#You better fix yourself up google
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Just a bunch of Useful websites - Updated for 2023
Removed/checked all links to make sure everything is working (03/03/23). Hope they help!
Sejda - Free online PDF editor.
Supercook - Have ingredients but no idea what to make? Put them in here and it'll give you recipe ideas.
Still Tasty - Trying the above but unsure about whether that sauce in the fridge is still edible? Check here first.
Archive.ph - Paywall bypass. Like 12ft below but appears to work far better and across more sites in my testing. I'd recommend trying this one first as I had more success with it.
12ft – Hate paywalls? Try this site out.
Where Is This - Want to know where a picture was taken, this site can help.
TOS/DR - Terms of service, didn't read. Gives you a summary of terms of service plus gives each site a privacy rating.
OneLook - Reverse dictionary for when you know the description of the word but can't for the life of you remember the actual word.
My Abandonware - Brilliant site for free, legal games. Has games from 1978 up to present day across pc and console. You'll be surprised by some of the games on there, some absolute gems.
Project Gutenberg – Always ends up on these type of lists and for very good reason. All works that are copyright free in one place.
Ninite – New PC? Install all of your programs in one go with no bloat or unnecessary crap.
PatchMyPC - Alternative to ninite with over 300 app options to keep upto date. Free for home users.
Unchecky – Tired of software trying to install additional unwanted programs? This will stop it completely by unchecking the necessary boxes when you install.
Sci-Hub – Research papers galore! Check here before shelling out money. And if it’s not here, try the next link in our list.
LibGen – Lots of free PDFs relate primarily to the sciences.
Zotero – A free and easy to use program to collect, organize, cite and share research.
Car Complaints – Buying a used car? Check out what other owners of the same model have to say about it first.
CamelCamelCamel – Check the historical prices of items on Amazon and set alerts for when prices drop.
Have I Been Pawned – Still the king when it comes to checking if your online accounts have been released in a data breach. Also able to sign up for email alerts if you’ve ever a victim of a breach.
I Have No TV - A collection of documentaries for you to while away the time. Completely free.
Radio Garden – Think Google Earth but wherever you zoom, you get the radio station of that place.
Just The Recipe – Paste in the url and get just the recipe as a result. No life story or adverts.
Tineye – An Amazing reverse image search tool.
My 90s TV – Simulates 90’s TV using YouTube videos. Also has My80sTV, My70sTV, My60sTV and for the younger ones out there, My00sTV. Lose yourself in nostalgia.
Foto Forensics – Free image analysis tools.
Old Games Download – A repository of games from the 90’s and early 2000’s. Get your fix of nostalgia here.
Online OCR – Convert pictures of text into actual text and output it in the format you need.
Remove Background – An amazingly quick and accurate way to remove backgrounds from your pictures.
Twoseven – Allows you to sync videos from providers such as Netflix, Youtube, Disney+ etc and watch them with your friends. Ad free and also has the ability to do real time video and text chat.
Terms of Service, Didn’t Read – Get a quick summary of Terms of service plus a privacy rating.
Coolors – Struggling to get a good combination of colors? This site will generate color palettes for you.
This To That – Need to glue two things together? This’ll help.
Photopea – A free online alternative to Adobe Photoshop. Does everything in your browser.
BitWarden – Free open source password manager.
Just Beam It - Peer to peer file transfer. Drop the file in on one end, click create link and send to whoever. Leave your pc on that page while they download. Because of how it works there are no file limits. It's genuinely amazing. Best file transfer system I have ever used.
Atlas Obscura – Travelling to a new place? Find out the hidden treasures you should go to with Atlas Obscura.
ID Ransomware – Ever get ransomware on your computer? Use this to see if the virus infecting your pc has been cracked yet or not. Potentially saving you money. You can also sign up for email notifications if your particular problem hasn’t been cracked yet.
Way Back Machine – The Internet Archive is a non-profit library of millions of free books, movies, software, music, websites and loads more.
Rome2Rio – Directions from anywhere to anywhere by bus, train, plane, car and ferry.
Splitter – Seperate different audio tracks audio. Allowing you to split out music from the words for example.
myNoise – Gives you beautiful noises to match your mood. Increase your productivity, calm down and need help sleeping? All here for you.
DeepL – Best language translation tool on the web.
Forvo – Alternatively, if you need to hear a local speaking a word, this is the site for you.
For even more useful sites, there is an expanded list that can be found here.
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Even if you think AI search could be good, it won’t be good
TONIGHT (May 15), I'm in NORTH HOLLYWOOD for a screening of STEPHANIE KELTON'S FINDING THE MONEY; FRIDAY (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.
The big news in search this week is that Google is continuing its transition to "AI search" – instead of typing in search terms and getting links to websites, you'll ask Google a question and an AI will compose an answer based on things it finds on the web:
https://blog.google/products/search/generative-ai-google-search-may-2024/
Google bills this as "let Google do the googling for you." Rather than searching the web yourself, you'll delegate this task to Google. Hidden in this pitch is a tacit admission that Google is no longer a convenient or reliable way to retrieve information, drowning as it is in AI-generated spam, poorly labeled ads, and SEO garbage:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/03/keyword-swarming/#site-reputation-abuse
Googling used to be easy: type in a query, get back a screen of highly relevant results. Today, clicking the top links will take you to sites that paid for placement at the top of the screen (rather than the sites that best match your query). Clicking further down will get you scams, AI slop, or bulk-produced SEO nonsense.
AI-powered search promises to fix this, not by making Google search results better, but by having a bot sort through the search results and discard the nonsense that Google will continue to serve up, and summarize the high quality results.
Now, there are plenty of obvious objections to this plan. For starters, why wouldn't Google just make its search results better? Rather than building a LLM for the sole purpose of sorting through the garbage Google is either paid or tricked into serving up, why not just stop serving up garbage? We know that's possible, because other search engines serve really good results by paying for access to Google's back-end and then filtering the results:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi
Another obvious objection: why would anyone write the web if the only purpose for doing so is to feed a bot that will summarize what you've written without sending anyone to your webpage? Whether you're a commercial publisher hoping to make money from advertising or subscriptions, or – like me – an open access publisher hoping to change people's minds, why would you invite Google to summarize your work without ever showing it to internet users? Nevermind how unfair that is, think about how implausible it is: if this is the way Google will work in the future, why wouldn't every publisher just block Google's crawler?
A third obvious objection: AI is bad. Not morally bad (though maybe morally bad, too!), but technically bad. It "hallucinates" nonsense answers, including dangerous nonsense. It's a supremely confident liar that can get you killed:
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/sep/01/mushroom-pickers-urged-to-avoid-foraging-books-on-amazon-that-appear-to-be-written-by-ai
The promises of AI are grossly oversold, including the promises Google makes, like its claim that its AI had discovered millions of useful new materials. In reality, the number of useful new materials Deepmind had discovered was zero:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs
This is true of all of AI's most impressive demos. Often, "AI" turns out to be low-waged human workers in a distant call-center pretending to be robots:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins
Sometimes, the AI robot dancing on stage turns out to literally be just a person in a robot suit pretending to be a robot:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain
The AI video demos that represent "an existential threat to Hollywood filmmaking" turn out to be so cumbersome as to be practically useless (and vastly inferior to existing production techniques):
https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/
But let's take Google at its word. Let's stipulate that:
a) It can't fix search, only add a slop-filtering AI layer on top of it; and
b) The rest of the world will continue to let Google index its pages even if they derive no benefit from doing so; and
c) Google will shortly fix its AI, and all the lies about AI capabilities will be revealed to be premature truths that are finally realized.
AI search is still a bad idea. Because beyond all the obvious reasons that AI search is a terrible idea, there's a subtle – and incurable – defect in this plan: AI search – even excellent AI search – makes it far too easy for Google to cheat us, and Google can't stop cheating us.
Remember: enshittification isn't the result of worse people running tech companies today than in the years when tech services were good and useful. Rather, enshittification is rooted in the collapse of constraints that used to prevent those same people from making their services worse in service to increasing their profit margins:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags
These companies always had the capacity to siphon value away from business customers (like publishers) and end-users (like searchers). That comes with the territory: digital businesses can alter their "business logic" from instant to instant, and for each user, allowing them to change payouts, prices and ranking. I call this "twiddling": turning the knobs on the system's back-end to make sure the house always wins:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/
What changed wasn't the character of the leaders of these businesses, nor their capacity to cheat us. What changed was the consequences for cheating. When the tech companies merged to monopoly, they ceased to fear losing your business to a competitor.
Google's 90% search market share was attained by bribing everyone who operates a service or platform where you might encounter a search box to connect that box to Google. Spending tens of billions of dollars every year to make sure no one ever encounters a non-Google search is a cheaper way to retain your business than making sure Google is the very best search engine:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task
Competition was once a threat to Google; for years, its mantra was "competition is a click away." Today, competition is all but nonexistent.
Then the surveillance business consolidated into a small number of firms. Two companies dominate the commercial surveillance industry: Google and Meta, and they collude to rig the market:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue
That consolidation inevitably leads to regulatory capture: shorn of competitive pressure, the companies that dominate the sector can converge on a single message to policymakers and use their monopoly profits to turn that message into policy:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/
This is why Google doesn't have to worry about privacy laws. They've successfully prevented the passage of a US federal consumer privacy law. The last time the US passed a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988. It's a law that bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act
In Europe, Google's vast profits lets it fly an Irish flag of convenience, thus taking advantage of Ireland's tolerance for tax evasion and violations of European privacy law:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town
Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, and it also doesn't fear rival technologies. Google and its fellow Big Tech cartel members have expanded IP law to allow it to prevent third parties from reverse-engineer, hacking, or scraping its services. Google doesn't have to worry about ad-blocking, tracker blocking, or scrapers that filter out Google's lucrative, low-quality results:
https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/
Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, it doesn't fear rival technology and it doesn't fear its workers. Google's workforce once enjoyed enormous sway over the company's direction, thanks to their scarcity and market power. But Google has outgrown its dependence on its workers, and lays them off in vast numbers, even as it increases its profits and pisses away tens of billions on stock buybacks:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification
Google is fearless. It doesn't fear losing your business, or being punished by regulators, or being mired in guerrilla warfare with rival engineers. It certainly doesn't fear its workers.
Making search worse is good for Google. Reducing search quality increases the number of queries, and thus ads, that each user must make to find their answers:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan
If Google can make things worse for searchers without losing their business, it can make more money for itself. Without the discipline of markets, regulators, tech or workers, it has no impediment to transferring value from searchers and publishers to itself.
Which brings me back to AI search. When Google substitutes its own summaries for links to pages, it creates innumerable opportunities to charge publishers for preferential placement in those summaries.
This is true of any algorithmic feed: while such feeds are important – even vital – for making sense of huge amounts of information, they can also be used to play a high-speed shell-game that makes suckers out of the rest of us:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/11/for-you/#the-algorithm-tm
When you trust someone to summarize the truth for you, you become terribly vulnerable to their self-serving lies. In an ideal world, these intermediaries would be "fiduciaries," with a solemn (and legally binding) duty to put your interests ahead of their own:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet
But Google is clear that its first duty is to its shareholders: not to publishers, not to searchers, not to "partners" or employees.
AI search makes cheating so easy, and Google cheats so much. Indeed, the defects in AI give Google a readymade excuse for any apparent self-dealing: "we didn't tell you a lie because someone paid us to (for example, to recommend a product, or a hotel room, or a political point of view). Sure, they did pay us, but that was just an AI 'hallucination.'"
The existence of well-known AI hallucinations creates a zone of plausible deniability for even more enshittification of Google search. As Madeleine Clare Elish writes, AI serves as a "moral crumple zone":
https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260
That's why, even if you're willing to believe that Google could make a great AI-based search, we can nevertheless be certain that they won't.
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/15/they-trust-me-dumb-fucks/#ai-search
Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
--
djhughman https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Modular_synthesizer_-_%22Control_Voltage%22_electronic_music_shop_in_Portland_OR_-_School_Photos_PCC_%282015-05-23_12.43.01_by_djhughman%29.jpg
CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en
#pluralistic#twiddling#ai#ai search#enshittification#discipline#google#search#monopolies#moral crumple zones#plausible deniability#algorithmic feeds
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everything good happens after midnight ᯓᡣ𐭩
pairing: art donaldson x popstar!reader
warnings: divorced art, mentions of a failed marriage, lily lowkey being cupid, alcohol use, small timeskips, set in 2019, minor swearing, small age gap (r is 24, art is 31), forced proximity?, tension, making out, slight height difference (not specified), written kinda weird i dunno how to explain it, unironic use of the word ‘girlboss’, not proofread
word count: 4.3k
a/n: be a freak in the club !!! ty chappell roan for the inspo xxx also please don’t flame me for this guys. i’ve never written a full fic for a man b4, had to google some words, had to pull out my pinterest board titled ‘writing stuff’ for this one, my longest fic ever!!! let’s clap xx
disclaimer: i am a minor, if what i write makes you uncomfortable knowing that i’m a minor dni!!! don’t complain to me because i can do what i want okay thank you bye x
The time on your phone read 8:27P.M. You sat backstage, fixing up your makeup and warming up your voice for the show you were about to start. All you could hear from the crowd behind the curtain was screams and chatter.
Your manager came up to you at your vanity, he cleared his throat before he spoke, “On in two minutes.” You looked back at him and gave him a nod as you stood up, flattening your short leather skirt and most beautifully designed corset.
Your manager came back to you, microphone in hand and gave it to you, “You got it, you’ll be great.” He gave you a wink and you nodded, walking onto the stage.
As you stepped out onto the stage you put on your persona, that bubbly, energetic singer that all of your fans knew and loved. You waved to the huge crowd of people and spoke into the microphone loudly, “How are we doing tonight?!”
All around you, you heard cheers and screams which made you smile. You waited a minute for the cheers to die down before you spoke again, “y’know, that’s real good to hear. It’s my first show here, did you know that?” you asked the crowd. You heard replies of “no!” and “really?!” You nodded, a cheeky grin on your face, “I know, I know. But, that’s a good thing. I’ve got a real special show prepared for y’all tonight,” you announced to the crowd, pacing around the stage slowly.
Cheers instantly filled your ears, fans excited to see what you had to show them. One fan in particular, a tall man with blonde hair caught your eye. He was smiling down at someone shorter, maybe his daughter, and pointed at the stage, telling her what was happening. You nodded to yourself, “alright! Well, I can tell you all we’re gonna start with a banger. Not that I’m biased or anything..” you mumbled into the microphone which caused the venue to erupt in laughter. As your band was already on stage, the instrumental to a popular song of yours began playing and you smiled, “I hope y’all know this one. I’d be embarrassed if you didn’t,” you winked just before you counted yourself into the song.
2 HOURS LATER
“You guys were such an amazing crowd, I’m so glad this was my first show here! Y’all really didn’t hold back on that last song,” you chuckled as you spoke to the crowd. You reached for your bottle of water and sipped from it, rubbing your neck, “hey! I may or may not be doing merch signing at the back exit..” you whispered into the microphone, wiggling your eyebrows, “be there!” Now, that wasn’t entirely true. Sure, you wanted to do a signing after your show but was it planned? No.. But, in your defence you wanted to see if that blonde guy would come to the back, exchange numbers maybe… Huh? Who are you kidding, he probably has a wife! Who’s also probably waiting for them at home, it is pretty late. You checked your watch; 10:38P.M. Probably way past their daughters bed time, too. Gosh.
You waved goodbye to the crowd, blowing kisses. As soon as you got backstage you tried to find your manager. Where was he? Right. Where he always is, the bar backstage. Better not talk to him while he was drunk, so you told your assistant manger instead. Sweet girl, unfortunate she’s a lower rank than that asshole of a man. “Hey, love. Um, I know we have to get going back to the hotel soon, but I told the crowd I was signing stuff at the back exit. Can you cover for me if Sam asks?”
Your assistant manager nodded, writing what you said down on her clipboard, “got it. Why can’t you talk to him yourself, though? Just wondering, it’s not an attack on you,” she asked with a chuckle. You sighed, looking down at your feet, “He’s in the bar. He’s probably drunk. I don’t wanna have to deal with him right now.” Your assistant manager nodded, clapping you on the back, “not a problem. I’ll go talk to him,” and with that, she left you. All you had to do now was say hi to a few people, sign some things and be on your way.
You made your way to the back exit of the venue, weaving in and out through wires and auxiliaries. Pushing the fire exit open, you were met with tens of smiling faces, pens at the ready. Oh, alright. Tonight’s gonna be a long night. Squeals could probably be heard from states away as you made eye contact with a few fans. “Oh, my God! Can you sign this for me please?!” Pens and paper were pushed into your face, barely getting any room to breathe. A security guard would be nice right about now, you thought.
You took a deep breath before you spoke, almost shouting, “sorry, if you would like me to sign something or take a photo, please be patient. There’s a lot of y’all, and one of me. Imma take my time with all of y’all, make it special. Is that alright?”
You were met with nods and replies of “yes!”, “sorry!” and “alright!” You sighed in relief, “Okay, good. If you want, you can form a line.” Fans struggled against each other, pushing and shoving to be first in line. Surprisingly, a small teenage girl made it first in line, despite the shoving. You smiled brightly at her, making casual conversation, “hi, what’s your name?” She replied in a whisper, “it’s Julianne.” You nodded, humming, “that’s a beautiful name. Do you want to take a photo or do you want me to sign something for you?” Julianne nodded, her hands quickly going to her pockets for her phone. “Can we take a picture?” she asked kindly and you replied, “of course we can, sweetie,” with a chuckle.
She opened up the camera app and readied herself for the photo, posing casually. You followed her lead, a peace sign on your fingers as you winked at the camera. As soon as the picture was taken she quickly turned back to you, hugging you. “Oh!” you almost yelped, obviously not expecting the sudden embrace, but hugged her back anyway. “It was great to meet you,” you whispered to her before she waved goodbye and left.
45 MINUTES LATER
After making your way through almost every fan, you were left standing with two people. A little girl and her father, the tall blonde man who had caught your eye. You smiled at the pair, “last two, huh?” you chuckled. “Anything to sign?” The man nodded, “she’s a little shy,” he gestured to his daughter, “she’s always talking about you at home,” he added with a chuckle. “Anyway, could you sign this?” he asked, grabbing what looked like a CD case out of a backpack slung over his daughters shoulder. He handed you the case, “don’t ask.”
You looked down at the case in your hands and your eyes brightened, “Spiderverse? I like that movie too,” you said to the little girl. You pulled out the Sharpie from your hair, conveniently hidden away, and pressed it to the case. Fuck. It’s wasted. Your face dropped in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry,” you chuckled lightheartedly, “my pen’s wasted. Have either of y’all got one?”
The man sighed heavily, “I’ve got one in the car. I’ll go get it, I’ll be right back, sweetie,” he told his daughter before he jogged away to his car. You looked down at the girl, “what’s your name?” you asked curiously, she looked up at you, her big brown eyes shining, “Lily.” You nodded, “that’s a beautiful name, Lily. What about your dad, do you know his name?” Lily nodded, “mhm. His name is Art.” You chuckled, not expecting such a name. “Wow, cool name, huh?”
Art returned, pen in his hand. “Here you go,” he smiled, handing the pen to you. You took it, popped off the cap and quickly signed the case. Lily took the case from your hands, a great big smile on her face, “thank you!” Art smiled down at her, and then at you, “thank you so much,” he said, taking the pen from you. “Hey, just out of curiosity, what hotel are you staying at tonight?” Art asked you, taking his daughter’s hand in his, “we could give you a ride. If we’re lucky enough, we might be staying in the same place.” You thought to yourself, do I let this hot man I don’t know bring me back to my hotel, leaving my team completely unaware as to where I am or do I decline and leave with my team? Tricky question.. You shrugged, “I’m staying at the Black Bird Plaza, do you know it?” Arts face lit up and he chuckled, “yeah, I do. We’re staying there as well.”
Your eyes widened slightly, “oh, wow. Y’all are lucky, huh?” Art nodded, a smirk on his face, “do you wanna get a drink at the bar?” Never one to say no to a drink, you nodded. “Great! Guess I’ll be your chauffeur for tonight,” he added.
“C’mon,” he said finally as he began walking to his car and you followed. “Are y’all from around here? I assume not.” Art shook his head, “no, we’re not from here. A few states over. Lily saw you weren’t coming to our city, so we traveled.” You chuckled, respecting the dedication, “big fan.” “You have no idea,” he replied.
Art unlocked his car and opened the door for you, “thank you,” you smiled, sitting in the passenger seat. Buckling yourself in, he helped Lily into the back, “do you need help putting on your seatbelt or are you good?” Lily declined, buckling her own seatbelt like the girlboss that she is. Art nodded, and got into the drivers seat.
10 MINUTES LATER
Art parked his car in the hotel parking lot and helped both you and Lily out of the car. You checked your watch, 11:25 P.M. You turned to Art as you all entered the lobby, “wouldn’t the bar be closed by now?” you asked. He shook his head, pressing the button for the elevator, “don’t worry about it. I’m liked around here.” You laughed at his certainty, “alright then.” The three of you entered the elevator as the doors opened, “Lily, we’re gonna sit at the bar for.. maybe an hour, okay? I’ll turn on the T.V. for you, just don’t leave the room and don’t open the door for anyone, got it?”
Lily nodded, “mhm. Can I have a snack from the mini fridge?” Art looked at you and you both chuckled, “of course you can, sweetie,” he told Lily. He pulled his room key out of his pocket when the elevator doors opened. Two young ladies were standing, waiting for the elevator and saw you. Their faces instantly lit up, “Oh. My. God!” one of the girls chuckled out, “can we get a picture?” You nodded, selling out of the elevator, “of course!” Art and Lily followed, he nudged you, “gonna go to the room. We’re in room 276.” You nodded, and just as he was going to leave one of the girls spoke tremulously, “wait! You, too. You’re my dad’s favourite tennis player, he’d be so stoked to know I met him.”
Your eyebrows creased together as you looked back at him, “tennis player?” He shrugged, an awkward smile on his face, “yeeeah?” He walked back over to you and the girls, leaving Lily to fend for herself and smiled for the pictures. The girls giddily spoke to each other after the pictures, “this has to go onto my Instagram. My actual popstar idol and a super hot tennis player? I’ll literally go viral.” You and Art shared a glance and knowingly smiled at each other.
The girls entered the elevator, still excitedly chatting. You noticed that Lily wasn’t next to Art anymore, “oh, no. Where did Lily go?” Art brushed you off, “she’s probably already waiting for us outside the room. She’s used to having a famous dad,” he gloated sarcastically. “Uh-huh,” you nodded with a scoff.
You followed him back to his room where Lily was standing safe and sound, she leaned her head against the door tiredly. Art rapped on the door, “wake up, Lily.” She lifted her head up from the door, “I’m awake, dad.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Lily ran in and sat in front of the mini fridge, rummaging through the snacks. Art allowed you inside before he followed. You glanced around the room, pretty big room for two people, you thought. Lily picked out her snack and walked over to Art, “I’m gonna have this one.” He looked down at her and nodded, “go ahead.” She gave him a hug and he kissed her gently on the cheek, “you going to bed?” he asked her and she nodded. “Good. It’s way past your bedtime,” he responded lightly. “We’re going to the bar, we’ll be back up soon, okay? Love you.” They waved goodbye and you both left the room.
Art began walking down the hall and you asked him, “you can trust her to set her sleep there alone?” He nodded, pressing the elevator button, “she’s a big girl. She’ll be safe, don’t worry.”
The doors opened slowly and you stepped inside. Art looked at you curiously as he followed you, “you are over 21, aren’t you?” You chuckled, “you didn’t do your research. I’m 24, so yeah. I’m legal.” Art scoffed, “alright, sue me. I just wanted to make sure, okay?” The doors closed and suddenly you felt claustrophobic. No, the elevator wasn’t small, there was enough room to breathe. So, why couldn’t you? Was it the fact that you were in a concealed space with a super hot dilf- I mean, super cool tennis player? Shit, probably. You looked at your watch to try and calm your nerves, you seemed to do that a lot. The time was 11:48 P.M.
You scratched your neck before speaking, “I didn’t bring my purse. You are planning on paying for these drinks right?” He frowned mockingly, “oh. Well, I guess you can just go back to your room.” You let out a sigh of relief, “yeah, okay. Just checking.” “It’s only gentlemanly,” he started, “how should I ask a pretty woman out to drinks and not pay? That’s just rude.”
You scoffed, ignoring just how flustered that statement made you, “oh, nice. Smooth, even.” The doors creaked open and he stepped out, shrugging, “I thought that was good,” his words echoed through the empty lobby. The sound of your heels on the marble floor mocked his words as they echoed after him.
The elevator was only a few steps away from the bar and yet it felt miles away. Once you crossed the threshold you sighed with relief, a heavy weight taken off your shoulders suddenly. Art guided you to a small table next to a window, the lights dim and seats soft. You gave him a smile, “what do you drink?” he asked. Oh. What do you drink? Did you know you’ve been sober for over a year? Now you know! “Just get me a whiskey coke,” you blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at you, “you sure that’s what you want?” You shook your head, a frown on your face, “I dunno, get me something sweet, I guess.”
He gave you a nod, “you got it.” He walked over to the bar and leaned on his elbows as he spoke to the barman. What you heard could only be described as ‘acquaintances who have a semi mutual friend who is never around so conversation is hard to get flowing and is usually awkward. so, communication is normally short nods, mumbles and thanks’. He came back over to the table, two drinks in hand; a beer and a… Shirley Temple? Your eyebrows creased as you looked up at him, “seriously?” He waved you off, “Dirty Shirley,” he claimed, setting the drinks onto the table. “Oh.” You grabbed your drink and sipped it cautiously, he took a seat opposite you.
You tasted the drink warily, and nodded to yourself. “It’s good,” you mumbled. He snickered, “it’s just a Shirley with vodka, it’s nothing special.” You shrugged, swallowing a sip, “so? It’s good. What’d you get?” You turned his beer bottle to face you, ‘Carlsberg’ is what the label read. “Any good?” you asked him. “It’s fine, used to drink it in college.” Ah. You nodded, “nostalgic, huh?” He shrugged, “I guess.”
Suddenly, a few questions popped into your head. “Should’ve asked this earlier, how old are you?” He sighed, setting down his beer, cleared his throat, “32.” You nodded, kind of expecting him to be older, “alright, not bad,” you half-shrugged. “Do you.. have a wife?” He froze up a little. Oh. “Uh, no.” Frown on your lips you asked, “really? You’re a good looking man and you’re an athlete, it’s kinda hard to believe,” you laughed softly. “Hm. Relationships don’t work out sometimes,” he replied, taking a swig of his beer. “Tell me about it,” you reciprocated, rolling your eyes.
He cleared his throat, trying to move from the subject, “anyway. You been singing long?” You sipped your drink before answering, “I guess, yeah. I was in choir in middle school, so. I’ve always had ‘the talent’, y’know? But, I’ve been a singer since.. what is it now? 2014? So, five years going strong, give or take a few months.” He grinned from ear to ear, clearly very impressed, “wow. Long time, huh? You don’t get bored?” You sipped your drink and squinted at him, shaking your head, “don’t you get bored of tennis?” He made an iffy face, as if he didn’t really know the answer to your question.
“Hmmmmm…” you hummed as you looked at him sideways, “we’re very different, I see.” Pretty much after gulping the rest of your drink down you asked him one more question, “how old is Lily?” “She’s 8,” Art answered with a stiff nod. “She’s a good kid. You’re a good dad, too.” Art made a somewhat uncomfortable noise but thanked you anyhow.
“Sorry, that was kinda sudden,” you chuckled. “That’s alright, I appreciate it. I’ll grab you another drink,” he responded, standing up from his seat. Another less than acquaintanced conversation between Art and the barman. Jeez. You could feel the anxiousness of the conversation from your seat.
He came back over, another Dirty Shirley in hand and gave it to you. “Thanks,” you began sipping your drink again. “Barman’s closing up in 5, you’ll have to drink that fast,” Art told you lingering at the table, rather than sitting down. He picked up his beer and started drinking it a little faster than what would be considered a ‘normal’ beer drinking pace. You gave a nod and started uncomfortably gulping down your drink. You placed the glass on the table once you finished, fishing for the maraschino cherry at the bottom.
You got up from the table, pushing your chair in before you left the bar. Walking back to the elevator you tried to make conversation with Art, “thanks for the drinks. Haven’t had one of those before, they’re good.” “Not a problem,” he replied, pressing the elevator button.
The doors opened instantly and you both stepped in, ladies first. The doors closed slowly as you stood face to face with him. The slight smell of alcohol filling the elevator was gross. Slightly intoxicating. The elevator stopped suddenly with a jolt. Art sighed, “we’re stuck.” You groaned, “seriously? Does this happen often?” He nodded, eyes widened slightly, “oh, yeah. Fantastic hotel, super old elevators. It’s sad.” “Is there an emergency bell for things like this?” You asked, examining the buttons which read: ‘0, 1, 2, 3, 4’. Four floors and no emergency button? Jesus Christ.
He shook his head, “nope. We just have to wait it out. Usually takes ten minutes for assistance.” You looked at your watch again, 12:07 P.M. What’s a better way to pass the time than make a move? Probably a lot. But that just didn’t register in the moment. You never really mastered the whole flirting thing, usually you weren’t the one to shoot your shot. Clearly, you liked this guy. Maybe he liked you, too? What’s an invite out to drinks with a stranger? Basically a date.
“You look nice,” you finally got out, looking at his shoes. His brows furrowed and he chuckled, “are you trying to make conversation or are you trying to flirt?” Fuck, he caught you out. Play it cool. “Uh, no. Obviously not, we’re just stuck here, in this elevator, and I noticed you look nice, is that okay?” You said quickly. Art chuckled, running a hand through his hair like the dream boat that he is- who said that? “Look, we both know why I invited you for a drink. I think you’re pretty fine, and I know you think the same about me,” he stated, giving you a look.
You squinted at him, “it’s rude that you think so highly of yourself..” your complaint was cut short as Art pressed his lips against your quickly which made your eyes widen to the heavens. He pushed himself away from you just as quickly as he pulled himself to you. “Sorry,” he mumbled with a chuckle, “I should’ve asked you.” You shook your head quickly before forcing your lips back onto his in a desperate attempt to feel what you felt when he first kissed you. Did that catch him off guard? No, not really. He knew you’d kiss him back anyway, he’s Art Donaldson, he does fine for himself and he knows it.
You pressed a kiss to his neck which caused a choked moan to escape his lips. Now, that caught you off guard. He plays tennis, he should have a lot of practice trying to keep grunts in when he plays, right? Maybe you’re just that good. Props to you. Well, now you knew; his neck is the Jackpot. So, you abused the fuck out of his neck. Not literally. But continuously kissing his neck, biting it even and hearing him whine did wonderful things for your ego.
His hands made their way to your waist and pulled you impossibly closer to him and you groaned as you took a breather, “your lips feel nice on mine,” you told him, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t be such a tease,” he warned breathlessly, to which you replied, “or what? You gonna whine again?” He rolled her eyes, his tongue prodding at his cheek in faux annoyance. You were about to kiss him again when the doors creaked open and outside stood a trio of firefighters who stared blankly at you both, “alright in here?” one of them asked to which Art replied with a nod. “We’re going up..” you mumbled, unsure of yourself. The firefighter who had spoken before nodded and said “should be safe. Have a good night.”
Art quickly pressed the button and the doors slammed shut. Giggles escaped you as the elevator began to move again to which Art nudged you. “What? That was pretty funny, don’t lie,” you responded to his antics. The elevator doors opened and alas, you finally made it to your floor. You held your hand out for him to take in which he obliges, following you out of the elevator like a dog on a leash.
He took the room key out of his pocket and unlocked the door slowly to not wake up Lily. You pushed the door to the master bedroom open and took off your heels, softly setting them down near a bedside table. Art walked in after you and sat on the bed, anxiously waiting for your next move. You left the room and entered the bathroom. You let the water run in the sink for about a minute before splashing your face with the cold water. Making an attempt to dry your face you ended up leaving a huge makeup stain on a towel. Oops.
While you were in the bathroom, you decided to take off your show outfit, leaving you in your bra and panties. Too little? Oh well. You left the bathroom, your clothes in a pile on the corner. Re-entering the bedroom, Art was still getting changed himself. You quickly left to give him some privacy and grabbed your phone from the bathroom sink, where you left it while getting changed. Knocking on the bedroom door softly, Art called back to you, “come in.”
He sat under the covers, his bare shoulders exposed which were covered in scars. Smiling at him, you climbed in next to him, placing your phone onto a bedside table. It lit up as it was placed, the clock read 12:36 P.M. He moved next to you, wrapping his arms around you as you shut your eyes.
9 HOURS LATER
You were awoke by the sound of your phone buzzing against the table, hundreds of notifications flooding your phone. Quickly, your eyes adjusted to the screen, images of you and Art with two fans in a hotel went viral, just like the lady said. Your manager spammed your phone, ‘are you serious? do you know what this could do for your image??? please tell me you didn’t sleep with him.’ You turned over and there Art was, completely sound asleep.
tags: @midwestprincesss @yourcoolguitargf
#daisy writes again#challengers#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#challengers x reader#art donaldson x you#challengers x you#art donaldson fic#challengers fic#art donaldson fanfic#challengers fanfic#art donaldson x female reader#challengers x female reader#my fic#this was fun to write#i actually thought it would take longer cuz i had no motivation#but i got it done in like#3 or 4 days#something like that#art donaldson x popstar!reader#art x popstar!reader
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i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time
𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘
Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds
A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!
Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.
He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.
He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.
It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.
But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.
He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.
Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.
He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.
He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.
“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.
Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”
You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”
He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”
You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”
He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”
“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.
He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.
“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.
He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.
You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”
He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.
He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.
He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.
When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”
You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.
“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.
You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”
“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.
You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.
But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.
You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.
He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.
“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”
Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.
“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.
“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.
He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”
You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.
You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”
He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.
You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.
Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.
He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.
“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”
He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”
You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.
“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.
“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.
You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.
He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”
“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”
He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.
He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.
He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.
“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.
“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.
“So needy.”
“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.
“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”
You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.
He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.
Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.
He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.
You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.
When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.
Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N
He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.
So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.
#mha smut#dom! reader#smut#x reader#sub midoriya#sub!character#sub izuku#sub deku#sub izuku x reader#izuku midoryia smut#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku mydoria#izuku smut#deku smut#sub! deku#sub! mha#izuku midoriya fanfic#bnha fanfiction#mha fanfiction
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I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?
(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)
okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?
that's Jean Paul Valley.
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foolish. | theodore nott x fem!reader
pairing: ex!theodore x fem!reader
warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, bandleader!theo, ex!theo, jealous!theo, protective!theo, readers status not mentioned, reader is a ravenclaw, google translated italian 😭
summary: Theodore, your ex after a 16 month relationship, is performing at a slytherin party. you attend this party, wanting to go out and finally enjoy yourself, but end up cleaning his wounds
a/n: inspired by this tiktok :> posted: 11/25/23 | masterlist
in the aftermath of the recent events, you were left heartbroken. it had been a 16 months into what you had thought was a happy relationship, and theodore’s sudden decision to end things without any reasons only added to your confusion.
along with the overwhelming emotions of sadness and anger, you found yourself in bed for days on end, consumed by thoughts of what could have caused everything to unravel.
the fear of encountering him only kept you holed up in your dormitory, leading you to skip meals and isolate yourself from everyone. your friend’s patience had run out, despite their affection for you, they couldnt stand watching you suffer in bed because of the certain slytherin any longer.
there was a party coming up in slytherins common room, which you immediately turn down the invitation, knowing theodore would be there performing with his bandmates. “cmon (y/n)! it’ll be fun plus you can use this opportunity to get your mind off of him!” your friend begged in a heartfelt plea.
you only groan, annoyance rising up slowly as you had been denying their offer all day. “god! fine fine ill fucking go!” you blurt out. your friend squeal, wrapping their arms around you as they squeeze you. “okay enough.. i already said im going! dont make me regret it,” you uttered under your friend. they immediately pull away. “you better keep your word!” they declare.
as the days passed and the party approached, you found yourself slipping back into your old habits. the routine of attending classes and meals became second nature once again, but there was one thing you made a conscious effort to avoid - nott. despite your efforts, you couldn't help but notice your other house mates whispering about how he would often stare at you from across the room. however, you continue to pay no attention towards him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
"are you sure i look hot?" (y/n) inquired, looking in the mirror at the fitted cute black dress that hugged her body. (y/n) made a point of going all out tonight, she didn't want to appear miserable in the eyes of others now that she wasn't with theodore anymore.
your friend assures you, "babes. you are the most hottest person i know." you laugh, finishing up by teasing the roots of your hair for more volume and fixing your makeup, adding a soft red lipstick.
as the two of you turn to face each other, your friend gives you a smug look while you roll your eyes playfully at them. without a word, you both intertwine arms and make your way out of the ravenclaw common room, heading towards the intimidating atmosphere of the slytherin domain.
as you step inside the slytherin common room, the scent of alcohol greets you, along with a racket of voices and music. the noise surrounds you, enveloping your senses as you navigate through the crowd.
theodore and his bandmates—draco, mattheo, blaise, and pansy—were standing right across the room. he was simply taking a break after spending the entire night playing. he eased his messy hair out of his way and looked around the room while removing his guitar strap and gently placing the instrument down. merely wishing that you had made it.
he struggled to understand his own reasoning for ending things with you. yet, he could not bring himself to confront the truth. despite this, he deeply longed for your presence and the intimate moments shared between you. he had noticed that you were avoiding him, which he totally understood. he thought that breaking up with you was a foolish and regretful decision, and he felt like a total asshole for doing so.
his eyes landed on you. his eyes widening a bit in surprised that you had actually came. he scanned your figure, noticing that you were wearing his favorite dress of yours. there was a reason it was his favorite, his eyes scanning your curves and slowly went up towards your face. observing your light makeup and the red lipstick you loved to wear, he thought about how beautiful you looked to tonight.
he longed to reach out to you, to hold you close and shield you from the unwanted attention of those around you. but he knew he couldn't, for you were no longer his, a fact that tore at his heart. he could only clench his jaw in frustration and avert his gaze, unable to do anything.
upon your arrival at the event, you were dismayed to discover that your friend had already been discreetly ushered away from your side. a sense of isolation and regret washed over you as you watched her being dragged away by friends from different houses. with a heavy sigh, you made your way to the designated drink area, already questioning your decision of attending.
after grabbing a red, empty cup and filling it with spiked punch, you turn around and stand there looking around the room and taking in the view while sipping from your cup.
“hey hottie.” startled by an unfamiliar voice, you turn to your right and come face to face with cormac mclaggen - the persistent gryffindor who had been trying to woo you despite your relationship. his confident smirk is met with your nonchalant demeanor “heard you’re finally a free woman.” you roll your eyes, unimpressed, “piss off.” you state calmly before taking another sip and avert your gaze.
when theodore's eyes found you again, he saw mclaggen standing beside you. theodore couldn't help but feel uneasy as his gaze suddenly focused on the two of you. he knew too well that mclaggen had an unhealthy obsession with you and a reputation for being possessive. his eyebrows furrowed in slow anger, he watched the scene unfold with his jaw tightening involuntarily. theodore could sense that mclaggen had gone too far, and his tolerance was beginning to wear thin.
“oh come on sweetheart," he pleaded desperately, his hands gripping your waist tightly in a futile attempt to draw you closer to him. but you pushed him away, determined to break free from his grasp.
"fucking let go of me," you demanded, feeling disgusted by his touch. ignoring your command, he continued to hold onto you with a stubborn determination. "i don't think i wi—" his words were abruptly cut off as a punch landed square on his jaw, causing him to stumble backwards.
you stepped back in shock as your ex and mclaggen engaged in an intense physical fight, drawing the attention of others who gathered around them with murmurs and shouts.
as you stood there, trembling with fear and desperation, you mustered up all your strength to firmly grasp onto theo's arm and try to pry him away from the situation. your voice quivered as you exclaimed "theo, that's enough!"
but it was only when he felt your touch pulling him back that he finally stopped his aggressive actions. he made sure not to hurt you as he spat out angry Italian words towards the boy in front of him.
with a fierce glare, theodore warned the boy “se la tocchi ancora, cazzo, sei morto.” you quickly dragged him through the crowd, navigating through throngs of people until you reached the familiar staircase leading up to his dorm room.
despite his initial resistance, theo let himself be pulled along by your firm grip on his arm. once inside his room, he collapsed onto his bed in frustration and anger.
despite only sighing, you continue to search through his drawers in silence. after months had passed, you still remembered where you had left the small medkit and quickly retrieved it from its hiding spot. slamming it down on top of the drawer, your eyes begin to water as you gather supplies to clean off the blood from wounds.
theodore watched you silently, guilt piling up already within him. it was a surreal moment for you, helping your ex-boyfriend who had ended things between the two of you. turning around with watery eyes, you meet his gaze which softens upon seeing your tears.
you maintain your silence and proceed to gently wipe away the blood from his wounded face with the cloth. he watches you closely, visibly swallowing as he does so. "i'm sor-" he begins to say, but you quickly interrupt him, your voice shaking as you try to hold back tears. "don't you even dare apologize," your voice shakes with emotion as you struggle to hold back tears that threaten to spill over.
"(y/n)," he whispered, the sound of your name slipping from his lips causing you to feel a wave of emotions. tears began to flow down your cheeks as you gazed at him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of hurt and relief. without hesitation, he pulled you close to him on his bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. his heart ached, seeing how much pain he caused you. in between sobs, you heard him whispering apologies, begging for your forgiveness.
"fuck (y/n), i am so sorry. i know i messed up by breaking up with you. I can't even believe how stupid I was to let you go in the first place. please forgive me." his words were filled with remorse and regret as he held onto you tightly.
you bit your bottom lip, feeling it tremble as you buried your face into the boy's chest. with a heavy heart, you shook your head in disbelief. "no," you whimpered, the sound muffled against his shirt.
a deep ache settled in your chest as you mustered the courage to speak up. "you don't get to do this," you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. you poked his chest for emphasis as you continued, "you can't just randomly break up with me and expect me to come running back to you like nothing happened!"
it was unfair. it was unjustified. and most of all, it hurt.
"you didn't even seem to have a reason to," you pried, pulling away from his embrace. but he wouldn't let go, his arm tightening around you possessively.
"i know i messed up," he whispered apologetically, his tone pleading for forgiveness. "i.. i was just being a coward. i should have gone talk to you but i didnt. and i regretted it everyday. but i promise i’ll make it right again”
your heart wavered at his words, torn between holding onto your anger and giving him another chance. you knew deep down that he still held a special place in your heart despite everything that had transpired between the two of you.
but could you really trust him again? could you risk getting hurt once more?
with a heavy sigh, you pushed away from him and looked into his eyes earnestly. "i-i don’t know," you spoke firmly yet gently. "i don’t want to end up getting hurt again," you trailed off, your voice vulnerable and hesitant. you couldn't bear the thought of going through the same pain and heartache that had left you broken before.
"and I promise you, you won't," he pleaded earnestly, his tone gentle yet determined. he could see the fear in your eyes and it pained him to know that someone had caused such deep scars on your heart."not ever again," he reassured, reaching out to gently rub your arm in a soothing gesture.
you raised your gaze to meet his, lifting your head from his chest with an unspoken question in your eyes. searching his features for any hints of hesitation or uncertainty, you couldn't help but nervously bite your lip - a small mannerism that always surfaced when you were anxious.
sensing your unease, he tenderly reached up and brushed away the tears and streaks of mascara that stained your cheeks. the gentle touch of his hand on your face caused you to lean into it, realizing in that moment just how much you had missed the intimate contact between you and him.
after a long moment of hesitation, you let out a resigned sigh and surrendered yourself to him, sinking into his embrace and resting your head on his chest. with a heavy heart, you whispered the words
"one chance" as your thoughts raced and your emotions battled within. yet, despite everything, you found the strength to give him one more opportunity to prove himself.
your voice was soft but resolute as you spoke, feeling his tense body relax as he heard your words. he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, expressing his gratitude for this chance. "thank you amore," he said sincerely.
"i missed you so fucking much." he announced. you only planted soft kisses on his cheek, uttering, "i missed you even more, Teddy..please don't act foolishly next time." he only grinned at your remark, nodding as he grabbed your chin, staring at your eyes, glancing at your lips as he hesitated, and you nod gently, giving him permission to pull you into a passionate soft kiss.
#emsnotion#slytherin boys#slytherin boys imagine#slytherin boys x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott imagine#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#—crimsntwlipᡣ𐭩
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Rigor Mortis (part 4)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Part 3, Part 5
summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.
warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here
wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lips black and blue and gold.
You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.
First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.
And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–
"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.
"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.
You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–
"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"
"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.
" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.
"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.
When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.
You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–
You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.
You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…
…the woman. She looks like you.
Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.
"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.
He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.
"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"
"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"
He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.
"...Should be okay now."
You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.
And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.
He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.
He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.
Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.
And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.
It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?
As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.
You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.
But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.
"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.
You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.
"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"
There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.
With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.
You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.
Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.
~~~
"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.
His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.
"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"
"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.
"...what does that even mean?"
"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."
"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"
You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."
"Seriously?"
"...no, not really."
You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.
He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.
"Lyla? Could you let us up?"
He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.
"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.
"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"
She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.
"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"
"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"
[Let it go, that's enough now–]
"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"
"Can you just fucking open the–"
"What's the magic word?"
He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"
"Magic. Word."
He mumbles. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Please could you open the fucking door."
There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.
In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.
"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."
"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.
"...I told you I have friends."
~~~
You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.
Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.
"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.
You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.
"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."
"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.
"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"
"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.
"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."
It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.
She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.
"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."
She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.
"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"
He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.
"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"
"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"
"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.
"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."
Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.
"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."
Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.
"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.
"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.
"I don't sound- "
"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."
Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "
[you're a dipshit, Parker]
The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.
"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."
May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.
He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.
"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."
"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"
Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"
"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"
"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.
"Um, we should… we should go."
You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.
"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"
Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."
The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."
"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."
"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."
"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."
"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.
"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."
His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.
"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "
"That's not–"
"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.
His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.
"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.
"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"
You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.
"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."
Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.
Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?
The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.
Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.
There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.
All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.
~~~
There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.
You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.
He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.
You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.
Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.
Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.
There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.
"Miguel?"
He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.
"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"
You squint. "No. Not really."
He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?
"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"
Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.
"Are you even listening to me?"
He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.
"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "
Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.
"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."
With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.
"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.
There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.
"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "
It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.
You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.
He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.
"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.
"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.
"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."
"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.
Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.
You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."
"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.
You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–
"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.
You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .
"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"
"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."
"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."
He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.
"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."
You scoff. "How would you know?"
"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?
You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.
"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.
He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.
"You look like a painting."
You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.
Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –
He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.
"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.
"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.
"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."
"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…
…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.
"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.
A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.
"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.
"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.
You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.
Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.
Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.
"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.
"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.
Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.
"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.
"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.
"A-Ahi, ahi–"
[t-there, there–]
Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.
"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"
[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]
The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.
You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.
Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.
" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"
You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .
"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.
Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.
"And you've got that 9am."
You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,
" ...and I've got that 9am ."
He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.
"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.
_
_
_
Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns
@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical
#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader#kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv x reader#atsv fic
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Hello person- I must say I love reading your lil fanfics always keeps me busy when It's in the middle of the night and I can't sleep lmao.
If I may, if you are still accepting requests- A Legolas x reader, where the reader isn't aware of a custom that elves have about braiding their hair and basically just accidentally confesses to him when they get bored one day and just start braiding his hair and only finds out when the Fellowship congratulates them for confessing or something along those lines hehehe
Legolas x reader
words: 1930
google docs pages: 3
warnings: none? fluff :D
opening: One day while you’re bored, you begin to braid Legolas’ hair, unaware of its meaning to the elves. It’s only later, when you find out the message behind it.
AN// Thank you so much for this request, love the idea! (this also gives me a reason to not write the other ideas I've been putting off xd) idk if this is a little ooc, but I hope it’s okay^^ It’s also lovely to hear that you enjoy my work!^^ Reader can be any gender !
“A time for congratulations?”
It hadn’t been long since you had joined the fellowship from Rivendell, like most of the others had too. The only one you knew better than the others was Legolas. Him you had met more than a few times in the past, mostly as an accident, but you did genuinely enjoy his company. You’d never admit it to anyone in the group, but you were happy that he had been the one from Mirkwood to join. You heard it had been his father who had suggested befriending Aragorn to him, and it was when Legolas had begun to look for Aragorn that he had met you. Aragorn you had only met a few times, and back then only knew him as “strider” like most. The others you had only met when the Fellowship had been formed, but all of them had seemed okay.
Now, trailing behind Legolas, you examined your surroundings silently. Old trees with roots going all across the forest blocked the view on your right and on the left only a few trees were growing, enjoying the sun they were able to get. The trees on the left casted dark shadows on the almost non existent road you were walking on. Gandalf had seemed to be very certain that there was a trail going here, but you weren’t so sure. But since no one else had doubted him, you had decided to just follow along. At least you weren’t going to get lost alone.
As your gaze moved from left to right, amazed by the sturdy old trees, being able to stand for such a long time, you noticed Legolas turning to look at you for a moment. It was only for a split second, but it made you humm to yourself. Perhaps he was happy to see you too. It was rarely that you could spend more time with him, mostly just short bump ins every now and then. He was a prince, and probably had a lot to do.
The group seemed to have noticed the darkened shadows of the trees, and decided to set camp for the night. The sun seemed to be setting, making the casted shadows even darker before the sky would begin to follow along. Spreading the darkness of the upcoming night all over.
You had agreed to take the first watch shift of the night before anyone could steal it from you. You’d rather stay up late and go to sleep than wake up in the middle of the night to take your turn. Boromir and Gimi seemed to have collected some bigger pieces of wood and some sticks that Aragorn had been able to set on fire to create a campfire. Legolas, you and the hobbits helped to bring some rocks and logs around the fire so everyone could sit. Sam had requested if he could make something to eat, and surprisingly enough no one had disagreed. The start of the night seemed to be going smoothly.
As Sam had begun to cook some kind of a soup or a stew, everyone else had spread around the fire. Some were fixing up their weapons and others just talking. You swore you had seen Merry and Pippin bothering Boromir too. You on the other hand had found a spot close to the fire. Most of the ‘seats’ had been taken, but that just allowed you to sit closer to the warming flames of the campfire. Legolas had seated himself near you. You could hear him lowering his bow and the quiver against the log he was sitting on. Other than that and the quiet talking, the only noise you could hear was the mixing of the soup Sam was making. Sometimes the ladle would hit the edges of the saucepan, causing a small noise to break the silent gaps.The moon was only a half, but since there weren't a lot of clouds in the sky, it was able to shine its light all over the forest. At times it felt like time had stopped after the sun had started to go down, and was still shining some light over the fellowship. It was only the cold night air that let you know it indeed was almost time to go and rest.
You shivered under your clothes, pulling the cloak closer to you, making sure it was properly over your shoulders. Something rustled behind you, and soon another cape was placed over you. A small ‘huh?’ left your mouth as you turned to look who it was. Legolas clipped the front clip shut so the cloack wouldn’t fall off of you. “You seemed cold.” He said, smiling slightly as he sat back down. “I- Thank you.” You said, still confused by the gesture. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” You then asked, feeling bad if he’d have to freeze because of you. The elf laughed lightly at your question and shook his head. “Elves can tolerate the cold better than humans, therefore you should keep it.” He explained to you.
You had never really thought of how different you were to him. Sure, you were friends with him, but you had no idea that the elves could tolerate the cold better than humans. Maybe you’d find out something else about him as the fellowship continued. This had to only one from many things that made elves so different from you.
You noticed that the faint light of the moon made his almost white hair look magical. The usually well braided strands of hair had opened up from the fighting the group had gone through with a few orcs earlier that day. You had noticed that the prince usually kept his hair well done, but maybe he hadn’t noticed yet.
Not being sure if you’d embarrass him if you pointed it out, you got up and sat next to him. You weren’t an elf but you had gotten your hair done before and over the years learned how to braid hair in different styles. So without another word, you took a hold of one of the half opened braids and began to undo it completely. Legolas seemed to have tensed up for a moment and you felt his eyes on you, but to your surprise he soon turned his gaze away and let you continue.
You braided the first strand of hair, pulling it behind his ear the way you’d seen him usually have them. After starting to fix the other one, you felt another pair of eyes on the two of you. With a quick look you found out who it was. Aragorn was sitting on the other side of the campfire with an amused look on his face. Not understanding what he had found amusing, you kept on working on Legolas’ hair. The prince’s hair was smooth and easy to work with. Humming to yourself, “you have lovely hair.” You said quietly, seeing the man shiver, but saying nothing about it. You were enjoying the moment, getting to feel closer to your friend for once. The warmth of Legolas’ cloak and the fire kept you warm and protected from the gusts of wind. The smell of the soup Sam had made was good, and it felt great to know you were going to be eating something that not only would taste good but also would be warm. You felt like you had only been eating bread and apples for such a long time.
You finished the other braid and mixed it in with the unbraided parts of his hair. “Both are fixed again.” You hummed mostly to yourself but out loud so Legolas could hear it too. You felt his eyes on you for a moment before they moved to Sam, when he handed the both of you a bowl with some steaming soup in it. You thanked the hobbit with a nod, and began to eat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Aragorn telling Gimli something and them both silently laughing. Trying not to pay no mind to the conversation, you couldn't help but to wonder if it was about what Aragorn had found so amusing earlier?
After that night, many more passed. Some worse and some just as good, but what kept everyone going was the mission and the people in the fellowship. Legolas never mentioned anything about you braiding his hair, and he even let you do it once or twice after. But after every time, it felt like more eyes were on the two of you. It was first only Aragorn, then Gimli joined and soon even Gandalf was in on it. At times it felt like even Legolas knew what was going on.
After some time of you being oblivious of what had been going on, you decided to bring it up. You had so many theories of what they could have been up to, that you just had to find out. Making your way from the back of the group to where Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were, you prepared yourself. “What are you hiding from me?” This got the attention of the three, all of them slowing down their walking speed a little. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas asked, giving Aragorn a quick look, almost as if he was trying to tell the man something. “You all clearly have been sharing a rumor or something along the lines of that.” You replied, but didn’t get an answer from anyone for a moment. “You should tell them.” Gandalf’s voice rang from the front of the group, clearly also aware of what you were talking about. “It isn’t a rumor per say.” Gimli started, looking at Aragorn for a moment, hoping he’d take it from there. You saw Legolas look away, not taking part in the conversation. “We wished to congratulate you on confessing to Legolas.” Your eyes widened for a moment, and without even wanting to, a “what?” Left your mouth. “They weren’t aware, Aragorn.” Legolas finally joined in, looking at his friend. “What is this all about?” You tilted your head. “When you braid his hair. See, to elves it has a significant meaning behind it.” Aragorn tried to explain. Your hand traveled over your mouth, clearly shocked. “And you didn't think to tell me?” You blushed slightly, smacking Legolas’ arm lightly. He stopped, taking a light hold of your hand to pause you as well. “I wanted to explain it to you but I found that..” He tried to look for words for a moment, and you let him. “I found that I cared for you that way, and I wasn’t certain if you had found the meaning yourself...” His eyes met yours again, after traveling for a moment. You stayed silent, not even noticing that the rest of the fellowship had also stopped near the two of you. “But I am aware that I should have told-” Legolas broke the silence but you stopped him before he could finish. “It’s all okay. I feel similar.” You admitted, looking away for a second. “Is this a better time for congratulations?” Gimli’s voice asked from behind you as Aragorn walked closer as well. “Yes, yes it is.” You smiled and turned back to Legolas. His eyes looked at you with admiration in them. “Gi Melin.” (I love you)
#lord of the rings#lotr#the hobbit#th#x reader#lord of the rings legolas#lotr legolas#fanfic#fanfiction#lord of the rings x reader#lotr x reader#legolas greenleaf#legolas greenleaf x reader#the hobbit legolas#legolas beloved#legolas x reader
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Hi, im a 19 yo nerd, yesterday some kids wre playing with a soccer ball in front of my house, the ball got into the garden of my house and when i threw it out, i didnt nlticed i threw it a bit far and it arrived into the house across the street, breaking a window, the neighbor, a single man, came to my house and told my parents what i did, he demands i repair the window by myself, i dont know how to do that, can you give me a little help?
First of all, you do what you do best. You sit down at your computer. Enter "repair soccer window" into Google. A lot of things come up that won't help you at all. Care tips for footballs. And advertisements for household contents and liability insurance. The soccer care thing doesn't look very helpful, but it might be interesting.
Shit, you can waste a lot of time on the Internet very quickly. After half an hour, you're back to the current and upcoming match day in the Premier League. But you still don't know anything about repairing windows. "Repairing windows". Perhaps it would help to remove soccer from the search query. It doesn't matter why the window is broken. It just needs to be repaired.
Now we're getting closer to the point. Lots of tutorials on youtube. Surely there's something there. Unfortunately, you don't even know what kind of window is broken. And what exactly is broken. Damn, just how many different types of window panes there are. You can find an article about German windows. They have a lot of damn cool features. I wonder if that would be a market to sell and install German ones here. What this tilt function is supposed to do is still not clear to you. But these shutters on the windows are hot shit. You'd like to install something like that at your parents' house.
You're guaranteed not to install something from Schüco for a few thousand dollars in your neighbor's house… You're assuming that your neighbor will have vertical sliding windows in most of the rooms, just like you do. Probably made of aluminum. A shame, really. Horizontal sliding windows made of wood with glazing bars would fit the character of the house much better.
Haven't you ever worked for your neighbor? You must still have plans and views from the street side. Or at least a photo. Yes, here. Where were you standing again? How hard did you throw the ball? What was the wind like? Just because you did an apprenticeship as a carpenter doesn't mean you're stupid. So it's probably the window of the study on the second floor. Yes, it must have been rotten, you can see that quite clearly in the photo. Just replacing the glass won't help much.
Nowadays, working on the computer is half the battle. Calculating material requirements, programming saws for cutting. And downloading some porn in between. Hehehe, unlike your father, you don't need to hang up raunchy calendars in the workshop anymore. Your father is hardly ever seen here anyway. It's no longer his world. In his day, a carpenter needed a hammer and a saw, he used to say. Old man, those days are long gone.
Before you start, you went to your neighbor's house across the street. Real life is sometimes more reliable than virtual life. But it was the right window, you measured it again with your laser measuring device. You had miscalculated by a few millimeters. You are a craftsman with passion and dedication. You don't mess around. You deliver precision work.
"Mr. T, better than before my throw," you say with a grin. But it's the pure truth. But you know exactly why your neighbor insisted that you carry out the repair. He'll do anything to get you to fix things in his house. And when no more chairs tip over and no more doors squeak, you'll take care of Mr. T. yourself.
He asks if you can have a look at the shower after the window. While you take off your dungarees, you say that you are a carpenter and not a plumber. You will probably need help. You don't have to ask Mr. T for long.
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Here, hold this.
Gives you a cup of peppermint tea, wraps you in a fluffy blanket, sits you down in a comfy swing, and starts heating up your favourite food.
Now listen. If you're beating yourself up over the fact that you are like this and you're like that, you need to know that solely berating yourself is not the solution. You recognised the problem, great. Now instead of wasting your energy on repeatedly scolding yourself, give yourself a pat on the back for knowing there is something that needs to be handled and start looking for ways to make it better. You're going to feel especially stupid at first, venturing into it. It will feel so stupid to even google those things but then you'll learn the ABCs and then you'll start finding things that work for you. But you will definitely not be able to finish the journey if you don't take that stupid first step. Along the way, maybe you'll even become comfortable about OTHER things that you've been trying to fix just because someone said so. It will all take some time, it will. But trust me when I say this, the end result is beautiful. I hate the fact that someone somewhere made you feel like you're not worth it but you ARE. Regardless of whatever anyone says, you're worth it. So invest your energy into becoming someone that you want to, instead of wasting time scolding yourself about how you aren't that person. It's your life, take the chance, for yourself.
#healing#self worth#mental health#self growth#self improvement#recovery#mental wellbeing#self healing#mental wellness#self care
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Could I request Vil, Rook, Kalim, Idia and Jamil with an s/o that speaks their (the boys') native language when flirting?
A/n: This idea is rlly cute but a small warning y’all, I do not speak German, French, or Arabic😭💀 I’m gonna be using apps, websites, and google translate to help me so if you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me, that would be VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! Also I’m sorry I had to cut this to 4 characters only ;-; I’ll try to add Idia’s one in a separate post if I have time!
(@/l1ttleclouds helped a lot with the french, @/hivequeenb33 for the corrections in german and @/sugary-bluebell for the corrections in Arabic tysm🥹♥︎)
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Say that again…
☆Staring☆: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Kalim Al Asim, and Jamil Viper
Synopsis: Their reaction to GN!Reader flirting using their native language.
Warnings/Heads up: I do not speak any of these languages and am using translators, it might be cringe cuz I’m using phrases off google💀😭
Vil Schoenheit
Vil was stressed about a photoshoot, usually he loves them, the flashes of cameras, praises from the photographers, people crowding around him to make sure everything is perfect, and the clothes. But as of now he’s frustrated because of Neige Leblanche stealing his spotlight, people praising him just sounded like noise in Vil’s ears.
You watched him fumble around his vanity mirror, fixing his hair, retouching his eye shadow, “Can you believe it potato? I was the only one who’s supposed to have a photoshoot today, then he came, ugh suddenly everyone’s attention was on him…” he said the tone of bitterness lingers in his voice.
“My attention isn’t” you pouted, walking up behind him. He expression softens, this only happens with you, he picks up another make up brush but you stopped it with your hand, slowly putting it down “Put it down…” you said “I’m not done potato I need to look-“ “Liebling, Du siehst umwerfend aus” you interrupted him and kissed his cheek
He froze, blinking a couple of times and snapping his fingers making sure he was awake… “What did you say?” He looked back at you, spinning his chair to see you better, you giggled “I said you looked stunning” you were about to walk away but then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “No that wasn’t what you said…” he replied “It was!” You defended “Yeah but not that way…” he stood up in front of you “Say that again…” he stared down at you softly…anticipation bubbling in him…
“Liebling…” you started, “Du siehst umwerfend aus” You finished pecking his lips right after earning a smirk from him. He completely forgot that he was mad at something… “see? you don’t even need the blush” you teased pointing out the fluttering pink painted on his cheeks….he chuckled “oh is that so? Well…I think you need a little color on your lips…” he cupped your face as he bent down slightly to kiss you. “Vil! You’re up!” the photographer called out, Making him pull away as he rolled his eyes “Ugh…wrong timing” he half yelled
You laughed softly, “Go…” you motioned him to leave you for now, he smiled “Alright, hold on, let me just reapply my lipstick” he called out, still looking at you, your lips now tinted with the lipstick he put on earlier…you placed a featherlight kiss on the back of his hand as a form of an unspoken ‘good luck’ and he replies with a smile squeezing your hand before he lets go and walks to the photoshoot while applying lipstick.
Needless to say he did very well even if there was a photo where he and Neige had to be in one shot, when he sees you watching in the background, remembering what you said to him, he doesn’t even care anymore. He has all your attention, and he knows it.
Rook Hunt
It was sunset, and you two were still practicing, you couldn’t let yourself give up without hitting that red dot in the middle of the target…he readjusts you posture again…lifting you arms slightly, as he looks forward to see if the angle is right, while his hands rested on your waist…
No wonder you couldn’t hit the damn target…Rook is a very distracting teacher…he noticed that since you lost your aim again…he adjusted it back, tilting the bow upward a little with one hand…while his other hand still rests on you waist. “Mon amour, Concentre-toi…..” he whispered slightly teasing you of course, he knows what he’s doing.
“J'aimerais bien, mais tu es trop distrayant” you whispered back firing the arrow, he was caught off guard, staring off into the distance in shock, as your arrow hits the target he snaps out of his trance. “YES!” you cheered “I DID IT!! SEE???” You pointed happily to the arrow that pierced through the red dot on the target, excitement coursing through your veins.
“Mon ange….” He called out to you while slowly walking towards you “Did you just speak french or was I just too hypnotized by your beauty that I started hearing things?” He asked, you giggle and cupped his face… “Oui, je parlais français..” And kissed his nose, he felt like he was shot by cupid once again, Rook Hunt, was love-struck…
“Oh mon Dieu! I think I fell in love with you all over again” he said to you while also cradling your face in his hands…you swore you almost saw hearts in his eyes, he pulled you close to him as he leaned in to kiss you “AGHHH CAN YOU TWO KISS LATER I’M HUNGRY!!! Y/N PROMISED ME TUNA WHEN THEY FINALLY HIT A BULLSEYE” Grim shouted…
You both broke into a fit of laughter, “Awww poor kitty” you went to Grim and teased him scratching behind his ears “Stopppp!! I’m a powerful mage you know???? I can set you on fire!!” He said while swaying his paws back and forth to shoo you away “Monsieur Fuzzball is hangry, we should get him his promised tuna” Rook said while picking up the arrows on the grass and putting it back in his arrow quiver.
“Yes! Yes you should do that right now! Then you two can kiss for the rest of the day and I wont bother you, sound good?” Grim negotiated “Yes that would be quite pleasant Monsieur Fuzzball” Rook laughed as he grabbed you hand “We’ll go get it right away, won’t we Mon amour?” Rook said to you, you knew he was a little upset that he didn’t get to kiss you so you chuckled and nodded “yes.”
“GREAT! Now stop making googooly eyes at each other and lets go!” Grim shouted as he ran, thrilled by the tuna he has yet to receive. You two laughed and followed behind him, hand in hand.
Kalim Al Asim
You are fighting for your life right now…Kalim clinging on to your waist stopping you from walking out of Scarabia’s doors as he weighs you down while you drag your and his weight attempting to leave.
“Kalim I have to go” you said clutching on to the door frame “Why??? Scarabia is much more comfy than Ramshackle just stay with me” he whines, “Grim’s gonna go hungry, can you live with yourself if my cat dies of hunger??” You guilt tripped him, hoping he’d let you go.
“I’LL ASK JAMIL TO BRING GRIM HERE JUST PLEASE DONT LEEEEAVVEEE” He practically yells as he begs for you to stay “I’ll come back to tomorrow…” you got tired and plopped on to the floor as he further tightens his hold on your waist, burying his face on your lap, “I’ll go a whole night without you here, if you can sleep knowing that than do I even matter to you??” He dramatically says, muffled because he still has his face on your lap.
You sighed and ran your fingers through his hair… “ أَنتَ تَعني الكَثير لي حبيبي (You mean so much to me, my love)” you softly whispered to him, he looked up at you, letting go of your waist and sitting up right to meet your eyes. You were smiling at his expression.
A pigmented flustered hue shyly shows up on his cheeks and his eyes were filled with a whole rollercoaster of emotions, you let out a small laugh and a pecked his lips to bring him back from the love struck void he was falling into
“Kalim? You there?” You asked chuckling while cupping his face with both your hands, “Marry me.” He blurted out without warning, you stiffen for awhile not expecting that, but you saw his eyes twinkling and you burst out laughing earning a pout from him.
“I’m sorry you just looked so cute أميري (my prince) ” you apologized, he felt like melting, He crawled his way back into your arms, nuzzling into your neck, he could feels like his heart could beat out of his chest at this point. “Now you really cant leave…not after you said all that.” He protested.
You sighed in defeat, “Okay…Alright…I’ll stay…” you said, playing with his hair again “Forever?” He asked “For the night, Kalim, I can’t move out of Ramshackle” you laughed “I will marry you one day yknow?” He said, “I know” you answered kissing the crown of his head. “أحبكِ (ily)” he says to you, “أنا احبك (ilyt)” you say back to him.
Jamil Viper
It was a normal day for you two, well to be honest a “normal day” is rare in NRC, with Jamil having to deal with his responsibilities to Kalim, and you being Crowly’s erand runner, you two rarely have time to see or spend time with each other.
Right now though is different, for once you two had somewhat of a day off, Kalim went back to his hometown to attend an event for the royal family, and Crowly surprisingly didn’t have anything for you today. It was nice…you two sitting in a couch, your back against his back and he has an arm on you shoulder
Both of you are each reading a book right now, it’s quiet, not much words are exchanged but it’s fine you two liked the peaceful silence for once. You’ve just finished yours and you plopped it down your lap with a contented sigh. “You finished it?” He chimes, not looking away from his book, “Yup! All done, you?” You stared up at him “Just 4 more chapters” he said focusing on his book, you just hummed in reply, not wanting to disturb him further.
You shifted you position and laid your head on his chest and he lets you get comfortable again, his other hand tracing circles on your back as you played with the ornaments near the ends of his braids. Your gaze slowly found it’s way back up to his face again, though he feels your stare, he doesn’t really mind but the corners of his lips lift a little.
You admiring you boyfriend and suddenly remembered that one phrase you asked Kalim to translate for you “أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you mumbled, you were just trying to remember what Kalim said the translation was so you weren’t aware of speaking it outloud.
It hasn’t really registered in his head yet either, so he continues to read his book, “شكرا لك حبي” (thank you, my dear)” he replied simply…you blinked and realized you said it outloud, but you’re happy he heard it so you hummed back happily snuggling into his warmth, but when he heard you hum he finally caught up with what you said earlier
He slowly puts his book down as your words sink into his brain, you looked up at him again questioningly this time “You’re done already? I thought you said there was 4 more cha-“ “Love what did you say just now?” He abruptly cuts you off putting a hand on your cheek looking down at you “I was asking if you were done with your book?” You said confused, “No no before that…” he anticipated your answer…
You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, you knew what he was talking about, you thought he fully heard you but his expression seem to say otherwise. You smiled up at him and kissed the palm of his hand that was cupping your cheek
“All I said was, أَنتَ وَسيمٌ جِدّا حبيبي (you’re so handsome my love)” you repeated it to him “I thought you heard it cuz you said thank you after” you added giggling.
He huffed in amusement, “Well there goes my book…” he says while putting the book away “what do you mean? you can still read” you said to him, he smiled, pulling you closer to him with his other arm that rested on your waist “No I don’t think I can, you have all my attention now” he mumbled, a soft blush dusted his cheek, an effect from your compliment to him earlier “You’re blushing~” you teased poking his cheek, he chuckled and inched his face closer to you
“Yeah? You don’t say?” He asked sarcastically before kissing you breathless, once he pulled away you were the one blushing, he grins at the sight “there, now we’re even.” He teased as you hit his chest lightly and hide your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your expense, you two continued teasing each other for the rest of the day.
A/N: you know the drill: NOT PROOFREAD LMAO 💀 THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE ANON I KNOW THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO POST ;-;
Edit: WTH TYSM FOR 1K 🥹♥︎
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x mc#twisted wonderland reaction#rook hunt#rook hunt x reader#roon hunt x you#kalim al asim#kalim al asim x reader#kalim al asim x you#jamil viper#jamil viper x reader#jamil viper x you#gn!reader#gn!mc#gender neutral reader#vil schoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit x you
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CL16 | friends or not
Summary: You love Charles, but he keeps you treading on the line between friends and strangers. The humiliation and frustration finally got to you.
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem reader
Words count: 1842
Warning: mention of sex, angsty I guess? Google translated french
Author’s note: Inspired by Zeph’s song I just love her music so much. This is my first time using tumblr to post fic so let me know if I can improve the formatting somehow to make it easier to read! Thank youu <3
"Hey Y/n, I'm in Monaco today, pull through?"
"Sure, usual time?"
He left a heart reaction to the text, the familiar dance of messages unfolded with practised precision. An occasional catch-up session with Charles over a glass of wine or within the intimate confines of your shared solitude has become the only constant rhythm in your situation with him. In fact, you don't remember the last time it wasn't like this. He texts you when he's around, and sometimes makes plans just to let it fall through at the last second. You understand he's a man of business, always busy and on his feet, but why would he even consider getting to know you when he knows he can't be at least present in your life as a friend? Worse, why did you allow him to get his way?
Charles Leclerc is the type of man to only text back half the time you texted him. You would be lucky if he read your messages, a lot of the time, he resorts to ghosting you for days or even weeks only to reply with short, blunt, generic answers. Sometimes you laugh to yourself at the audacity of this man, a virtuoso of unpredictability, to parade you around like his future girl during intimate dinners with his friends only to burst your bubble when he's back on the road again.
But sadly, Charles Leclerc is more than that. Besides his devilishly handsome face, he donned the facade of the happiest man alive, a veneer that temporarily eclipsed the shadows of uncertainty when you're finally allowed to occupy his precious time. The streets of Monte Carlo bore witness to your interplay of laughter and the tender clasping of hands. With him holding you so close to his chest the paparazzi can't snap a shot of his mystery girl. It gets to your head like a sick disease. Moments like that are when his existence woven itself seamlessly into the fabric of your life.
Between the white sheets plastered on your naked body and the whispers of the Medditerian sea, Charles Leclerc was your Charlie. The Charlie that speaks in fluent waves of serenity about his life on the road. His words are like a siren's song, drowning out the echoes of your longing that surface in his absence. In those stolen moments, he becomes the tranquil pulse that courses through the veins of your shared narrative. You wish you could tear him out of your skin.
"So, how's life?"
You start the conversation, sitting across from him in a restaurant on the edge of Monaco. Charles is gorgeous as always, in his cream-coloured sweaters that you spent many early mornings nuzzled in before he kindly pulled it off your frame.
"Would you believe me if I said it was kind of shit? Could've been a better season I guess. How about you?"
Charles replied with a laugh, sipping on the sweet wine with eyes fixed on you. It should be illegal for him to give you that look, the look that says he has a genuine interest in your existence.
"I can tell, you always call me when you panic. I think I had more calls from you this season than I ever had before."
A quiet acknowledgment, an attempt to make him realise the shared vulnerabilities you had for each other. You look around before continuing, the same restaurant where you first met, linked up through a mutual friend at a dinner party. He gave you his number over a glass of whiskey on the rock, leaving you full of naive anticipation to send the first text.
"I remember the first time I saw you here. I was starstruck to meet you in real life, clinging to every word you said, so excited when you handed me your number. I wish I wasn't the last thing on your mind Charlie."
Words flow out of you uncontrollably, you don't know why you said that. The pain bubbling up and closing behind your throat as you speak intrigues Charles who now wears an expression of confusion and slight frustration.
"What do you mean Y/n? You know how much you meant to me, tu es la meilleure chose sur terre, chérie."
His gaze softens, hands reaching out to pat a stray hair on your head. His attempt at reassurance softened the moment, yet a lingering doubt clung to the air. You wish he meant it, or meant it and not regret it.
"You're looking at me like that again. Like I'm the best thing on earth to you."
"Because you are-"
"Only because I'm the only one to look at. The second best of two is just last Charles."
Over that bar counter where he slipped you his number, when you were dwelling on the heartbreak of your last relationship, or when you found yourself crying in his living room over the loss of your friend, Charles always said he'd be there for you. Yet, in the crucible of reality, the promises seemed hollow. He's only there when nobody else needs him. You're a second thought to him, a blind spot he noticed when it's convenient. But a part of you desperately held on to Charles, wishing, praying, begging that one day you would be promoted to have a position in his life and not just an on-and-off fling he does.
"I'm sorry Y/n, I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
He said, voice just as calm and peaceful as you always knew. But filled with static and signals that you're tired of decoding. Right at that moment, you realise you could either move on or continue being his nuisance. To set yourself free from Charles's hot and cold would mean to be free of the games he set you in.
"Just reply to my text more often Charlie."
But to set yourself free from Charles also means to lose the love you drove through all the mixed signals for.
-
"Mon ange, what are you thinking about?"
"Nothing much, just that time you brought me to dinner with Max and Kelly. It was nice."
The street of Monaco, viewed from the inside of Charles' car, was silent on a weeknight, surrounded by the sea where lights and chatters fell into white noise. It felt the same as the night when Charles hit you up last minute since he "didn't have a plus one for a party" which turns out to be just dinner with Max and his girlfriend Kelly who have to go on a work trip abroad next week.
Kelly sat across from you, mirroring one another: Women who are successful in their line of work, flowing with beauty and sophistication, have a world-class F1 driver accompany them while you all sit and gossip. The only difference is that she has a title and you don't.
"So Charles, when will Y/n be making paddock appearances? I think Ferrari would love it if you put on a show for the tifosi."
Max joked, tipsy over the seemingly unlimited alcohol on the table. Charles and you both choked on air, but you were flustered with your heart drumming in your chest, and Charles was trying to hide the scrunch of his nose.
"Ah I don't know Max, we are still trying to figure ourselves out. I'm in no rush to run PR and have Ferrari staging pap on me."
He sighs with a chuckle, Max and Kelly both wear concerned gazes seeing your face drop. In your head, the world stops spinning, he doesn't even have the guts to refer to you as a friend, but just something mysterious and hindering that he has to "figure out". The delicious food suddenly turns sour in your mouth, as sour as the pity he's sparing you by asking if you're alright.
-
"Charles, are we friends?"
"Of course we are, I wouldn't let a stranger in my car yea?"
He said lightheartedly, humming to the song on the radio. You can only let out a sigh, you don't know if he's dumb or he's leading you on anymore. Your desire for him is real, it's running thin by the second.
"Stop the car, Charlie."
"What?"
"We need to talk"
He pulled over carefully, you left the pista so fast it's like the leather was burning holes in your skin. The night breeze hit your already cold skin, Charles brought out a coat you know he kept in the back seat to swing over you. If only this was how it is always, to have him so close and so caring, to be his only one.
"So..."
"Charlie, are you bored of me? Did you realise I'm replaceable? If there's anyone better please just let me know and we don't have to pretend we know each other anymore. Please Charles I'm sick of being led around like your decoration only for you to treat me like less than a friend when you're away."
Silence, he stood in silence with a look you can't recognise after spending so much time tiptoeing around him. Your pleading caught him off guard, he probably didn't know you had a breaking point. Or at least he didn't expect it to catch up to him so soon. Charles pulled you into a hug, a futile attempt to assuage the tears streaming down your cheeks.
"I promise we are friends. I'm sorry mon ange, that I made you feel that way. I'm uncertain about us, I don't know what I want from you. I just want to keep you around."
"Charles I'm not just something to keep around. I have my values, I'm a human too. I want you but if you don't want us then just...let us go"
"I don't want-"
"This isn't just about you Charles, it's about me too. I will not sit around to wait for you while you go fuck another girl on a different continent every race season. You either give me something or you let me live."
You tore away from his arms in the outburst. Charles looks lost, heartbroken, just the way you look when he did the same to you. You almost run right back to apologise, to cradle him in your love and swear to never hurt him again. But you can't stand being a pet of his anymore, not when you put your whole soul into this man but still not deserving of a title.
Silence, silence hung in the air so heavy and suffocating as he led you back into the car, and dropped you off at your place. A "bye" so small it got lost in the wind as he drove away. War is over you guessed, even though there was no answer but no answer is better than waiting for a potential answer from him. You pull out your phone, delete his number, delete your pictures, unfollow his private account and let the heartbreak wash over you.
Down the street, Charles felt the same as you do for the first time.
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#cl16 x reader#cl16#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 drivers#f1#he’s a bit stupid and dense#charles leclerc x fem reader
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Some sick!reader + Ellie headcanons I've been thinking about for you Ani <3
• You aren't too sure if it's a coincidence or Ellie is really just That girlfriend, but when you're feeling unwell, all her plans get cancelled out of the blue for her to lay on the bed next to you on her phone quietly glancing towards you from time to time to make sure you're happily enjoying the drink she fixed for you.
• She also goes above and beyond to distract you from the pain,- physical or mental; and probably talks to you to a point where you have to attack her with kisses all over her face for her to stop infodumping for a second and just enjoy the show y'all are watching
• Back rubs.. belly rubs.. arm caresses.. temple kisses.. small pecks.. knuckle kisses.. and boob holding for comfort??? Ellie-
• If you start to feel better by the evening, she tells you not to frown about the missed date and hand crafts a blanket fort "Girls night" as she likes to ironically call it and laugh about it(I'm a sucker for Ellie being traditionally girly dont look at me) She basically makes you watch old movies, does your hair and lets you paint her nails.
you don’t understand how happy this ask made me like omg. 18+ only due to suggestive content under the cut! expansion below (also featuring a couple of sneaky ai audios right at the end…) cw for vomit.
this is so cute i’m gonna cry you just understand all my daydreams!!! she’s so gf i love her… btw it’s canon that cups of watery, kind of awful tea ABOUND in your household when you’re sick and you don’t have the heart to tell ellie they’re bad. she’s looking at you and prompting you with her eyes to take a sip and you have to conceal your wince as you do it. “it’s good tea, right? dunno if i left the teabag in for long enough… google said two minutes. was that right? it’s good, right???” you wait for her to stop but she just keeps rambling and you feel so bad for her that you just have to nod along and swallow down the tea 😭😭
the infodumping… god, the infodumping. you’re just trying to focus on a show through your thumping headache as ellie drones “honestly, i think taissa did do it to allie on purpose, even if she doesn’t realise it-” until it gets to the point where you thwack her with a pillow and she pouts at you before pecking your forehead with her lips and snuggling down next to you.
also i see your boob holding and raise you tit sucking… because yes you’re sick but, well, ellie’s still ellie, and so of course she still wants to do horny things. she’d spring it on you right as you’re waking up from your mid morning nap, eyes all soft as she looks down at you all curled up in the little cosy nest of blankets she meticulously arranged for you.
“hey baby. you just wake up? i can make you another cup of tea if you want,” ellie offers happily. she must see the slightly apprehensive look on your face because her eyebrow crooks up as she continues: “or, well… i was thinking… what if i, like, sucked your tits? just a little? think it might help ease some of the aching… after all, my mouth is kinda magical, if i do say so myself.” you’re unable to contain your splutter at the terrible joke. ellie grins and keeps pushing it. “in fact, this might be a miracle cure!” she says with all the drama of someone announcing they discovered a new planet in the solar system. “you might never get sick again!” comes her next line, hands gesticulating wildly in the air as your chest begins shaking with unbridled giggles.
a fake depressive look turns your girlfriend’s lips down as she dramatically sweeps a hand across her forehead. “okay, maybe that’s a bit far… stop laughing at me. you’re gonna make yourself throw up again,” she teases, except you both seem to realise at the same moment that her last statement was probably true. your eyes lock as ellie dives for the sick bucket and you do in fact puke, her calloused hands holding back your hair from your face <3
as for girl’s night- i feel like she would probably make you a little mocktail because even though you’re not well enough to be drinking, cranberry juice is really good for you and lemonade is almost one of your five a day if you really think about it… and “mint’s basically a vegetable. like, it’s green enough, right?” when you’re forced to take the opposing side on the is-mint-really-a-vegetable debate she acts like you’ve just hit her with a hammer and insists on calling jesse to settle the matter.
“ok, i need your help with a super important decision,” ellie says, a stern expression on her face. the way her eyebrows are wrinkled in the middle looks extra cute, you think, and lean forward to kiss her. instead you’re met with a hand to the sternum and an angry glare. “damn. okay, important decision,” you agree, eyes lifting to hers in curiosity. your girlfriend sucks in a deep breath and you brace yourself… “should i paint my toenails green or pink?” ellie asks innocently. you feel like thumping her- why do i ever take her seriously?? you think, heart slowing back to its normal pace as you throw her a dirty side eye.
“wait, actually… that yellow looks kind of cool-” you cut her off with a thump to the head with your pillow. “OW!” comes her pained response, your lips tilting up into a smug smile as ellie shoots you a look of pure betrayal. “ok… OK!” THUMP! “i get it! no yellow…” the pillow lifts again as if to drive your point home for a final time and… THUMP! “ow! fuck! wait, why is your pillow so fucking solid?”
+ as promised, the ai audios… as i mentioned on my blog before, my bot isn’t anywhere near perfect yet so please excuse if these happen to sound a little funky!
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tear you apart part two | ellie williams
pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! authors note: obsessive ellie nation RISE, bit of a twist in this one hope shes yummy!!! i have plans i can not share w you yet but i am so hype for the next part, yall should be too, anyway... happy reading
ellie sat in the corner of the bar waiting for you and your friends to show up. she had gotten here way too early, but it gave her time to canvas the bar. the bartenders were swamped with orders, the band playing on the small stage were taking a brief intermission– which ellie was grateful for because she didn’t see the appeal. it was quite crowded, working in ellie’s favor. while she waited for you, her fingers were dancing over her phone any second she got.
firstly, she checked in on you. no instagram posts, stories, twitter updates, nothing to indicate you were going out. finally taking steps to protect yourself, good girl. then, she set her focus on finding this woman. she copy and pasted the phone number into google, loading…loading…loading… god this wifi fucking sucks…
when the circle of death vanished, nothing came of the phone number. the white pages had nothing to report on, the links were dead ends and ellie sat back in her chair with a huff, annoyed by the anonymity of this woman. her thoughts were interrupted when she saw the door to the bar open and your friends and you strolled in. she slouched over, bringing her head down but her eyes remained fixed on you. shauna was the last one to come through the door, but she quickly brought herself to the front of the group and sat you all down at a table nearly across the bar.
ellie rolled her eyes, knowing she would have to move to get closer. so she did, keeping her head down as she went through the small crowd to the other end of the bar. from this seat, your back was turned from her and she felt a little disappointed that she couldn’t see your face, but decided it was for the better. shauna immediately started to order drinks, a round of shots and margaritas on top of it. whats the occasion?
she had to focus real hard, but she was able to make out the conversation happening.
“okay, okay, but seriously, i have something to tell you guys,” shauna started to speak as the waiter was placing their drinks down at the table.
“god, you’re pregnant!” dina shouted to the table, and ellie could hear your laugh clear as day. the same laugh that was used for her just two weeks ago. god, how she missed you.
shauna scoffed, “i’m not pregnant!”
then you chimed in, your voice sounding sweet as ever over the rowdiness of the bar, “then whats so important? should i down this shot beforehand?” you playfully picked up the shot from the table, ready to take it and ellie’s eyes didn’t leave you for a second.
shauna gracefully pushed your hand down, the shot back on the table and she spoke again, “i’m moving to california at the end of summer,”
the mood at the table became somber at her words, the girls looking around to each other. “sorry, what?” cat spoke up, sipping her margarita.
ellie smirked, taking a sip of her own drink. not a bad idea, shauna. sure, she knew you would be upset and she was prepared to be there for you to get over losing your best friend, but in time you’ll realize that shauna was never your friend to begin with, she just liked having you around to boost her up.
“like your whole family? or just you?” you asked her, and when shauna replied saying her whole family, your head snapped back and ellie could see that the shot glass you had in your hands was now empty.
“why?” cat spoke again, glancing around the table to you and dina.
“nevermind on why, i just want to have a good night! let’s get drunk–” she called over the waiter with a snap of her fingers, classy. her eyes met the waiters and then went to you, “another shot for my friend.”
“give me two, please,” you spoke kindly to the waiter, and ellie’s grip on her own drink tightened. no way shauna leaving was upsetting you this much? how could it? ellie reminded herself that you had been friends with her for years, and even despite shauna being the way she is, she’s still your best friend. she wanted to give you a hug, tell you that it was for the better, but she knew she couldn’t. at least, not right now.
the bartender took ellie out of her gaze, “another one?” he said, pointing to her empty glass. ellie shook her head no, if you were going to get plastered, she needed to make sure she was okay to watch over you. the band started to play again and it rang in ellie’s ears, making it difficult to hear the conversation at the table.
the waiter brought the shots over, and everyone took them almost instantly. using their margaritas as a chaser, ellie’s eyes rolled again. the next thirty minutes was her just keeping an eye on you while you continued to get more and more drunk. you mumbled out that you had to “break the seal.” and you got up and stumbled over to the bathroom door. ellie could see everything from her seat, so instead of blowing her cover she stayed in the bar chair.
ellie wasn’t a girls girl by any means, but she knew that once someone in the group walked away, the shit talking would commence. you had barely opened the door to the bathroom when shauna started. shauna, out of everyone. shes not your friend. “shes taking it kinda hard, isnt she?”
“i’ve seen her more drunk that this.” dina laughed, keeping her voice low as if you could hear her.
“oh yeah, the night she nearly got hit by that cab walking back to her apartment was the drunkest i’ve seen her,” cat laughed with dina, and shauna stayed neutral.
“no but like, me leaving, shes taking it kind of hard, right?”
dina looked to cat, then back to shauna, “i mean, yeah i guess. you’re her best friend.”
is that a smile, shauna?
“i hate to be the one making her feel like that,” shauna pouted, now seeking the attention of her other friends.
“no, no, it’s not your fault–” dina gushed.
“yeah, it’s like, thats on her, you know? you can’t control how anyone feels except for you.” cat said softly, placing an arm on shauna’s shoulder.
jesus christ, the therapy words. where did you people come from?
before they could continue talking, you returned from the bathroom, bumping into the table lightly before sitting down. “another shot?” you asked them, seeing their drinks were empty. you had at least double the shots they’ve taken, no, no more shots. tell her no.
“yes!” shauna said enthusiastically, ordering more for the table. when they arrived they were gone within seconds. ellie was finding it hard to hold back, she wanted to take you by the arm and walk you home herself. though, it seemed with every shot you took, your mood brightened. you were laughing, loudly, and making jokes with your friends. it seemed like you had completely forgotten about the departure of your best friend. ellie was happy you weren’t upset anymore, but the level of drunk you were worried her.
that's until someone was standing behind shauna, and when ellie’s eyes wandered up to see who it was, she almost choked on her spit but quickly repressed it. it was the older woman and she was looking directly into your eyes, your laughter had subsided from the previous joke and you went silent, crossing your arms and shifting in your seat.
the woman's eyes left yours quickly, and she placed a hand on shauna’s shoulder. shauna turned around, seeing the woman and got up from her seat, embracing her in a hug. “hey mom! what’re you doing here?”
mom? you’re fucking your best friends mom? ellie nearly fell off her high top seat, for the first time that night she took her eyes off of you, turning towards the bar just to take it all in. no, no, you’re a sweetheart. you wouldn’t do that, would you? ellie’s mind was racing, but her image of you never faltered in her mind because she quickly figured out just what was going on.
your own parents leave you to move across the country and your best friend lets you move into her place until you get your own. she recalls one of your tweets she stumbled upon from a year ago,
@yndoesartstuff: tfw ur moving into ur besties childhood home bc ur own parents dont want u
—— @shuanamavisxx: my parents want u! adopted child frfr
yeah, they want you alright…
shauna’s mom must have been very supportive of you, for you to fall for her trap anyway. that kind of attention from a mother must have felt good, and ellie decided that shuana’s mom knew what she was doing. prying on your own neglectful mommy issues to get into your pants. shes a fucking predator. ellie knew you were a grown woman, but shauna’s mom was clearly in her fifties, thats being nice, and she found it fucking disgusting that her mom would do that to you. and then to have the audacity to make you so dependant on her that you beg her for attention over texts.
ellie was seething.
and apparently so were you, because you quickly got up from the table, excusing yourself with a quick, “be right back!” trying to sound as chipper as possible, but ellie knew.
you came up to the bar and ellie swiftly lowered her head into her phone. you were too drunk to notice, but ellie heard you order yourself yet another shot. she almost said no outloud, but refrained herself, feeling the heat in her body build up. but the bartender had her back, “you're cut off. here's a water.” he handed you a cold glass of water and your eyes rolled.
“pleasseeee? im not even that drunk!” you fired back, pushing the water back towards him. he looked you up and down, and you smiled at him, holding up just one finger and mouthing the word please over and over again. the bartender caved, pouring you another shot.
what a fucking idiot.
he gave you the shot, which you took almost instantly. you stumbled back to the table with your friends, shauna’s mom still there making conversation. and ellie turned to the bartender, “are you blind? shes wasted,”
the guy shrugged, “shes a good tipper.”
ellie scoffed, turning her attention back to the table.
“so wait mom, why are you here?” shauna asked, sitting back down in her seat.
“i’m actually on a date,” her mom smiled, making quick eye contact with you before doing so with dina and cat to not seem suspicious. she pointed to a table near the band and when ellie looked, it was a man that sat at the table.
“its not a date if you’re married,” shauna rolled her eyes, a laugh slipping out with her words. she turned and faced the man at the table, waving passionately at who ellie assumed to be her father. ellie was sick just watching, and she couldn’t imagine how you felt. she’s just taunting you at this point.
ellie could see you shifting uncomfortably in your seat and soon enough you pulled out your phone. since your back was to her, ellie could see your screen was blank, but you muttered, “sorry gotta take this guys,” before you got up and left the bar, putting the phone up to your ears as if you were actually on the phone.
they let you leave without a second thought. don't they see how drunk you are? she was on her feet, pulling her wallet out of her pocket to put a twenty on the counter before storming out of the bar herself. she glanced around once she was outside, it had grown dark but she could spot you from a mile away.
you were trying to wave down a cab, way too close to the road for her liking. you were crying too, and ellie’s heart sank at the sight. while waving down a cab, you checked your phone, the bright screen nearly blinding you as you did but your fingers were quick to type. your feet kept going as you typed to try and keep yourself up right, you were swaying and teetering all around the sidewalk. all of the cabs went past you, not wanting to pick up a drunk girl who might vomit in their car. your phone fell out of your hands as you were trying to type, landing harshly on the sidewalk and ellie stepped forward just a bit, ready to lie her way out of how she came to find you like this.
as you bent down to pick up your phone, a man got it before you could. he held it out for you and as you went to reach for it, he pulled it away at the last second. because of course he did. there was only about five seconds of back and forth between you and this guy before ellie’s feet started to jog over to you. she heard the tail of the conversation as she approached.
“...i’ll give it back if you agree to have drinks with me.” he spoke in a ragged voice, he was head to toe in dirt and grim. typical male, its disgusting. you didn’t deserve this.
“no, just give me my phone!” you shouted back at him, words slurred to oblivion.
ellie didn’t waste a second. “she said no, man.” she came to your side, putting her arm in front of you to block him. she saw you stare at her out of the corner of her eye but she kept her focus on the guy.
“a guy can’t try?” he said with a small laugh, still holding your phone out of reach.
“if shes saying no, then take the fucking hint.” ellie could feel herself getting angier, the heat in her body rising to her cheeks and her one fist balled up by her side. she doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if she wasn’t here, but her mind plagues her with it. im your hero. and this guy is about to fucking die.
“maybe i’ll keep it, sell it for some money,” he taunted, examining the phone like a douchebag. ellie had it under control, she knew this guy would cave eventually, at least one way or another. but you had other plans and when you tried to reach for the phone in his hands he slapped your arm away.
ellie fully stepped in front of you, her jaw tightening as she did, and the guy continued to run his mouth. “what? this your fucking bitch or something?”
she didn’t even think about it, her fist coming up strong and squaring this guy in his nose. he stumbled back, dropping your phone to the sidewalk yet again. she shook her fist in pain as you quickly grabbed your phone from the ground. his nose was bleeding and he was clinging to it like he was going to die.
you were laughing, which is the last thing ellie expected. your laughter was ringing in her ears as the guy started to get back up, very slowly. “shit, c’mon!” you laughed again, way too drunk, but you did something else ellie wasn’t expecting, you took her hand and started to run in the opposite direction. she obviously followed you, sprinting beside you down the streets of new york until it felt like a good amount of distance had passed.
turning one last corner you both slowed to a stop, you were trying to regulate your breathing as ellie checked around the corner before turning back to you. “you okay?”
“i’m-i’m great,” you sighed, still catching your breath. youre still drunk. way too drunk. “you look so–”
“let me take you home, you’re drunk,”
“i’m not drunk and i know you from somewh–”
“you are drunk, at least let me get you a cab,”
“the vinyl store!”
shit. “oh, oh yeah, i remember you.” ellie stammered out, hoping your level of drunkenness would hide her stumble.
“ellie, right?” you slurred and ellie nodded her head, “oh shit, thats what i kept forgetting to do, i need that album you recommended me!”
ouch. if you didn’t have the day you’ve had, or better yet, the past two weeks, ellie would be more upset. was our interaction that forgettable for you? no, it couldn’t possibly be, you were flirting with me. and now you stand here telling me you forgot about me? she tells herself it’s because you’re drunk, you’d never say these things to her if you were sober.
“come by anytime for it, it’s no biggie,” it’s not like i made sure it was perfect for you within the hour.
“how about now?”
“no, no the stores closed and you should get home,” ellie knew you would persist, she just wanted to see it.
“please,” you dragged out, putting on the prettiest smile you could. “i’m not that drunk, plus i could use the pick me up.”
ellie smiled, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small key. “you’re lucky i carry this with me,” she said with a light-hearted laugh. “it’s only a few blocks this way, can you make the walk?”
“jesus, i am not that drunk!” you laughed along with her, starting to walk in the right direction. “look,” ellie watched as you started to walk in a straight line, arms out to keep your balance.
you stumbled a bit, and you definitely weren’t walking in a straight line. you’re adorable. “wow, i’ve never seen anyone more sober.” ellie mocked you while you regained your balance.
“thank you,” you replied, ignoring her sarcasm and you returned to walking normally beside her. “what a coincidence you ran into me.”
“yeah, really weird, huh?” ellie faked a laugh, stuffing her hands in her pockets and keeping her eyes forward.
“well, i owe you for helping me out,” you held out your phone, which was now cracked. “and for the album.”
she shook her head, “nah, you don’t owe me anything.”
after a few more minutes of walking the store came into sight, sitting between two large buildings, the closed sign burning red in the window. ellie pulled the key out of her pocket and started to unlock the door, with you happily standing idle behind her.
she held the door open for you to go in first, it was dark inside and the smell of wooden boxes was pungent. but as ellie stepped in behind you and flicked on the light switch, the store came to life. “wait here, it’s in the back.”
ellie went through the beads into her back office, searching around in her desk until she found it. it was sitting next to the red thong she had swiped from your apartment and when she pulled the vinyl from the drawer and spun around, you were right behind her. “it’s seriously creepy back here,” you took notice, looking around the small room while ellie slammed the drawer shut.
you weren’t wrong, and that’s why ellie had asked you to stay up front. the paint had begun peeling off the walls years ago, and the room was only lit up by a bare bulb at the top of the room. “this where you keep your victims?” you joked, dropping your voice and toying with the papers on her desk.
“not here, i got somewhere else i keep them,” ellie returned your joke, although she wasn’t exactly joking. but you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that. “here, pink floyd’s best album at least, in my opinion.”
you gracefully took it from her hands, examining it before looking back to her. “thanks,” anything for you. anything.
you both wandered out of the back of the store, and ellie could sense that shauna’s mom was still plaguing your thoughts. you had gone quiet, staring longingly at the album in your hands. “you wanna tell me why you were so upset before?” she asked casually, flicking off the light in the back room.
you sighed, “i’m a mess, that’s all.” you leaned against the counter and ellie positioned herself behind it, just like how we met.
ellie didn’t mind that you wouldn’t open up to her, to be fair you both were still basically strangers. strangers that flirt. strangers that save each other from themselves.
“relationships suck,”
“how’d you know it was about that?”
ellie blinked, think, idiot, think. “well i mean, you got wasted and you were crying. i kinda just took a guess,”
“you got me there,” you laughed, taking in a deep breath. “people never change, i can’t seem to get that through my head.”
“the right people will,” was all ellie replied with, a small smile appearing on her face.
“yeah, yeah you’re right.” there was silence for a moment as you both held eye contact before you broke away with an embarrassed smile.
“you deserve better than whatever this asshole is putting you through, you know that?”
“you don’t know me,” you said shyly, the drunkenness wearing off. “i could be horrible and deserve it.”
“i highly doubt that,” ellie knew what you were thinking, if she only knew i was fucking my best friends mom. ellie didn’t care, she knew who you were. if it wasn’t for that borderline predator, you wouldn’t be in this position to begin with. she wanted you regardless. she needed you regardless.
“yeah well, thanks ellie. i should get home, like you said i’m a little drunk.”
“a little?” ellie laughed, earning a scoff from you.
you playfully pushed her shoulder back, “i can hold my liquor, thank you very much!”
ellie ordered you a cab to take you home, she would’ve walked you home herself but you insisted on a cab, not wanting to bother her. ellie would end up at her usual spot across the street from your place anyway, so she didn’t fight it, knowing she would see you soon.
she glared up from the sidewalk while you shut your door behind you, pulling your cracked phone out of your pocket. it didn’t take long for you to throw it to the couch with a huff, probably an unanswered text from shauna’s mom. ellie sighed, she would have hoped your little run in with her would have lifted your mood but as you sat down on your couch, slowly starting to cry once again, she knew it was a lot deeper than you were letting on.
you won’t be upset for much longer, i’ll make sure of it.
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist: @aouiaa @kissmxcheek @mcqsx @spaceshipellie @strgrlxox @machetegirl109 @uraesthete
#ellie williams#ellie williams au#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fic#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams tlou
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while corporations like tumblr's parent or any other platform SHOULD use their corporate might to stand up to government or evangelical interference, they often won't or really can't, and i hope SOME of the ire people have for tumblr staff, whether warranted or not, goes towards the real culprits of MOST of our problems online right now - the US Evangelical White Nationalist Industrial Complex. THEY are the reason that everything mature (or just shit they don't like) is being shut down - they have created culture war campaigns against porn or to "save the children" or "save trafficking victims" that are not actually about nor do anything helpful to fix the problems with any of those things, in an attempt to CONTROL US ALL, usually for some very specific people's monetary gain as well.
because when they created a big public campaign that seemingly everyone could agree on (bad things happening to children is bad!), the CREDIT CARD COMPANIES were forced to act. and they don't give a fuck about anybody except themselves. and everyone is at the MERCY of the credit card companies bc they have chosen the capitalism house of cards - so when Visa and MasterCard say jump, Apple says HOW HIGH? and when Apple says jump, all the platforms like Tumblr, and Facebook/Instagram/Meta, and Twitter/X or whatever, and YouTube/Google say HOW HIGH, because they need their apps in the Apple store.
and that doesn't even take into account the lobbying and public push of US elected officials, across bipartisan lines, to enforce this as well. while you were complaining about Tumblr staff, have you educated yourself about the DANGER of KOSA, the Kids' Online Safety Act? these US senators and congress people can get reelected because they can say look! i cosponsored a bill that helps kids! and wipe their hands of the DOMINO effect this shit will have.
because whether it is the credit card companies or a law like KOSA, the way the platforms from Tumblr, to Apple, to Facebook will OVERCOMPENSATE to legally cover their ass will be DETRIMENTAL to us all, even outside the US. requiring ID information to CONFIRM someone is over 18 to access certain info or else the US government could sue them, shit like that. banning ANY sensitive content with inaccurate autoflagging technology and underpaid/staffed human moderation, as tumblr and tiktok have been struggling with, and even inadvertently suppressing speech (if you want to be charitable), all in the hopes that Apple won't remove their app from their store or the US government won't hold them liable for the things their users post. (PLEASE LEARN ABOUT SECTION 230).
yes, we should always call for the platforms we are on to do better but remember there are BIGGER reasons for what is going on and these are the symptoms of a larger DISEASE. pay ATTENTION.
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Spencer Reid x gender neutral!reader
A/N: inspired by this tiktok - I heard y’all wanted some more shrimp reid content?
gif from an unnamed source on google so if it’s yours please let me know and I’ll credit!! ♡
Turn It Right Around
To suggest Spencer was dreading the arrival of the newest member of the team, would be an understatement. He forced himself to wori earlier than the rest of the team, with the sole intention of sitting at his desk, anxiously bouncing his knees beneath the table and staring at the glass doors that would grant him no more than a few seconds to adjust to the sight of the new member of the team before he would be expected to introduce himself. The young genius had determined that getting to work early was far better than risking arriving at a point where the new team member was already there, had already introduced themselves to the rest of the team, and in doing so, made a spectacle of his own introduction. That was a fate worse than death.
With each member of the team that arrived for the day, Spencer’s heart jumped. He was anxious about having to meet someone new, having someone else to explain his weirdness to, someone else to misunderstand how his mind works and someone else to cut his rambles off short when they inevitably got sick of whatever statistic or piece of trivia he had elected to verbalize; those were his biggest concerns, all culminating under the umbrella term of one fear in particular: what if the new member of the team simply didn’t like him?
The rest of the team had settled at their desks and begun to relax, gossiping about who the new arrival could be, what they might be like. Spencer was too anxious to partake in their theorizing, but when he fixed his gaze back on those glass doors, his heart that had previously been jumping periodically, skipped a beat entirely.
You. With a bright smile and kind eyes, immediately greeting everyone with excited introductions, and Spencer scrambled from his desk, his heart having migrated to his throat. Your smile traveled from person to person, encouraging their smiles in return, until your kind eyes landed on Spencer, and he felt his heartbeat in his suddenly clammy palms.
“Hello! It’s lovely to meet you, I’m (Y/N)!” You introduced yourself to him, and he nodded, concluding in a microsecond that your name was the most beautiful he’d ever heard, regardless of the number of other people he’d encountered who may have shared your name. It was yours, then.
“H-Hello, it’s, it’s uh, lovely to meet you, too, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.” He introduced himself in return, stammering and blushing and wiping his sweating palms on his trousers before he held a hand out for you to shake, much to the shock of the rest of the team, who shared equally wide-eyed glances.
“Spencer. Good name.” You complimented, shaking his hand gently, and Spencer was stunned to detect no malice or sarcasm in your voice at all. Did you like his name, too? He wondered if you could feel his erratic heartbeat as you shook his hand.
“Thanks. Yours is nice, too.” Spencer managed to say back to you, giving you a shy smile.
The rest of the team had given the two of you some space, almost afraid to burst whatever bubble had formed around you and made the resident genius float in such a way.
“Thank you, Spencer.” You answered, blessing him with a soft smile of your own.
Momentary silence was too much for Spencer, and he quickly blurted out the first thing that came to his head. “D-Did you know a Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin study found that by talking with people and processing their social cues, you wake up those parts of your brain which allow for better cognitive function? I-In fact, the study found that with as little as ten minutes of contact and conversation with a new person, brain stimulation led to improved mental cognition. You are basically giving your brain a workout and expanding the ability to learn to accept new ideas and change preconceived notions.” Spencer was speaking quickly, perhaps too quickly, and his face flushed. Despite feeling more confident in his ability to talk to you when he was reciting information he had memorized, that confidence shattered under the - ironically - preconceived notion that you would, like everyone else he encountered, be bored, or worse, disturbed by his sudden outburst of knowledge.
Much to Spencer’s absolute awe, though, the soft smile on your face only widened, and you looked up at him with stars in your eyes.
“That’s so cool, Spencer!” You began to say, and you parted your lips to continue speaking, just as Aaron Hotchner called for everyone to join him at the round table. You glanceed back up at Spencer with that same smile, sending his heart soaring. “If you’ve got any more facts like that, I’d love to hear them, but for now, we’d better get going.”
Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be right there. You go on ahead.” He urged, and you nodded back at him, disappearing up the stairs.
Taking a deep breath in an effort to compose himself, Spencer headed for the coffee machine in the staff kitchen, but on surpassing two steps in that direction, he abruptly turned back on himself and speed walked over his desk. There sat the cup of coffee he had already made, 10 minutes prior. Picking it up, he quickly made his way to the round table to join the rest of the team, mentally scolding himself, until he saw your smile again, waiting for him.
After all, who can blame his eidetic memory for misplacing the information of having already made himself a coffee, in the midst of his heart leaping out of his chest and running towards you?
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