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themdera · 6 months ago

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Take me back to San Francisco | George Clarke | Fluff | 3,473 words.

“even when you’re 5,354 miles away you’re all i think about”

“Hey, I miss you,” George’s voice came through the phone, soft and tired but brimming with emotion.

You rubbed your temples, exhaustion tugging at your own limbs. “Isn’t it like 1 a.m. for you?” you asked, glancing at the time difference between where you were working in san francisco and home in london.

“It is,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. You could see him on FaceTime, his hair disheveled, his eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep. “But I can’t sleep without you. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, and it just—it’s too quiet here without you.”

Your chest tightened at his admission, the distance between you suddenly feeling unbearable. You hated being apart like this. Work had pulled you away to another city for a month, and George, usually so strong and collected, was struggling more than ever.

“I’m about to do the 5pm daily Zoom call with work,” you offered gently, not wanting to dismiss his feelings. “Wanna listen to me do that? Keep me company for a bit?”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. His vulnerability broke your heart.

You set up your laptop, glancing back at George on your phone. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, running a hand down his face. “I’ve been thinking…” he started, his tone unsure.

“Yeah?” you prompted, worried about the look in his eyes.

“I want to get a flight to see you,” he blurted out, his voice raw. “I know you’re there for work, and I don’t want to mess that up, but… I hate this. I hate not having you here. It’s like the second you left, I forgot how to breathe properly. It feels like i’m missing half of me”

“George…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” he continued, his hand tugging at his hair. “But every night without you feels like it drags on forever. I just—” He let out a shaky breath. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You wanted to tell him yes, to tell him to get on that plane and come to you, but you knew it wasn’t practical. Work was consuming all of your time, and as much as you missed him, you couldn’t afford any distractions.

“I know it’s hard,” you said gently, your heart breaking with every word. “But we’ll get through this, okay? It’s just a few more weeks.”

He nodded, his eyes closing as if he were trying to keep himself together. “I just… I don’t know how you do it. Being away like this.”

“Because I know I’m coming back to you,” you told him softly, tears threatening to spill.

George smiled faintly, but the sadness in his eyes remained. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice steadier now. “Can I just… stay on while you do your call? Even if I can’t sleep, at least I’ll feel like I’m with you.”

“Of course,” you said, your voice catching. “Stay as long as you want.”

You started your Zoom meeting, George’s face still on your phone screen beside you. As you spoke to your coworkers, you’d glance at him occasionally, catching the way his eyes softened every time he looked at you.

By the time the meeting ended, you noticed George had finally fallen asleep. His head rested against the pillow, his breathing deep and even. You stared at him for a moment, feeling the ache of missing him settle deep in your chest.

“I love you,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear you but hoping, somehow, it reached him. You finished the work you needed to do and sat at your desk, fuck, you missed him. The way he held you close, the way he laughed, his eyes, his face. Every single thing you missed, you got changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable, sliding on george’s jumper. you climb into bed checking the time seeing it’s only 7pm you don’t care if this is closest you get to sleeping next to george so be it, you plug your phone in and place it on your pillow with the sound of george’s soft snoring and heavy breathing next to you, feeling lost without him there, you’ll just have to cope with the facetime sleeping for now.

The soft sound of plates clinking and muffled voices pulled you from your sleep. Blinking against the morning light, you turned your head to see your phone still propped up on the pillow , FaceTime still active at 3am for you. George was on the other end, his figure moving around his kitchen as he tidied up.

You didn’t say anything at first, just watched him. His hair was still a mess, his shirt slightly wrinkled, but there was something so endearing about seeing him like this. He looked so domestic, so familiar, and you ached for him in a way you hadn’t realised was possible.

In the background, you could hear Chris’s voice. “Mate, are you alright? You’ve been pacing around for like 20 minutes.”

“I’m fine,” George replied, his voice steady but soft. He set a plate down with a quiet clink, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I miss her, you know?”

Chris chuckled lightly. “You’ve said that about a hundred times since she left. Why don’t you just go to her?”

“She’s busy,” George said quickly, his tone defensive. “She’s got work, and I don’t want to be a distraction. She’s doing important stuff.”

Arthur chimed in now, his tone teasing but kind. “Yeah, but mate, you’re miserable. You’ve barely slept, and you’ve spent the past hour cleaning a kitchen that’s already spotless.”

George sighed, leaning against the counter. “I know, I just… I don’t want to make it harder for her. She’s got enough on her plate without me showing up and complicating things.”

Your heart clenched at his words, the weight of his love and consideration hitting you all at once. Finally, you cleared your throat, your voice still groggy from sleep. “George?”

He froze, his head snapping toward the screen. His eyes softened immediately, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. Good morning.”

You sat up slowly, your heart racing. “hi, I heard you talking.”

George flushed slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah… sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him, your voice steady now. “But I need to say something.”

He tilted his head, concern flashing across his face. “What’s up?”

“Get a flight,” you said firmly, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “if you can. I’ll make the time. I’ll talk to my boss if I have to, but I want you here. No—I need you here, George.”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You… you mean that?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I mean it. I’ve been trying to push through and act like I’m fine, but I’m not. I miss you, and I hate being apart from you. So please, just get here.”

George’s face lit up, a mix of relief and joy washing over him. “Okay,” he said, nodding quickly. “I’ll book the flight right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

He smiled at you, his own eyes glassy. “No, thank you. I’ll see you soon, love.”

You hang up the call, your heart racing with the anticipation of finally seeing George again. Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, George is already a whirlwind of energy.

Chris leans against the counter, watching George frantically move around the flat. “Mate, slow down,” Chris says, raising an eyebrow as George tosses clothes haphazardly into a suitcase. “You’re gonna forget something.”

“I don’t care,” George replies, his voice slightly breathless. “I’ll buy whatever I need when I get there. I just need to get to her.”

Chris shakes his head, amused but also concerned. “At least eat something before you pass out. You haven’t slept, haven’t eaten… you’re no good to her if you show up and collapse.”

George pauses for a moment, realising Chris is right. He grabs a bowl of cereal from the counter and shoves a spoonful into his mouth, still pacing the room as he chews. “Happy?” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“Not until you calm down,” Chris retorts, already pulling up flight options on his phone.

A few minutes later, Chris finds a flight to San Francisco leaving in just under four hours. “Found one,” Chris announces. “Heathrow. Direct flight. Leaves at 2:15. You’ll be with her by tonight.”

George stops in his tracks, turning to Chris with wide eyes. “You’re a lifesaver. Book it.”

Chris grins. “Already did. You owe me, though.”

George sets down the cereal bowl and pulls Chris into a tight hug. “I owe you everything. Thanks, man. I’ll pay you back when I’m in the Uber.”

Chris laughs, patting George on the back. “Just go get your girl mate.”

George grabs his suitcase, shoving the last few essentials in before heading out the door. Once he’s in the Uber, his phone buzzes in his hand. Without hesitation, he calls you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but full of excitement.

“Hey,” you reply, your heart already racing again. “Did you get a flight?”

“Yeah, baby i’m coming for you,” he confirms with a smile . “I’ll be at Heathrow in about an hour. Flight leaves at 2:15 my time. I’ll be with you by 5:30pm your time.”

You let out a shaky breath, the reality of it sinking in. “I can’t believe it. You’re actually coming.”

“Of course I’m coming beautiful,” George says firmly. “You said you needed me, and that’s all I needed to hear.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you smile through them. “Thank you, George. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither,” he replies. “Get some rest, yeah? I’ll be there before you know it.”

“I will,” you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the call ends, you realised how long the hours will feel until he’s in your arms. But for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace, knowing George is on his way.

At 5 a.m., you finally fall back into bed, exhaustion and excitement battling within you. You remind yourself that when you wake up in a few hours hours, you’ll be a few hours closer to George.

When you wake up, sunlight is pouring into the hotel room. You reach for your phone instinctively, checking the time. 10 a.m. Closer to George. Your first message is to Chris, thanking him for helping George get everything together.

You: Chris, I can’t thank you enough. You’re the reason he’s on his way to me.

Chris: Getting George out of the flat was the best decision. He’s been a mess without you. He’ll be better the second he sees you. To be honest he was always gonna get on that plane at some point he just needed someone to tell him to go. Enjoy your man😂

His words bring a smile to your face, but you still have a few things to do before George arrives. You glance around the hotel room, noting the pile of papers on the desk and the half-empty coffee cup from last night, a pile of clothes, It’s time to get moving.

You dive into work, finishing up the last of your report for the week, then call your boss. “Hi, I just wanted to let you know that George is flying in today. If I finish everything this morning, could I take tomorrow off?”

Your boss’s voice is warm, understanding. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Just do what you can today, and we’ll figure the rest out. Enjoy your time with him—you’ve been working hard, and it’s well-deserved.”

Relieved, you thank her and hang up. Chris sends over George’s flight details, and you stare at them for a moment, your heart skipping a beat. Less than three hours.

Deciding to make the time pass quicker you take your laundry down to the on site laundry team, you head back into your room and then you hop in the shower, letting the hot water wash over you as you think about the moment you’ll finally see him. When you get out, you throw on a simple but nice outfit, wanting to look your best without overthinking it. You order room service and find a show to watch.

You tidy up the hotel room, making sure everything is in order. The space feels brighter, more alive now that you know George will be stepping into it soon. You glance at the clock. An hour and forty-five minutes until his flight lands.

Your excitement is nearly unbearable, but you try to calm yourself by pacing around the room and double-checking that everything is set for his arrival. You grab your phone, refreshing the flight tracker every few minutes, counting down the moments until George finally lands in San Francisco.

You pace around the hotel room, trying to distract yourself. Netflix plays in the background, but you can’t focus on anything. You keep glancing at your phone, counting down the minutes until George’s flight lands. The waiting is excruciating.

When room service finally arrives, you’re grateful for the distraction. You sit on the edge of the bed, eating the sandwich you’d ordered. It’s not the best meal you’ve ever had, but it’ll do. You silently thank the company for footing the bill, though you’re barely paying attention to the food. Your mind keeps drifting to George—on the plane, somewhere above the clouds, making his way to you.

Less than an hour to go. You can’t sit still any longer. You grab your coat, your phone, and your bag and step out of the hotel room. As you wait for the elevator, you book an Uber to take you to the airport.

The ride feels longer than it actually is, your heart pounding with every passing minute. You keep refreshing the flight tracker, watching as the plane edges closer to landing. When you finally arrive at the airport, you pay the driver and head inside, navigating your way to the arrivals area.

The space is bustling with people—families waiting with balloons, couples reuniting, and business travelers moving quickly through the crowd. You stand near the barrier, your eyes glued to the screen that lists the incoming flights.

LONDON HEATHROW - LANDED

Your breath catches. He’s here. You scan the crowd eagerly, searching for his familiar face. Every second feels like an eternity as people begin to trickle out of customs, but you stay rooted in place, knowing it won’t be long now.

You know it’s probably minutes away now—just minutes until you’re back in his arms. The thought makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding as you scan the crowd. Every passing second feels impossibly long, the steady stream of passengers coming through customs a blur.

And then, you see him.

George steps into view, his suitcase rolling beside him, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He looks tired—his hair slightly mussed from the long flight, his hoodie wrinkled—but when his eyes meet yours, everything about him seems to light up. The exhaustion melts away, replaced by a look of pure relief and joy.

He stops for just a second, his hand tightening around the suitcase handle as if steadying himself. Then, he starts walking toward you, picking up speed until he’s only a few steps away.

You can’t wait any longer. You close the gap, meeting him halfway as his suitcase comes to a halt beside him. His arms are around you before you can say a word, pulling you tightly against him.

“Hi,” he breathes, his voice low and a little unsteady, as though he’s been holding this moment in his mind for weeks.

“Hi,” you manage, your own voice breaking.

His grip tightens, one hand moving to the back of your head as if to make sure you’re really here. His suitcase stays forgotten at his side, and for a moment, the noise of the airport fades away, leaving just the two of you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair.

“I missed you too,” you reply, blinking back tears.

George pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands gently framing your face. His thumbs brush your cheeks, and he smiles softly. “You’re even better than I remembered.”

You laugh through the lump in your throat, your heart swelling at his words. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you again.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he murmurs, his voice full of quiet determination.

You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “You’d better not,” you reply, smiling as he lets out a quiet laugh.

You both finally get into the Uber, and the entire ride back to your hotel, George’s hand never leaves yours. The warmth of his skin against yours is a constant reassurance that he’s really here, really by your side, and not just a constant thought across miles and time zones.

When you reach the hotel, the door to your room opens, and George steps inside first, dropping his suitcase to the floor with a soft thud. Without missing a beat, he makes his way toward the bed, crawling under the covers with a tired sigh. You stand at the edge of the bed, watching him for a moment, the exhaustion of his long journey now evident on his face.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, pulling your jacket off, your eyes still on him.

He shakes his head slightly, settling further into the pillows. “I ate on the flight. Right now… I just want my gorgeous girlfriend in bed with me so I can sleep.”

You smile softly, your heart swelling at his words. You walk over, slipping into the bed beside him. As soon as you do, his arms immediately encircle you, pulling you close. His head rests in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

You chuckle, your fingers lightly brushing through his messy hair. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not going anywhere now,” he says, his voice soft but firm. You feel the tension in his body start to ease as he relaxes into you, his hand resting gently on your back.

You both lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence filled with comfort and familiarity. Slowly, George’s breathing evens out, and his grip loosens as he finally drifts off to sleep, his face softening in the quiet of the room.

You smile, kissing the top of his head lightly, feeling your own eyelids begin to flutter closed. In his arms, with him so close, it’s hard to believe that just hours ago, you were thousands of miles apart.

You wake up slowly, the soft warmth of George’s body against yours making you feel like you’re in the most comforting place on earth. His head is still nestled against your chest, his breathing even and steady, a faint snore escaping every so often. You smile, unable to resist the urge to pull him a little closer, your hand running gently through the hair on the back of his head, feeling the soft strands under your fingers.

As you let your mind wander, you glance at the clock on the nightstand and are surprised to see it’s already 10 a.m. You’d both slept for nearly 12 hours. The last 24 hours had passed so quickly, but here he was, finally in your arms, exactly where he should be.

You can’t help but feel a rush of gratitude for everything that led to this moment. You reach for your phone on the bedside table, trying not to disturb him too much. As quietly as you can, you snap a quick picture of George still peacefully asleep in your arms, his face relaxed and content.

You send the photo off to Chris and Arthur with a simple message: “Thank you both again. Couldn’t have done this without you.”

You wait for a moment, watching George’s peaceful face, before your phone buzzes with Chris’s reply: “Anything for you guys. Glad he’s there with you.”

You smile and turn your attention back to George, your heart full as you play with his hair a little longer. The world outside may still be moving, but right now, all that matters is that he’s here.

#george clarkey #george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #georgeclarkey #ArthurHillMastermind #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader

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jessthebaker · 4 months ago

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With Sticks and String

a/n: This fic started as the response to the #writingthroughtheseasons challenge by the wonderful @guiltyasdave and @sizzlingcloudmentality. It developed a life of its own and, uh, grew beyond the original prompt. There will be two definite chapters, and possibly a third?

I did as much research as I could to be mindful of the details of NA, substance addiction, and milestone ceremonies but there will be errors. Please be kind.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Challenge prompt: Dieter in Autumn. “Are we a moment, or a lifetime?” Trust me. You’ll see.

Dieter Bravo x reader

word count: 1.7k-ish

A church basement. A large circle of uncomfortable metal folding chairs. A table at the side with hot water urns, a stack of paper cups, a basket of tea bags and instant coffee sachets. A disused pulpit at one end of the circle for someone to stand and speak.

Dieter stands in the doorway and feels the familiar deja vu. He’s been going in circles for more than a year now, the endless loop of losing control, using, rehab, enforced sobriety, falling into using again. His agent is fed up with his bullshit and finally gave him the “I may be your employee but I’m the only friend you have left, go to rehab and make it work this time or we’re done” speech.

That was two months ago, and he’s done his mandated time at the rehab facility. Now he has to find a NA meeting to attend. He’s been to every NA meeting group in the city over the last few years and never lasted long at any of them. This group is the final one left on the list of available options that gelled with his location and schedule. Not like his schedule was that full anyway.

He notices you at his first meeting and as cliché as it was, there is something different about you. You seem to have the same dark sense of humour as him, the same cheekiness in danger of being stamped out in the name of sobriety. The same marks of near-silent desperation that you can hide from everyone but other addicts. However, the strand of fuzzy yarn running up your legs to connect the pile of fabric on your lap to your bag on the floor is new to him.

After that first meeting, he keeps stealing glances at you from across the circle of chairs. He notices you always have a project in your lap during meetings, your needles clicking softly as a backdrop to the sound of other attendees telling their stories. Sometimes it’s your crochet hook flashing in the light, as your wrist twirls it effortlessly through the air. He’s more fascinated with watching you work than paying attention to the speakers. Your motions are graceful and practiced; you deftly create something out of a jumble of fuzzy string without even looking. It’s like magic to him.

After a few meetings he works up the nerve to say hello to you afterwards. Swap names over weak shitty coffee in flimsy paper cups. A few more meetings, and he sits next to you. A few more weeks, and he asks you about your project. You smirk (got another one, you think to yourself) and show him what you’re working on.

You ask him, “Do you want to have a go?”

“Uh, yeah, if you trust me not to ruin it.”

You scoff lightly. “Don’t worry about ruining anything, it’s crochet. Whatever you fuck up, I can pull back and fix. Just...play around with it.”

You show him the basic stitches, the way to maneuver the hook and where to place it, how to pull up a loop and draw it through. He’s surprised to find he likes it. He works through your row and you show him how to make a turning chain, encourage him to work back through the next row. A soft cough behind you both makes you jump. It’s the meeting leader giving you the wind-up. It’s past time to turn off the lights and lock up. Dieter is surprised to find half an hour has passed in your company.

As you start packing up your project again, you can tell he wants to say something. His eyes are a little wild, his teeth biting at his lip nervously.

“Do you think you could teach me more next week? I think I need something like this. Something to keep - keep the hands busy, you know?”

His hands are always restless, you have noticed this. He’s always fidgeting during meetings, pulling at his coat hems, fiddling with at his pant pockets or the buttons on his lapel, twiddling his earring. Right now as you both stand together, his hands are twitching at his side, making flicking motions as if ashing an invisible cigarette.

“Of course. Come early next week and I’ll show you more.” You beam indulgently at Dieter, and to him it’s as if a shaft of sunlight has put a spotlight on your face.

His face relaxes instantly and a shy half-grin emerges. You get the feeling he has a nice smile when he lets it really show. You secretly wonder if he might have a dimple. You agree on half an hour before the regular meeting time and say your goodnights.

The next week, as promised, you bring a ball of yarn and an extra crochet hook and teach him more of the basics. You get him started with a simple dishcloth project that will fit on his lap during the meeting. You don’t say anything, but you do see that he’s more relaxed with this in hand – he’s not actively working on it during the meeting itself, but he is idly stroking the yarn, turning the partial square around in his hands, rolling and folding and twisting it up. You catch his eye and glance at the wadded up square of crochet stitches in his hands. He looks down too, sees what he’s done subconciously, and gives you a sheepish grin. You wink and grin back.

After that first crochet lesson, your friendship with Dieter grows. You look forward to the weekly meetings in a different way, now. He does too. Beyond the obvious connection of being fellow addicts in recovery, he can talk to you and you don’t stare at him like he’s a nutjob. You enjoy passing down the crafts that have helped you to stay sober these past thirteen years.

And there is the attraction. That doesn't hurt.

You can’t help but stare sometimes when he’s not looking. Does he not realise how handsome he is? Maybe he does. But he doesn’t draw attention to himself that way. Over time he lets slip little details, offhand comments, that give you the impression he used to fuck around but he doesn’t anymore. It makes sense, you think. His celebrity and fame lent itself to partying and access to people as well as drugs. If he’s working this hard to stay sober from substance abuse, maybe he’s also staying away from the rest of it. You try not to let your crush get in the way of your friendship. You know he’s not supposed to get into any relationships for the first year of his recovery, anyway.

For all that, you really, really enjoy watching him work. His broad frame hunches over the project on his lap. Even the longest knitting needles always look tiny in his big hands. To say nothing of a short crochet hook, it’s practically fully hidden in his paws. His brow furrows in concentration and his tongue pokes out subconsciously when he’s trying to maneuver the hook the right way.

For Dieter’s part, he can’t help but stare when you don’t notice. Do you not know how beautiful you are? Maybe you do. But you don’t draw attention to yourself that way. Over time you let slip comments about your past that give him the impression you used to party, but you don’t anymore. It makes sense, he thinks. If you’ve worked hard to stay sober for this long, maybe you’re also staying away from relationships. He tries not to let his crush get in the way of your friendship. He knows he isn’t supposed to get into any relationships for the first year of his recovery anyway.

For all that, he really, really enjoys watching you work. Whatever you’re knitting or crocheting, you make it look effortless. During meetings you sit with your feet crossed neatly underneath you, project in your lap, hands moving deftly through the yarn. Sometimes you don’t even look down, you just move without having to see what your needle or hook is doing. It’s like the tool is an extension of your hands and they work independently of your conscious brain. He wants to know what that feels like.

He’s an eager student. You teach him to crochet first. He wants to be able to “make ALL the things, I don’t want to limit myself!” So you teach him what you know. You teach him to make increases, decreases. Amigurumi toys, granny squares, knitted stockinette. Ribbing, lace, cables, socks, shawls, hats.

He learns to notice mistakes and fix them himself. He teaches himself to alter a pattern to suit his own tastes. He teaches himself to do colourwork through YouTube tutorials, after you admit it’s something you aren't interested in yourself. He figures out what he likes and doesn’t like in his crafting.

Just as Dieter’s path along sobriety has entwined with yours, your lives become more and more entwined over time.

For his six month pin you knit him a slouchy beanie.

For your 14 year pin he crochets you a little stuffed heart, which he presents to you with a shy smile.

For his 1 year pin, you crochet a little stuffed raccoon (his favourite animal) holding the stuffed heart he gave you last year. You’ve embroidered a little word “yes” on the heart.

For your 15 year pin he knits you a simple lace shawl.

For his two year pin, you knit him a handsome scarf and a matching pair of fingerless mittens. (Not too long in the cuff, his tattoos like to be free to breathe.)

For your 16 year pin, he knits you an intricately cabled scarf that he designed himself.

The next year you crochet an afghan together, using your combined stash scraps to make wildly colourful granny squares and crochet them together. Dieter drapes it proudly over the couch in the house you’ve bought together.

When he met you, Dieter was desperate for a hobby to keep his hands busy, to distract himself from the cravings and needing to chase his next high. Thanks to you, he found a different path to the high. Now he chases the euphoria of sinking into a trance as his hands move unconsciously in rhythm with the yarn. The way his brain hums peacefully as he reaches a meditative zen state. He craves the feeling of creating something and watching it grow in his hands.

He loves you, and he loves that you’ve been with him to celebrate every finished project, and every milestone date. Together.

With you, he thinks he can actually do this sobriety thing.

Part 2 is here

Tagging some peeps who were interested in this as a wip!

@toomanytookas @avastrasposts @schnarfer @galway-girlatwork

@grogusmum @jolapeno @bitchwitch1981 @sunnytuliptime @dieterbravobrainrotclub

@ghotifishreads @covetyou

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x gn!reader #dieter bravo x reader #fic: with sticks & string #writingthroughtheseasons #wttschallenge2025 #tw: drug addiction #tw: narcotics anonymous #dieter plays with yarn

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months ago

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robin's egg blue

@steddiebingo fill - toys

pairing: steddie | rated: G | wc: 935 | on AO3: robin's egg blue

i wanted to make this prompt nsfw, but then an actual pipe burst at my local museum back in january and this little thing was born :o)

“Apologies everyone, this section of the alphabet tour is closed today while we repair the burst pipe,” someone is saying as Eddie approaches, “We encourage you to view our other exhibits, or take a ride on our newly refurbished carousel!”

The crowd starts to disperse, leaving a bespectacled, be-sweatervested hottie of an employee standing on what looks like a literal soap box saying his “Thank you!”s and “We appreciate it!”s to the parting crowd.

The last of the patrons depart, and the man lays eyes on Eddie and his toolbox, “Oh good, you’re here. Eddie, right?” Eddie nods, and the man hops off his little stage and plucks it up under one arm, “This way please.”

“Not much damaged Mr…?” Eddie hedges, following the man further into the museum.

“Steve, just Steve. Assistant Museum Curator.” He holds his hand out behind him, walking sideways to shake Eddie’s, “And no, thankfully our Doll exhibit was spared.”

Eddie winces to himself. “That’s… good.”

Steve holds an employee-only door open for him, “Yes, I know: “the most nightmare-inducing section of the museum” as one reviewer put it,” he follows Eddie into the concrete passage, setting his soap box just inside the door, “But some of these dolls are hundreds of years old! They’re more than just toys.”

Eddie merely smiles at Hot Steve’s enthusiasm, nodding along as he continues. “We even have early 1900s paper dolls! Can you believe that?? Paper! From more than a century ago!”

Okay, that was kind of crazy to think about; he opens his mouth to say something, but Steve continues on, “Sorry, sorry, tour guide brain..I’m sure you already know about this stuff, you’re local, right?”

“Sure am!” Eddie smiles, following Steve through the door marked ‘Utility’, “But I wouldn’t say no to a private tour with a handsome curator like yourself.”

Steve turns back to him in surprise, and Eddie wants to die on the spot, flirting with the head honcho like that while on a job.

To Eddie’s amazement, Steve seems flattered; his cheeks tinge pink under the rim of his glasses and Eddie wants to Whoop in triumph.. until:

“S–So this is you; I think I shut everything down correctly, but wanted you to check first before you and your Uncle got to work?”

Damn.

“Yeah, uhm,” Eddie tears his eyes away to inspect the valves and pipework. Steve had actually managed to spin the right valve in what was sure to have been chaos, “You shut off everything in the Northwest section of level 1, Good job, Steve.”

He looks back at Steve and is delighted to see him even pinker. “Thank you, I–” He clears his throat and gestures back toward the door, “Shall we?”

Wayne arrives right on schedule and the two get their scaffolding brought in and get down to work.

The winter's freezing temperatures caused the pipe to burst originally, but ten more feet of pipe had to be replaced in the end, due to the fissures running back from the actual hole that got punched through.

So, over the next few days, he, Wayne, and their newest employee Lucas got the pipe isolated from the rest of the system (giving the staff their bathroom and breakroom water back), pulled down drywall, pulled out the old pipe (and boy does he mean old, this sections going to need a full overhaul soon), and got the new length of pipe welded into place.

The room they were working in was small, hell of a fit for the length of pipe they needed to bring in, but they got it done. Wayne took care of sealing up the seams of the elbow they had to put in, Lucas took care of patching up the drywall, and Eddie finished up with a couple coats of color-matched robin’s egg blue.

“Wow,”

Eddie looked down from his spot on the scaffolding to where Steve was standing in the doorway. Finally, something other than creepy Victorian dolls to look at. “Hey Mr. Museum Man, how’s it look?”

Steve wanders into the small room, heading to the far end and looking up at the now-invisible seam of new and old paint as Eddie clambers down from his perch.

“It’s like it was never there! You guys are incredible.” he says, tuning to wander back toward Eddie.

“Aw shucks,” Eddie jokes, waving him off.

“There’s gotta be something more I can do for you.”

Eddie’s face begins to heat up despite himself. “No, no, we’ve already been squared up by the museum, there’s nothing more you need to–”

Steve smirks, “How about a date?”

Eddie’s stomach flips, but he makes himself play it cool. “I dunno Stevie, Lucas has a girl already, and I don’t think you’re Wayne’s type…”

“What about your type then?” Steve asks, still smirking, still stepping closer.

Jesus H. Christ why is it so hot in here?? He wipes the back of his hand over his brow.

“Uhm, well.. I think you is–ARE. You are. My type, that is.” so much for playing it cool.

Steve stops when he’s toe to toe with him. Shiny brown leather Hush Puppies to cracked, paint-speckled Bates’.

With one hand, Steve reaches up and swipes a thumb under Eddie’s bangs, reaching down to wipe it off on the chest of Eddie’s similarly paint-speckled coveralls.

Eddie looks down at it, then at the back of his hand. Damn robin’s egg blue.

“Well good,” he says, pulling Eddie’s attention back up. Hazel eyes smoulder into his. “Because I happen to be into guys who are good with their hands.”

divider from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!

#steddie #steddiebingo2025 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #museum au #toys #noelle writes

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rootedinrevisions · 9 months ago

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Such a Tease

SUMMARY: Jake is stuck at base for a mind-numbing training session, while you’re home enjoying a much-needed day off. Bored and missing him, you decide to have a little fun by slipping into his favorite lacy lingerie and sending him a few teasing photos. What starts as playful fun turns into a tantalizing game of anticipation as Jake struggles to focus on anything other than getting home to you—and making you pay for being such a tease.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm a little late getting this one posted. Work and life got the best of me today! But here is Day 1 of the Kinktober prompts!

PROMPT: "Damn, you're such a tease."

KINK: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WARNINGS: Sexting/Sending NSFW Pictures.

WORD COUNT: 562

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

It was one of those rare days off, the kind where you could lounge around the apartment, free from any obligations or stress. You had the place to yourself, and although it was peaceful, something was missing: Jake.

Jake was stuck at base, caught up in yet another training session. You could practically hear his groans when he left this morning, muttering about how he could fly his aircraft blindfolded and still ace this review. You’d been texting back and forth with him all morning, and from the sound of it, he was bored out of his mind.

You’d been missing him too—his presence, his touch, the playful banter you shared. And then an idea popped into your head. You glanced toward your dresser, your lips curling into a mischievous smile as you remembered Jake's favorite lacy lingerie set tucked inside.

A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right?

Grinning, you slipped into the soft, delicate fabric, adjusting the lace until it fit perfectly against your skin. The deep, sultry red contrasted beautifully with your complexion, and you couldn’t help but admire the way it hugged your curves. You knew this set drove Jake crazy—he’d told you so more than once.

You grabbed your phone and posed in front of the mirror, snapping a few playful shots. One with you standing straight, one where you tugged the hem of the lace teasingly, and one of you sitting on the edge of the bed, just enough skin showing to keep it innocent… yet tempting.

With a smirk, you sent the first picture to Jake, captioning it with a simple, “Miss you.”

You barely had to wait a minute before your phone buzzed. Jake’s name lit up the screen, and you opened the message to see his reply: “Damn, you’re such a tease.”

You giggled, feeling a rush of satisfaction. It was good to know you could get to him, even when he was stuck in a stuffy classroom. But you weren’t done yet.

Biting your lip, you snapped another picture—this time lying on the bed, your body half-covered by the sheets. The lacy set peeked out just enough to leave plenty to the imagination, but still give Jake something to think about.

“Thought you could use a distraction. How’s that training going?” you typed, hitting send.

His response came back almost instantly: “Training? What training? All I’m thinking about now is how fast I can get home.”

You could practically picture him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to focus on anything but the images you’d sent.

Feeling playful, you teased him again. “Aw, don’t you still have a few hours left? Guess you’ll just have to be patient.”

Another message buzzed in: “You’re killing me, sweetheart. Wait ‘til I get home. We’ll see who’s teasing who.”

You felt a warm shiver run down your spine at his words, knowing full well what was waiting for you once Jake finally got back. But for now, you enjoyed the thought of him struggling through his training session, knowing you had him wrapped around your finger.

Leaning back against the pillows, you smiled to yourself, imagining how this little game would play out once Jake was home. His frustration would build throughout the day, and by the time he walked through that door, he’d be ready to turn the tables on you in the best possible way.

#Top Gun Hangman #Top Gun Hangman Fanfiction #Top Gun Hangman Fanfic #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin Fanfiction #Jake Seresin Fanfic #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x reader #Hangman x reader

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deepfivetraveller · 1 year ago

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King Baldwin x Time!Traveler!reader

chapter 1

Chapter 2 here

Okay I’m a little new to writing romance so please take it easy on me. Btw I’ll try to keep y/n as neutral as possible but since this is set in the ancient era and religion is very important, y/n shall be hinted as being Hindu since that’s the only one that seems neutral in this situation.

“Alright that's all for the lesson. And since its complete I expect all of you to be thorough with ‘Life of King Baldwin iv’ during this weekend since there will be a test on this very topic next wednesday. Have a great weekend by the way.” The professor stands up and closes his laptop and all the other students start packing up.

“He had a pretty hard life didn’t he?” One of your friends chimes in. You look at her unsurprised. “You mean king Baldwins?”

“Duh! Poor man suffered an incurable disease almost his entire life! Imagine having skin infested in bacteria, euggh!” She recoils in disgust. “Imagine the cure to that disease being bacteria itself! Pretty sure Leprosy can be cured using multi antibiotic therapy.” Another friend joins in the conversation. You finished packing up your bag so you get up. “But no matter what, you gotta respect him. He never used his illness as an excuse to be a bad king.”

“That’s true….” Your first friend agrees. “He’s tough. When I catch a normal cold I give up all of my responsibilities since I’m sick. Wonder how hard it must have been for him.” All of you exit the classroom. A few minutes go by and topics have changed. A fun conversation lasted for a while before it was time to go, so you three parted ways.

As you entered your home your first thought was to take a cold shower after a long, hot and sweaty day. While eagerly hopping into the shower you get reminded of the conversation you had with your friends a while ago. What did king Baldwin even look like? There were no images in your textbook. Curiosity got the best of you, making you draw back the shower curtains to leave. You wrapped a towel and went towards the table where you kept your mobile, typed a quick ‘King Baldwin the 4th images’ and hit enter. Two images popped up. One being an actual painting from the 12th century while the other being an image reconstructed by scientists which looked…realistic to say the least.

His face in the second photo was majestic. His mouth and nose were almost non-existent, having only two triangular shaped holes instead of a nose. His skin was dry, withered and stretched while having the hue of a dry leaf during autumn. Even though he was severely disfigured his eyes were pure and bright, having a child like innocence towards them. King Baldwin was…Quite handsome.

Okay that’s enough now snap out of it! It’s probably just some AI prompt message image anyway. If anyone found out you found him handsome they’d call you crazy. Plus now is not the time to fangirl over a dead king, now's the time to study. In an attempt to distract yourself you pick up your books to do work. Hours painfully go by as you study but finally, finally it was bedtime. You could care less about eating dinner or even taking a shower, you plop yourself onto your bed and wrap the soft blanket around your body. Thoughts about King Baldwin strike your mind again. Seriously, what's wrong with you?! Why is this man plaguing your thoughts all day?

A sigh escaped your mouth from irritation. If only it was possible to console him for his losses or better yet, cure him entirely. The world would have been a better place if he had the lifespan of a normal man.

But there is no point thinking about this, time to go to bed now. As you try to go to sleep your body keeps doing the fake fall thing, annoying you to the core. And finally when your bodys heartbeat was steady and your breathing was quiet, your body did that fake fall thing again but this time it was actually a real fall.

Eyes widen as you try to grab onto the air to prevent your fall but of course, you fail. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for that split second before you finally make an impact on the cobblestone path?

Owch! That fall really hurt, especially at the back of your shoulders! You hope it’s not bruised there. But after that reality check, you look around only to find yourself in some village?

You can see a few small huts and buildings beyond the grassy field. Where are you? How are you here? Why are you here? Too confused and dazed from the fall, you try to look around for people for help. That is until a holographic screen with text pops up.

Congratulations Ms. Y/n. Your wish to cure King Baldwin has been approved by the ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. You are now at Jerusalem, Year: 1181.

“What?”

Yes it’s true Ms.Y/n, you really are in the 12th century.

Your blood is now boiling in anger. “Just because….Someone wishes pity over a dead king DOES NOT ACTUALLY MEAN THEY WANT TO CURE HIM!” You try to grab onto the screen to shake it vigorously but your hands go right thru.

Now now, let’s calm down and try to get over with this together I’m sure we’ll find a solution.

“Calm down…CALM DOWN?!?!?!? I’m in the middle of nowhere in Jerusalem during the 12th century and you want me to CALM DOWN???? I don’t even know French and not to mention I’M NOT CHRISTIAN!” You were screaming with your hand in the air. Pretty sure you woke someone up.

Y-Yes but that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry about communication, the language module for french had been uploaded into your brain while you fell here.

The screen flickers a little, maybe due to fear.

Uploaded knowledge? “But I’m a woman from the 21st century! I can’t live here! I’m wayy to accustomed to the privileges of my time!”

That’s one of my perks miss! By using currency of this time you may purchase products of your time thru me! The screen changes to an online store. For now you have access to basic necessities like food and clothes. As you complete missions you shall unlock other parts of the online market! The screens display brightness increases due to enthusiasm, convinced it has impressed you.

You however look at it in exasperated shock. “How is this even possible?” You say with dread in your voice. “Who sent me here?” You ask, no, demand.

Like I said You’ve been sent here by ₦ł₥฿Ʉ₴฿₳Ʉ₦Ʉ₴. I’m pretty sure you can’t read that since mortals don’t have the capacity to….

Mortals? Is this the play of some higher being? God even? Too many questions float through your head, making you visibly tired. You can feel the bottom of the skin beneath your eyes folding, an indicator you’re developing dark circles.

Ah. It looks like you’re tired. It’s night anyway. You should sleep.

“But where do I-”

“Excuse me madam.” You turn around to see a man standing behind you. “I’ve noticed you’ve been talking to yourself.”

So he can’t see the screen. From his ragged outfit he seems to be a commoner. He also genuinely seems worried so you guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask for help.

“Yes, sorry for that.” You say embarrassingly while you get up. “You see I’m from the family of wandering traders, here to sell spices from my land. I was talking to myself since I was quite irritated at how I didn’t have an inn for the night.” The explanation seems responsible enough I guess.

“But I don’t see any goods with you… And how did a young lady such as yourself travel alone? Where is your husband?”

Crap. He’s doubting you. You need to give him a reasonable explanation fast or he’ll call you a witch or something.

“Oh no sir you’re mistaken! My father is the one who has the spices, it’s his business after all. We had to split ways during travel due to inconveniences, I’m merely here to help him!” You put on your best smile to convince him.

“O-Oh I’m sorry madame! H-Here let me lead you, I know an Inn nearby.” Good. Looks like he believes you. But now it’s your turn.

“I’m sorry sir but how can I trust you?” You step back a little. “What if you take advantage of me? How shall I testify my innocence? The locals would definitely believe you over me.”

“No no please don’t! I’m a married man. My wife’s right there.” he points at the lady standing just outside the house, looking worried. You look at her and she nods her head in reassurance. “You seem like a noble from your land madame judging from your colorful dress, why don’t the both of us show you where the inn is?”

Hmm….Guess colorful clothing is rare here. And he really does seem like he wants to help.

“Very well then. Both of you show me they way.” The man eagerly tells his wife the incident and both of them show you around. The screen follows you, showing you a winking emoticon.

Congrats Ms. Y/n! You have officially begun your first mission!

#king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin x reader #baldwin of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven 2005 #baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv x oc #king baldwin x you #king baldwin x reader #the leaper King #koh fandom #edward norton

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 5 months ago

Text

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary: When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell.

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more.

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more.

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more.

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom.

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before.

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall.

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you.

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!”

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.”

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again.

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there.

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold.

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were.

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk.

“Fuck, baby I-“

“Yeah?”

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin.

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.”

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to. “But I missed you.”

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming.

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently.

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children.

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years.

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours.

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell.

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were.

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss.

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

#russell shaw x you #russell shaw x female reader #jensen ackles #jackles #tracker #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #russell shaw #russell shaw fanfiction #prompt celebration

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storiesofsvu · 4 months ago

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Yes Daddy

Abigail Borin x fem!reader warnings: language, smut, fingering, dirty talk, daddy kink, minor derogatory dirty talk/praise, semi public sex? A couple of prompts/requests thrown together. This took way too long from the initial "daddy!borin must be written" to the actual writing LOL. 3.3k

You were no stranger to the CGIS office, often dropping Abi off in the morning or waiting in the parking lot to pick her up after a long haul day, occasionally swinging through to drop something off that the other woman had forgotten at home or to make sure she actually ate her lunch. You knew her team and most of the administration around the building, making it pretty easy for you to come and go as you pleased. Today, bored out of your mind at home, you figured there was no harm in paying your wife a visit, she’d been over stressed about this case after all. Besides, her lunch was still sitting on the counter where you’d placed it while she got ready that morning. What kind of wife would you be if you let her starve?

Abi’s preferred take out and a tray of actually good coffee in your hand, you breezed past the reception desk with a warm smile before heading down the hallways to her office. The door was open just a smidge, nudging open a tad further when you rapped on the wood.

“What?” The irritation in her voice was present as you shouldered the door the rest of the way open.

“Rough day?” You asked and the annoyance immediately fell from her face, replaced with a tired smile.

“Would be a hell of a lot better if we weren’t working this case with NCIS.” She grumbled, closing her laptop before pushing it to the side of her desk.

“That DiNozzo guy a thorn in your side again?”

“A thorn in everyone’s side and always.”

“Sucky.” You let out a small sigh, moving through the room to place the bag and drinks down on her desk, “hopefully lunch will help.”

“Believe me, this will.” She swiped a Styrofoam cup with one hand, taking a hefty swig as the other reached out to intertwine your fingers with hers, giving you a tender squeeze, “thank you.”

“Can’t let my favourite girl go hungry, now can I?” Your free hand braced on her shoulder as you leant over to kiss her, breathing her in as your lips moved against her.

“Now that definitely does help.” A smirk took over her lips as you let out a laugh, leaning against the side of her desk.

Rather than turn her attention to lunch or back to work, Abi’s eyes lingered on your body, flicking down to the pair of heels on your feet, slowly dragging up your bare legs to the hem of your dress before they roamed over your curves, lingering just a touch on your chest before finally catching your gaze again. You felt the fire pulsing through you, a tingle starting in your lower stomach as heat crept onto your cheeks at the way she was looking at you. Sure, you’d shown up under false pretenses but you hadn’t expected Abi to take the bait, especially without making you work for it first.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lower lip and pulling your full attention as she leant back in her chair, “what’d you bring me?”

“Hmm?” You blinked rapidly, pulling yourself out of the daydream as your eyes darted away from her lips.

“What’s in the bag?” She asked with a small chuckle, finger pointing toward the takeout you’d placed down on her desk.

“Salmon bowls from that place on eighth you like so much.”

“A girl after my heart.” She smiled reaching for the bag.

“Pretty sure I already secured that.” You replied with a laugh of your own, circling around to settle in a chair on the opposite side of her desk as she started to empty the bag of its contents.

“Either way, thank you for this. As much as I need a break are you okay if I work through lunch? I need these signed off by the end of the day, I swear I’ll still listen to you ramble though.”

You laughed softly, passing her a fork before prying open your rice bowl, “you do what you’ve got to do. I’m just happy to be here.”

A comfortable silence took over her office as the two of you dug into lunch, the occasional sound of her pen scratching against paperwork or files flipping open and shut. You shared a story or two from your week between bites of food, a general warmth floating through the air as Abi worked.

There was a sudden knock on her door, if you could even call it that, before a man practically fell through the entrance,

“Hey! So I”—

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me GOD, DiNozzo.” Abi snapped, her fingers tightening around her pen as she glared across the room at him.

“Sorry.” He let out an awkward chuckle, suddenly stalling as his eyes landed on you and they widened briefly before he shot you a devilish grin. “Didn’t realize you had company, hi, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.” Extending his hand he started to take a step towards you before Abi’s voice cut through the air like a knife and he froze.

“Don’t even think about it.” She nearly growled, her eyes darkening as they flicked between the two of you.

“Alright.” His hand swung back, running along the side of his hair before he cleared his throat, “no introductions. Got it.”

Abi let out a frustrated sigh, placing the lid back onto her lunch as she glowered at him, “what do you want DiNozzo?”

He paused for a moment, as if wondering whether his questions were actually worth it or not, rocking on his feet before he finally spoke, “just wondering if you’d heard back from the lab?”

“Did I not say I would call when I did?”

“Uh, yes. Yes you did.”

“Then why are you in my office breathing down my neck about it?” She rolled her eyes, “go annoy someone else!”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, shooting you another look that was too long for Abi’s liking before he finally left the office.

“Christ.” She muttered, running a hand over her face and you stifled a laugh.

Reading the room, you popped the lid back onto your bowl, sliding it back into the bag as you stood from your chair, “yeah that’s definitely a pain in the ass.”

“You only got the half of it.” She groaned, “lock the door so he doesn’t come back.” You laughed and she finally looked up to find you already on your feet with your bag over your shoulder, “hey… come sit down for a second, you’ve got time.”

“I thought you were busy.” You gestured between the pile of papers and the doorway.

“Baby…” her face softened, a gentle smile on her lips, “you know I’ll always make time for you.”

Returning her smile you quickly locked the door and headed back to your chair and Abi clicked her tongue, your eyes darting up to hers.

“Come sit…” She pushed back from her desk just enough, her legs spreading ever so much and you felt the tingling bursting through your body again, a shy smile on your cheeks as you scurried around her desk.

Abi’s hand closed around your hip, directing you so you were flush to her chest, nestling into her lap so her hand could reach around you to continue signing off on papers. You let out a happy hum, nuzzling into the embrace, getting comfortable on her lap as her free hand wrapped around your middle, holding you to her. Her hand splayed against your stomach through your dress, fingertips rubbing just enough to entice you to let out another sigh, your body relaxing deeper into hers. Her lips suddenly pressed against your neck, lingering for a second before her breath was hot against your skin.

“My sweet girl.” She murmured, “always so patient with me.” Her lips kissed your skin again, “so nice to me, spoiling me by bringing me lunch.”

“Just wanted to make sure you ate.” You murmured back, already lost swimming in the pool of lust that was hazing your brain.

“I’m sure that was all.” Abi nipped at the side of your neck as her hand trailed down your side, “because I don’t feel any panty lines.” Her fingers pinched the fabric of your dress where she should have been able to pluck at the waistband of your underwear, tsk’ing her tongue again.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You turned your head just far enough to catch her gaze, your eyes dark, lips parted just enough for your tongue to dart out to wet them, “I dressed all nice for you.”

“Don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence.” Abi scolded, her hand slinking further south, toying with the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath. Her nails scratched your inner thigh, pinching the supple skin as she tormented you, avoiding touching where she knew you wanted it the most. Your breath caught in your throat as her other hand slid up your body, daring to cup your chest and your back arched into her touch. She chuckled darkly, her fingertips finally tracing through your folds. “Just like I thought….” She husked, her breath hot on the shell of your ear, “no panties. You really are daddy’s dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“Mmhmm…” You managed a nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip as Abi’s fingers pinched at your nipple, rolling it between them as she watched your breathing pick up.

“Only dirty girls would show up pretending to bring me lunch when really all they wanted was to show off.” Her finger tips dipped into your pussy, slowly trailing through your wetness before her hands wrapped around your thighs. “But you know how much I love your pussy,” her hands shoved your legs wide open and you fell completely back onto her as your dress rode up over your hips. A gasp escaped your lips as the cool air of the office hit your cunt and your body shivered, “and just how much daddy loves a dirty girl.” Her lips pressed against the column of your neck, “love when you put yourself on display, know how much I love playing with this pretty pussy, don’t you?”

“Y-yes…” Your chest was nearly heaving as she continued to toy with you, fingers trailing through your pussy lips with barely any pressure. You couldn’t help but let out a needy whine, your hips pressing forward into the touch.

Abi chuckled, “poor girl,” the hand she had on your chest pinched again, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already speechless.” Her teeth sunk into the crook of your neck and you whined, body grinding down onto hers, “words, baby.”

“Please…” you whined again, this one louder than the last.

“Please what?” Abi asked, her finger tapping your clit as it throbbed with need.

“Need you daddy.” You whimpered, your pussy was already pulsing around nothing, you could feel your juices smearing across your inner thighs as heat coursed through your entire body, pleasure clouding your brain. “Need your fingers.”

Abi chuckled softly at just how breathy your voice was, the way you were practically shivering in her arms, the heat she could feel wafting off your skin. She adored when you got like this, completely submitted to her, putty in her hands, willing to do whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. She knew that in just one of your very rapid heart beats she could have you on your knees between her legs, pleasuring her, getting her off to help relax from her previously stressful day. But that wasn’t what she wanted, she wanted to toy with you, wanted to see the wetness drip down your thighs, wanted to feel the way you clenched down around her, hear the filthy noises coming from your pussy as your teeth sunk into your lip so the entire floor wouldn’t hear your moans.

“Shame I don’t have a strap here,” her fingers began lazily rubbing your clit, “you do always look so gorgeous stuffed with daddy’s cock.”

“Mmmm…” you whined, hips rocking in time with her hand, your back arching into the touch for more pressure, “please daddy…” You could feel tears nearly pricking in the corners of your eyes as your desire built up even higher and higher, your heart racing against your rib cage.

“What?” She taunted, nipping at your earlobe as her fingers pressed harder against your clit, rubbing it more intently, “you wanted my fingers, now you’ve got them.”

To emphasize her point, her free hand began groping at your chest again, yanking the neckline of your dress down to expose your tits, nipples hardening instantly in the cool air. She shifted you slightly in her lap, earning another whimper when her fingers briefly slid off your clit. Though the whimper was soon lost to a breathy gasp when she ducked down, her other hand cupping your chest upwards so she could wrap her mouth around a nipple.

“Fuck…” you muttered, body tingling at the way her tongue flicked across your body, her fingers pressing harder between your legs. Abi groaned against your skin, teeth scraping your chest before her tongue began matching the pace of her fingers, “oh god!” Your head fell back onto her shoulder, lips parted just enough to pant as sparks began flying under your skin, your thighs trembling as Abi brought you to your first peak. A smirk on her lips when her hand slipped deeper between your legs to catch the wetness dripping from your cunt.

“Such a good little slut.” She murmured, nuzzling her nose into your neck before she pressed a trail of kisses into it, watching as you panted, eyes fluttering between shut and open. “Now, go ahead and get daddy’s fingers nice and messy for me.”

The hand she had between your legs lifted up to your open mouth, eagerly slipping between your lips and you groaned around her fingers. Your tongue slid around them, tasting yourself, coating every millimetre with spit, sucking them further into your mouth, muffled moans getting louder with each pull. The cloud of your first orgasm was beginning to dissipate and all you could think about was the pulsing of your pussy and how badly you wanted it to be full.

Abi finally pulled her fingers from your mouth, satisfied with your work, “good girl.” Her other hand swiftly wrapped around your waist, lifting you from her lap and bending you over her desk, “now you’re gonna take it like the slut you are, right?”

“Yes!” You gasped, your nipples hardening against the wood, “yes, daddy.”

“That’s what I thought.” Her spit slicked fingers trailed up your inner thighs as she stood from her chair, stepping closer to you and you could feel the heat from her body right on your exposed skin. “My dirty girl.” She cooed, leaning over you to press a kiss between your shoulder blades as her fingers finally sunk into your pussy.

“Fuck…” the low swear came out in a very satisfied groan, your eyes fluttering shut as your cunt pulsed around her digits. Your hips rocked back toward her with each push of her hand until her own body was rocking against you, her hips bumping into your ass each time her fingers disappeared inside you.

“That’s it baby,” she purred, “doing so good for me.” Her hips crashed into yours, sending you jerking into the side of her desk, a small whine leaving your lips and you heard her chuckle again. “You can take it.” She murmured, gently biting at your shoulder before she picked up the pace.

“Oh god!” You bit down onto your knuckles in an attempt to muffle your noises, letting the ones squelching from your pussy fill the office instead. Abi let out a low groan at the sight of her fingers coated in your juices, her hips rocking faster against yours as her fingers swiftly moved in and out.

“Can’t wait to get you home baby.” She grunted, “get you completely naked, underneath me just like this while you squirt all over my thick cock.”

“Mmmm….”

She could feel you squeezing around her already, a sheen of sweat shimmered across your body and your thighs were already starting to shake. Your juices were dripping down her wrist and it was becoming harder and harder to contain any noises as fire raced through your nerves. Her free hand moved around your waist, quickly finding your clit again and she began to rub it at the same pace she was fucking you. The fingers inside you curled, once, twice, and on the third time you gasped, your eyes shooting open when she found the spot.

“Oh fuck! Yes daddy….” Your mouth slammed shut again, whimpers daring to break free, “god. Don’t stop.” Your eyes scrunched shut again as your entire body began to tingle, “fuck, right—there!”

Your pussy pulsed again and again, clenching down harder around Abi’s fingers with each pass of her hand, her fingertips pressing into the sensitive spot harder each time. Her hips jerked into yours again, this time stilling, pinning you to the side of the desk, grinding against you while her hands reduced you to a whining mess. The hand she had wrapped around you spanked your clit, the first one brought a gasp from between your lips, the second had your pussy trembling, and the third brought a burst of juices soaking her other hand as you hit your peak again.

“Fuck!” You grunted, your body shaking against the desk as Abi’s hand slowed, gently fucking you through your orgasm.

“That’s it baby.” She leant over you again, pressing soft kisses down the exposed part of your spine, “so fucking hot when you come for me.” Her tongue swiped up your back before she nipped at the crook of your neck, “I just love it when you make a mess of yourself.”

You could only whimper in response, your body going slack, limbs nearly feeling like jello as the post sex haze began to sink into your brain. Abi kept a steady hand on your waist to keep you still while the other reached out for a couple of tissues, gently cleaning you up. She wiped your thighs dry, softly patting your puffy pussy, a small smirk on her cheeks at the noise you let out and the way you shuddered at the contact. Once she was satisfied with her work she dropped back into her chair, tugging you with her to fall into her lap.

“Feel good?” She asked, a tender kiss left on the side of your neck before readjusting the neckline of your dress, hand smoothing the fabric all the way down, making sure you were properly covered and composed.

“Mmhm.” You nodded, finally able to turn your head to kiss her properly.

“Good.” She murmured against your lips, stealing another kiss while her hands trailed patterns up and down your sides. She waited until you had fully caught your breath and the life was coming back into your eyes before she pinched at your side, nudging your hips, “now, you better hurry up and get home.”

“Why?” You asked, nearly pouting as you turned to face her, finding a devilish grin on her lips.

“Don’t you remember? I have plans for you.” She stated, as if she had it penciled into your shared calendar on the fridge. She slid her laptop across her desk, opening it again to turn her attention back to it like she hadn’t just fucked you in the exact same spot.

“Oh?” You dared to raise a brow in question.

“Yes.” She glanced up at you, “I want you ready and waiting. Naked. With that pretty pussy on display for me. And I want it absolutely soaking, am I clear? You go home and play with yourself, come as many times as you want, just remember I’m going to make you come so hard the entire block will know who you belong to.” Her eyes flicked up and down your body and you felt a shiver travel through you, “now don’t make me tell you twice or I won’t just tie you to the bedframe, I’ll punish you too.”

“Yes daddy.” _______________ Love Abi and don't want to miss out? Join the taglist here! Liked what you read? Support your author. <3 _____________

@svulife-rl rl @giftedchildturns40 @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @hbkpop @momlifebehard @temilyrights @alexxavicry @ladysc @dextur @disneyfan624 @happenstnces @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @daddy-heather-dunbar @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @chimnlex @nilaues @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @ralla-ralla @chestnutninny @baubeautyandthegeek

#abigail borin #ncis #cgis #abigail borin x reader #abigail borin one shot

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obvithe-bestsoph · 21 days ago

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A fic with no. 9 and 62 please. An angsty fic with Pedri where he make a mistake (not something like cheating pls) but with a happy ending. Love your work BTW ❤️

No. 62 | "Believe me, I didn't want it to come to this." PG8

masterlist requests

prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: a little angsty. mentions of pedri's being injured. a/n: this is set a few seasons back!

You hadn’t planned on raising your voice.

Not tonight, not after the week you’d had. But then again, you hadn’t planned on crying in the kitchen either.

Pedri stands in front of you, arms limp at his sides like he doesn’t know how to carry the weight of what he’s done. You can tell he wants to close the space between you, to hold you the way he always does when you get overwhelmed. But this time, it’s because of him.

So no, you don’t move.

“You promised, Pedri.” Your voice cracks right at the edge, like a glass that’s been dropped but hasn’t shattered yet. “You looked me in the eyes and promised that if it ever got too much, you’d talk to me. Not shut me out. Not lie.”

He winces. It’s not dramatic or defensive, it’s just quiet, like he knows he messed up and isn’t trying to excuse it. That makes it worse somehow.

“I didn’t lie,” he says, but even he doesn’t sound like he believes it. “I just… didn’t tell you.”

You cross your arms, lips trembling. “That’s the same thing.”

And maybe it’s not, not technically, but when it feels like your heart’s been stepped on, the line between omission and dishonesty blurs.

He hadn’t told you about the injury. Not when it first happened, not when it worsened. He’d played through the pain, forced his body to keep going just to prove he could handle it, and now he was benched indefinitely.

You’d found out from a press briefing.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he says. His voice is low, hoarse. “You were already so stressed with work and everything going on with your family, and I thought—I thought I could handle it.”

You shake your head. “You keep thinking that love means handling things alone, but it doesn’t. That’s not what we are. That’s not what I signed up for.”

He takes a slow step forward, and this time, you don’t stop him. You just stare at him, like you’re trying to figure out whether you still recognize the boy in front of you.

He breathes in deeply, eyes searching yours like they might offer forgiveness he hasn’t earned yet.

“Believe me, I didn’t want it to come to this.” His voice wavers. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I was trying to protect you in the worst possible way. And I know that doesn’t make it okay. I just…”

He pauses, jaw tightening like he’s trying to keep something in.

“I didn’t want to feel weak in front of you. I didn’t want you to look at me like I couldn’t take it.”

Oh.

There it is.

You feel the anger start to loosen its grip around your ribs, just a little, replaced by something heavier. Sadder. You finally let your arms fall to your sides, heart aching with the weight of it all.

“Pedri,” you say, gentler this time. “You’re not weak. You’ve never been. But you do have to let people be there for you. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

He nods slowly, eyes glassy now.

“I know. I know that now.”

Silence settles between you, thick but not hostile anymore. You hate the way you feel it in your chest, like a bruise that keeps blooming.

“I was scared,” he admits, almost like a confession. “Of losing control. Of not being good enough. Of being a disappointment. I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”

“What look?”

He swallows. “The one you’re giving me now.”

You blink. You hadn’t realized your expression had twisted into something unreadable.

So you soften it. Step closer. Place your hand on his chest, over his heart, where you can feel it thudding under your palm.

“I’m not disappointed in you,” you whisper. “I’m hurt. There’s a difference.”

His arms wrap around you instantly, and this time, you let yourself fall into him. Not because everything is fixed, but because you can feel him trying. Because sometimes forgiveness starts with a single step forward.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do better. I swear I will. No more hiding. No more shutting you out.”

“Even if it’s ugly?”

He nods. “Especially then.”

You nod too, because you believe him. Not blindly. Not without caution. But enough.

You stay like that for a while, pressed into his chest while the storm finally calms around you. You don’t need the perfect words or grand gestures. Just this—his warmth, his presence, the steady rhythm of his heart.

Eventually, he kisses your forehead, like it’s a promise.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Even when I get it wrong. Especially then.”

Your chest tightens all over again, but this time for the right reasons.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. “Even when you’re an idiot.”

He laughs, soft and breathless, and it’s the first sound that feels like sunlight breaking through.

You glance up at him, one brow raised. “But you’re doing the physio. Every session. No skipping.”

“Deal,” he says, grinning a little now. “As long as you stay with me while I do.”

You mock-sigh. “I guess I can pencil in time to watch you suffer.”

“Wow,” he teases. “Romantic.”

You smirk and poke his chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

And even though the hurt still lingers like an aftertaste, you let yourself smile.

Because love isn’t about getting everything right the first time. It’s about messing up and choosing to show up anyway. About learning how to hold each other better the next time you fall.

And right now, in this quiet kitchen with Pedri’s arms around you and the worst finally behind you, you know one thing for sure.

You’re both still choosing each other.

And that’s enough.

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez fic #pedri fic #obvithebestsoph!pedri #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x reader #fc barcelona #fanfiction #football #football fic #culer #PG8

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inlovewithl3vi · 11 months ago

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Could you write MC with a daddy kink ? With lucifer (and diavolo If you feel like it but separated)

Love you

Ngl to you I got so excited about this when I saw it I shut down and forgot to write.

I tried something a little different with the formatting this time, not sure if I like it though. I’m also not too happy with how Lucifer’s turned out but I honestly don’t write about him often, I hope you still like it tho 😭 honestly this whole little fix kinda sucks… I still hope you like it (though I might write this prompt again in the future)

I’m also not the best at writing NSFW. It’s probably because I’m an autistic virgin, but eh whatever. I also cut if off kinda at that part since I’m writing for a gender neutral Mc, and when writing NSFW I find it easier when you know what genitals both people have (idk if that’s just a me thing… I fear it might be)

P.s I did not proofread this, I’m sorry in advance

(Bonus Note: I also love you!) (is that weird? Idk I love people who send asks)

-Lucifer-

✧ With him you never really brought it up before.

✧ I mean you’ve thought about it and the fact that you wanted to call him daddy, but you just didn’t have the time. And whenever you did have time it wasn’t the right moment.

✧ Until your spread out on his bed with him over you keeping you in place. He had been teasing you for what felt like hours. you can feel tears welling in your eyes, your body feels like it’s on fire, your whining and helplessly trying to move beneath him, and yet he still won’t touch where you want him to.

“Beg” he has a smug look on his face as he stares down at you. “Please…” it’s almost hard to speak, your body desperate for any sort of simulation. “You can do better than that” he moves his hand and places it on your cheek, gently caressing your face. “Please please please! I need it Lucifer-“your cut off by your own sob. He slowly starts to move, but you want- no, you need more. “Please- daddy I need more. I’ll be good for you daddy I swear!” He pauses for a brief second. He’s never had anyone call him that. But he immediately knows he likes hearing the way you sound when calling out to him in such a way. His lips attach to your neck, leaving dark bruises that your sure others will see tomorrow. His hands are roaming around your body before he reaches down and grabs his cock, pumping it a few times before finally sliding inside of you, making you loudly moan out from pleasure.

✧ The next morning he teases you slightly about the name.

✧ Though he isn’t fooling you, he loves every minute of it.

✧ Since then, whenever you two are being any kind of intimate he wants you to call him daddy.

Bonus: if you come up behind him while he’s working in his office and wrap your arms around him before whispering “daddy” in his ear he will immediately abandon his work for you.

-Diavolo-

✧ You actually ended up taking about it with him earlier in the relationship. Probably after you’ve had sex together for the first two or three times.

✧ Mostly because he asked first.

“Oh MC, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Since our relationship has gotten more serious, do you have any preferences for when we sleep together?”

✧ He’s always been a little blunt when asking about things, but that caught you off guard.

“Uhm… no nothing that I can think of right now”

✧ He could totally see right through you, I mean he literally has powers to see if you’re lying.

“That’s a lie, you can tell me anything you know.”

✧ He grew a little more concerned when you lied. He wanted you to know that he really does love you, and that you could tell him whatever it is.

✧ After a slight bit of convincing (he just made a sad face and you gave in) you end up telling him.

“Uhm… I kinda wanna call you daddy” your face immediately flushed after admitting it as you turned away from him. He chuckled slightly and placed his hand on your cheek to make you look at him. “That’s it huh” his normal warm smile overtook his features as he looked down at your flushed face. “You just wanted daddy to take care of you”

He ended up picking you up and carrying you to his room before sitting on his bed and placing you in his lap. He started undressing you, eventually getting everything off leaving you naked in his lap. “Daddy please” you mumbled as you started to grind against his thigh. “Hmm? Do you want daddy to take care of you?” You nodded yes as you felt his large hands wrap around your hips. “Then just relax and be good for me ok?”

✧ From that point of it was more of a normal thing for you to call him daddy in bed.

✧ He quite enjoys it too. He loves to show just how much he loves you and loves to take care of you, and the name just makes him feel good.

✧(Bonus: on rare occasions he’ll use it to rile you up while at a party or even whenever he knows you can’t immediately go with him. He’ll go up to you and whisper how your “being so good for daddy”

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me x mc #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #lucifer obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me smut #smut

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unboundprompts · 2 months ago

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Can you do a prompt list where two enemy soldiers have to work together in order to find safety/refuge? Except, they actually get along together and would do anything to protect the other? It's okay if you're not comfortable doing this. If you are comfortable writing this, take your time! Your mental health is more important.

Enemy Soldiers Working Together Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Smoke curled through the chapel, dust drifting in sunbeams like falling ash. He pressed the muzzle of his rifle against the other soldier’s chest, breath ragged. "I should kill you." The man beneath him didn’t flinch, just looked up, blood drying at the corner of his mouth. "Then why haven’t you?" The rifle trembled. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, lowered.

She collapsed in the mud, her leg slick with blood, eyes half-lidded. He cursed under his breath and dropped to his knees, ripping fabric from his own sleeve. "Don’t close your eyes," he hissed, wrapping her wound with shaking fingers. "You’re not dying here. Not like this." Her lashes fluttered. "Didn’t know you cared."

The night air bit through their jackets, the silence between them as cold as the frost gathering on their breath. He curled up under a broken beam, facing away. She lay stiff on the opposite side, arms folded tight. But as the hours dragged on, their bodies moved like magnets. She woke before dawn, his arm draped around her waist, both of them pretending not to notice when the sun finally rose.

They met in a burnt-out hallway, rifles raised, fingers on triggers. No one spoke. Only the slow, measured breaths of two soldiers too tired to shoot first. "If you fire," he said, "they’ll hear it." Their knuckles whitened. Then, slowly, they lowered the barrel. "You go first," they said. He did, but not before turning his back, just to see if they'd pull the trigger. They didn’t.

He sat on the edge of the creek, boots in the water, rifle discarded in the grass. "I don’t know why I’m still fighting," he said. "I don’t even remember what started it." She knelt beside him, their shoulders brushing. "Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore," she murmured. "Maybe we just fight to keep each other alive now."

She watched him wrestle with the snare wire, brow furrowed, cursing under his breath. "You’re doing it wrong," she said, stepping closer. "Here, like this." Her hands covered his, slow and patient. He didn’t pull away. "Where’d you learn that?" he asked. "Home," she said. "Before the war turned it into rubble."

They sat on the rusting roof of a bombed-out train car, stars scattered above like dust across velvet. She pulled her knees to her chest. "Do you think there’s a place where we aren’t enemies?" she asked. He looked at her profile in the moonlight, something wistful in his gaze. "I think we’re already there," he said. "Just took hell to find it."

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #dialogue prompt #story prompt #prompt list #ask box prompts #otp prompts #soldier prompts #soldiers #war prompts

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nahoney22 · 10 months ago

Note

Congratulations on the followers!

Can I please request a fluffy enemies to lovers with a clone of your choice with the prompt “Did you just call me cute?”

Would love to see any! Female reader if possible. Thanks! 💓

Up Close and Personal 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 3.9k

prompt:

• “Did just call me cute?”

Plot: When you accidentally let slip you thought Fox was cute, he grows curious and wonders if you still think the same under the helmet.

Warnings: Safe for work, grumpy/sunshine trope, teasing, awkward moments, flirting, kissing, mutual pining, accidental confessions.

You’ve been working alongside the Coruscant Guard for a while now, handling everything from delivering reports to managing routine tasks that help keep the operation running smoothly. Most of the clones greet you with a warm smile and friendly chatter when you drop by.

You were cheerful and always had a smile on your face, nothing ever seeming to phase you.

But when it comes to Commander Fox, he doesn’t seem to match your enthusiasm. Where others find a moment to chat or joke around, Fox’s response is always the same: curt and dismissive.

You remember one time when you entered the office, probably a fortnight ago, laughing with Thire and Stone as you handed them their files. “You’re a lifesaver,” Thire had said with a sigh of relief and grin after his had miraculously gone missing. You of course always had extra, just in case.

Stone chuckled and added, “You’re the only reason we stay organised.”

Before you could reply, however, Fox cut in. His tone like durasteel. “Can you just leave the files and go? Some of us are trying to work.” He hadn’t even looked up, but the chill in his voice was unmistakable. You forced a smile, and rolled your eyes at his attitude when you left the office that day. It didn’t bother you as you were used to his moods but you couldn’t help wondering what it would take to get past that fickle exterior.

And despite his attitude, you had noticed Fox’s subtle care for his brothers; something you found rather endearing. You’ve caught him running silent armour checks, making sure everyone’s gear is spotless and in perfect order. Of course, it’s not about vanity but simply about keeping his men safe.

It’s those types of moments that make you think there’s more to him beneath the mask. Or helmet in this case.

Today, you decide to do something different. Rumors have been swirling that the Guard’s workload has been overwhelming lately. Crime in the lower levels is on the rise, and the boys are sadly running themselves ragged. So, you arrive at their station with a special treat: caf orders, each customised exactly how you know they like it.

You start with Commander Thire, who breaks into a grin as you hand him his cup. “You’re too good to us,” he says, taking a sip. “Thanks.”

Next is Stone, who raises an eyebrow in surprise. “Didn’t expect this today,” he says, taking the steaming cup. “But I’m not complaining.” He shoots you a wink. “You really know how to keep morale up.”

Sergeant Hound, busy tinkering with his gear with Grizzer snoozing at his feet looks up with a smile when you hand him his drink. “You actually remembered mine,” he says, sounding almost impressed. He takes a long sip before giving you a small nod. “Cheers. Really needed this.”

Finally, you approach Fox. He’s leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, watching you carefully through his visor. “I’ll assume you didn’t get me anything,” he says, voice as flat as ever.

You fight back a smirk and meet his gaze behind the visor. “You assume wrong, Commander.” You slide the cup across his desk. It’s strong, with a hint of sweetness—your best guess based on what you’ve observed. Alongside it, you place a small sweet treat and the stack of data devices you’ve been carrying. Oh, and you also could help but draw a small smiley face on the lid to his cup.

Fox doesn’t touch the drink. Instead, he gives a sharp nod. “Just leave it and go.”

You swallow your disappointment, trying to keep your smile from faltering. “Of course, sir.” You turn to leave, the brief flash of hurt lingering despite your best efforts to shrug it off. Huh, maybe it did get to you.

As you exit, you catch a glimpse of Thire, Stone, and Hound exchanging looks before Thire’s voice cuts through the room. “You know, Fox, a ‘thank you’ wouldn’t kill you.”

Fox remains silent, but you don’t stay long enough to see or hear his reaction. The door closes behind you, and you let out a quiet sigh.

Moments later, you hear quick footsteps behind you. “Hey, wait up!”

You turn to see Thire jogging to catch up. “Don’t take it personally,” he says, offering a sympathetic smile. “Fox is… well, Fox. If he didn’t like you at least a little, he wouldn’t let you stick around.”

You laugh softly, though the sting hasn’t fully faded. “Doesn’t feel like it sometimes. I know he’s under a lot of stress, but still…”

Thire nods, understanding in his eyes. “He’s got a funny way of showing appreciation. But trust me, we all see what you do for us, even if he doesn’t say it. You’re a bright spot in this whole mess.”

Your smile this time is more genuine, though still a bit weak. “Thanks, Thire. I just wish I could get through to him, you know?”

“Give it time,” Thire says, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “He’ll come around. Until then, we’ve got your back.”

A few days later, you arrive with—surprise, surprise—yet another stack of files. You expect to find the usual group in the office, and sure enough, Thire, Stone, and Hound are all at their stations, busy with their tasks. But there’s one notable absence: Commander Fox. You glance around, scanning the room in curiosity.

Before you can ask, Stone notices the way you’re searching and smirks. “Looking for someone?”

Your cheeks warm slightly, realising you’ve been caught. “Nope,” you reply, a little too quickly. “Just… making sure I don’t miss anyone.”

Thire chimes in, an amused glint in his eye. “Sure, that’s what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to play it off. “Honestly, you guys are worse than all those gossiping cadets and shinies.”

“Did Fox ever apologise for the other day?” Hound asks as you stand nearby, shifting through some flimsi. His question surprised you a little since you hadn’t truly thought about it until now. But, you shake your head with a dismissive wave. “Nah, but it’s fine. I’m used to him being a grump. Besides,” you add with a smile, “you lot make it worth coming around.”

But then Stone started to dig a little deeper as he leans back in his chair. “Did you think about what Thire said? About Fox not minding you hanging around?”

You bite your lip, remembering Thire’s words all too well. Now that did have you wondering for most of that night. For someone who always wanted you to go, he never actually told you to fully leave.

“Yeah, actually. It got me thinking… maybe he’s not as bothered by me as he pretends.” You pause, considering your next question. “Hey, have any of you actually seen him without his helmet?”

The three of them exchange glances before Thire nods, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “How do you think he downed that caf you brought him the other day?”

You lean back against the wall, arms crossed as you think it over but also a little smug knowing that Fox clearly liked your drink choice for him. “I always wondered what he looks like under there. Maybe he’s got some cool tattoos, or, like, bright red hair or something; to match the gear.”

Stone shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant. “Could do. But we’re not spilling anything.”

You narrow your eyes at them playfully, but before you can push further, you find yourself blurting out, “I mean, I bet he’s kinda cute.”

There’s a beat of silence before all three of them break into laughter. Hound gives you a teasing nudge. “So, you’ve got a crush on the boss now, huh?”

You wave them off, feeling your face flush. “No, I mean—well, no, yes, kinda? I don’t know!” You fumble with your words, realising you’ve put yourself in an awkward spot. You wouldn’t say it was much of a crush but you did admire him.

“It’s not like that. He’s just interesting, I guess. Annoying, but in a weird way, it’s kind of… cute?”

The boys exchange amused glances, and you’re about to defend yourself further when you notice all of their gazes suddenly lock onto something—or someone—behind you. The laughter dies down, and your stomach drops.

Before you can even turn around, a deep voice rumbles from directly behind you. “Did you just call me cute?”

You freeze, feeling your blood run cold. Slowly, you turn to face Fox, who’s standing there with his arms crossed, his helmeted visor trained directly on you. You can’t tell what expression he’s wearing underneath, but the deadpan delivery of his question makes you want to disappear into the nearest ventilation system.

“I—uh…” you stammer, utterly at a loss. “Well, you see—”

Thire, Stone, and Hound are barely holding in their snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Fox’s posture remains unyielding as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

You finally manage a weak shrug. “I mean sure, why not?”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence, and you’re certain you’ll never live this down. But then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, Fox turns his helmet slightly as if considering your words. “Interesting,” is all he says before he strides past you, not giving anything away.

The room erupts in laughter as soon as he’s out of earshot, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, as Thire claps you on the back. “Well, if that’s not a confession, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Stone grins. “Nope. But hey, at least now you’ve got him wondering.”

You playfully slap Stone’s arm with the thick stack of flimsi you were holding. “You’re impossible, you know that?” you tease, but there’s a grin on your face despite your embarrassment.

Stone just chuckles, dodging away from your reach. “You make it too easy, kid.”

Shaking your head, you wave the guys off. “Okay, I’m leaving before I say anything else stupid. You’ll just have to survive without me for a bit.”

As you walk away, you can still hear their laughter, and although your cheeks are still warm, you can’t help but smile.

Over the next week or two, you notice that Fox isn’t in his office as much. You’re not one to pry, but eventually, Thire lets it slip that it’s the Supreme Chancellor who’s been keeping him busy, not the fact that he might be avoiding you. “He’s been running all over the place on Palpatine’s orders,” Thire had said. “Trust me, it’s not about feeling awkward with you around.”

You nod, but you can’t help the nagging thoughts that linger. Still, you push them aside, deciding it’s better not to dwell on it.

One afternoon, you arrive at the office, balancing a tray with the usual caf orders and some sweet treats. It’s become a bit of a weekly ritual now, something the guys seem to look forward to. But today, when you step inside, the office is eerily quiet—no Thire, no Stone, no Hound. And non-surprisingly, no Fox.

You frown, setting the tray down on the nearest desk. “Hello?” you call out, but the only response is the hum of the overhead lights.

Shrugging, you decide to leave everything on their desks for when they return. You place each clone’s drink down, making sure their reports are organised alongside them.

When you reach Fox’s desk, you pause. It’s a bit messier than usual, the clutter showing signs of someone who’s been overworked and stretched thin. Your brows furrow in concern as you instinctively start tidying up, sorting the files and stacking the more urgent ones on top.

As you organise his drawers, you’re about to close one when something catches your eye. An empty caf cup, tucked away almost like it’s been hidden. You pull it out and recognise it immediately—it’s the cup you gave Fox the other week, the one with the little smiley face you drew on the lid. Your heart skips a beat. He kept it.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the cup, a small, unexpected warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe there’s more to his gruff exterior than you first thought. Maybe he does have a soft spot for you, even if he won’t admit it.

“Can I help you?”

You jump, nearly dropping the cup as you whirl around to face the door. There stands Fox, his arms tucked behind his back, his gaze unreadable behind his helmet.

“Fox—Commander!” you stammer, hastily shoving the cup back into the drawer and closing it. “I was just… fixing things.” Your voice trails off as you awkwardly step away from his desk, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, and you feel your pulse quicken. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”

“Oh! Sure, of course!” You’re flustered now, your mind racing. “Is it about the reports? Or maybe the supply request? Or—”

“No.”

You clamp your mouth shut, cheeks burning as you mentally curse yourself for rambling. You stand there in silence, waiting for him to continue, while he circles around you with the careful precision of someone used to keeping others off balance. His presence is commanding (oh the irony), making the room feel smaller as he closes the distance between you.

“I had overheard something the other day,” he says, his voice low, almost conversational. “You were wondering what I looked like. Wondering if I had tattoos, colorful hair…” He trails off, his tone giving nothing away.

“I—uh—well, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious, you know? I hope you didn’t take offense, Commander. It wasn’t—”

He stops in front of you, so close now that you can see your own reflection in the dark visor of his helmet as you crane your neck to look at him. “Why not?” he asks, cutting off your nervous rambling. “Do you not want to know if I’m ‘cute’ or not?”

The words hang in the air between you, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. His tone isn’t mocking, but there’s a subtle challenge in his voice, as if daring you to admit something you haven’t even fully acknowledged to yourself.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, searching for a response. “I—I mean… maybe?”

His head tilts slightly, as if studying you. “You know, I rarely remove my helmet. It’s part of who I am, part of the uniform. Most people never see what’s underneath.”

“I get it,” you say quickly, eager to reassure him. “It’s not like I need to know. You’re still you, helmet or not.”

But as you speak, he moves closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And yet, you’re curious.”

Your gaze flicks up to meet his visor, the tension thick enough to cut through. “Maybe a little,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

You think he’s about it leave, a small stagger in his step. But instead of stepping back as you expect, he reaches up and, with a slow and deliberate motion, removes his helmet.

Your breath catches in your throat. You were expecting him to look like the other clones but nothing prepared you for this.

His hair, salt and peppered with a few streaks of silver, is slightly messy but still shows a hint of soft curls. Framing his face in a way that’s both rugged and refined. But it’s his eyes that catch your immediate attention.

A deep, rich brown, just like his brothers but darkened by exhaustion. Yet somehow still smolder with an intensity that makes your heart stop. They’re striking, alive with an alluring warmth that makes it hard to look away.

You’re utterly speechless, barely registering that your mouth has gone dry. He’s not just cute; he’s absolutely gorgeous. His lips curve into a knowing smirk as he tilts his head at you, clearly gauging your reaction.

“So, tell me…” he drawls, his tone soft and low as he notices your gaze drifting to his lips, “how ‘cute’ am I?”

Your mouth opens, but the words you want to say get stuck somewhere in your throat. You feel a sudden heat rising to your cheeks and creeping down your neck, making you feel warm under the collar. For months, you had wondered what it would be like to be this close to him, to hear his voice without the filter of that helmet, to feel his presence in an almost tangible way. Now, with his breath fanning your face, it’s almost overwhelming.

“You’re… you’re…” You struggle to find the right words, but everything comes out in stutters as your brain short-circuits under the intensity of his gaze.

Fox leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips still curved in that teasing smirk. “Mhmm? I’m what?” There’s a playful and teasing lilt in his voice as he inches nearer, clearly enjoying how flustered you’ve become.

Before you know it, you’ve backed up until you’re nearly pressed against the edge of his desk; close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and it’s impossible to think straight. Your pulse feels like it’s pounding in your ears. Especially as he leans in even further, the distance between you shrinking until it’s nearly nonexistent.

His breath is warm against your skin as he adds, “Come on, I’m waiting. You were so curious before. For someone so chatty, you have gone awfully quiet. Why’s that?”

Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but the only thing you can focus on is how close he is, how those deep brown eyes are watching your every reaction, and how his lips look infuriatingly soft. Finally, you manage to stammer out a broken, barely coherent, “You’re… more than cute.”

Fox chuckles as he straightens slightly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Good answer.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, brushing a hand through your hair, thinking this is the end of it. But he barely budges before asking, “Do you want to know what I think about you?”

Breath shaky, you avoid his eyes. “Let me guess… annoying… too talkative…”

“Distracting,” he cuts you off.

Before you can respond, his hands lift, gently cupping your face. You’re caught off guard as his thumbs brush tenderly over your cheeks. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the unexpected warmth of his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into it. His presence is all-consuming, his closeness dizzying as his nose lightly brushes against yours, sending sparks dancing down your spine.

His voice is low, rich with a sincerity that makes your heart race even faster. “I find you distracting. Beautiful and distracting.”

Before you can fully process his words, his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s impossibly gentle and utterly intoxicating.

It’s slow and unhurried, his lips moving against yours in a way that feels both tender and deliberate. Your eyes widen in surprise at first, hands raised but unsure where to place them.

Fox was kissing you. the Commander Fox was kissing you. You didn’t even know what this meant fully. Had he been harbouring feelings for you after all this time?

The initial shock soon melts away, your body relaxing into the kiss as your arms instinctively wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. The feeling of the warmth of his mouth on yours, the soft press of his lips sending a sweet sent an addictive thrill through your veins. He’s steady and confident, guiding the kiss with a gentleness.

His hands remain on your face, anchoring you to the moment until one slides back to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair that makes you gasp against his lips.

You can’t help but chase after his lips, the slow and tender rhythm of the kiss drawing you in deeper. He’s all you can think about—the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he’s holding you as though you’re something precious.

Fox finally pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes, those deep, mesmerising brown orbs, search yours as if he’s looking for something—confirmation, maybe, or understanding. You’re not sure, but whatever he sees in your gaze seems to settle something inside him.

His thumb sweeps over your cheek again, a soft, almost absent-minded caress as he holds you there, still so close. “You have no idea how distracting you are,” he murmurs, his voice hushed.

You’re left breathless, your heart racing in your chest as you blink up at him, dazed by it all. “You… you kissed me,” you whisper, your body still flushed against his as you try to piece things together.

“I did,” he replies softly, his hands now moving to rest on your waist, grounding you in the moment. “Is it okay that I did?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess it’s just… I thought you didn’t like me.” You pull back slightly, leaning against the desk this time. He looks down at you, his gaze unexpectedly soft.

“I’ll admit I haven’t been the kindest to you,” he says, a touch of regret in his tone. “The lads gave me an earful the other day.”

“So, was it a guilt kind of kiss or…?” you mumble, sincerely hoping it wasn’t.

Fox’s eyes widen slightly, and he quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he exclaims, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m not great at showing how I feel, and hearing you call me ‘cute’… it pushed me in the right direction. Made me realise I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t care.”

His sincerity catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say, your voice small but relieved.

He offers you a small smile, the kind that’s rare for him, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “So, would you consider going for drinks with me tonight?” he asks, his tone hopeful but tinged with the same guardedness that’s always been there.

The hesitation in his voice makes you understand how much this moment means to him, and you can’t help but smile back with a genuine, warm smile. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you reply softly.

Fox’s shoulders visibly relax, the tension you hadn’t even noticed finally easing as he nods. “Good,” he says, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. But there’s a warmth there now, something new that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing before. “I, uh, have to get back to the Chancellor. I knew the others wouldn’t be here today, and I know your routine, so I figured I’d have time to speak to you before heading back.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “So, you’re not supposed to be here?”

“No, I’m not,” he admits with a somewhat sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may or may not have told the Chancellor I had an important matter to tend to.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Fox joins in with a chuckle, the sound rich and surprisingly pleasant, before he takes a final step toward you and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. “It was worth it,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart skips a beat as he pulls back, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer. “I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

“Definitely.”

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#commander fox x you #commander fox x reader #fox x reader #commander fox x female reader #commander fox #cc 1010 x reader #nahoney22 writes #the clone wars #clone trooper one shot #commander stone #commander thire #seargent hound

382 notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

support for palestine | masterlists | joel miller masterlist

PAIRING: JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY

Joel wants to go camping for his fiftieth birthday. He makes it worth your while. Part of the Cruel Summer series, but can be read as a oneshot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my (late) entry for the Summer Lovin' Challenge hosted by @chaotic-mystery , @pedgito , and @amanitacowboy. This prompt had me spiraling with like five different drafts but in the end, it actually got me thinking of Cruel Summer, which is one of the first fics I wrote for this fandom and holds a very special place in my heart. If you've read that fic, I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into their lives. Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging 💕

WARNINGS

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), established relationship, age gap (35F and 50M), able bodied reader, no use of y/n, camping as a plot device, brief mentions of their relationship history as written in cruel summer, semi-public sex - tent, vaginal fingering, oral - female receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, pet names. please let me know if there are any that i missed!

When you agreed to go camping, you didn’t think it would be this miserable.

“Joel, where’s the bug spray?” You call from inside the tent. “I’m getting eaten alive out here!”

“It’s ’cause you’re so sweet, darlin’,” Joel replies. He pokes his head inside the tent flap. “Try the side pocket.”

You check the pocket in question, mumbling under your breath as you finally locate the bug spray. Joel backs up to allow you outside to douse yourself in the spray until you’re coughing from the fumes. When you’re done, you hand the bottle to Joel with a glare. He grins at you.

“Think you might have missed a spot,” he jokes, spraying himself with a more conservative amount.

“Very funny,” you reply. “Is it time to go home yet?”

“Not even close.”

You groan. “Fine. What do we do now?”

“We enjoy what nature has to offer.”

“We could have done that with air conditioning. Have you watched Animal Planet?”

Joel reaches for your hand, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. “I know it ain’t your idea of a vacation, but it’ll be fun. I’ll make it worth your while,” he says, his hands sliding down your back until they rest on your ass. He gives one cheek a rough squeeze that makes you gasp. “If you behave.”

“Define behave,” you reply. He laughs, head thrown back with the force of it.

“As little whinin’ as you can manage,” he says.

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.”

You kept your word throughout the hike Joel leads you on, only complaining about the hills once. It all becomes worth it when you break through the tree line and find yourself on a cliff overlooking the canyon below, the scene so picturesque it takes your breath away.

“It’s so pretty,” you say, breathless from the view and the hike in equal measure.

“Sure is,” Joel replies, but when you turn to look at him, you find he’s watching you. The attention makes you feel warm and giddy. “Was it worth the bugs?”

“Maybe. Jury’s still out,” you tell him. He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Thanks for comin’ out here with me.”

You kiss him back, his beard rough beneath your lips. “Of course. It’s not every day you turn fifty.”

“Don’t remind me.”

When you first met Joel twelve years ago, he’d been hired by your parents to work on their house while they were off on a cruise and you were home from college for the summer. The start of your relationship was rocky at best but now the two of you have managed to build a life together despite the early hurdles.

“Let’s get back to the tent before it gets too dark,” he suggests, bringing you back to the present. “I got a surprise for you.”

“Is the surprise your—“

“Don’t be a little devil,” Joel says, cutting you off as you laugh.

Back at the campsite, Joel drags the cooler out of the tent and opens it, gesturing to the contents like he’s on a game show. Inside you see a stack of chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers and a bag of marshmallows.

“Are we making s’mores?” You ask, unable to hide your glee.

“Yep. But first, you’re goin’ to build a fire.”

You stare blankly at him. “Come again?”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he says with a wink.

“I can’t build a fire.”

“You can’t build a fire yet. I’ll teach you. Come on, let’s find some kindling.”

Joel leads you around the campsite, helping you collect dry twigs and leaves. At the fire ring, he guides you through the steps of setting up the tinder before handing you a box of matches. You strike a match and attempt to get the kindling to catch, but the flame almost reaches the tips of your fingers before it can and you drop the match in panic.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep that up,” Joel says.

“Then why don’t you help me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Despite his joke, Joel kneels beside you and takes the matches from your hand, lighting one. He holds the flame to one of the dry leaves in the pile and once it catches, he leans in to gently blow into the building flame until it’s strong enough to sustain itself. He leans back and gives you a smug smile that makes you roll your eyes.

“There. Now you’ve built your first fire,” he says.

Joel brings the cooler and the roasting skewers he packed over to the fire and begins arranging the supplies on a plate while you sit nearby on the log bench. You tip your head back to look up at the sky, the last remnants of the sunset fading and the stars beginning to blanket the inky darkness. There’s a tranquility out here you’re not used to, not with your busy schedule at the hospital and the chaos of having a teenager and a pre-teen at home.

Joel taps your shoulder for your attention and hands you a roasting fork loaded with a jumbo marshmallow on the tip. You take it from him and lean closer to the fire, sticking the marshmallow straight into the blaze.

“That’ll burn it,” Joel warns, keeping his further away.

“They’re better crispy,” you argue. When the marshmallow catches fire, you pull it back out and let it burn for a moment, watching the exterior turn black before you hastily blow out the flame.

“That just ain’t right.” Joel continues to slowly roast his, turning the fork periodically.

The two of you spend a few hours enjoying the s’mores and each other’s company. When the fire dies down and you run out of supplies, you lean your head against Joel’s shoulder.

“You ready to admit that campin’ ain’t that bad?” Joel asks.

“I don’t know. I could still use a little convincing,” you reply, lifting your head to look at him.

His warm, broad palm settles on the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your toes curl. It’s slow and deep, none of the rush you feel back at home because the pace of your lives calls for it. This moment, under the stars and in front of the fire, has you feeling like you’re twenty-three again, jumping head first into what would be the best decision of your life.

You’re breathless when Joel pulls away and brings his hand to your cheek, his thumb swiping across your kiss swollen lips.

“Why don’t you go get comfortable in the tent for me and I’ll take care of puttin’ out the fire?” He suggests.

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you reply, standing up so quickly you nearly knock your husband off balance. He smacks your ass as you turn to leave and the sound of his laughter follows you into the tent.

Once inside, you turn on the little battery powered lantern Joel hung up and find your bag, rifling through the contents for the lingerie you brought along for the trip. You quickly strip yourself of your clothing from the day and change into the matching set before settling on the pile of sleeping bags with your feet towards the entrance.

You hear the zipper on the tent flap and your heart races as Joel comes into view, pausing to look his fill and whistling lowly. He crawls inside, hovering over you on his hands and knees.

“All this for me?” He asks, ducking his head down to kiss your collarbone. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself,” you joke. Joel laughs, warm hand cupping your breast and his fingers pinching your nipple through the fabric. Your back arches at the sensation.

“Some things never change.”

Joel’s lips meet yours in a languorous kiss that pulls little moans from you as it progresses into something heated and urgent. You’re arching beneath him, demanding more touch, more attention, and he’s never been one to turn you down. One of his hands traces the length of your body until his fingers dip beneath the elastic of your underwear, immediately tracing through your wet heat.

“Goddamn,” Joel says, voice dark and eyes darker with lust. “Already so wet for me, huh?”

It’s not a question to be answered, not when he dips two fingers inside of you and curls them with an expert precision that makes you gasp. His thumb circles your clit each time his fingers draw back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “Always so fuckin’ pretty.”

He keeps the perfect rhythm with his fingers until you’re gasping his name and he’s talking you through your release with whispered praise and dirty words. When you’re boneless and breathless, he withdraws his hand and lifts it to your face, pressing his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and he slips the digits against your tongue, the distinct taste of yourself exploding across your tastebuds.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clean ‘em up,” Joel commands. His eyes are fixed on you as you obey, his jaw tense as you put on a show for him, licking and sucking his fingers like you would his cock.

Joel pulls his hand away and makes quick work of removing your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs and tossing it aside. He spreads your legs wide enough to settle on his belly between them, face inches from your now bare pussy.

He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, repeating the attention until he’s so close to where you desperately need him that you can feel the warmth of his breath and you shiver in anticipation. When the heat of his mouth envelopes your sensitive clit, the sudden stimulation has you thrusting your hips against his face. His grip tightens on your thighs, holding you in place as he lavishes your cunt with messy attention.

You reach down to tangle your fingers in his dark hair, the strands now streaked with more gray than they have been in the past when you’ve been in this exact position. Joel groans against you, the vibration making you whimper and beg for more, more, more.

He’s a man on a mission, not stopping for breath or pausing to tease and taunt you with pet names and dirty words. His tongue circles your clit in broad strokes that has another wave of release cresting and crashing over you in record time. Your thighs shake in his grip and your fingers tighten in his hair to a point that you know must be painful but you just don’t care, and neither does he.

Your muscles finally relax and that’s when he sits up, frantically unbuttoning his flannel shirt with uncoordinated fingers and wrestling his boots and jeans off with equal fervor. His cock stands at attention and your mouth waters at the view, the thick head flushed and glistening with precum. You’re close to offering an equal exchange, his mouth on you for your mouth on him, but he has other ideas.

Joel’s hands paw at your hips, turning you over so that you’re flat on your belly. You lift your head to look over your shoulder as he shoves your right leg up with a bend at your knee, baring your pussy for him. He settles between your legs and takes himself in hand, running the head of his cock through the mess he’s made of you.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, slipping himself inside of you the tiniest bit, just enough to feel the stretch of him and want more. “Tell me you’re ready.”

“I’m so ready,” you moan, lifting your hips to take him in deeper. He wraps both hands around your bare hips as he sinks inside of you with one smooth thrust that leaves you gasping.

Joel lowers his body on top of yours, his chest to your back and his lips on your shoulder as he starts to thrust his hips, the angle deep and perfect on every slide inside of you and his cock dragging against your g-spot each time he draws back. He takes his time using your body for your shared pleasure and you relish the way he’s taken over every one of your senses.

“Gonna come,” he murmurs against your neck before biting at the skin over your pulse. You tighten around him and he groans, hips growing erratic in their movements. It’s only a few more sloppy thrusts before his hips are pressing tightly to your ass and he goes still, warmth flooding you as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You whine at the loss when Joel pulls away but he’s quick to return with a wet wipe that he uses to clean you up a bit before settling back down beside you. You rest your head on his chest and his fingers trace patterns on your shoulder as the sweat cools on your skin.

“You ready to admit campin’ ain’t so bad?” Joel asks.

“Consider me convinced.”

#joel fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #no use of y/n #summerlovin24 #pedro pascal character fanfic

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rottenmeatsack · 2 months ago

Text

Girls on Film || Boothill x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Prompt || The life of a galaxy ranger is one where you work alone, so Boothill wants a little something to keep him company on the lonely nights (Can be considered a continuation of Phone Call) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT / MINORS DNI

Warnings: Filming during sex, masturbation, penetrative sex, general weird cyborg anatomy (again), AFAB reader so she/her is used once again, slight belly bulge reference but nothing extreme, creampies yet again, I’m sorry all I write is Boothill so far 3 Duran Duran if ur out there I’m so sorry I used ur song to title my freaky robot smut forgive me.

***

Boothill is lucky to find shelter.

Tracking down the scumbags of the universe comes easy to him, but it’s only at the end of the hunt when he could finally find some rest.

As a Galaxy Ranger, he knows that he should be thankful for any place he can lay his head down, although this body of his no longer tires. It doesn’t sleep, it doesn’t need to eat, and it certainly doesn’t need a bed to rest in. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t indulge, this is a luxury and he knows it.

So he truly relaxes when he finds some shabby motel to hole up in for the night, the bed is nothing to brag about but it does the job when Boothill sits back and kicks his heels up. Although deep down maybe he’s grown spoiled, because he notices how the bed creaks underneath his weight and it makes his nose wrinkle. He knows there’s somewhere else— someone, else —he’d much rather be giving his company too right now.

“Her bed is always comfier,” he mutters, but it doesn’t matter, it’s one of those lonely nights and he’s itching for just a taste of luxury again. He reclines back on the mattress that dips beneath his metal’s weight, his hand reaching into the pocket of his chaps and prying out his red-cased cellphone. In this new life there are only a handful of things that truly give Boothill the warmth of the living again, the burning taste that comes from whiskey, the acrid smoking scent of gunpowder, and most of all the special companionship from another person’s body.

He mutters her name as he unlocks his phone, the blank screen coming to life and illuminating the mostly-dim motel room. He can’t help but grin as he opens his albums, and in that moment he misses her more than anything.

He can’t say he has a home to come back to, but if he had to say he’d call that girl of his the closest thing to it.

Although he’s left her behind for days now, the path of a Galaxy Ranger is one walked alone, he couldn’t take her with him even if he wanted. It would be selfish of him to even think of it. She has her own life, her own career, her own cozy home— and it makes Boothill jealous in a way, because while her door was always open to him he couldn’t dream of settling down with her. Not when he had this path to walk.

The separate roads they take doesn’t stop him from indulging in the luxury of her warmth, and on these lonely nights where his only company isn’t her but instead the stars, he likes to remember her— and yearn for her.

He opens a certain album on his phone, it’s only unlabelled like the rest of them, but he knows it’s the one he’s looking for when he sees her smiling face looking back at him. Her ___ eyes gaze at him tenderly through the phone screen. There had to be dozens of photos of her by now, taken by him, sent by her, it didn’t matter so long as he got to keep them. He stops, finally finding the one video he was looking for, “There it is.” he murmurs, his thumb pressing down on the small thumbnail, when he releases it the video expands to full-size and fills the screen. It automatically starts playing without him so much as pressing anything else.

The camera-work is amateurish, shaky at best, but it does the job. When the blurry lens finally fixes on her face, her skin is flush with sweat pebbling above her brow. She’s entirely bare, for a second the shaky camera’s hold catches a glimpse of her clothes on the floor before the camera focuses on her and only her once again. She looks at the camera, her gaze flickering down to the ground for only a moment before turning up to the person holding the phone itself— she smiles at Boothill. “It’s still a little embarrassing.” she admits, but she leans back against the bed and spreads her legs. “But I don’t mind, if you want to keep recording,” she says, tucking one hand underneath her knee and raising one of her thighs up to her chest.

The camera focuses on her dripping cunt, she’s already soaked, it’s obvious that they’ve already been going at it for a while before she reaches her free hand down and spreads her pussy apart, revealing her hot and wet hole to the camera. Although her bashful expression is still caught on film, her eyes are unable to stay locked with the phone as she glances away.

From just out of frame Boothill’s own hand reaches in from behind the phone and traces along her jaw, she leans into his palm, resting her cheek in his touch while his thumb traces along her bottom lip. She gives the digit a brief kiss, before his thumb slips into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue. She closes her mouth around the intruding metal, “You spoil me too dang much,” Boothill’s static-laced voice says from the film. "You sure, baby?" he asks, and she nods her head, giving a little "Mhmm," in turn.

He shifts his weight on the bed, and presses his cock up into her dripping pussy. He rubs it against her for a moment, grinding the fat underside against her swollen clit all while catching it on camera. The way he thrusts his hips up against her is slow and languid, he takes his time as he adjusts himself with his one free hand, pressing the tip just slightly against her wet hole. He makes sure to savor every inch sliding into her warm cunt, slowly but surely stretching her around the thick girth of his modded-cock. She cries out around his thumb in her mouth, her head tilting back into the sheets beneath her as she’s overwhelmed with the dull burn of being filled all over again.

Whatever patience Boothill had disappears, he immediately begins a vicious pace of fucking her into her own bed. Her body rocks up and down, the sound of metal hitting flesh mixing with her soft little moans and the bed creaking, all emphasized by the bed frame groaning in protest.

In the motel room Boothill’s chaps are opened, it’s haphazard and sloppy, but it’s enough for him to slip his cock out and immediately begin pumping it desperately. His metal hands aren’t comfortable, but they’re warm enough that if he tries to keep his focus on his phone in front of him he just might be able to finish. His eyes are trained on the screen, his lips curled as he grunts and groans along with the audio coming from the speakers. He’s watching himself fuck her all over again, and he can’t tear his gaze away from their joining. Watching and remembering the way it felt to fill her cunt up with his fat cock had him drooling, and by the Aeons, he could see the slight swell in her navel from how far he reached— he groans, the hand between his legs increasing its furious pace while the other grips his phone a little tighter.

She’s crying out, her sweat slick body bucking up into his hips just as desperately as he’s driving her down into the sheets. Her thighs tremble and twitch, hands uselessly clutching onto anything they could before Boothill’s free hand— the one not recording —reaches down and grabs her thigh, making it join the other against her chest as he begins to drive into her with everything he had. She’s a wreck, hair splayed out beneath her while Boothill relentlessly pounds her poor but well-loved cunt. “Fudge, you’re so pretty.” He says in the recording, although it’s nearly buried under the grunts and groans that fill the room. “So, so pretty, baby.”

“Mmfh— Ohh—” she slurs her words around his thumb, he slips it out of her mouth and runs the spit-soaked metal over her bottom lip. “I’m gonna— cu— cum—” she pleads, and Boothill responds by giving her a hard slap of his waist against hers, making her whine as their hips are pressed flush against the other. “Right here is where you like it, right?” he mumbles almost to himself, tilting his hips and driving deep until he’s sure he’s slamming into her g-spot. Her eyes go wide before she’s tossing her head back into the pillows, chest pushing out and towards the camera while she cries out from his relentless pace. He lets go of her thigh only to press his palm flat against the bulge that’s pressing up against her navel, he can feel himself through her tender flesh and her hips jolt and she screams through her teeth.

Boothill continues to fuck her through her orgasm, now desperately chasing his own to the point the camera shakes near violently until he has a better grip on his phone. He curses— at least he tries too, tracing the shape of himself through her navel before his hips still against her own. He presses as deep as he can, muttering censored curses thanks to his synesthesia beacon, but before he knows it he’s filling her up until she’s absolutely dripping from the seams. Streaks of blue translucent fluid begin to drip out of her stuffed cunt, until Boothill pulls his slick cock out of her now open hole with an especially wet ‘pop’. She gasps as each inch drags out of her, groaning when he finally slips out.

Her hips are twitching in the aftermath of her orgasm, and it doesn’t take long before his cum spills out of her and stains her bed sheets. He reaches down between her stained thighs, using his thumb to spread her pussy apart and she whimpers at the contact. He focuses the camera on her fucked-out cunt, making sure to catch every second that his cum drips out of her in thick globs. He runs his metal digits over a thick strand that spills out of her, only to press it back inside with his middle and index fingers.

- The video ends just as Boothill does, his phone is thrown aside while he continues rutting up into his hand. It’s messy, the blue fluid running down his fingers and staining his own navel, but he doesn’t care in the moment so long as he can chase that fleeting high. He drops into the bed with a huff, the heat in the room is suffocating but he’s sure that’s his own systems being near overload. He uselessly thrusts his hips up into the air, wishing that it was her that he was fucking this desperately and not his own hand. He can almost taste her warmth on his tongue all over again, the idea making him groan before his hips drop into the bed and he’s left in his own mess.

It takes him a moment, but when he finally comes down from his high he finds himself slack in bed with his cock limp against his lower-stomach plating. He'll have to clean himself off later but right now all he cares about is how good this shitty motel-bed feels, there's a bang on the wall behind him, whoever is neighbor is in this rundown lodging is surely going to complain about the noise coming from Boothill's rented out room. Boothill could care less, he lays in bed with his eyes closed and his phone laid by his side. The video plays on repeat automatically, "It's still a little embarrassing," he can hear her voice from the speakers again. That soft, sweet, voice of hers.

“Fudge,” he breathes out in between ragged panting breaths, face red with blush and his cables buzzing with heat that still had not been dispelled from his frame. “I need to pay her a visit again.”

#boothill x reader #boothill/reader #honkai star rail reader insert #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #not safe for minors #reader insert #reader interactive

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lelengerine · 1 month ago

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chenle + flights, not feelings hii !! im so excited for this event hehehe hope you have a good day <33

͙͘͡★ almost, always

song prompt. “i told myself i wouldn’t fall for anyone this semester, but we keep ending up in the same places—same lecture, same study group, same café—like campus isn’t big enough to escape you.”

pairing. enemy!chenle x reader

tags. enemies to ???, angst for the first time in a while, their relationship is a bit messy, reader is mentioned to wear glasses, i believe that’s it for this one!

wc. 1.4k words

notes. im honestly still on the fence with this one but i think that also plays into the kind of relationship portrayed here so yolo 😁 thank u sm sm vic for sending this req in (i love writing for lele 😞😞) lmk what u think about it hehe i’d be overjoyed to know ur thoughts 🩷 likes, reblogs, and feedback are very much welcome!

꒰ m.list | event m.list ꒱

“hey, you’re starting to piss me off.”

the words cut through the hush of the library with all the grace of a thrown stone shattering still water—loud, unexpected, and painfully direct. they fall across your notes, crumpling the quiet you had tried so hard to build around yourself.

you don’t flinch. you don’t give him the satisfaction.

instead, your gaze lifts slowly, eyes cold over the rim of your glasses, movements measured like someone balancing on a ledge. “oh really, chenle?” your tone is brittle, and yet, precise. “glad to know the feeling’s mutual.”

he doesn’t seem fazed. of course he doesn’t.

with all the grace of a minor disaster, he drags the chair out across from you, the screech of its legs drawing a scowl from a girl two tables away. he sinks into it with the ease of someone who doesn’t believe in boundaries—or maybe someone who just chooses to ignore them when it comes to you.

he stretches his limbs out so casually you wonder if his antics were deliberately planned, like he was someone who actually came to the library during his free breaks.

this wasn’t even your usual spot. you deliberately tucked yourself into this dim corner of the library—where the overhead light flickers like a dying heartbeat and the cold draft bites at your ankles—just to avoid him.

yet here he is in front of you again.

and somehow, he always is.

first it was your lecture hall, then your group project, and now it’s like he’s threaded himself into every corner of your life without asking. even the café you loved stopped feeling like yours the moment his laugh started echoing between the walls.

you lower your gaze bitterly at the thought, flipping to the next page in your notes, pen moving more pointedly than productively. maybe if you ignore him for long enough, he’d randomly evaporate from sight… but not everything molds according to your wishes.

“you could’ve sat anywhere,” you mutter, not bothering to mask the slight irritation in your voice. you flip your page a little too roughly, pen briefly hovering over the pages.

“i could’ve,” he agrees. “but i didn’t.”

that makes something inside you twist—tight and dangerous because you know he means more than he’s saying, and you wish he didn’t. a low sigh escapes through your nose, pinching the bridge of it between two fingers like you can press your feelings out through the skin.

“you don’t own this table.”

“i do on tuesdays.”

you shoot him an incredulous look. “pretty sure the librarian doesn’t honor your delusions.”

he leans in anyway, elbow propped, chin resting on his palm like you’re the center of some personal universe. “you’re lucky i’m in a good mood.”

“why?” you don’t rise to it. “because you finally read the syllabus before week four?”

the boy flashes a grin in response. “aww, you keep track of my syllabus habits?”

you hate that he’s right—hate that he notices when you notice, hate that he sees through you when you’ve worked so hard to be opaque.

“you’re seriously exhausting,” you mutter, eyes locked on your notes though the words are starting to blur.

“and you’re predictable,” he shoots back, tone light but gaze too steady. “i show up, you’re here. you show up, i’m already here. it’s like—”

“don’t,” you stop him, already knowing this would turn into another conversation about how you two were fated.

it was absurd—utterly absurd that he seemed to believe in the concept of fate wholeheartedly, that his words somehow keep plaguing you no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate the entire idea of it, and that you’ve actually entertained that thought more times than you’d like to admit.

his eyebrows quirk slightly in surprise of your reaction, but he doesn’t push. he just leans back, chair tilting as he hooks his foot around the leg of the table like he was unaffected by your little outburst.

you press your lips together, hard, going back to stare at your notes but it was a futile distraction at this point, and you knew that.

you promised yourself this semester would be clean. quiet. no mess, no boys with eyes too sharp and timing too perfect—especially not ones who flirt like it’s breathing and look at you like they’re waiting for you to break.

“why are you glaring at your notes like they owe you something?” he asks.

“because they make more sense than you do.”

chenle lets out a low whistle. “cold. even for you.”

you say nothing in return. it’s safer that way.

he shifts slightly, now tapping a pencil against the edge of the table. “can’t believe you’d say that after all our bonding.”

you laugh, but it’s the dry kind—the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. “what bonding?”

“you know. group meetings, late-night calls, shared existential crises.”

“that’s more like academic collateral damage from professor lee’s group project roulette.”

there’s a pause. not a biting one, not loaded with challenge like the others. just a breath—long enough for something unspoken to surface between you, heavy with everything he’s not saying.

his pencil stills. “…you ever realize how you only get this snappy when i’m around?”

you glance at him, brow furrowing, a retort half-loaded on your tongue. but before you can speak—

“you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

the words leave him like a truth that slipped past his filter. no grin. no smirk. just a faint ache that rounds out the edges.

you blink once, then twice. not because you’re surprised he’d say it, but because a part of you knows he meant it, and that’s the part you aren’t ready for.

“you’re kidding.”

he leans back slightly, arms folding like he’s bracing himself, “mostly,” but his eyes don’t leave you. not even for a second.

the silence that grows between you is thick—ripe with every touch that lingered too long, every text that didn’t need to be sent but was, every time he waited for you to look first.

you don’t even notice that your pen has stopped moving. you feel it in your chest—this pressure slipping in like a quiet plea neither of you are brave enough to say aloud.

you shove your chair back abruptly, the legs scraping hard against the tile.

too harsh.

too loud.

“i’m leaving,” you say, but the words tremble.

he doesn’t try to stop you, but his voice follows anyway.

“you always run when i get honest.”

the words sink into your spine. they echo, they sting—not because they’re cruel, but because they’re true. your feet freeze in place, figure halfway between the table and the corridor of shelves lined with books no one has touched in years.

you don’t turn around.

you want to. god, you want to.

but your legs feel like they’ve been set in concrete, and your chest feels too tight. like there’s not enough air in the world to breathe through the weight of everything you haven’t said.

“i’m not running,” you whisper, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, nails digging into the soft leather. your voice sounds small—fragile in a way you hate, but it’s too late to take it back. “i just don’t like wasting time.”

“then stop sitting across from me.” and this time, it’s not some taunt or silly challenge from the boy.

it’s an invitation.

the kind that asks for more than just proximity, for the truth you’ve buried under rehearsed apathy and the comfort of pretending this doesn’t matter.

you turn your head, just slightly, enough to see him still seated, watching you like he means it, like he’s never looked away.

every fiber of your being wants to reply with something smart, something final—a closing remark that slams the door shut and locks it from your side, but nothing comes out because you can feel his gaze still on you, unwavering.

there’s the rustling of pages, the low murmur of students from the other end of the library, the clatter of someone’s pen rolling off a desk nearby, and yet, all you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat and the echo of his voice lingering in the space between you like a thread stretched taut.

you could stay. you want to stay. yet the thought doesn’t loiter any longer than it should, the flickering light above your table bringing you back to reality.

“...see you at the next group meeting,” you murmur.

“you always do.”

he says it without teasing, and it sounds a lot like surrender, like he's still hoping—foolishly, quietly—that one day you won’t walk away.

that one day, you’ll choose to stay.

but that day isn’t tonight.

tonight, you turn your back on him again, carrying the weight of all the things you never say, pretending as if your heart doesn’t weigh on your mind and leaving your future self to wallow in the pool of regret you’ve filled to the brim.

#lelengerine: youth lovesome 🩷#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #chenle #chenle fluff #chenle angst #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles

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gunnerfc · 9 months ago

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Okay, nice! My prompt was the lia wälti one: "I could kiss you right now" + first kiss

Something along the lines of a team game night and r and lia being paired up. It gets competitive and r wins the final game for them, lia saying that in the spur of the moment (they are not together yet) and then later some fluff and the kiss between them

Take your time, whenever you feel like it, i'll be patiently waiting to see what you do with my muddled thoughts <3

L. Wälti - I could kiss you right now | WC: 1.1K

AN: the game I’m referencing is called “Incoherent,” where you have phrases spelled weirdly, and you have to try and figure out what the actual phrase is! (shoutout to Smosh for telling me about this game lmao) || hope you enjoy bff <3

Kim’s living room was loud as you and a few of your teammates yelled (playfully) at each other, everyone’s competitiveness getting the best of them during team game night. You and Lia were paired together, having been the last two to arrive, and were currently in the lead.

The two of you worked well together, having spent the last few years getting closer and having feelings develop. Feelings that you’ve yet to tell her about out of fear that she doesn’t feel the same and fear of losing the closeness you had with her. Instead, you opted not to tell her and keep the feelings to yourself (and Steph, who had to listen to you ramble about Lia on multiple occasions).

You had all been playing the game Leah picked out for a few hours at this point, and time was drawing close for everyone to start heading home. “Okay, Lia, Y/n! You two are up, and then we can count our cards and see who got the most,” Leah nodded as she scooted the deck of cards closer to Lia.

The midfielder nodded at you and then at Leah, signaling the blonde to flip over the mini hourglass. Lia quickly held up a card with nonsense written on it for you to sound out, which earned some laughter from your teammates at how ridiculous you sounded.

“Just think about it, Y/n/n,” Lia encouraged, and you took a moment before saying the correct phrase. Lia mumbled a quiet ‘Yes!’ before picking a new card to repeat the process.

You quickly flew through as many as you could before Kim yelled, ‘Time!’ and you held up your hand to highfive Lia. “How did you get literally any of those,” Steph laughed as you gathered all the cards you had guessed correctly.

“Dunno, guess I’m just that good at this,” you shrugged at your fellow defender with a small laugh. Steph rolled her eyes at your comment before Leah interrupted whatever retort she had ready.

“Seeing as though Lia and Y/n got almost every one right, I don’t think we really need to count, but Kim and I got nine total,” the blonde huffed as she sat the nine cards back on the table.

You took a few minutes to count your cards as your other teammates called out their totals before you finished by saying, “Nineteen.” Your teammates around you grumbled and spoke over each other, jokingly accusing you and Lia of cheating.

“I could kiss you right now,” Lia said quietly with a small laugh when you called out your total, having beat everyone else by a significant margin.

Your eyes widened slightly as you processed her words, and Lia’s expression matched yours once she realized what she had said. Neither of you made an effort to speak, your teammates’ jokes still going.

“Okay! It’s getting late, and we have an early training tomorrow,” Kim finally broke everyone’s jokes off, using her “captain’s voice,” as Kyra had dubbed it. Her words earned a chorus of groans from everyone else except for you and Lia, who had yet to look away from each other.

“Y/n, Lia, good game! Can’t wait to beat you next time!” Katie laughed, pulling you both from your thoughts.

“You wish, McCabe,” you joked as you stood up from your place on the floor, reaching a hand out for Lia to take so you could help her up.

The midfielder took your hand, letting you pull her to her feet, and reluctantly dropped your hand once she was up. You didn’t try to say anything else before you and your teammates made your way out the door, yelling goodnight to Kim and saying goodbye to each other.

You hugged Steph quickly before the Aussie got in her car and took off. You slowed your walk to your car across the street, watching Lia hug Leah before the blonde headed to her car. You and Lia were the last two left outside, yet neither of you made any effort to get into your cars.

Lia hesitantly made her way to where you stood by your car, her eyes never meeting yours. When she was finally in front of you, both of you stood silently, waiting for the other to speak first.

“What I said earlier-” Lia started at the same you start with, “Did you mean it-.” Both of you stopped, processing what the other had started to say.

“Yes,” Lia muttered, her eyes meeting yours. You swallowed lightly as you took a step closer to her, giving her enough time and space to back away, which she didn’t. You closed the gap between you even more until you were as close as you could be to her.

You hesitantly brought a hand up to her jaw, rubbing your thumb along her cheek softly before mumbling, “Can I kiss you.” Lia nodded quickly, tilting her head slightly. You bit back a smile as you leaned down, your lips meeting hers in a soft yet passionate kiss.

You moved your other to cup the other side of her jaw, holding her close as your lips moved against one another. Lia moved her hands to grip the hoodie you were wearing, holding you just as close. You both pulled away after a few moments, panting as air filled your lungs. You rested your forehead against hers, a small smile gracing both of your faces.

“I’ve been thinking about that for a while,” You confessed, pulling back so you could see her face fully.

Lia smiled at your words before leaning up to give you a quick peck, “So have I,” she mumbled against your lips, a light blush coating her cheeks. Your smile grew hearing her words, and you let a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You sighed before taking a step back, letting your hands fall back to your sides, “We can talk about this tomorrow, after training or something, maybe,” you shrugged softly, hopefulness lacing your words.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Y/n/n,” Lia smiled, tilting her head slightly. Your eyes widened slightly, and you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. “I would love that,” Lia continued, finding your reaction cute.

You chuckled softly at how nervous you feeling now that you knew Lia felt the same way. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumbled, giving her a quick kiss before she made her way back to her car. You waved as she drove off, and you took a deep breath, smiling as you got into your car.

You normally hated having early training, but now you were hoping it came quickly. The entire drive home was spent replaying the kiss over and over in your head, and you couldn't be happier to know Lia felt the same way you did and the fact that you two had a date after training.

#woso x reader #awfc x reader #lia wälti x reader #lia wälti #arsenal wfc x reader

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