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weemssapphic · 2 years

Note

adjsfh so i never really send any requests but i really like your writing style so if your requests are still open could you maybe write a smutty piece featuring submissive larissa and dominant fem!reader. the idea i had is maybe fem!reader is some sort of a supervisor that came to the school to write a report on larissa?? and larissa decided to cover up some shady stuff she did by trying to seduce her and it ends up working lol but what she hadn't thought about is that reader is more dominant than her but she ends up actually really liking that??? idk if that's like too specific feel free to add to it or like do a slightly different thing if you don't feel this would work i just want sub!larissa ahahh *slithers back into the void*

hello ahkdhsj thank you so much! i absolutely hope this does your request justice, it's also my first time writing sub!larissa so i'm just gonna post this and slither back into my very own void <3 ao3 link in title as always!

warnings/content: nsfw / pwp, sub!larissa, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, feel the need to mention everything is consensual (I hope that comes across)

words: ~4.2k

Dominate Me

You pulled down the long, winding drive leading towards Nevermore Academy, past striking wrought-iron gates, putting your car in park as you reached the visitor’s spots by the entrance. Glancing at the time, you realized you had a few more minutes before your scheduled appointment, so you grabbed the thick manila folder from your passenger seat and leafed through it. You’d already memorized the contents but you thought it best to take another look, to have your facts straight.

You’d been sent by the school board to investigate the principal of Nevermore, Larissa Weems. After the attacks by a “bear” (or whatever that thing out there in the forest was) had left a student in a coma, the school had come under close scrutiny. Some discrepancies had come to light regarding the earlier disappearance of another student and, well, it didn’t bode well for Nevermore - nor for Principal Weems, who appeared to be at the center of the cover-up.

Confident you were ready to face the formidable woman, whom you’d already heard so much about and whom you had to admit you were more than a little intrigued by, you stuffed the folder into your purse and stepped out of your car.

A cool breeze whipped at your face as you ascended the steps to Nevermore’s imposing entrance, pushing open the doors and searching the entry hall for a hint on which way to go.

Quickly spotting a young girl with blonde hair sporting a school uniform, you waved out a hand and stopped her in her tracks. She eyed you curiously.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could point me to Principal Weems' office?” You smiled at the girl, hoping she wouldn’t be too intimidated. She smiled back rather timidly and nodded, saying “yeah, sure” as she guided you down several hallways towards a pair of wood-paneled double doors, adorned with a shiny gold plaque that read “Principal Weems” in an elegant font.

You thanked the girl and checked your watch. Right on time. Taking one last steadying breath, you raised your fist and knocked.

– –

Larissa paced the length of her office, furious that her already busy afternoon was soon to be interrupted by the likes of some school board supervisor who was surely going to try to discredit all the hard work she’d put into Nevermore. She’d spent so many years putting her entire heart and soul into the school - she wasn’t going to let just anybody come in and tear it down. No, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She had a reputation to uphold.

A knock on her door had Larissa nearly jumping out of her skin. She smoothed her skirt and checked her lipstick in the reflection of her cell phone, before click-clacking her way to the door to let in the visitor.

She was prepared for anything. She knew her story well - she’d rehearsed it at least a dozen times by now. And if all else failed? The art of seduction would always be on her side. Smoothing a hand over her hair and plastering on her best fake smile, she opened the door to her office.

– –

The doors to Principal Weems’ office opened and you were almost taken aback at the woman standing before you. You’d heard much about her reputation - strong, unyielding, a woman to be revered and even feared. But what had failed to reach your ears was that she was also stunning, impossibly so. She was attractively tall, with silvery curls pulled back into an elaborate updo, accentuating a long neck and smooth, high cheekbones, lips painted a rich shade of crimson…

Your admiration, however, was cut short as she peered down at you with sapphire eyes, clearly waiting for you to speak, lips pursing ever so slightly.

“Uh, hello, Principal Weems. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from the school board. I believe we have an appointment.” You reached out your hand for the woman to shake. Her hand was warm to the touch, soft, and you had to suppress a shiver at the contact.

“Yes, of course, please come in.” Larissa gestured for you to enter and shut the door behind you. You thought you heard the faint click of a lock, though you couldn’t be sure, so you brushed it off as a trick of the imagination and waited for Larissa to guide you to one of the leather armchairs opposite her desk.

“So what brings you here today?” The blonde smiled warmly as she sat in her own chair, placing her elbows on her desk and resting her chin on her palm.

You raised an eyebrow at her before rifling through the contents of your bag and pulling out your folder. “I believe the school board informed you why I’ve been called to come by? It should have been mentioned in the letter you received on March 1st.”

Larissa pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Yes, I received your letter.”

“Good. Then let’s cut right to the chase and start at the beginning, shall we? There was a student attending Nevermore, Rowan Laslow. His disappearance was reported to you by a Miss Wednesday Addams after the Harvest Festival in Jericho, is that correct?” You eyed the principal carefully for any tells - any signs of anxiety or deceit.

What you saw, though, was mostly agitation marring the principal’s gorgeous features. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Though you claim he hadn’t disappeared at all?”

“Funnily enough, he turned up again the next day,” Larissa batted her eyelashes and cocked her head to the side, her lips turning up into a smile - it wasn’t exactly a warm smile, though, there was something decidedly bitter about it.

“Well, funnily enough, Principal Weems, his parents claim he never did return home.” You gave the principal a smile of your own, curious what the woman would say now.

Larissa stood from where she was sitting and rounded the desk, perching on the edge of it just in front of your chair. You couldn’t help the wandering of your eyes up her form, trailing over her exposed calves, the area around her stomach where her skirt bunched up just a little bit, the pale, tender flesh between her exposed collarbones.

She smirked at you, your ogling not lost on her.

“Unfortunately, what that boy does when he leaves campus is none of my concern - he was expelled, after all. And do call me Larissa, darling.” Larissa’s voice had dropped several octaves since she’d last spoken, causing a wave of desire to wash over your core.

You rose from your chair, gaining yourself some leverage in the situation. “Do you care so little for your former students?” You stepped closer to her, until there were mere inches between your bodies.

Larissa’s pupils widened imperceptibly. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating. But Rowan was a danger to this school and all of its pupils, and keeping him here was far too dangerous. If he chose to run away from his parents, well… that’s on him, I’m afraid…”

Larissa’s lips ghosted yours, her breath warm on your face.

“You think you can seduce me into writing you a glowing report, Larissa?” Your lips brushed hers, hands coming gently to her waist, allowing your fingertips to rub against the fabric there.

Larissa’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip. The tables were suddenly flipping on her - moments before she’d been in control, well on her way to, well, seducing you into giving her a glowing report for the school board. And now here you were, trying to take that control away from her. She wasn’t used to being dominated - usually she was the one with the power, the one calling the shots.

She could only shake her head feebly and feel the smile that spread across your lips as they connected with hers. Her lips were soft, warm, inviting. You spread her legs apart so that you could push one of your thighs between them, reveling in the moan that tore from her throat at the action. It reverbated against your own lips and had you swiping your tongue at her bottom lip, a silent plea for entry. Larissa parted her lips and allowed you to explore the contours of her mouth, as your hands moved to her clothed thighs.

Larissa whimpered into your mouth as your right hand slipped under her skirt and trailed along the inside of her thigh. Her center radiated heat and you couldn’t help the guttural moan that bubbled forth from your chest as you felt how damp her panties were.

You pulled back, regarding the woman in front of you with awe. Larissa’s cheeks were pink, her lipstick smudged, her chest heaving.

Her brows furrowed, little creases appearing on her forehead as she narrowed her eyes. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She tried to sound indignant but failed, only managing to sound extremely turned on as your thigh pressed further into her center.

“You’re an attractive woman, Larissa,” you met her gaze, quirking an eyebrow and watching as her cheeks darkened considerably. You took her chin between your fingers. “I’m going to worship you the way you deserve it. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You smirked as Larissa’s mouth fell open, her blush now extending from her chest to the tips of her ears. An interesting reaction to your praise. You’d have to file that away for later. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop. Tell me to leave and I’ll go without another word, it won’t affect the report.” You needed Larissa to know she had a choice in the matter.

Larissa’s eyes searched yours for a moment, finding nothing but honesty and a mad desire to bring her mind-numbing, all-consuming pleasure. “I want it,” she confirmed.

“The door is locked?”

“Y-yes,” Larissa looked to the ground, rather sheepishly.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” you cooed. “It’s just us. Now where was I?” You grazed the backs of your knuckles over the fabric covering Larissa’s core, a sinful moan dripping from her lips as her head lolled back.

“P-please,” Larissa’s voice was low and shaky.

“Please what?” You knew what she wanted, of course you did, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make this easy for the woman.

“Please… fuck me.” Larissa’s gaze, pleading and famished, met yours, and you were happy to oblige her request.

You hooked your fingers around her underwear and slid them down her legs, planting kisses along the tender flesh of her thighs and the smooth, solid muscles of her calves as you followed them down. Discarding the underwear, you knelt before Larissa so that your head was level with her sex, suppressing a moan as you saw how wet she was for you, her cunt glistening.

Flattening your tongue, you licked a path through her folds, starting at her entrance and working your way to her clit. Larissa’s hips bucked forward and you felt a hand settle in your hair, pressing your face roughly into her cunt.

You pulled back, arching an eyebrow at the high-pitched whine you received in return. “Did I say you could touch?” Larissa’s hand dropped rather pathetically from your head and she flushed, a mixture of irritation, shame, and lust swirling in her pupils.

“Come here, gorgeous,” you cooed, reaching out a hand to Larissa for her to take as your other hand worked at the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning them one by one at a tantalizing pace.

Larissa’s eyes were glued to your cleavage as you led her to the loveseat in front of her fireplace. You shed yourself of the button-up and guided Larissa onto her back, dragging her skirt down her legs and leaving little scratches with your nails on the flesh of her thighs as you did so.

Larissa’s hands found purchase on your own waist, pulling you in for a searing kiss. It didn’t last long, however, as you pushed yourself up and grabbed hold of her wrists, pinning them above Larissa’s head in a swift motion - you didn’t have anything to tie her up with so this would have to do. Your grip was loose but firm, wanting to provide Larissa an out while showing her who was in charge. Her pupils dilated, chest heaving as she squirmed beneath you.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me now?” Larissa seemed to fight beneath you for a moment, each of her sapphire eyes flicking between yours, breathing coming out in shallow puffs as she twisted in your grip. Slowly, her movements stilled and she nodded, cheeks dusted pink.

“Talk to me, love. Is this okay?” One of your hands held her wrists in place as the other came to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. Larissa mewled, leaning into the touch.

“Y-yes, it’s okay,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’m going to let go of your hands, okay? And you’re going to leave them up there - no touching unless I tell you to.” You waited for Larissa’s nod beneath you before dipping your hands under the hem of Larissa’s top and finding her bra.

You slipped your hands behind Larissa’s back, expertly unhooking the offending garment and pushing it aside before working to remove her top and latching your mouth onto her nipple, sucking at the already hardened bud as your hand began to palm the pillowy flesh of her other breast.

You switched sides, ensuring no side would feel neglected as you nipped and sucked at her chest, feeling how Larissa began to squirm beneath you as your tongue soothed over the little marks you left on her skin.

“Patience,” you chuckled, throwing Larissa a mischievous grin as you unbuttoned and removed your own slacks. Dark eyes roved over your body as you settled between her thighs, now clad only in your underwear.

You paused for a moment, drinking in the woman before you. The smooth, milky expanse of her thighs, coated in her glistening arousal, legs bent at the knee and dropped open for you. The pink flush of her heaving chest, moving in time with her ragged breaths. The soft flesh of her stomach and breasts, covered in goosebumps, nipples erect. Her long arms extended over her head, just as you had asked of her.

And that face - my god, that face. Eyes you could get lost in, staring down at you wantonly through mascara-coated lashes, batting against her high cheekbones, flushed with desire. Painted lips which had long since been smeared, parted slightly in question as you regarded her. An angel in human form.

“You are so gorgeous.” Your admission brought a fresh blush to Larissa’s cheeks. “You’re going to look so beautiful for me when I make you come.”

Larissa’s subsequent moan spurred you on as you ran a teasing finger through her folds, gathering up her arousal. You brought the finger to Larissa’s lips and she sucked it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and groaning. She released the digit with a pop that caused a fresh wave of desire to pool at your core.

“So wet for me already, hmm?”

Larissa practically purred beneath you. “God, please, please touch me.”

The low timbre of her voice spurred on your own arousal and as you brought your fingers back to Larissa’s cunt, you straddled her thigh to provide your clit with some much-needed friction.

You circled her clit with the pads of your fingers once, twice, before plunging two digits into her dripping center, moaning at the way her walls immediately began to draw you in. You began a steady pace inside of the blonde, curling your fingers into her sweet spot, creating pressure around her clit with the heel of your palm.

Larissa bucked her hips upwards with every thrust of your fingers, creating a delicious friction against your own cunt with her thigh. Your soaked panties rubbed against her skin and you rolled your hips in time with your thrusts, hissing as the seam of your panties rubbed against your throbbing clit.

She spread her legs wider, inviting your fingers deeper into her cunt. You added another finger, feeling her walls clench slightly. You could feel how close she was as her thighs began to tremble and she seemed to have trouble keeping her arms above her head as she writhed and squirmed.

– –

Meanwhile, Larissa was coming undone beneath you. She had no idea what had compelled her to follow your orders, and it should have been easy to simply take back the control and force you into submission. But some part of her couldn’t help but to be intrigued by you, the way you took control of the situation. She found it (and you, if she was being honest with herself) extremely attractive, and relinquishing her dominance might just be exactly what she needed.

Larissa dropped her thighs open, as wide as they could go, a loud moan escaping her lips as you added a third finger. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch you as she watched you fuck her, and fuck yourself on her thigh. She could feel how wet you were for her through your underwear and the thought drove her wild.

A particularly sharp thrust of your fingers had Larissa crying out, eyes rolling back into her head. She could faintly hear you whispering praises past the ringing in her ears and her entire body felt like it was ablaze. She’d never had a lover shower her with praise before and the thought of being someone’s “good girl”, of being your “good girl”, brought her over the edge.

– –

“You’re doing so well for me.” You smirked down at Larissa, watching as she panted and writhed beneath you, thighs still trembling from her first orgasm. “You think I’m done with you, pretty girl?”

Your own cunt throbbed with desire as you abandoned your seat on her thigh, still not quite having reached your own orgasm but dying for another taste of the intoxicating blonde.

You trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of Larissa’s right thigh, then her left, stopping just shy of her center each time. You kissed the blonde patch of curls at Larissa’s mound, breath ghosting just over her clit. The woman let out a needy whimper, shifting her hips in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

You dragged your tongue through her slit, finally latching onto her clit and drawing lazy circles around the sensitive bud with your tongue. You moaned at the taste of her, a heavenly mixture of tangy and sweet, the vibrations of your moan against her cunt causing Larissa’s hips to tilt upwards, pressing herself into your mouth.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Fuck, you taste good.” You continued to lap up the juices that flowed from Larissa’s center, barely able to contain your smile at the way she rolled her hips into your mouth. You hooked your hands around her thighs, dragging her as close as you could, burying yourself in her.

“C-can I…” Larissa’s voice trailed off into a breathy groan as your tongue dipped unexpectedly into her entrance.

“Can you…?” You looked up at her in question, your eyes meeting hers, clouded with the lust of her impending orgasm.

“Can I touch you?” Her voice was almost timid as her arms twitched above her head.

“Yes,” you grinned at the sigh that escaped Larissa’s lips as she brought her hands to your hair, fingers weaving into your locks, pushing you gently but insistently back down to her pussy. You obliged, lapping at her core as her thighs tightened around your head. Her moans were muffled, punctuated with sharp pains on your scalp as long fingers wound themselves tighter into your hair. Your lips never left her clit, tongue flicking languidly as you brought her down from her high.

Her legs released you from their iron-grip and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You cleaned her up with your tongue, pressing sweet kisses to the insides of her thighs and trailing up her body - her hips, her stomach, the swell of her breasts, her throat, finally capturing her lips, which curled up into a blissed out smile at the contact.

“You’re amazing, Larissa,” you whispered, relishing the feeling of her overheated skin pressed against your own. The feeling of her nipples poking at your bare skin, the taste of her arousal still fresh on your tongue, the sound of her breathing - heavy but evening out - were all doing nothing to quell the embers glowing in the pit of your own stomach. Every nerve-ending in your body was alive, raw to the touch.

“I regret to inform you, however…” you trailed off, taking Larissa’s wrist in your hand and guiding her between your legs. “That I am still very turned on by you, my darling.” Larissa’s pupils widened as you pressed her fingers against your center - warm, wet, aching.

“Think you can take care of that for me?” At Larissa’s feverish nod, you pulled her up with you.

“Get on your knees.” The blonde slid onto the floor in front of you and folded her legs underneath her, waiting for further instruction. “Help me with these?” You shifted your hips as Larissa hooked her fingers around your underwear and dragged it down your legs.

Larissa suppressed a groan when she saw how wet you were for her. You brought your fingers down to your clit, amused at the rapt attention with which Larissa watched as you began to finger yourself.

“Think you can put that gorgeous mouth of yours to good use?” You smirked down at Larissa, who didn’t need to be told twice as she placed her palms on your knees, spreading your legs as she settled her head between your thighs. She wasted no time in flattening her tongue against your sex, running it up your slit until she found your throbbing bud. Your hands found purchase in her curls, neither of you caring that you were ruining her perfectly coiffed updo as you pushed yourself into her, fucking yourself on her face.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Fuck- you look so good fucking me, you’re being s-so good for me.” Larissa moaned into you and your nails dug into her scalp, your hips canting upwards rhythmically to meet her face.

Your arousal dripped down Larissa’s chin as she picked up her pace against your cunt. The coil in your abdomen was winding tighter and tighter and as Larissa’s tongue began to tease at your entrance, dipping into your core, you felt yourself begin to come undone. Her thumb came up to brush against your clit, determined to prolong your pleasure as stars began to explode behind your eyes.

Once you had steadied your breathing, you leaned down, capturing Larissa’s lips for a sweet kiss, your own taste still fresh on her tongue.

You offered your arms out to the woman. She seemed hesitant, but ultimately allowed you to pull her half onto your lap, her head on your chest, your fingertips tracing soothing patterns over the smooth expanse of her back. She didn’t seem like the type who often (ever?) relinquished control, so you were happy to give her a few seconds to ground herself.

You nuzzled your face into Larissa’s hair, almost involuntarily - she smelled of peonies and jasmine, soft and feminine, a heavenly combination. Her breathing began to even out against the bare skin of your chest and you couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped your lips.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Larissa,” you murmured into her hair.

Larissa peered up at you, an eyebrow quirked up in mock-offense. “Do I seem like the type?”

You grinned. “Not at all. I should be going though. I do hope you didn’t have any other meetings lined up after mine.” You nodded towards the clock on the wall.

Larissa’s eyes followed yours and a groan fell from her lips.

“Try not to act too disappointed. Against my expectations, I rather enjoyed our meeting.” Larissa couldn’t have looked more adorable in that moment if she’d tried - cheeks pink, curls falling into wide eyes, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “It - it did take a rather unexpected turn. I can’t say I’m disappointed at the outcome… That is, unless…?”

“You mean the report? As far as I’m concerned, Rowan simply… How did you put it? Ran away?” Your smirk widened at the relieved smile you received from the principal.

Larissa eased herself from the couch, reaching for her clothes and dressing herself. You followed suit, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the blonde’s bare skin. After combing through your hair and wiping away remnants of Larissa’s lipstick from your face, you gathered up your belongings and headed towards the doors, Larissa on your heels to see you out.

As Larissa began to ease the door open, you turned to meet her gaze.

“You might want to, you know,” you gestured to the smudge of crimson that stained her chin. Comprehension dawned on her face, followed by a mischievous smirk as she leaned down to match your height, planting a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Yeah, you too,” she gestured to the lipstick mark she’d just left behind.

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you bid the principal goodbye and walked back to your car, wondering just how you would convince the school board to send you back to Nevermore again.

thank you to @afeatherformills and @scumppa for beta-reading <3 and tagging @orchidsshine and @sapphicsbeloved bc i think i remember you guys asking to be tagged in things but also correct me if i'm wrong hehe

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems

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writingcold · 2 months

Text

Welcome to Chapter Two - I’m glad you’re back!

Content Warnings: I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate.

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter Two word count: approximately 3200 words

Warnings in this part: None. More world building, and there’s a spectacularly fabulously sexy picture of Jake.

Chapter 2: Discovery in the Graveyard

I was slow to wake. My skull felt bruised and my stomach was tender. I cautioned myself through a small cup of tea and a few crackers, finding my breath was coming easier and thoughts were not muddy. I made it a point to move slowly through my routine, taking each step as gently as possible. I floated through a few hours before I felt like my legs were strong enough to carry me through the day.

I stopped at the diner for coffee and a sandwich. I melted into a quiet booth, feeling my humanity return to my skin. The waitress smiled and seemed to pick up on my delicate residence in the vinyl booth, giving me quiet words and a gentle presence to check in as I fed my body to enter the world once more. Check paid, I debated returning to the library, but honestly, the concrete in my brain demanded a return to the horizontal. I kept the room dark and turned off my phone before settling back into bed. I turned my laptop on with the intent of seeking out something to keep in the background while I rested, but found my fingers navigating to the folders of pictures that I had already taken. I first brought up the guitar player that I had literally tripped over the afternoon before. It was hard not to stare. The man was commanding my attention, even though the photograph was from some forty years before. There was something familiar that refused to reveal itself the longer I studied him. I jotted a few notes down - namely to look for more information on this Jacob Thomas, his band, albums or singles released and what happened to him.

For comparison sake, I pulled up the picture of the ‘Jacob’ ghost with Guitar Jacob, side by side. The subtle cleft in the chin, soft mouth, the way there was a faint sharpness of concentration in the brows… Guitar Jacob was much thinner, his cheekbones were sharp and jaw was straight, but it was undeniable. The entity in the cemetery and the guitar player were nearly identical. The ghost had subtle differences - the body was stronger, and it looked like physical labor was a daily occurrence. And the shirt it wore was antiquated. It was not the romanticized version that rock stars have worn since the sixties. But how could a man be in two different eras of time and look the same? Perhaps this Jacob Thomas was a distant relative - you know, like one of those bizarre occurrences where a photo from the deep past looks freakily like someone in current time? I jotted the idea down that perhaps the two were related - maybe, and not the same person? That would put Thomas in his late 50s, early 60s if he was still alive.

After a few hours of rest, I decided to go for a walk to keep my eyes from a screen for a while longer. I was glad for my heavy cabled sweater as the wind had taken on a chillier feel. I had seen a tourism office that housed a small town history museum. Once I got beyond the tourist trappings, the actual history section was impressive. Like most of the upper midwest, it was touched by French trappers and explorers, before being settled by German and Nordic farmers and loggers. There was a lovely section about the founders of the county and into the documentation of the land within. I was just about to turn the corner when I noticed painted landscapes. Each one was breathtaking. The exhibit was drawing the early surveys of sketches and paintings to show the lay of resources that would draw the Yankees west to settle in the land of trappers and lumber. There seemed to be a few different artists featured, but…

I paused. There was a sketch of a man within an incomplete landscape that was towards a corner. I frowned as I looked behind me to see if anyone else was around. The man in the sketch, dressed in period clothing, was lean and held an easel and a thin wooden box. He was drawn looking slightly away, but the way he held his mouth, the way he held his body…

“No fucking way,” I whispered as I leaned closer to the print.

Yakov Petrov in field. 1857. There was the subtle cleft to the chin, the same ridge of cheekbone, the same damn soft looking mouth. The hair was short, or perhaps tucked under a brimmed hat. I looked around again to ensure there were no eyes watching directly before I snapped a picture. A few more prints down and there was one where the artist’s name was listed as Yakov Petrov. The landscape was of a stretch of water with a port… Sault Ste. Marie. Further down was another that was accredited to his hand, this one was marked Tittawabassee River, 1861. A third to his credit was a hint of civilization - a town’s foundations. It was early Frankenmuth, 1856.

Yakov. Was that not a form of Jacob? I snapped a few more pictures that were credited to him before turning away. I grabbed a few attraction pamphlets before walking out into the brisk afternoon. Though my head still felt like it had fractures and fissures just under the surface, I decided to at least stop in at the library just to keep my eyes off my computer and on physical words. There was something about the Jacob stone that was tickling at my brain and I just couldn’t fully understand it all. I wondered if anyone in the town had taken notice of the strange stone in the old cemetery.

The round faced librarian was nowhere to be seen when I walked into the warmth of the library. I smiled when I found that true to her word, my promised ‘workstation’ was intact and waiting for me. Just as I was sitting down and reaching for the bound newspaper volume, a woman approached with a shy smile.

“Welcome back,” she started, her eyes roving across the books that were awaiting me. “Becca wanted to make sure that you had everything you might need. Today is her day off.”

“Oh,” I said as I opened up the big cover on the newspapers. “How kind. I think I’m good right now… Um. Wait. I was over at the visitor’s center and saw landscape artists…”

She smiled big and held up a finger as she skirted away. “I love those! I have regional surveys and artists going all the way back.”

I laughed quietly as the new face went a long way to prove the loudest one in the library is typically the librarian. She returned with a coffee table book sized record with a look like she had captured a canary.

“How exciting that this may be going towards a story,” she remarked as she set down the book with reverence.

She was quick to retreat with a wave and offer for more help when I needed it. I may have looked at the art book, but I continued on with the newspapers, quickly moving forward to where I had left off the day before. I took out my notebook when I came across the article that had Jacob Thomas talking about the studio that had signed his band Black Flag Expedition - Little Archer Studios. I jotted down the name and that they were out of Detroit. I lingered across the picture, realizing that he was young - no more than twenty two. I started forward in hopes of stumbling across another article. After forwarding through another six months, I needed music to keep my nerves calm. Earbuds in and a lovely playlist on, I continued on another few minutes, another few weeks before landing on a full color picture that slapped me.

He was crouched in a halo of orange, red and gold, black guitar between his knees and a look that revealed that this man was the epitome of sex and music. He was dressed in black, his dark hair framing his sultry expression. His molten dark eyes felt as if they reached out over the decades to look out across an audience that begged him for his fleeting attention. This man rivaled the big dogs that were gracing stages at the time. According to the article, the band’s album was finishing up on production and the band was moving beyond festivals to performing its own headlining shows. I lingered across the photo and might’ve whispered a near silent ‘whoa’ as my mind swirled what Jacob Thomas must’ve been while on that stage of his.

I turned my attention to the landscape book finding that it was on art and artists from 1840 - 2020. I struggled to get the massive cover open, but the glossy pages and smell of new ink was my prize. It was obvious that not many sets of eyes had taken in the beauty of the book, but I surely was glad to have someone share it with me. The book was set up by era, not artist. I knew Yakov would be considered early exploration so did not dive into the index for names and pages. It was nice to just flip through and lazily take in each different turn of art. Text entered the scene and I breathed in the information about the statehood of Michigan, followed by the establishment of Saginaw as a county. There were blurbs about explorers and then the artists to record how the land unfolded and breathed. I did not really absorb the words until I landed on the little picture of him with his name. He lived 1830 - 1873. He had been an apprentice to another painter until that man had caught ill and died in the 1850’s. There was not much about the mysterious Yakov other than his work and the years that he had painted them. He was by no means the only one included in this early era, but his paintings were the ones that my eyes loitered over. He was certainly talented.

My fingers took up the pen and scribbled a single question - Is it Yakov in the cemetery?

I sat back and watched out the windows for a while. The leaves were beginning to shed little by little. I had Yakov’s painting of the founding before me and I wondered if he was here in the Autumn to see the beauty as I was in that moment. Without my laptop, I was at a standstill. I stood and stretched before beginning to clean up the table before me. On my way out, I caught the eye of a tall, light blonde girl who was rummaging around the new book collection. A faint blush rose on her cheeks as she yanked down something as if to put her eyes elsewhere. I waved at the librarians and made my way out to return to my room.

I started a chart of sorts on the small dining table. One part was Jacob Thomas and the other was Yakov Petrov. I set my notes down for each man under their names. I sat back just to look. Between them I started to line up little cards of notes about the Jacob stone. It would work better if I had pictures. I made a mental note to print those out the next day.

My writer’s brain was trying to formulate a story - a thread between the men and the cemetery but for some reason, I felt off. There was something I was not seeing. Before moving to the desk, I dug out my speaker to pipe some music into the air. I started my evening looking for Jacob Thomas and Black Flag Expedition. A Mid State Recordings company popped up with a small blurb on the band. I read through the About section on the company and discovered they had purchased Little Archer back in the late 80’s, along with their entire catalog of productions. In my notes, I scratched away Little Archer to replace it with Mid State. Looking over the small studio, I located the name of the owner and production team. One man in particular - Uther Morgan, the original owner and producer for Little Archer, was still with Mid State.

I scratched at my lip with thought. I needed to be professional about this. I opened up my email and quickly formulated a draft to send to Vin. To have the editor reach out to the studio would maybe present a more tailored reason for my inquiry into the matter. Vin would then also have something concrete to provide the publisher to show that I’m actually working. Two birds, one stone. Ha.

I was still wiped from the migraine of the previous night. I made myself tea and talked with Gran before sending Owen a text to say ‘hi’. Tucked into the plush bed, I planned on reading, but that didn’t happen for long.

⭒☾ I was walking down the pier, the clang of ship bells sending sharp reverberation through my body as I was listening to a man talk. I knew this man. Looking at him, I felt the word father splash over me as he was pointing towards different vessels, explaining which cargo would go to those in the colonies of New York and Virginia, even as far south as Georgia. The rest, he explained, would return to our homelands in France. I realized he was speaking to me in French and I understood. My gaze traveled beyond what my father was saying, catching sight of men who worked and yet looked half starved and riddled with ailment. It hurt to be walking before them in my fine silk dress and furs to keep me warm. He stopped my hand when I reached for my own purse when a few children rushed before me with their hands out.

He may have stayed my hand in the front, but behind my back, I held two coins out for them to take before he could catch me. The house we lived in was rambling and filled with finery that Father grumbled was more affluent than that of any nobleman, and yet… My family were merchants, not a noble house as he so desired, just as his father before him had coveted. As if to be ‘noble’ meant that one had to be born as such. I did not understand the drive to want to be a part of the aristocracy. This was a new world, and new ways of life were possible. Why not put the old ways aside?

I was dressed in a ballgown that bit and rubbed against my ribs painfully. I felt like a pawn as I navigated the wealth and prestige that made up the structure of my world. I was expected to dance and speak like a lady, all the while I dreamed of walking across the fields, the grand stretch of water and watching the lovely sea birds ride on the winds of the north. I might have been simple minded for having such a desire, but it was a lot better than the rude and often wearisome drone of the seeking prestige that did not interest me.

“Matthias,” the man said, as if it was important.

We pressed our palms together and I barely looked upon him as we danced. I had no interest in speaking to him. His view of his own superiority rolled off his flesh like the overbearing stink of his skin. I was thankful to twirl away from him, even if it was momentarily. I smiled at my older brother, Abel and his wife, Celeste, as I bounded by. Celeste reached out to me, a lovely addition to our family, who was just as windswept in nature as myself. She took hold of my hand and tugged me to sit next to her, effectively ending my dance with the pompous stranger.

“Do you think we can sneak away to your library?” she whispered. “It’d be more fun than this drivel.”

We giggled like sisters and held close like friends… ⭒☾

I discovered Vinny had returned my email before I left for the day. The plan was simple, armed with my backpack and laptop, I would spend more time within the library. I needed to produce something - anything - to at least show that I was fleshing out a story that would pacify the publisher. That was the advice from my dear editor, and I would follow said advice. Coffee and breakfast in, I walked down the main street, browsing the shop windows as I huddled in my heavy sweater once more. I crossed a shop of homespun wares, including mittens and scarves. I picked a set of the softest, local raised wool to put to instant use. I did not bother to get the car as my path was already over half the distance to the library. It allowed me to feel the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet and the kiss of winter in the air.

I waved when I discovered that the one named Becca was out in the stacks when I was making my way over to my workstation. She was talking to an older gentleman, but took the time to call out a hello. See - librarians are a noisy lot. I put my earbuds in and picked a heavy playlist as I opened up the landscape book. Looking at Yakov, my mind stretched back to my pair of dreams that I had not given time to really think about. What a wild and polished landscape that had been wrapped around my thoughts. I tried to picture the gown I wore, feeling it more than actually looking at it. Perhaps my brain was setting me within this time that I looked at this artwork that sat before me. I traced the line of the frame of Yakov’s picture, once again wondering if he was the face I had seen in the cemetery. Was it his era that I dreamed of? But it was a port I was walking along…

I turned my eyes back to my computer screen and started to research the Great Lakes Region mid 1800s. I was knee deep in history when I realized it was raining outside - hard. The lights flickered a few times, but remained on. I glanced at the circ desk and the group of staff were unbothered by the event, so I let myself relax. Opening my docs program, I stared at the blinking cursor for a few minutes before my eyes traced to the windows and the fat raindrops that were pounding on the glass. Before I knew it, I was sketching sentences that looked a lot like the cemetery of the Redeemer, and a man who was trapped within.

Short, but a lot. Did you enjoy our picture of Guitar Jake? It’s one of my personal favorites from Starcatcher. So word of warning, we see our ghost in the next chapter, his POV. See you next Thursday! 💚

@edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @katuschka @thewritingbeforesunrise @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @demonrat444 @klarxtr @peaceloveunitygvf @hollyco @lipstickitty @joshym @itsafullmoon @josh-iamyour-mama @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @way-to-go-lad @jjwasneverhere @gretavangroupie @emojakekiszka @wetkleenex-gvf @vanfleeter @losfacedevil @myownparadise96 @lizzys-sunflower @literal-dead-leaf @musicislove3389

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fic au #jake kiszka fan fic au #jake kiszka fan fiction au #the dead

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getmehighonmagic · 9 months

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WIP Tag Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you for the tags, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @eusuntgratie and @happiness-of-the-pursuit ♥

I've been pretty reluctant to do this, because I don't know what I consider a WIP and if I even know enough people to tag after I'm done, haha! But I'm doing it anyway, so here we go.

Outlined

Girl dads FirstPrince

Phone Sex RPF

Drabble inspired by one of @marz-rm's upcoming arts

Jealous Henry 2

Nursing home AU (nurse/family of a patient) - FirstPrince

A start has been made

Valentine's Fic (Holiday Series)

heading straight for your heart (like a bullet in the dark) - FirstMarine

I need comfort (but I hate being comfortable) - FirstMarine

Halex fic (Alex Claremont-Diaz/Hayes Campbell)

lead the way, darling - FirstPrince (post election night)

Just an idea so far

venom in your veins brings me to my knees (teacher/student) - FirstPrince

Easter Fic (Holiday Series)

Upcoming challenges

Kinktober 2024 (1 fic written, 2 fics outlined)

Right, so now I have to find 13 people to tag, haha! @bigassbowlingballhead @magicandarchery @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @anincompletelist @kiwiana-writes @winderlylandchime @lostcol @firenati0n @matherines @affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @clottedcreamfudge @ninzied and tagging a few extra people because I'm too curious @sparklepocalypse @congee4lunch @rmd-writes @heybuddy-drabbles. Okay, that was easier than I thought :') No pressure tho! ♥

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larabiatasstuff · 2 years

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Hello!!!

Could you do something where Terry has a daughter and she goes to school she makes him a valentine and card because her class was making valentines days things for mums and dad's and when she goes home Terry is in his office drinking and doing alot of paper work he is stressed when his little girl will walk in he looks at her and smiles she runs to her daddy"i have something for you daddy" she says in her cute voice he will smile, oh yeah what's that? He would ask the little girl on his lap will look though her bag and pull out a hand made card and give it to Terry what would Terry do in this moment?,

Can. I have (kk3) Terry and older Terry on this please you can also add stuff to this as well

Well hello and thank you for your adorable request 🖤

(kk3) Terry had a rough day, everyone, literally everyone got on his nerves and he had the feeling that he's surrounded by idiots. He was arguing with a business partner and got frustrated the longer he talked to him. Then he slammed the phone down and sunk back in his seat. Suddenly he hears the creaking of his office door and looks up. The face of his little princess appeared in the doorframe. "Hey little princess, how was school?" she entered the office going straight to her daddy. Terry lifts her up on his lap. "Are you angry daddy?" his little girl asks "Now that my sweet little girl is here not anymore." he kisses her cheek which makes her giggle. "I have something for you daddy. And I made it all by myself just for you." she says while rummaging through her backpack. "Oh really for me?" finally she holds a pink card with some crooked hearts on it and hands it over to him. "It's a valentine's card daddy. We made it at school today." he looks at the card with much adoration. "Wow princess, you made this all alone? It's amazing. You know what? I'll put it right here on my desk so I can always look at it." his daughter looks at him with big eyes. "Really? You like it daddy?" he hugs her really tight and says "I love it princess and everyone who comes in my office will be jealous of that beautiful card."

(CK) Terry sat in his office doing some paperwork and having a drink. Suddenly he hears the voice of his daughter "Daddy, daddy, daddy where are you?" her sweet little voice echoes through the house. "I'm here little princess in my office." fast footsteps approach and suddenly his daughter is rushing into the office and jumping on his lap. Her cheeks red and her hair messy. "You're really excited princess did something happen at school?" Terry asks. "We had art class today and I made you something." she says proud. "Really? I'd love to see it." Terry says. His daughter opens her backpack and takes out a heart shaped card and carefully gives it to him. Terry's heart almost starts melting. His little girl made him a valentine's card,with much glitter and in big crooked letters 'for daddy' written on it. "That's the most beautiful present I've ever got princess. It's wonderful." Terry wiped a tear away. "Why are you crying daddy?" his little girl asks "I'm happy princess sometimes parents cry because they're happy. I tell you what I put it here in my work folder so I have it always with me. What do you say?" the little girl wraps her arms around his neck. "That's a good idea and you can show it to your friends at work." Terry chuckled "Yes I will definitely do that princess."

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #sensei targaryen #cobra kai #Kk3

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kintatsujo · 1 year

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It's interesting to me how different types of lists and notes help my different problems and how I like, have to identify those issues as separate sometimes in order to solve them

Keeping a to do list on my phone doesn't work because the transient and impermanent nature of digital storage ironically often means it sits in there for a bazillion years and nothing actually gets done, because I both have very little sense of when it got put on the list and staring at a habit app slowly go from green to red just stresses me out.

Keeping a day to day work journal, on the other hand, means that I can add things I DID do so that if I didn't do something on that day's list I often don't feel as bad about having to move it forward.

It also means that I can flip back and check when I did things like paying bills, and it's helpful to keep things like what I got in the mail and what we had for dinner in that journal. I dedicate one page of the journal to a single day and this keeps me from overloading myself (more recently I've been using the backs of pages for notes when people tell me shit instead of using it for another day and that's also helpful to be able to check back on.)

But it doesn't work for tracking the state of perishables in my fridge because I apparently need that info out where I can see it all the time and usually it's fine for things like paid bills to be out of sight out of mind. I can't put the perishables in an archive because that's a continuous Now concern.

Likewise it DOES help to keep my running grocery list on my phone because I can forget about getting light bulbs once I've got them in the house. It also helps to keep permanent lists of people's restaurant preferences on my phone so I do that too. (I have backups elsewhere but keeping it on my phone means I have it on hand whenever.)

But none of this works for longterm projects (such as home improvement or art projects).

For longterm projects, I don't always know when I'm going to be able to work on them on a particular day, and tracking progress on them would get lost in the shuffle if the only place I kept track of it was in my usual daily journal.

So I have my big ass portfolio binder and I keep track of longterm life stuff in there (there are also folders specifically to keep bills, checks deposited through mobile, and documentation I need to have on hand for a while). And the portfolio binder comes with me to both work and to people's houses, it lives in my work bag and I use it to plan everything before that stuff gets filtered out to the places it has to go.

I ALSO keep a yearly planner in that binder and use it to further keep track of the bills, my schedule at work, and my period, because it's easier to see what my body is doing if I can look at it on the yearly overview pages.

And on top of that there's a handful of lists in there to pull from if I'm having a "what the fuck IS the routine supposed to look like" day at work; procedures and things that I'd forget if I let them fade into monotony written in the back of the planner notes.

My webcomic has its own portfolio and different projects get dedicated notebooks (but not sketchbooks which is why having a copier is so essential)

Also I make worksheets for art work now lol

I should probably be on adhd medication tbh bc when I lay it all out like this it's sort of a full time job just keeping my own head on straight.

#I also keep a nightly diary but that's more about getting my brain to shut up before I try to sleep

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noxiatoxia · 1 year

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Ummm first of all can I just say how much I fucking love your blog??? Ur brand of ouran themed bullshittery is ✨✨ immaculate ✨✨ and it's harboring empty space in my brain like a stolen jewel stg. also it is so fucking cool to see a fellow hikakao shipper out there in their morning glory like I just fucking shdudjdenkskaanhsuehdbn.. i've recently gotten back into my old ouran obsession and looking around the hikakao portion of the fandom all I see are a couple of tumbleweeds out of my peripheral rolling across a long since vacated dirt road like what the fuck its so hard to find people as in love with these characters as I am and I NEED to talk to any person ever about it or I will go insane. I just??? Have so many thoughts and feelings??? And I have a shit ton of aus and theories and monologues if you're interested :)

sidenote, but I also wanted to say that I LOVE your art style!! I love how simplistic but recognizable it is? It's hard to explain but it's just so visually appealing because it's detailed in all the right ways like seriously it's great :)) I need art tips so bad rn and ur stuff is straight BITCHIN like you can anatomy?? Hoowwww?? :'''))))

Anyway ur blog is basically the musical doodle ear worm to me except instead all I can hear is the shissou beginning guitar riff

THIS IS SO FUCKING NICE....THANK YOU!!!!!!

It's actually really interesting how many people have come to me about this, about being one of the Only active ouran posters esp hikakao. and like. im honored. hikakao is like the grandfather of twincest and i am so honored to carry the torch forward. yes i am 2 decades late to the party but hey i am with every fandom. and i like it that way tbh, i like being in a small fandom and just making connections with other people who share the same intense passion as i do with a goofy series. so ur message means a lot!!

ALSO YES I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR HIKAKAO THOUGHTS OR GENERAL OURAN THOUGHTS THEY OCCUPY MY BRAIN 24/7 PLEASE......PLEEEEASE.....

LIKE. there are SO little hikakao content and tbh theres barely ouran content IN GENERAL and when there is its tamaharu which FAIR I UNDERSTAND WHY i love those funky dudes but....gimmie our roots. i wanna see hikakao and hanimori. TAMAHIKAKAO??? everyone sleeps on that ship. i know most people wont do the two former bc #incest and its not 2007 deviantart anymore but i will not back down. i am in the yaoi war fighting on the side of unhealthy codependency.

also i'm siper thrilled you like my art!!! that's very flattering you find my art style recognizable! anatomy is hard that is for fuckin sure and tbh ive been drawing my whole life, so a lot of it just comes with time. i can give you some tips if you'd like, but really, everyone is different. every artist learns differently, draws differently, and there's no one correct way to draw a picture.

something that really helped me get better at art is to make an "art inspo" folder on your phone, laptop, or a discord channel in a priv server. when you come accross art you really like or find useful to study, save it. maybe you like the style, or how the colors blend, or how an expression was drawn. maybe the artist drew a really good arm or a difficult pose. save the art and study it and learn from it. this helps me immensely personally as i am a very visual person. i learn best by doing, second best by seeing stuff visually laid out in front of me. im sure youll nail it one day!!!!

#you are so real for this...#;noxiatalks2ya

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seekjust · 2 years

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Download iexplorer free

#Download iexplorer free for mac

#Download iexplorer free install

Tech support has disappeared leaving me with no explanation as to why I have lost almost TWO DECADES of my history. Support for Internet Explorer 11 has ended on June 15, 2022. Its as if I never used the application before. Microsoft Edge is the recommended browser by Microsoft. The APP however remains in my application folder with NO backup to be found anywhere on my MAC. Nor a "BACKUP" folder related to iExplorer. There is NO MobileSync folder to be found anywhere. The useless tech support regurgitated the online text book support, "Go to Home/Library/Application Support/MobileSync/Backup/" On my mac there is NO "MobileSync" folder within Application Support. A folder I could never possibility delete something by accident. I have never reinstalled my system and this backup is by the APP's discretion buried on my hard drive. Find out what version of Internet Explorer you’re using or which operating system you're running.

#Download iexplorer free install

NADA! The backup is GONE! It exists NOWHERE on my desktop. Still want to download Internet Explorer 11 Though it's no longer supported, you can download and install Internet Explorer 11. Conversations with friends lost for Christ Sake! When attempting to access the backup via the app this week. Not to mention the sentiment of this archive. It was my life line to archiving my past which is at the center of my art practice. This backup held FIFTEEN YEARS of communication with loved ones, friends and colleagues. I often accessed this iExplorer backup to reference my history of communications. I lost 15 years of communication because of this application! DO NOT USE IT! Two years ago I bought this application to download my iPhone system into a desktop backup in order to start a fresh phone.

Works with all types of iPhones, iPads, iPod Touch, and regular iPod.

Export: Messages (including attachments), notes, voicemail, call history, contacts, calendars.

Browse any iTunes backups (encrypted too).

Mount any folder or category, including playlists and photo albums, then browse in Finder and open with other apps.

Explore and export photos and videos (even from older iPods).

One-click recovery of music and videos straight to iTunes Apple devices are certainly unfriendly to attempts to explore and rummage.

All the best technology from Phone to Mac, Phone Disk, and iExplorer 3, and then some.

Make sure when you download the app you either download it from MacUpdate or from the developer’s website to get the official download link. The app does not have a history of being malicious. IExplorer is safe to download and use on your Mac. It works with both jailbroken and non-jailbroken iPhones and works quickly with a standard USB cable. By using a drag and drop interface, you can quickly copy files and folders between your Mac and your iPhone or iTouch.

#Download iexplorer free for mac

IExplorer is an iPhone browser for Mac lets you view the files on your iOS device.

#Download iexplorer free

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slasherlouvre · 2 years

Note

Good morning darling, I'm feeling ✨️ spicy ✨️ before work and you asked me to pop in more so👉👈

Sending nudes to the sinclairs, that is all my brain wants to think about today. Can you imagine Vincent's surprise when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. You could practically see the hearts in his eyes when he sees your name with a little message next to it but then he nearly fumbles his phone out of his hands when he sees exactly what you sent. Tastefully posed, fingers knuckle deep in yourself and lifting a shirt that you stole from his closet before sending the picture. It wasn't one he gave you, he knows that for a fact but it's yours now. When another message is sent he sets down his tools, opening it up and sighing when he sees its a video. He'll come up and satisfy your needs so quick, and even thank you for the material he gets to use later.

Alternatively, knowing Bo is dealing with a future victim at the station and sending him one anyway. He'll think you need something important and turn away while the stranger looks for a new car part that conveniently went missing. He opens the message and its two pretty pictures for him, the first being a nice mirror shot of you in nothing but one of his hats while you hold along your body and show off your beautiful self. The second is straight to the point, a picture you took while you were laying on your stomach and snaked the phone between your legs to get a nice shot of exactly what he was aching for at this point.

It's getting a little long but I refuse to leave Les out / The way you know Lester is diving someone the long way to Ambrose, sending him a cute little message for him to open. He does while he's driving, not much he can run into besides a tree and he's going slow enough that even then there's not a good chance. He gets a picture of you on his bed, clearly missing him by the way you're spreading yourself for him. His pretty partner sending a picture while they know he's transporting people? He likes the gall, ready to drop them off and send one back until he gets another one. This one is a little more striking, the way you moved positions to show off even better, some message following about not wanting to wait much longer.

-💙

Thank you for refusing to leave Les out 🥺💞 and UGH, Blue! You have me heated before my own shift now!! 😭

Vincent ever the dedicated artist; often forgoing to look after himself when fixated on a new piece. You learned how to get him to take breaks pretty quickly when he's been neglecting his body, and yours , for longer than necessary. Sometimes he likes to make you wait just a bit longer though; replying with an erotic image of his own that's always unfairly artistic and able to make you squirm. He has a folder on his phone specifically dedicated to your nudes, both for art inspiration and 'personal' use. He felt rather ashamed about it at the beginning of the relationship, still too shy to come to you for his needs, but you were quick to reassure him after accidentally walking in on him mid-release over one of your photos.

He'll let you keep the shirt, it looks far better on you anyway, but he's going to ask you to patiently pose for him as he takes some more pictures of you as 'payment' before giving you what you both so desperately want at this point~

Bo is gritting his teeth so hard and devilishly smirking in tandem when he sees the teasing little messages you've sent him. He knows you're purposely riling him up at such an inconvenient time, and he loves it. Makes him feel a pleasurable thrill at knowing your nudes are a dirty little secret between the both of you; his brothers and any future victims none the wiser so long as he's able to play off the predatory gaze that washes over his eyes when he sees them, and the way his underwear have become uncomfortably tight beneath his coveralls~

He'd be a liar if he said teasingly forcing him to wait for his 'reward' didn't excite him though- and they make for very gratifying wallpapers after all. He's going to be home sooner than planned, so don't you dare move from that bed. And keep the hat on too; he's going to be the one to take it off of you.

Lester can't help but softly smile when he hears his phone ping and sees your name; his irritable mood brought about by the unkind people he's transporting immediately washing away. You often send him sweet little messages of encouragement and praise when he's working, so his calloused thumb is deftly unlocking his phone without any second thought. Only, this isn't one of your 'sweet little messages', and he's impishly grinning at the view before quickly pocketing his phone away from any wandering eyes. You sure know how to keep a man on his toes; wonderfully endearing one moment, and sinfully bewitching the next.

Victims be damned, they were going to find themselves in Ambrose much sooner than he'd originally led them to believe. No longer going about the process 'the long way' when he has someone who clearly needs him waiting for him at home~

#💙 anon #anon #ily <3 #reply post #nrambles #self insert stuff #house of wax #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair

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ratofthemedievalsewers · 3 years

Text

Heart of Steel - Part I

DBH Connor x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.5K+

Content warning: Minor injury detail, PTSD, language

Original game dialogue I got from this video:

https://youtu.be/32Np9LKI1Vg

We were attacked in the night.

After returning from a mission back to an outpost several miles from the red zone, we removed our gear save for a few pouches on our belts we could bother with later. Our team leader set up a fire while the SQ800s, CyberLife commissioned combat androids, began loading up the trucks with extra artillery and resources. A job that could have waited until morning, but Alpha always gave the androids something to do. He said that they creeped him out when they would just stand there in a dormant state, waiting for their next mission to be given to them.

"You know what I'm going to do when I get home?"

"Here we go again."

"I'm going to get me a WR400," Foxtrot; not everyone's favourite but he certainly kept us entertained when there was nothing to do.

"Uh-huh and with what money are you going to be using to pay for this WR400? A military salary definitely ain't gonna cut it." Echo always called out Foxtrot's bullshit, he was the only one that had the patience to deal with him.

"Fine, my birthday is comin' up, if you put towards two-thirds of what it costs we can share. How does that sound?"

"I am not sharing anything with you, I don't know what diseases you carry." Their constant back forth sent chuckles through the group.

"Alright, that's enough you two. It's getting late and past everyone's bedtime, I want you all awake by O-five-hundred at the latest," Alpha would often stop them before Foxtrot would take it too far, but he could never hide the twitching smile on his face.

"Yes sir," Foxtrot mock saluted as he stood from his seat around the campfire. "Hey Echo, that offer is still-"

One moment Foxtrot had a wide grin on his face, the next there was a hole in his head between his eyes, the sound of gunshot ringing in everyone's ears.

"SHOTS FIRED! GET TO COVER NOW!"

"FOXTROT IS DOWN! I REPEAT, FOXTROT IS DOWN!"

It was dark, we couldn't see where they were firing from. The android was the only one still standing, firing off in random directions as they were gunned down. The next was Delta, shot in the left shoulder, then the throat. My gun was back in my tent and there was no chance of me getting it. Stupid.

"MEDIC! GET TO DELTA! NOW!"

"GRENADE!"

I heard the thump by my feet before I saw it. You would think it would be terrifying, to know you're staring death in the face, but for a second it was peaceful. My body was cold and I already felt like a corpse, the Rigour Mortis freezing me in place, just softly gazing at what would kill me.

Something grabbed me before the grenade exploded, saving my life but destroying the android.

The bedsheets were crumpled and soaked in sweat again when my eyes shot open. It was hard to breathe, the panic was still running through me and closing up my throat at the memory.

In; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four. Out; one, two, three, four. Hold; one, two, three, four.

It took a few minutes for me to remember where I was. That I was home and that I was safe. Out of nervous habit, I gripped my dog tags, they were wet from the sweat that had soaked through my shirt in the night.

"Shit." It was four in the morning, there was no chance of getting any more sleep and the station wouldn't be open for another two more hours at the least. Saying that; Fowler wanted to speak to me first thing, which never meant anything good for anyone.

It was aching again at the joint. The biomechanical component always felt itchy where it joined at the elbow. Anytime I would have that dream I would scratch at it in my sleep, it was like my subconscious knew it didn't belong. It knew my rotting left arm was still in the desert somewhere being picked apart by vultures.

It's almost ironic; to be saved by an android and then to have part of one attached to me. I hated it.

*****

"Morning Cyborg, you look like shit." Gavin was forever pleasant to talk to.

"Fuck off, Reed." He constantly hovered around the coffee machine, hogging it like it was his newborn baby. "Is Fowler in yet?"

"Not yet, you in trouble?" He took his time making his coffee, exceeding in being the department's resident asshat. "Did he catch you looking at porn on your work terminal again?"

"I'm pretty sure that's only ever happened to you." Not wanting to be reminded of his previous escapades I got no response. Gavin let out a small huff before moving to the side with his fresh cup of coffee, freeing up the machine.

"Officer (L/N)." Oh for fuck's sake.

"Sir?" Captain Fowler stood outside his office, his coat half soaked from the rain.

"My office, I need to speak to you." He didn't give a second glance to me before turning and letting the glass door shut behind him.

"Ha, good luck cyborg." Shooting Gavin the middle finger, I followed Captian Fowler into his office.

"What was it you wished to talk about, sir?" Feet shoulder-width apart, back straight and hands behind my back; habits from the army were destined to die hard. Often I would find myself moving my hand up to salute before leaving the presence of a superior, something else for Gavin to make fun of.

"You're aware of the deviant cases I've assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, correct?" Fowler sat at his desk, wet coat now hung on its rack, but there was slight dampness to his suit blazer where his coat had been left open.

"Yes sir. I believe he's being accompanied by a prototype RK800 from Cyberlife."

"That's correct. I'm sure you're aware that these deviancy cases are on the more..."

"Dangerous?"

"...Unpredictable side. Now, I can't exactly issue a gun to a prototype android if it's going to be in the field and, while I value Hank as a police officer, his record is on the rougher side."

"Captain Fowler, with all due respect, I don't believe-"

"Office (L/N), with all due respect, you don't have an opinion in this matter. I want you to accompany Lieutenant Anderson in these assignments just in case a deviant becomes too much for him or this android to handle. You've certainly got the skillset for it and you're not unfamiliar with working alongside androids, unlike quite a few officers in this department."

"I understand that, but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say I don't want to hear it." Captain Fowler didn't give me a chance to argue as he stood and walked to his office door, the annoyed look on his face worsening. "Hank, in my office!"

I let out a sigh before Captain Fowler turned back to his desk. Through the office wall made of glass Hank reluctantly made his way towards us grumbling something under his breath at the request, the RK800 model obediently following behind him like a little, lost puppy. Hank sat in the chair opposite Fowler while the android stood next to me, giving a small smile as a greeting.

Captain Fowler was the first to talk, "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day. We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just cyberlife's problem anymore, it's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want you to investigate these cases, alongside officer (L/N) and see if there's any link."

"Why me? And why do I need a god damned partner? A stupid android is already too much. Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" Props to Hank for trying, but arguing with Fowler was like talking to a brick wall. "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffery. I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"Everybody's overloaded. I think you're perfectly qualified for this type of investigation," They were already starting to blow up at each other.

"Bullshit! The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left me holdin' the bag!"

"CyberLife sent over this android to help with this investigation and I've given you (L/N) as well. You've got a state of the art prototype and a leading police officer to act as your partners."

"No fuckin' way! I don't need partners, and certainly not this plastic prick and some action hero fucker."

"Nice working with you too, Lieutenant Anderson," I said under my breath, not intending for the others to hear. Connor turned his head slightly in my direction, I could see his LED blink yellow for a moment before going back to its bright blue.

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off! You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth!"

"You know what my goddamn mouth has to say to you, huh?"

"I'll pretend like I didn't hear that, so I don't have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder 'cause it already looks like a fuckin' novel! This conversation is over."

"Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why are you doin' this to me?" Most of the department knew why he had such a distaste towards androids, no one could necessarily blame him. Ever since losing his son Hank had become completely different as both a person and an officer. Admittedly, Fowler was harsh on him, but if he wasn't then Hank would drift.

"I've had just enough of your bitching. Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." Hank left in a strop, letting out his frustration on Fowler's office door.

"Well then..." Connor was quick to break the tense silence. His voice caught me off guard, it was smoother, more human than any android's I had heard before. The SQ800's voices had always been more robotic than other models so it had been a shock when the androids back home had sounded so normal, it felt like that all over again. It was jarring. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a nice day captain."

Connor left and I followed behind, giving a small nod of dismissal to Fowler despite him still looking at his terminal screen.

The android went straight to Hank either oblivious or ignoring the lieutenant's current bad mood, granted there was never a time the bastard was in a good mood. Heaven itself could rain down on Detroit and he'd huff at it like a hair in his food.

"I got the impression my presence causes you some inconvenience, Lieutenant. I'd like you to know I'm very sorry about that. In any case, I'd like you to know I'm very to be working with you." Ever the enthusiast.

"I'd give in now. You're talking to a toddler in a fifty-year old's body and the toddler is having a hissy fit." I half sat and half leant against Hank's desk, using my arms to support my weight.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My name is Connor, I am the android sent by CyberLife." He turned to me, a gentle and manufactured smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to be working with you too, officer (L/N). I'm sure we'll make a great team."

"Er... (Y/N) is just fine."

"Is there a desk anywhere I could use?"

"No one's using that one." Hank points to the desk opposite him, while still sulking like a child.

"Gasp, it speaks," I said in a sarcastic tone while turning to Hank.

"Fuck off. I've already got an android on my ass, I don't need you on it too."

I grabbed a terminal pad before perching myself back at the edge of Hank's desk while Connor got comfortable at the empty one. The light at the side of his head flashing yellow for a moment like he was hesitant to speak."You have a dog, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"The dog hairs on your chair. I like dogs. What's your dog's name?"

"What's it to you?" Hank shifted in his seat, "...Sumo... I call him Sumo."

"Under all those shitty shirts and questionable stains there's a warm, beating heart," I say more to myself than the other two, skimming over the recent case files sent in by Fowler.

"Officer (L/N)... (Y/N), knowing that we'd be working together I read your academy and field records. You have quite an interesting background."

"Oh yeah, then you understand that I may be a little driven to get these cases over with. I can't say I'm a fan of you terminators."

"I understand you have a... warped view of androids due to what you've experienced, but I hope you understand that I am your partner and not your enemy."

"Connor, you're not my partner, you're cyberlife's latest gizmo for us kick around." I sigh, turning to sit at my desk adjacent to hanks, taking the terminal pad with me. "Just look through the deviant case files. Terminals on your desk, knock yourself out."

They're nothing but machines. They are not your friends.

"Two-hundred and forty-three files, the first date back nine months. It all started in Detroit... And quickly spread across the country." Connor had only connected the terminal moments before.

"Don't work your CPU too hard," I mutter under my breath, catching a quick huff of amusement from Hank.

"An AX400 is reported to have murdered a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation." Hank was doing his best to pretend Connor didn't exist, but the android was persistent. Connor stood from his chair and made his way into Hank's personal space.

"Uh, Jesus..." Hank turned his chair away.

"I understand you're facing personal issues, Lieutenant, but you need to move past them and-" For an android, Connor has some balls on him.

"Hey! Don't talk to me like you know me. I'm not your friend and I don't need your advice, okay?" Hank's mood had soured like milk, it wouldn't be long until Fowler was adding another page to Hank's disciplinary folder.

"I've been assigned this mission Lieutenant, I didn't come here to wait until you feel like working."

"Connor, you're just gonna-" I had wasted my breath, Hank had already stood and was grabbing onto Connor by the collar of his Cyberlife jacket and slamming against the screen next to his desk. "Hank!"

"Listen asshole. If it were up to me, I'd rather throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it. So, stop pissing me off... or things are gonna get nasty."

"Hank," I placed a hand on his shoulder to try and lightly pull him away from Connor but only earned a nasty side-eye. "Leave off him, you don't get paid enough to replace him."

"Lieutenant... Officer (L/N), uh... sorry to disturb you," Looks like the tin can was saved before Hank could knock the light out of him, "I have some information on the AX400 that killed that guy last night. It's been sighted in the Ravendale district."

"I'm on it." Hank didn't glance back when he dropped Connor's collar. The puppy dog look on his face almost made me feel bad for him... almost.

"Come on, WALL-E. Don't want to keep the old man waiting."

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #dbh x male reader #connor x male reader #connor rk800 #male reader #m! reader #connor x m!reader

327 notes · View notes

blackacre13 · 2 years

Note

Please continue the teacher/student au

Part 23 is here; Here’s part 24!

“All I need is my voice, baby.”

Lou swallowed thickly, her stomach coiling as she realized what Debbie was suggesting.

“Put your phone on speaker,” Debbie spoke gently. “Get yourself comfortable.”

“Alright,” Lou breathed, barely able to utter a coherent thought as she did what Debbie instructed, laying back against her pillows, her heart racing and her head pounding.

“I want you to tease yourself for me, Lou,” Debbie instructed. “And you’re going to keep telling me what you’re doing, alright? And if you’re good for me, I’ll let you see what your own magic fingers can do for you.”

“And what are you smiling about?” Amita laughed, handing a coffee cup over to Lou. “You get laid last night or something?”

“Something,” Lou shrugged, accepting the coffee with a grateful smile as she pulled out a chair in the student union, the older student sitting across from her.

“Do I get the details?” The brunette smirked. “I barely slept this weekend, let alone slept with another human being. This thesis is going to be the death of me, I swear.”

“You know I’d be happy to read it,” Lou offered, pulling out a folder before sliding it across the table. She was hoping to change the subject, but she also genuinely liked Amita and appreciated all the prep work she was doing to get her ready for the teaching assistant position. She wanted to impress Debbie, and she was willing to do anything to achieve that goal, including racking Amita’s brain for every little detail, no matter how small from coffee orders to margin preference on papers and everything in between. She owed Amita big time. “If you ever need a fresh set of eyes or anything. Can even give me a personalized request. I can play good cop or bad cop when it comes to editing.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to do that,” Amita laughed, opening the folder as her eyes started to scan through the papers.

“It would be an honor,” Lou promised, sipping at her coffee as she waited anxiously for Amita to finish reviewing.

“Lou.”

“Oh Fuck,” Lou cursed. “Just give it to me straight. How bad is it?”

“Bad?” The brunette laughed. “Lou, Fuck being a TA, you could give Debbie a run for her money when it comes to teaching the class.”

“Oh, piss off,” the blonde snorted. “It’ll do though? She won’t rip it in half if I give her that version? I have some time later to edit it and make any kind of adjustments you recommend.”

“Lou, I’m serious. She’ll love this,” Amita grinned. “You have nothing to worry about. I’d just drop it off with her when you have class in a bit. She’ll give you brownie points for being early with it too. Always goes a long way with her.”

“Thanks, Mita.”

“Anytime,” she grinned. “Well, while I’m here. Once I abandon ship, you’re dead to me.”

“You can’t get rid of me,” Lou teased, tossing her pen at the brunette as Amita squealed ducking away.

“I’d hope not,” she laughed. “You have to keep me posted on all the art history department drama. Which, speaking of—have you seen Dr. Becker? That man is off the walls even more than usual.”

“Seriously? I mean, not that it takes much, but come on. He always has something new pissing him off.”

“New, maybe,” Amita shrugged. “But it always circles back to Debbie. If I had to bet money on it, I’d say she’s fucking someone new. He’s absolutely green with jealousy.”

Lou practically spit out her coffee as she tried to swallow, only managing to let out a half-choked laugh as she did.

“You alright there, Miller?”

“Yeah,” Lou lied, the panic setting in as realization dawned on her. There was always drama when it came to exes, sure. But knowing that your partner’s ex was your department head? That was some soap opera level bullshit.

31 notes · View notes

lonelypond · 2 years

Text

I Could Be A Better Boyfriend

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.5K, 1/1

Summary: The Nishikinos, one of Japan's most important families, have expectations for their only daughter. Maki's not thrilled.

I Could Be A Better Boyfriend

“Mama? Did Security change the garage code again?” Nishikino Maki, casually dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and a leather jacket, driving gloves held in one hand, echoed in the open foyer.

“No. I did. At your father’s request. If you need to go anywhere, ask the staff to drive you.”

Maki’s eyes narrowed, anger and suspicion flaring, “What’s going on?”

“It’s time for you to start taking some steps toward marriage.”

“No.”

“Cutting off your access to the cars is just the first step.”

“I will not be a negotiating chip for Nishikino Health.”

Maki’s mom sighed, “Are you dating anyone?”

Maki wrapped her arms around her torso. “I’m not talking about this here.”

“Fine. Let’s go into my office.” Dr. Nishikino turned, the tap of her heels quick, the picture of professional efficiency.

Her daughter’s boots dragged, reluctant to follow.

Dr. Nishikino remained standing; Maki slumped in one of the tea table’s chairs.

“Are you dating anyone?” Her mother repeated.

“No.” Maki spoke very slowly, “I am not currently seeing any women.”

“No one cares about that. Just be discrete.”

“No.”

“We are being approached by very important families.” Her mother walked to the desk, handing a folder to Maki, “It is…difficult to refuse even a meeting.”

Maki opened the folder. Major companies in the Japanese and South Korean markets and their eligible sons.

“No.”

“Next loss is access to your credit cards.”

“I have my own investments.”

“Fine.” Dr. Nishikino grabbed the folder back, “Then, you find an apartment, pay for school, and the piano stays here.”

Maki’s fists clenched.

“Just meet them.”

Glaring. A test of wills. Then her mother softened, “Please, Maki. Just a few meetings. It will make your father’s life easier.”

Maki had recognized the names. Half of the families were her father’s regular golf companions.

”I won’t lie.”

Maki’s mother shrugged.

“I pick the place. Just coffee. One day, half hour each.Then you leave me alone.”

Maki didn’t negotiate. That was the best deal her parents were going to get. She held out the folder.

Dr.Nishikino took it back. “Agreed.”

###

Slow early afternoon. Yazawa Nico burned energy cleaning while Tojo Nozomi leaned on the counter trying to steal the pencil from her girlfriend, Ayase Eli, who was studiously copying cases for her current law school homework. Eli still preferred to do all her initial drafts on paper.

The door chimed. A tall, scowling redhead, occasionally seen walking by but never entering before today, was dressed in a severe black suit, cut out of the most expensive looking fabric Nico had ever seen. It moved like athletic wear, the skirt barely brushing the knee, the heels adding to an already impressive height. The woman strode straight to the counter, Nico straightening up and hastily smoothing down her apron.

“Nico Nico Ni! What can Nico get you today?” Nico chirped in her brightest voice.

Eli glanced up from her homework, curious.

“Espresso. There will be someone joining me. Bring it then. Every time.” The redhead handed over a card.

“What about the other...”

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not…”

Nozomi had noticed, sliding next to Nico, taking the card, reading the name. “It will be our pleasure, Ms. Nishikino.”

Maki nodded, moving to a seat not far from the counter and away from the window. She sat, crossed one leg over the other, and stared into her phone with a frown.

“So, dominatrix?” Nozomi whisper-asked.

“Go perv on your girlfriend, Tojo.”

“Bet there’s some frills underneath.”

Nico turned and glared at Nozomi, “Do you only work here to ogle customers?”

“It inspires my art.” Nozomi twirled back into Eli’s reach.

“Her latest short got accepted at Telluride.” Eli said proudly.

Nico grabbed Eli’s pencil. “If you’re not going to do homework, let’s talk about our band.”

Maki had put down her phone.

“”If my grades drop, there will be no band.” Eli could sound so seriously sensei.

“Your grades never drop. And you promised Nico. And…” here Nico started to sound whiny, “YOUR girlfriend wants us to be her next short’s soundtrack.”

“I do.” Nozomi had both Eli’s hands and was leaning in, poised for a kiss once she decided on a target location.

The door opened, generic tall man in suit walked in and immediately headed toward the only currently occupied table. His greeting was a curt nod.

“NIco’d better pull that espresso.” Nico pushed off the counter, still staring at Eli, “but we’re continuing this when Nico gets back.”

Espresso in hand, Nico jumped to the delivery part of her job. The woman acknowledged her approach with a glance, Nico decided to put on the full show. “Espresso for Ms. Elegant. Your suit is the fly-est thing Nico has ever seen. Bet it’s supersoft.”

The man fidgeted in his chair, adjusting the torso of his merely functional suit, “We would prefer not to be interrupted. Nishikino-san’s appearance is perfectly suited to a future professional in her position and should not draw comment.”

Nico leaned down to whisper in Maki’s ear, “Bet he can’t tell cashmere from cotton.”’’ Nico was surprised by a flush of pink on Maki’s cheek. She dared a fleeting brush of the sleeve. As soft as she imagined.

“I will have a Coffee Jelly Frappuchino.”

“Nico is sorry but we’re out.”

He glared. Nico smiled. Maki downed her espresso, a smirk on her lips.

“Sakura…”

“Only in Spring.”

“What do you have available?”

“Oh, Nico has a sweet tooth too…”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth.”

Maki had put down her espresso cup and was watching the conversation with the most interest she’d shown in anything yet.

“Would you like an espresso, like your…date?”

Maki slumped back. “It’s not a date.”

Business dude opened his mouth, but a gesture from Maki silenced him.

Nico was also a professional. “Our best selling seasonal drink is the Chocolate Pretzel Mocha Frappucino,” Nico winked at Maki, “salty and sweet.”

“Fine. Just hurry.” He waved Nico away, “Good afternoon, Nishikino-san. Thank you for agreeing to meet me. How is your father? We haven’t run into each other in a while.”

“He spends most of his time on the golf course. And boasts of how much he has won in bets from your father, Sasaki-san.”

A sly grin, “So coffee’s on your card?”

That attempt at flirting went so flat Nozomi winced and the conversation had ended by the time the pretzels arrived to be crunched. Which they were. Loudly.

When Sasaki-san rose to leave, Nico returned Maki’s card, but Maki refused to take it, “I’m not done yet. Please bring me another espresso. And a slice of Houjicha & Caramel Mousse Cake.”

“You do have a sweet tooth.”

Another slight blush, but no response. Nico shrugged and returned to the counter, shaking her head at Nozomi’s leer.

Eli was packing up. “Nico, I have to leave. You said we were going to talk music.”

The door open. This young man was wearing a Tokyo University hoodie and track pants.

“Give Nico a minute.”

“I’m leaving in ten minutes, Nico. I have class.”

“And I need five of them.” Nozomi was sitting next to Eli, hand on Eli’s thigh.

“Nico will be right back.” She pointed, “You’re in public.”

An espresso and cake delivery, with Nico walking up just as the new guy was finishing a sentence, “...next time we meet to play tennis together. I need a decent mixed doubles partner.”

“I don’t play tennis, Shima-san.”

Hoodie dude pushed away from the table, rolling his eyes at Nico, “This is a waste of time. I’ll have an iced coffee, 4 pumps vanilla syrup.”

“Nico’s on it.”

“How many do you think she has coming?” Eli wondered as Nico returned.

“The Nishikinos are one of Japan’s richest families. They must be marriage meetings.” Nozomi had been looking things up on the phone. “She’s a grad student, like Eli.”

“She seems young for that.” Nico prepped the iced coffee.

“Prodigy.”

“Be right back. Then we talk band.”

“Good. I’m going to be late.” Eli was now putting on a coat.

Nico sprinted back.

“We need a third person, Nico. Me on guitar and you singing isn’t enough.”

“Nico is a star.”

Eli sighed. “Even stars need percussion sections.”

“Maybe Nico can tap dance instead.” Nozomi had her arms wrapped around Eli, “That’s noisy.”

“Not funny.” Nico glanced back to the table. Hoodie dude was perpendicular to Maki, who startled and looked away as Nico turned. “We’ll put up ads or something. Reach out on social. Nico’s got fans.”

“We don’t need Nico’s fans. We need a musician, a good one.”

“Yeah,” Nozomi was pushing Eli out the door, “can’t have someone who’s just looking at Nico and trying hard not to scream.”

“Nozomi, be nice.” Eli stepped out of the hug.

“I am nice. I’m going to put your band in my award winning movie and save you from a law degree.”

“I’m still getting a law degree, Nozomi.” Eli kissed Nozomi soundly and ran off down the street with a wave. “Love you.”

“How did you find her?” Nico asked.

“I’ve always been lucky. You know that, Nico-chi.” Nozomi stepped aside so Hoodie Guy could flee.

“Rub some off on Nico.”

Nozomi reached out for Nico, who bolted back behind the counter.

“Not like that.”

###

Next in was a fedora wearer. With a very flashy waistcoat offsetting his tweed suit. Matcha latte. Maki back to just an espresso, but Nico noticed today’s top customer seemed to be getting increasingly fidgety. Fedora got a half smile with a joke, but when Nico returned with his drink, they seemed to be discussing Tokyo’s theatre scene. Maki did take a moment to nod in Nico’s direction as Fedora draw an air picture of a set.

“What’s the topic?”

“Set design.”

Nozomi looked blank.

“They both know a lot about Tokyo theatres.”

“Oh.”

Nozomi and Nico shared a glance. Maki kept fidgeting. Fedora left, but with a peppy step.

“Zero for 3…is she winning?” Nozomi asked.

Maki looked tired, her phone had buzzed, and she was listening to the other person, grunting occasionally.

“That doesn’t look like winning.” Nico decided.

“Two more or four more?” Nozomi tried to get excited at a wager, but the late afternoon wall was hitting all of them.

“Don’t know. Nico just hopes it’s over soon.” Nico smiled at a regular, taking their time at the menu. “It’s painful to watch.”

“You should slip her a chicken teriyaki sandwich.”

“Yeah. She looks wiped.”

“Flirting with a cute girl is one thing; rich people heteronormative marriage meat market is another.” Nozomi was doing a deep dive into the Nishikino rumor mill, “She was sometimes seen at the Symphony in the company of various performing artists.”

“Stop cyber stalking customers.”

“Researching potential funding. Deciding whether she’s into blondes or brunettes.”

Nico moved away from Nozomi, grabbing a sandwich from the fridge, warming it. Maki had her phone down and her eyes closed. Then she stretched.

“Here you go, kid.” Nico dropped the sandwich and a glass of water in front of Maki, “You need some food.”

“Maki. And I know what I need.”

“You should listen to Nico.”

The door opened. Maki glanced up, a clump of customers rushing in, but no one screaming “Rich Parent Approved” so Maki took a tentative bite of the sandwich.

“Still want espresso.” Maki muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, Nico knows.” And Nico backed into a tall Korean with a suit the match of Maki’s for elegance. Maki took another bite of sandwich.

“Please get my companion the espresso she requested.” New guy’s voice was smooth. “And another for me. Are you enjoying the sandwich, Nishikino-san?”

“‘S all right.” Maki muttered through a hasty third bite.

“And one of those as well.” He bowed toward Maki, “I am Gu Si Wong. It is an honor to meet you. Please accept this small gift.” He placed an Hermes bag on the table.

Nico headed for the counter. Nozomi had managed to surf the customer wave while still eavesdropping.

“They match. I like that. She’s ignoring the bag though.”

Nico glanced back. The bag had moved closer to Maki. “This isn’t a sport, Nozy. Or a play.”

“I’m enjoying it, Nico-chi.”

Maki still obviously wasn’t, although Gu-san had kept the conversation going.

Nico brought the order. Gu-san smiled, “Thank you, miss. Perhaps, as a local, you could recommend an evening activity. Someplace your boyfriend would take you.

“I’m a local.” Maki stated, pushing her plate aside.

“Boyfriends aren’t Nico’s style. Enjoy your sandwich. Nico Ni!” WIth a cherry bounce, Nico returned to the counter, where Nozomi was recruiting a pair of pink haired twins for her newest film.

Nico ignored that scene. Time to brew the evening’s coffee. They must be getting low.

###

“Zero for four” Nozomi announced.

Nico turned around to see a slumped Maki, yawning, ignoring her buzzing phone.

“I went on four dates in two days once.” Nozomi leaned forward, “I looked that tired after date three. But at least I enjoyed it.”

“Nico can’t watch this anymore. Cover the rest of my shift.”

“I have a date with Eli after her class.” Nozomi pouted, green eyes merry.

“I’ll open.”

“You’re so soft, Nico-chi.”

“Shut up.”

Another gentleman in a smart suit opened the door. Nico said, “Bye, Nozomi” and rushed in front of him, “You look good, buddy, but your date’s cancelled, go home.”

“What?”

Nico heard an echoing “what” behind her as a chair pushed back. Nico half turned, “Hi, Maki. Want to go for a walk with Nico?”

“Nishikino-san?” Smart Suit ignored Nico.

“Greetings, Taira-san.” Standing next to Nico, Maki bowed her head, “I have had a tiring day and find myself suddenly fatigued. Please accept my apology but I must reschedule.”

Smart Suit seemed flustered but matched Maki’s bow, “Of course, Nishikino-san. It is a pleasure to meet you. Of course, we can reschedule at your convenience.”

“Thank you.”

And then Nico found herself being pulled back to Maki’s table, “Why did you do that?” Maki leaned forward, perplexed.

“Do you want Nico to go get him back?” Nico half rose.

Maki laughed, “No. But my mother is going to ask so many questions.”

“Nico can write you a note.”

Maki ran her fingers through her hair, “I write my own notes.”

Nico sneaked a glance at the counter. Nozomi was totally ignoring customers to stare. “Nico really needs that walk. Outside. Away from…”

“She’s not subtle. Tojo Nozomi, right? The filmmaker.”

Nico raised an eyebrow.

“I might have eavesdropped, briefly.” Maki looked shy, twirling a curl around her finger, “So I hear you’re in a band.”

“Almost a band.” More Nozomi staring, maybe a giggle. “C’mon, Maki.” Nico stood, “You’re a local, take Nico someplace interesting.”

Maki slid an arm through Nico’s, a little giddy. Probably an after effect of all the espressos. That and the tremor in her voice as she asked. “Want to hear me play the piano? It’s not drums, but…”

That was a surprise. Maybe a good one. Definitely one Nico was going to think about. Later. But right now, Tokyo had a lovely afternoon and Nico had a date. “Nico would love to.”

A shy smile, the most relaxed of the day.

Point, Nico.

A/N:

Working on a more Femslash Friday fics goal. Kind of a loose riff off the arranged marriage bits of the Korean drama Business Proposal and Dove Cameron's catchy new single, which people keep bringing to my attention.Enjoy.

#NicoMaki #Yazawa Nico #Nishikino Maki #Maki's mom #NozoEli #Tojo Nozomi #Ayase Eli #Coffeeshop AU #Coffeeshop #Maki lives on espresso #and music #fun #arranged marriage #femslash friday #Femslash #demisexual

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dollyllama108 · 2 years

Text

‘80s High School AU (Part 1): Xiyuan Liu

There is no way to refer to Yuan in his teen years other than ‘idiot baby Yuan‘ and this is strictly enforced.

Xiyuan, who is the most autonomously nuts sim I have ever had the pleasure of controlling, was born in [whatever the Sim version of Beijing is] in 1966.

Although he’s known for his skill in the visual and performing arts, as well as his caring, kind nature that occasionally gets masked by his pretentious tastes, at his core, Xiyuan is an old-money social elite who uses his status to mask that he is completely off-the-charts nuts. He has two speeds: off and on. He’s the kid who spends ten straight hours cramming for tests and the kid who rolls up to the party and is on his third drink within six minutes.

In the CT/Haunted primary universe, he was practically abandoned in a homophobic American boarding school well, well before puberty, and the only interactions he has with his parents until college years are them screaming at him on the phone that he needs to join more extracurriculars and he sounds fat over the phone. He grew up to be an adult with serious identity issues, no impulse control, and a preoccupation with banging ghosts.

In this universe, he’s a teen living with both his parents in wherever Copperfield or Dapperdale or whatever they’re calling the Riverdale knockoff neighborhood is. He knows he’s gay, they know he’s gay, no one’s being weird about it.

So you can already tell, my heart is not going to be able to survive this playthrough.

Oh, and my CC folder isn’t either. No one was there to stop me from making this his athletic outfit.

No one is here to stop me from giving him acid-wash hoochie daddy shorts or overalls, either. Look alive! It’s the eighties!

Part 0 | Part 2

#80s high school AU #catastrophe theory sims #xiyuan shallot-liu #the sims 4 #simblr #the sims 4 stories

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luminous-shifting-vibes · 3 years

Text

actual fucking quotes from the shiftblr coffeehouse discord server

out of context of course, what do you take me for? a sane person?

"they made lightning mcqueen hot"

"inch resting"

"Nix: Cars (2006) several people are typing..."

"im evaporating"

"enjoy precipitation"

"tow mater is more attractive than lightning mcqueen/hj"

"lightning mcqueen looks like he would call me a slur"

"why did I come back to a discussion regarding the attractiveness of vehicles"

"lark is the braincell of shiftblr tbh"

"you all need some grass in your life"

"me over here simping for block men and now literal cars"

"didn't nick wilde commit fraud canonically"

"i have no strong opinions on whether or not nick wilde is attractive"

"I AM AROMANTIC AND I AM NOT IMMUNE TO NICK WILDE"

"I am bisexual and I. Am not into Nick Wilde based on a simple fact he looks like he will drink all my pepsi and call me names"

"What is shiftbkr but not a bunch of simps"

"cries in Bianca Monroe"

"listen i have a folder called gayass

it is mostly pictures of kyoka jiro and virgil sanders"

"Nick Wilde x Reader where he steals your car 📷 carjacker to lovers AU 📷"

"he says "mama i like to step on keyboard""

"MY MOM JUST WALKED IN AND I HAD TO TELL HER I WAS LOOKING AT LIGHTING MC QUEEN HUMAN FANART"

"crab walks away"

""Y/N..." Nick whispered into your ear. "Your car...is a Honda Civic, right?" You looked up at Nick with a baffled expression. "Nick, my beloved? Whatever are you talking about?" "Just asking..." He said as he let you out of his embrace. "Hey, wanna see a magic trick, babe?" Your eyes sparkled. "Really, Nick? Of course!" Nick smiled. "Ok, close your eyes!" You giggled and closed your eyes, waiting for Nick to tell you to open up. Instead, you heard the loud rumble of a car starting up, and you open your eyes. Nick has stolen your car, and he has driven off into the sunset..."

"did y'all know his name used to be canonically Montgomery--he changed it to lightning mcqueen to get rid of his past"

"That is my exit number"

"cars trauma arc"

"wait do y'all know about car jesus" "as if jesus wasn't a ford focus in the bible"

"oh yall do not want to know about the trauma in my cars dr lmao"

"Dewit tau style babey make Lightning McQueen outlive everyone and stalk their reincarnations"

"Do they baptize other cars in like gasoline then"

"there is a pope car in the cars universe which means car jesus died for cars sins"

"NOT THE BOOMER MEMES"

"-lays facedown on the floor while caramelldansen plays-"

"like im serious how many of you guys endorse me falling face down on my floor" (NOT THE SAME PERSON AS PREVIOUS QUOTE)

"I will be Tall and no one can stop me"

"is a soft floor?"

"stop I thought faceplant meant like a succulent in the shape of a face instead of falling onto your noggin for a solid 10 seconds"

"Touch some grass??? What about eating grass"

"what if for every employee of the month i just printed out really horrible boomer memes"

"what ab smoking grass /j"

"Can the grassdirt smoothie be a special in the cafe"

"PLEASE IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR REWRITINH THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WHIKE SPEEDRUNINT MINECRAFT"

"you have to get good dirt from like the middle of a pennsylvanian forest for it to taste good though"

"I ate a four leaf clover as a kid cause i thought it would make me lucky"

"guys how do i see the mee6 leaderboard"

"I used to think i was half dragon and I ate plants out of sidewalk cracks"

"i think i punched someone"

"my parents told me to stop doing that so I looked at them and ate a flower"

"I ate grass when I was 9 bc I read warrior cats and thought I was a medicine cat ....................."

"bees are just spicy flies"

"I had a mental breakdown when I was three cause I didn’t know how to turn off a phone"

"My mom drank a bee once"

"when I was a baby I kinned ink sans."

"bro who here find the yellow hat man from curious george fine as heck 📷📷📷"

"mY LUNGSSSSSS"

"no one topping Him"

"I like em big"

"I think Moto Moto has no game like move over hunky boy I could beat you 1v1 Roblox Arsenal 📷📷📷"

"If you didnt have a crush on springtrap, jeff the killer, or Underfell/Gaster/Error sans don't talk to me /j"

"LOOK THEY'RE BOTH DILFS WITH ABS THAT WOULD FIGHT GOD"

"ZORO IS BANNED"

"Guys please help I found my old fnaf fanart from when I was 8 I'm in literal tears"

"OH NO BOT MY FIFTH GRADE HAMILTON PHASE"

"The worst attraction ive ever had has to be Sombra Overwatch"

"My family is like "save all ur art so I can sell it when you're famous" I literally could not sell this if I tried"

"screaming puppet"

"I just remembered Ive drawn overwatch/hamilton crossover fanart"

"my hermit crabs ate each other again"

"we're cannibals ????"

"having me here is a curse you have inflicted on yourselves and I for one am glad for it <3" "scitters around like a crab in anticipation"

"CARB DAY"

"WE NEED TO HAVE A WATCH OARTY"

"hey y'all ill be right back i have to throw away a crab carcass"

"if I watch cars I'm going to start laughing in the middle of it nonstop just because the word cars is funny and also cars are funny like how do you move silly little metal box with rubber circles"

"Lark asleep post catboy pitbul"

"Mwista Wowldwide! Nya!" "hermit crab 2: electric boogaloo"

"Is that why your name is chaos"

"manifest the crab power!!"

"cool dex fact: i can't read 📷"

"sighs adds to worship these entities list"

"with a knife <3"

"yeah and if he betrays me I could probably throw him across the atlantic ocean"

"give me his eyes"

"my good citizen i am a- wait no im nonbinary nvm"

"it worked on a fish idk what to tell you"

"what is gender??? Is that a board game?? If so can I be apples to apples that one's my favorite"

"CHUTES AND LADDERS"

"anyways actually my gender is Candyland"

"Oh god romes the destroyer of friendships/j"

"i am a simple gay i see math i run in the opposite direction survival instincts 101"

"math my beloathed"

"algebra makes me want to rip open a bag of swedish fish and swallow them whole"

"cackles in they're au characters and this will be very fun"

"pog !!!! me too ksajgks one of my drs is a sanders sides au"

"Is that bipper"

"tumblr sexyman"

"Good because he’ll fuck u up if u hurt a child"

"I want a wing-suit"

"looks like a bean would poison someone"

"my hermit crabs are cannibals what can i say"

"sonic the hedgehog kinnie"

"get yourself a man who is capable of the most ungodly actions but won't do them because of their morality owo"

"tell him he can steal my wallet"

"eyes"

"idk about y'all but I need blueberry sweet tea to live"

"y'know the red souls from soul eater i really want to eat those"

"but like only respectable crimes like stealing from elon musk"

"You can go cultbashing with he!"

"He acts like a flamboyant gay man, but if a flamboyant gay man was straight."

"Simp Satan 📷"

"definitely arson"

"They look like they enjoy lemon squares and other lemon desserts"

"Satan is all-powerful but he spends most of his time building honeymoon locations because he is convinced that the protag loves him"

"bc shes the reincarnation of his dead wife or something i guess"

annd here's a quote from our very own dream (@shiftingwastaken) that sums this post up:

"shiftblr but context makes it worse"

#not shifting #shitpost #out of context #tw cannibalism #tw stealing #tw poison #tw swearing #tw: drugs #tw: smoking #tw: death

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songsformonkeys · 3 years

Text

Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3

[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]

Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.

Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.

Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Masterlist

Chapter 3

The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.

On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.

The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.

“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.

“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”

“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.

Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.

Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.

“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”

“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.

“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”

You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.

“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”

You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.

The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.

There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.

You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.

“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.

“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”

“Lonesome Dove.”

“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”

“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”

Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.

“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”

“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”

“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”

You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.

“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.

“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.

“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”

“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”

“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”

“Good night, darlin'”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.

Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.

You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.

After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.

“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.

“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.

“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.

“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.

“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”

Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.

“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.

“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”

“What?” you asked.

“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”

You looked over at the strange man.

“You think he did it?”

Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.

“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”

She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.

“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.

“He's an agent?” he asked.

“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”

“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”

“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”

You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.

Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.

“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”

Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.

After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, your patient woke up.

It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.

As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.

“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”

“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.

“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”

Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.

“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.

The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.

You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...

Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.

“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”

“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.

“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.

You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.

You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.

“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.

“Yes. Whiskey what's...”

Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.

“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”

“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”

“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”

“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.

“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.

“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.

“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.

“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”

She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.

“Is that agent Whiskey?”

You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.

“Whiskey?”

There was another crash and he cursed again.

“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”

“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”

What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.

“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:

“We'll be ready for him.”

After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.

“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “

#whiskey/reader #whiskeyxreader #agent whiskey #kingsman golden circle fanfiction #kingsman golden circle #my fanfiction #female reader

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hockeylvr59 · 4 years

Text

Secret Love Part 9 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: I really really struggled with this chapter. I have a love/hate relationship with writing vacations and for some reason even the bedroom content was a battle. So I really hope you enjoy it because this one took some work to get everything to come together. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Next up: days 2-? of vacation.

Warnings: oral sex

Word Count: 3,301

~~~~~~~

Dating Cale honestly felt like the most natural thing in the world. Some days, he’d meet you for lunch between clients after finishing a workout, others he’d come over for dinner or to watch a movie. Everything just fit and immediately felt like this was how things had always been. You sometimes forgot that you’d been together less than a month.

Two weeks after Cale had surprised you with dinner, your phone buzzed with a text containing the dates for your trip to Iceland. From that moment forward, you felt like you had stepped into a whirlwind. Suddenly your life was full of things like requesting time off work, googling what an appropriate wardrobe would be, shopping for the things you needed but didn’t have. Then there was the packing, trying to fit a week and a half worth of clothes into a single suitcase and your usual carry on, making sure you didn’t forget the plug adapter for your phone or worse your passport.

They weren’t bad things, but they were out of the ordinary and you were looking forward to just being on vacation with Cale, the stress that came with vacationing put behind you.

As Cale loaded your bags into his parent’s car on a Tuesday in mid-June, you finally felt your excitement kick in. Laura and Gary were dropping the two of you at the airport so that you didn’t have to worry about parking, and as Gary drove Laura rambled on about how pleased she was that the two of you were taking this trip together and how she was certain it was exactly what the two of you needed. When Cale mouthed that she ‘didn’t know the half of it’, it took everything in you not to bust out laughing.

Assuring Laura that you would take plenty of pictures, you hugged both her and Gary before heading with Cale through the airport. After going through security, checking your luggage, and finding the proper gate, you settled into Cale’s side to wait for your flight to board. Cale had gotten an evening flight, allowing you to sleep the eight hours it took to fly across the continent. You were grateful for it now but you were certain you would be even more grateful when you landed, knowing that with the time difference you would spend 8 hours on a plane but arrive 14 hours after you had left.

Sleeping on the flight, your head resting on Cale’s shoulder, made time move quickly and before you knew it you were fastening your seatbelt for the landing at Keflavik Airport.

“We’re here.” You whispered excitedly, curious as to what was awaiting you when you stepped outside of the airport.

“Someone’s excited,” Cale said, a soft grin on his face as he grabbed your carryon for you as the two of you navigated through the airport. Collecting your luggage, you followed Cale over to a rental car desk and watched as he chatted with an agent. He signed a few papers and handed over his credit card, and soon he was handed keys, the two of you making your way out to a lot to pick up your vehicle for the trip.

“Ten days vacation with my boyfriend...you could say I’m a little excited.” You mused, stretching to kiss him after loading your bags into the trunk of the SUV. It was just after 10 am and the weather outside was brisk but comfortable. Cale kissed you back before pulling a map from his carryon bag.

“Ready to be my navigator?” He questioned, closing the trunk before moving to the passenger side, opening your door. “We’ve got an hour drive into Reykjavik and then I was thinking food…?” Cale suggested. A late breakfast/early lunch sounded wonderful and you quickly agreed, sliding into the vehicle. It took Cale a few minutes to get comfortable behind the wheel in a new country, but once he did, he dropped his hand to the center console, allowing you to lace your fingers in his as you watched the countryside pass by. It was a quiet drive, comfortable, the two of you just enjoying each other’s presence.

When you finally reached the capital city Cale found a public parking lot and the two of you ventured out on foot in search of food. Cale had clearly done his research because he led you toward the waterfront, straight to a tiny little food stand. Ordering you each a hot dog, Cale explained that it was Iceland’s national food and therefore seemed the natural choice for your first meal in the country.

“You sure just one is gonna be enough for you?” You joked, knowing that his athlete’s stomach burned through calories faster than you could ever dream.

“If I’m still hungry I’ll go back for another.” Cale simply shrugged and as the two of you settled into a picnic table with your food, you just shook your head, smiling over at him. Cale did indeed go back for another and you failed to bite back the laughter when he glared at you just a little.

“I’d rather not see what you’re like when hangry so please, eat as much as you need to.” You giggled, looking around as you waited for him to finish. This was the biggest city in the entire country but yet it didn’t feel stressful or crowded like you’d experienced in other cities. Instead, it was a place you very much wanted to spend time exploring, enjoying the chance to witness just a taste of daily life here.

When Cale finished, you disposed of your trash before heading back out onto the street. Leaning against his side, you looked up at him for direction, not sure what the plan was for the day.

“Want to just walk around the city?” Cale inquired. Looking at him it was clear that he didn’t really have a plan and you twisted, planting your hands on his chest as you peered up at him.

“And here I thought you planned this trip.” You teased. It wasn’t that you opposed his idea, you just had to give him a little bit of a hard time just because you could.

“I did plan this trip.” Cale murmured. “I planned this trip to have the flexibility for us to go where we wanted to go and see what we wanted to see without having to worry about following a strict schedule. I’ve got a rough outline...or did you not look at the map?” He teased right back. As his hand drifted down to your lower back he dropped his head to kiss you. You were still getting used to this whole being able to kiss him in public thing, but you liked it. “I wasn’t sure how tired we’d be...so I figured we’d just start local, check into the hotel, and play it by ear from there. Okay?”

“Okay.” You smiled, pecking his lips once more before settling back onto your feet. “So which way Mr. Makar?”

With your hands entwined, you walked through the city of Reykjavik, taking in all of the sights it had to offer. At the Hallgrímskirkja church, you marveled at the height of the ceiling while Cale joked that it was like staring at a graph in math class all over again. Smacking him gently, you insisted on taking your first selfie, laughing at each other as you did. Already, your brain was cataloging that there would be two distinct folders of photos on your phone, one you could show the parents and one you could not.

As you passed the statue of Leif Eríkson, you rambled on to Cale about how historians had new leads on where Vinland actually was located and how the Vikings had clearly discovered North America long before many of the other European explorers had.

“Someone has been watching documentaries lately.” Cale smiled, his grin fond. “History was always one of your favorite classes wasn’t it?” You nodded in agreement and noted that Cale seemed unbothered by you playing mini historian. The fact that he remembered what your favorite classes were in school kind of surprised you. But this was one of the many reasons why this trip was such a good thing, you were getting to reacquaint yourselves with each other and learn things you didn’t know before.

Soon, you walked through what seemed to be a shopping district. It was quaint and quiet and reminded you more of a small suburb than a big city. The buildings were all small and cute and there was graffiti art all over the place. When you reached Tjörnin Pond, you pulled Cale to sit on a bench for a few minutes, more wanting to just sit and take things in than actually needing to rest.

“This place is gorgeous.” You breathed, your linked hands resting on Cale’s thigh. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Cale replied, his lips pressing against the top of your head. Sitting for a few more minutes, you headed off again, continuing along until you reached the harbor. There you saw the Harpa concert hall, a modern glass building whose panes of multicolored glass shone brightly under the midday sun, and the Sun Voyager sculpture which resembled a Viking ship floating on water.

Having essentially circled back to where you had started, the two of you made the decision to head back to the car. You’d killed enough time wandering around that you could check into the hotel and so you headed that way.

You hated to admit it but Cale might have been right. The moment you settled into the car, you felt yourself immediately start to doze off. You knew logically that you shouldn’t be tired, but yet that was exactly what you felt. You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep in the short drive over to the hotel until Cale was unbuckling you.

“Hey sleepy.” He whispered. “I already checked in and took our bags up. You wanna go up and take a nap?” Cale’s question was answered only by a look of exhaustion on your face. It didn’t take long to reach your room and once you had, you flopped down on the bed, sighing softly at its comfort. Cale’s hands slipped your shoes off your feet and he chuckled, the weight of his gaze causing you to shift.

“Don’t even say it.” You mumbled.

“I didn’t say anything.” Cale defended. “Are we calling it a day though and just getting an early start tomorrow?” He asked. Though you wanted to keep going, you didn’t think your body agreed and so you sighed shrugging.

“Yeah...I think so.” You pouted. The pout was pulled from your lips though when Cale stretched, the bottom of his shirt riding up to reveal the fine happy trail that started just below his belly button and disappeared under the waistband of his grey sweats. It was amazing how easily even a peek at your boyfriend’s body made everything better.

“What do you want for dinner? I’ll run out and bring food back.” Cale insisted, his fingers running through his somewhat sweaty hair.

“I’d say surprise me but I’m not sure that’s such a great idea in a foreign country.” You joked. “I don’t know. I’m not that hungry.” You whined. Or if you were hungry you just didn’t know what sounded good.

“Women…” Cale mumbled teasingly under his breath. “I’m going to see if I can track down a couple salads. Will that work?” Your stomach growled at his suggestion and you both took that as your body’s agreement. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.” Cale stated, leaning down to kiss you before slipping from the hotel room.

As your head fell back against the pillows, you knew you could easily just go right back to sleep. At the same time though, you couldn’t help but feel gross from the travel and from spending the afternoon walking around. So you forced yourself up and into the small bathroom to wash off.

By the time you finished and had slipped into pajamas, Cale had returned with food. Though you weren’t super hungry, you forced yourself to eat before finally crawling into bed.

You weren’t sure what time you fell asleep, though you knew it had to be ungodly early. When you awoke, it was to the feeling of Cale’s arms tightening around your body, his voice low and smooth in your ear.

“Will you stop the tossing and turning...it’s too freaking early.” Letting out a hum of confusion, you twisted in his arms, your head landing against his shoulder. “It’s 3 am...and I’m awake because you can’t stay still…” Cale grumbled. “I know I said we’d get an early start but I didn’t mean this early.” He added. “So can you please tell your body to knock it off.”

“Sorry.” You whispered, forcing yourself to go rigid against him. Apparently, your body had had enough sleep already and decided that any extra sleep would not be the peaceful kind. Cale’s fingers slid up your back and he let out a grunt of frustration when his touch only caused you to stiffen further.

“Sweetheart...would you relax?” He murmured.

“I’m trying.” You mumbled back, turning back over to face away from Cale with a sigh. You wanted to sleep, you did, but now that you were half awake, your brain was filled with anxious thoughts and silly worries. It had been less than five minutes since he woke you when you felt Cale’s lips on your shoulder and once again his arms tightened around you.

“Let me help…” He murmured, his fingers shifting to brush against your stomach.

“Cale I…” Whatever complaint was on the tip of your tongue was silenced when Cale rolled you underneath his body, his mouth seeking yours. His kiss was lazy and soft and he didn’t fully pull away until your body had turned to jello.

“Do you trust me?” Cale questioned softly. You could only nod because of course you trusted him. You trusted him more than anyone else you’d ever been with. “Then let me help you relax so we can both sleep.” He pressed, one hand sliding down to rest against your hip.

It was his blue eyes that revealed what he was planning on doing and you caught his cheek in your palm before he could start sliding down the bed.

“Cale...you don’t…”

“Sweetheart...if you think I haven’t thought about what it would be like to bury my face in your sweet pussy a million times in the last few months you’re insane. I want to...will you let me?”

Nerves ran through your body at the thought of trying this for the first time with Cale. What if you didn’t like it? You’d failed to remind him that he wasn’t the only one inexperienced in this area, so it would be a blow to his ego for sure if this went badly. Suddenly, the image of Cale licking your fluids from his fingers popped into your head chased by the fantasy of his head between your thighs. All you had to do was agree for that fantasy to become a reality. Before you could even verbalize your assent, Cale had started sliding down the bed, dragging the blankets with him.

“If I do something you don’t like just tell me.” He breathed, his fingers tugging your shorts and panties off of your body quickly.

Nude from the waist down, Cale trailed his mouth across your stomach as he settled himself between your parted thighs. Then he jumped down to your left knee, nipping his way up your inner thigh before repeating the process with the other.

He was both teasing you and giving you the chance to stop him if you needed to but now that he was there, you wanted nothing more than to see just what kind of damage he could do.

“Cale, please…” You gasped, needing so much more than what he was giving you.

“That’s my girl,” Cale mumbled, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at you. “I want to hear you, sweetheart.” The feeling of his breath blowing hot over your core made you shiver and your back bowed off of the bed toward him. Pinning your hips down under the weight of his forearm, Cale kissed your stomach one more time before sliding down, his tongue licking broadly through your folds.

Squirming under him, your brain attempted to process whether that was a good or a bad sensation. It settled for the word different as you felt waves of heat roll through you when Cale’s mouth latched onto your clit, sucking gently.

“That…more of that.” You pleaded. Following your direction, Cale focused in on your clit, sucking it between his lips again. Slowly things started to go hazy as he pressed soft kisses and little licks to your heated flesh before returning to the suction. There was no rush to his actions, and you reached down, your fingers tugging at his hair as he lapped lazily at your core.

A grunt spilled from Cale’s mouth in response to your tug and the vibration rippled through your body, sending sparks across your skin. Sliding his other arm around your hip, Cale drew your leg over his shoulder. The change in angle must have allowed Cale better access because you felt his tongue press inside of you, your hips attempting to jolt out of his grasp at the feeling.

The feeling of his tongue fucking inside of you made you whimper and when Cale pulled back to breathe, you could feel the growing confidence rolling off of him.

“You doing okay?” He questioned softly, waiting for your answer as he pressed gentle kisses to your thigh again.

“More Cale please…” You whined. Smirking Cale sucked at your clit harder than he had before.

“More of this…” He questioned quickly before sliding his tongue back inside of you, flicking at your slick internal walls. “Or more of that.” He asked, pulling back once more to breathe. Your chest was heaving, your breath hitching with the feelings Cale’s mouth on you created.

“Both...god both Cale…” You pleaded.

“Okay...just relax and let go for me okay sweet girl…” Cale resumed his easy pace, switching between sucking your clit and pressing his tongue inside you. As your body responded to his actions, he adjusted speeding up and slowing down until you were crying out his name, your body shaking with the strength of your orgasm.

Coming down, you shoved at Cale’s head as he licked over you slowly and carefully, cleaning you up. When he finally crawled up the bed, the grin on his face was a mile wide and his thumb brushed against your cheek.

“Was that okay?” He asked, nerves showing only in his gaze.

“If I didn’t know that was your first time...I wouldn’t believe it.” You said, voice slightly hoarse. Cale’s cheeks flushed even deeper and you leaned up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“It’ll be better next time,” Cale promised, laying flat on his back again, pulling you into his side. Snuggling against him, you certainly felt calmer than before, a yawn spilling from your throat. As you drifted back to sleep you heard Cale whisper ‘thank you’ in your ear and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at being able to give Cale an experience he’d never had before.

Everything with him was new and different and you couldn’t ask for anything more. Just like this was only the start of your relationship, it was only the start of your vacation and you could only see both getting better with each and every day.

#cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut #cale makar smut #nws #lemon #038

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