averting his eyes.

“Okay, bye,” he muttered eloquently instead, shaky hand grabbing at the handle of the almost forgotten bag of groceries. It nearly tore apart with the force by which he tugged it off the ground, feet moving briskly to leave the alley, the discomfort and the pangs of pain that faded with every step he moved away from the self proclaimed superhero. What a fucking introduction to whatever the hell else was hidden in this town.

#animotoph0bia #finn: no lava lost #wickedswriting

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