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girlokwhatever · 13 days

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late nights

paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of intercourse/private parts, overwhelmingly cute and suffocating fluff towards the end, paige’s attitude (she’s so sassy bffr)

“paige move. my arm fell asleep.”

you can see her dimly from the streetlights shining through the window, not missing the way she rolls her eyes. you know she heard you, yet chooses to pretend like she didn’t. at her response, or lack thereof, you roll your eyes as well.

“paige i literally saw you roll your eyes..” when she doesn’t answer again, you start pushing on her shoulder in attempt to break your arm free. you catch a glimpse of the time on her bedside table,

1:33 am.

your girlfriend starts to groan, not happy with the new method. instead of sitting up like you want her to, she just rolls on top of you. you let out a huff at her weight fully resting on the entirety of your body. paige is a solid few inches taller than you and very, very muscular, which only adds to her weight. though you’re always happy to be close to her, her antics weren’t amusing.

“aw thanks paigey, now i just can’t breathe.”

“you’re welcome honey.”

she lifts her head, probably just so you can see the smug grin on her face. she pecks your lips and puts her head right back down into the crevice between your neck and shoulder.

you begin to feel the pins and needles in your arms from the new blood flow. it only makes you wince, and as if all the stars aligned for you tonight, paige decides to roll back to her previous spot. right on top of your arm.

“paige! get off or i swear-“ she huffs and sits up, side-eyeing you from her position.

though she’s getting on your absolute last nerve, she does look beautiful. her black sports bra and pajama pants, hair in a bun, and her skin glowing so nice in the orange from the streetlight outside.

“why do you hate me?” her tone is laced with attitude, fronting a persona you and kk like to call “snarky and sassy.” and boy, does she live up to the name.

“i don’t hate you paige.”

“oh really? but you don’t want to cuddle me”

“i do, c’mere. you were just-“ when she lays back down, intertwining your bodies together, you feel the pressure of her knee against your crotch. you don’t know if she did it on purpose or not, but it makes your face grow hot and you thank the lord above you’re facing away from the light. if she saw, she’d definitely tease you about it.

“um.. baby..”

“hm?” you feel her breath hot against your neck, which only adds to your new found body heat.

“your leg is in my vagina right now.”

“s’okay.”

“alright. just jam your knee into my crotch. it’s fine.” she lets out a loud huff, sitting up again. even through her huff, you don’t miss the way her stomach growls.

“hey babe?”

“yes paige?” you already know what she’s gonna say, and you also know how you’re going to respond. she’s interrupted your sleep for too long.

“i’m really hungry-“

“i’m not getting up.”

she stops for a minute, contemplating her options. she stands up, and for a second you believe she might just let you sleep,

but no.

she circles to the end of the bed, grabbing your feet and yanking you towards her. without hesitation, she wraps her arms around your back and lifts you up. you know your fate now, so you opt for wrapping your legs around her and accepting it.

“’m takin you with me.”

she carries you with ease through the darkness and into the kitchen. setting you down on the counter, she moves to the freezer and grabs the box of frozen sausage biscuits. she plops two on a plate and into the microwave and then quickly returns to the space between your parted legs.

“y’know.. i could’ve eaten you instead and we wouldn’t’ve had to get up” she says it with a smug little smirk, the one she has when she knows what she’s doing. she knows the affect she has on you.

her hands are on your thighs now, inching up under her shirt that you’re wearing and her fingers trail the line of your underwear. you’re so entrapped by her tactics that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. her whole hand is almost buried in your panties when the microwave beeps. she slowly pulls away and leaves you sitting there, burning alive. surely now she can see you blushing.

she sets the plate down beside you on the counter once she returns. still smirking, she runs her hands up your sides and they settle on your hips, pulling you closer to her and towards the edge of the counter. her fingers trace shapes on you, you think she’s drawing hearts but you’re honestly too tired to know.

she thinks to herself how beautiful you are and how lucky she is to have you. your skin is soft under her fingertips and she admires the scent of your body wash. she loves everything about you, can’t ever get enough. her skin tingles when you wrap your hands around her neck, playing with the loose hairs on the back of her neck.

she’s so entranced by you she almost forgets the biscuits growing cold. she motions the plate to you, a silent question ‘do you want one?’ but you shake your head no. deep down she’s sorry for making you lose sleep, but she remembers if she didn’t then she wouldn’t get to see you like this, so the thought leaves as quickly as it came.

when shes washing her plate, she almost misses your little “love you.”

her heart pounds, her stomach flutters, and she swears no one has ever made her feel this way before. she wants to crawl under your skin so she never has to be without you.

“i love you too”

now she’s carrying you back to bed, tucking you in and fighting the urge to keep you awake so she can hear your voice all night. but you’re both tired now, so there’s no point.

your back is facing her and she pulls you into her chest, wrapping her arms around you so she knows you’re safe. and you are. with paige you’ll always be safe. the last thing you remember before drifting off is her lips kissing behind your ear and her nose nuzzling into your hair.

“goodnight pretty girl.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:**ੈ✩‧₊˚☽｡⋆🀥⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

FIRST FIC WHATTTT

you know i had to hop on the paige train

i hope it’s bearable

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige buckets

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jesslovesboats · 9 months

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I guess it's time to start moving some content from twt over here! For those who don't know me, I'm a public librarian with a special interest in polar and nautical history, and I love nothing more than connecting readers with good books. I've managed to convert some friends to my way of thinking, and one of them coined the phrase "sad boat books" to describe the types of books that I'm always reading and recommending. Here is my first list of sad boat books-- I can personally vouch for all of them!

New to sad boat? Start here to see if it’s for you!

Endurance by Alfred Lansing

Madhouse at the End of the Earth by Julian Sancton

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

Frozen in Time: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition by Owen Beattie and John Geiger

Terra Nova, A GREAT first expedition!

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

The Worst Journey in the World by Apsley Cherry-Garrard

A First Rate Tragedy by Diana Preston

Robert Falcon Scott Journals- Captain Scott’s Last Expedition by Robert Falcon Scott

“I Love Ernest Shackleton” starter pack

Endurance by Alfred Lansing

Shackleton’s Boat Journey by Frank Worsley

The Endurance by Caroline Alexander

“I Hate Ernest Shackleton” starter pack

The Lost Men by Kelly Tyler-Lewis

Polar Castaways by Richard McElrea and David Harrowfield

Roald Roald Roald!

The Last Viking: The Life of Roald Amundsen by Stephen Bown

The South Pole by Roald Amundsen

The Last Place on Earth by Roland Huntford*

*DISCLAIMER: this guy hates Captain Scott and gets most of the Scott details wrong, read for Roald only!

The Franklin Expedition

Frozen in Time: The Fate of the Franklin Expedition by Owen Beattie and John Geiger

Erebus by Michael Palin

May We Be Spared to Meet on Earth: Letters of the Lost Franklin Expedition edited by Russell A. Potter, Regina Koellner, Peter Carney, and Mary Williamson

Non-polar sad boats

The Bounty by Caroline Alexander

Batavia’s Graveyard by Mike Dash

The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger

In The Heart of the Sea by Nathaniel Philbrick

Sometimes a sad balloon can be a sad boat

The Expedition by Bea Uusma

The Ice Balloon by Alec Wilkinson

Karluk/Wrangel Island, the expeditions of my heart

Empire of Ice and Stone: The Disastrous and Heroic Voyage of the Karluk by Buddy Levy

The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven

The Karluk’s Last Voyage by Robert A. Bartlett

The Last Voyage of the Karluk: A Survivor’s Memoir of Arctic Disaster by William Laird McKinlay

Ada Blackjack: A True Story of Survival in the Arctic by Jennifer Niven

Miscellaneous sad boat books that are well worth your time

The Ship Beneath the Ice: The Discovery of Shackleton’s Endurance by Mensun Bound

In The Kingdom of Ice: The Grand and Terrible Polar Voyage of the USS Jeannette by Hampton Sides

Madhouse at the End of the Earth by Julian Sancton

Alone on the Ice: The Greatest Survival Story in the History of Exploration by David Roberts

Labyrinth of Ice: The Triumphant and Tragic Greely Polar Expedition by Buddy Levy

If you read and enjoy any of these, please let me know!

#reader's advisory #sad boat #sad boat books #polar exploration #nautical history #read this

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bucketofpaint · 4 months

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1 2 3 4

The baby justice, or whoever they were, were starting to get on Danny's nerves. Well, basically, everything did that currently, but not as much they did.

Don't get him wrong. He understood what it was like to be a teen hero, and he respected them for it. But it didn't stop him from immediately groaning when he ran into bird boy and arrow girl.

It started out a pretty okay day. He got a passing score on a test, and it had been a slow work, which meant he'd could go home early. He had got to his trashy apartment and immediately passed out. although Danny wished that he'd could sleep till next week, a few extra hours were still much appreciated.

But fate had other plans. Danny had woken up late at night in a cold sweat, flashs of green and loud yelling, repeating in his head over and over. Danny got up and made his way to the window. He needed to get some air and to clear his head.

_____________

" I'm tired of just sitting here." Artemis complained, fiddling with one of her arrows absencemimdly.

" we need to be ready for anyone that leaves the building." Robin snapped back, not taking his eyes off of the building below.

Artemis already knew this, of course, but it didn't change the fact that she would rather be in the building, actually fighting instead of just waiting.

Her and Robin were stationed on the adjacent building to the one that was the base for a human trafficking scheme. The reason for them being outside and not inside with the others was because, apparently, the top people of this scheme were known flight risks.

____________

Danny drifted through the night sky, trying not to remember his nightmare. Trying and failing. He couldn't help it. The images just kept popping up in his head. mostly ones of his parents' faces filled with disgust, rage, and just pure hatred,while they tried to blast him to bits.

Danny gets pulled out of his head by the sound of a whisper argument taking place on the rooftop below. Danny looks down and is immediately regretting going outside. The two people arguing were members from Young Justice because, of course, they were. If Danny didn't know any better, these run-ins were starting to seem like no coincidence. He definitely wouldn't put it past CW.

If Danny remembered right, the two people were Robin and Artemis. It looked like the two were on a stake out or something. They kept bickering back and forth, seemingly unaware of the goon that started to creep up behind them. Danny watched and prepared himself in the case he needed to step in.

When the goon was about a foot behind them, Robin swung around and swiftly knocked the guy out. But as soon as he did, multiple men started popping up. Some jumped from the next roof, others climbing up the sides.

Robin and Artemis seemed to have it handled. Things quickly went down after the goons pulled out wepons that shot similar green blasts that left smoldering spots.

It wasn't long before the duo was surrounded, hands up in surrender.

One of the men walked towards them, reaching out to grab them. That's when Danny stepped in, keeping his invisibility and, sucker punching the dude out cold.

All the goons charged at the two, who at the moment were frozen, both looking around in confusion before joining in the fight.

Danny was exhausted by the time the last guy was knocked out. Which was not saying a lot because he had been exhausted for weeks, but now, even more so. Danny looked over to Robin and Artemis, noticing how they were both tense and staring right at him. He looked down...

Opps... Apparently, he had dropped his invisibility during some point in the fight. Well, there's not much to do about it now.

___________

Robin stared at the teen, who stared back with a pair of neon green eyes. The teen looked down for a few seconds, then looked back at them and shrugged.

"Cuffs?" The mysterious meta asked

"Um...what?" Robin asked completely confused.

The meta huffed and gestured to the unconscious people.

"Catch." Artemis said, walking past him and tossing the meta some rope. " Just tie their feet and hands for now." The boy nodded.

After all the men had been tied up, the three stood in silence, looking back and forth at each other.

Robin cleared his throat. "So, who -" the meta cut him off with a scoff.

Robin tried again.

" I'm Robin, and you are." Robin asked, keeping his body language friendly.

"Nun-ya." The boy replied. Hmm, it was a unique name. Maybe he wasn't a meta, but an ailen. "Business." The boy finished before fading away.

Robin stood there in disbelief, looking in the area the boy used to be, as Artemis laughed behind him.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny is very hangry #dpxdc

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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (P. 5)

Lucifer/Reader — Lucifer wants you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for the smut. FINALLY

(Hope none of y’all were planning to actually get off though).

“You want a… baby?”

Lucifer looked as stunned as you felt. He reminded you of a spooked deer — frozen and wide-eyed as he waited for imminent death. Or more aptly a dying fish as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

“… To hang out with?”

Lucifer found himself in your apartment for the second time, milling about beside your coffee table. He internally scolded himself for fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other, but it was either that or burn a hole in your head with his hopeful gaze.

“No!” He let out a pathetic laugh. “Well, yes, b-but obviously not just that! I know there’s more to it than just ‘hanging out’.”

“I'm not stupid.” He chortled again before glancing at you. “… I’m not that stupid.”

The King had the uneasy feeling that you might see right through him now; find that inkling of excitement still germinating in his breast, and change your mind. Or worse, you’d withdraw even more and he’d have to feel that dreadful, terrible, no good shame.

He had practically skipped through the halls of his castle (unbeknownst to you) with the contract held tightly between his claws. But as soon as he entered your fireplace, the excitement had curdled like milk. It was replaced by that shame when he looked at you and saw your ashen face.

“Obviously you wouldn’t be doing this for free!” Lucifer gesticulated wildly. “You, you said you wanted to travel right? Right! If you agree, you’d get to travel wherever you want, whenever you want, no strings attached!”

“A-and also! No more costs, period! All your bills and expenses paid forever, in perpetuity, beyond the grave! Capitalism is a bitch? No, capitalism WAS a bitch!”

“No, no! Capitalism will be YOUR BITCH!”

Your resigned countenance combined with the memory of his pitch made Lucifer flinch.

——

You were never very good in a crisis. Or under a severe amount of pressure… or a moderate amount, in all sincerity.

But you’d have thought, even with the prospect of homelessness looming over your head, that you’d have drawn the line at making a Deal with the Devil to avoid it.

Or at least you would’ve taken more than the time it took to draw up a legal contract to accept your fate.

That time maxed out to 6 days.

The scroll unfurled before you. It radiated an ethereal golden light, and lined with a litany of official statements occasionally broken up by blank spaces meant for a (second) signature.

Lucifer Morningstar was signed here and there, in the same glittery calligraphy as was on his business card.

‘This contract must be interpreted by the Governances of Heaven [Heofon, Himmel, Kem, ἄκμων, آسمان, अश्मन्] and any litigations associated with Hell [Hel, Hallju, Kel]…’

‘… By this contract, Party A agrees to carry the Seed of Party B, hereafter known as “Father”, to the extent of natural gestation as governed by the Law of Nature…’

‘… This union shall be recognized only within the parameters listed and not heretofore or after…’

The legal jargon was giving you a headache. You scrubbed a hand down your face, determined to at least read through it all and, if you couldn’t pick out tiny discrepancies, at least find any giant red flags.

(Even if you’d already reserved the excuse that it was easy to be tricked by the Devil when the Devil was insanely good at presenting himself as a theatrical little man who wore his heart on his suit sleeve).

Then again, would it not just be easier to sign away your life without regard to the consequences?

Lucifer twitched when you groaned on your seat at the table. “Problem?”

You rose slowly from your hunched position to make eye contact. “… My pen isn’t working.”

You demonstrated by scribbling randomly on the sticky notepad beside his scroll. Lucifer responded instantly, left hand flexing in the air and, with a flashy poof, snatching a fancy pen out of thin air.

“You can keep it” He said, grinning as you accepted it with a sour look.

“Thanks… show-off.” You began scribbling your name in half-assed cursive on every blank line in sight.

The grin on Lucifer’s face became borderline manic as soon as you’d crossed your ‘t’s and dotted your ‘i’s. His teeth glinted in the light from your cheap-ass lamp and it made you wince as you handed the rolled up document back to him.

“Um, can we maybe skip the kissing stuff?” You asked. “I don’t really want to cut my tongue open.”

His wounded expression tugged rather annoyingly at your heart.

“Sorry.”

The smile he gave your mumbled apology was strained at best. “No, no I understand. The fangs were daunting to me when I first got them, too.”

You cocked your head, thoughts materializing like the web of a spider.

“That’s actually something we should talk about.” You voiced your thoughts. “Are we compatible? Down there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean — you don’t have teeth down there, too… right?” You asked. “Or some kind of eldritch horror miasma that I can’t touch lest I fall into a coma from ecstasy? Or a tentacle?”

“No!” Lucifer looked mortified. “Wh-what is wrong with you humans?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just asking!” You cried.

You continued when his expression stayed stagnant. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you but I’m about to become intimately acquainted with… it, and I think I should be prepared!”

Your hellish companion stood, eyes closed, hands folded over his mouth as if in prayer. He breathed in slowly, then out.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry it’s… it’s been a while since I’ve been with a human.” He reasoned. “It’s good to ask questions. It’s—that’s a good one. Do you have any more?”

That made you pause. There were millions of things you could ask the King of Hell and yet not one thing could properly formulate in your brain.

“Um, I need a second to think about it.” You muttered. “What about you? My setup is pretty basic? I guess? I have a womb. At least I did, at my last physical a year and a half ago.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched upward in a half-smile and there was an answering flutter from your stomach. “I know.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he immediately started babbling. “I mean! I know because the contract went through! The ink would’ve turned red… or disappeared… To be honest, I don't know. I haven’t made a deal in a long time, ha ha. But I remember something happens when there’s a technical issue!”

“Ah,” You felt better with that explanation.

Kind of.

“I thought of a question, actually. Sorry.” You shrugged sheepishly. “It’s probably in the contract but…”

You swallowed down your trepidation. “… I won’t die, right?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, you faced the floor and missed the way Lucifer’s face fell.

“Barring the normal risks that come with being pregnant, nothing else is gonna happen, right? Or if it does, it won’t be agonizing?” You asked quietly.

A moment of silence passed before the ex-Angel’s fingers curled under your chin. Your head rose and you saw Lucifer's eyes soften from something sharper and more determined.

“I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby.” He said firmly. “Nothing terrible will happen to either of you. I swear.”

It was strange, the effect his words had on you. The jittery feeling in your chest slowly disappeared, and the tears forming in your eyes didn’t fall.

“Okay.” You nodded with a barely there, watery smile.

——

“I’m gonna turn off the lights, ok?” You said over your shoulder.

Lucifer was undoing the last of the buttons of his dress shirt, vest and overcoat already laid neatly over your desk. He met your gaze, eyes bright.

“Of course.” His close-lipped smile struck you, but you flipped the light switch before you could think on it.

A lack of light did very little to suppress Lucifer. He seemed to glow like the star of his namesake, flourishing in the dark and hard to miss. You simply hoped, as you pulled at your sleeves, his shine wouldn’t illuminate the terrain of your body.

Cold air hit your skin, goosebumps rose along your bare arms and shoulders, but you persisted. When everything was shucked save for your underwear, you moved to your bed and realized Lucifer was still standing at the baseboard.

With arms crossed, you assumed the same position at the side of the bed. “Um?”

“Ladies first!” He chimed, as if reading your mind.

You sighed, then slowly climbed onto the mattress and awkwardly pulled the comforter from under your butt. You settled and patted a spot in front of you.

Hesitantly, Lucifer accepted the invitation, and he was sitting next to you before you could blink.

No going back now.

You shifted in your spot uneasily. Fuck, it had been a long time since you had sex.

How did you start this shit again?

No kissing — per your own request. You had half a mind to take it back while you sat there floundering, trying not to let the tangible awkwardness break your resolve entirely.

You could do this. For a lifetime of no work, no bills, no cares.

You could do this.

A bit of movement in the dark caught your eye. You glanced down and realized that Lucifer was twiddling his thumbs waiting for you.

The laugh came bubbling from your throat before you could stop it. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands and tugged him forward.

You could see his throat constrict as he swallowed and smiled questioningly. “What?”

Lucifer yelped when you laid back, taking him with you.

——

“Ah! F-fu — Slow down!” You scolded, words muffled as you were repeatedly pushed down into the pillows.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you just,” Every word was punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips against the flesh of your ass. “Feel. So. Fucking. Good.”

Lucifer moaned loudly as he continued to lose himself in the sensation. You could only groan, irritation building as your partner refused to give you even the most basic attention. The frustration peaked quickly, then unraveled as his pleasured moans and squeaks caused your stomach to somersault over and over again.

You clenched around his cock when he whined, thrusting into you so deeply you felt the base of him stretching your hole that much wider.

Well, fuck you for finding the sound of a masculine voice cracking the hottest thing in all of creation.

But it was actually getting you there, so what were you complaining for?

Eyes closed, you focused on the feeling, trying to jump off that precipice with only penetration. It reminded you of when you were a teen, awkwardly feeling around down there. Of trying to find the appeal in your fingers inside of somewhere so sensitive against the fear of hurting yourself. All while you worked yourself up with your own imagination.

In a perfect world, you would’ve moved on from that stage of life with no repeat performances. Hopefully, it could still be salvag—

You gripped the pillows that hadn’t tumbled off the juddering mattress when Lucifer’s claws dug into your hips. He pulled you as close as humanly possible with a strangled yelp, shivering, shuddering, stammering incoherence as warmth flooded your insides.

Fuck’s sake.

——

You were disappointed, but not surprised. All you could do after the fact was bury yourself in the covers and watch Lucifer catch his breath beside you.

Not finishing aside, exhaustion from the entire ordeal made you indolent and your thoughts hazy. You studied your partner as he calmed down, clearly trying not to be too close to you now that the deed was done.

Lucifer’s hair was in disarray, the space between his eyes and across his cheeks rosy like the blots parallel to his smile.

“Hey.”

Lucifer looked at you innocently, waiting. You could physically feel your walls crumbling down despite yourself.

“Come here.” You murmured, hand sliding beneath the covers to touch that poreless skin.

Damn you and your soft heart.

‘Actually…’ You had Lucifer in your arms, his body still warm. Once he was in your grasp, the King melted against you.

He looked a little afraid as you tilted him up by the chin to look at you. The Devil had surprisingly soulful eyes, questioning whatever you had in store.

The tiny thought that he was being way too vulnerable drew a taut, uncomfortable feeling your chest.

“Kiss me.”

Lucifer blinked in rapid succession — surprise, wonder, confusion and hope bloom all at once on his unusual face.

It made you laugh in the quiet, comfortable darkness of your room before you yourself leaned in and met his lips with your own. The line of Lucifer’s mouth trembled, but he reciprocated with only minor hesitation.

* Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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jqnehr · 1 month

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꒰ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲-𝐚𝐭-𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞… ꒱

word count: 950 contains: domestic fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes AGAIN zayne x female!reader note: guess who's brainrotting again!! 🥰 I haven't posted for l&dps in a hot minute so uh here y'all go (those requests are still sitting in my drafts bro im so sorry 😔) masterlist

⟡ …is fairly uneventful. but it’s the kind of unexciting lull that’s peaceful, not boring. you get up in the morning, turn the ac on, lay out his work clothes and shoes and towel for his morning shower, before heading to get the coffee machine going. you don’t mind having to get up so early in the morning for him; making his bento lunch boxes full of food that would be bound to get him through the day. zayne treats you like a queen, his hefty paycheck leaving more than enough for him to arrive home with a little bag from some expensive jewellery shop, presenting you with either a lovely gemmed pendant, a dazzling pair of earrings or stylish bracelets.

⟡ …is relaxing. when he leaves for the day, you having helped him into his coat and him bidding you goodbye with a long, loving kiss, you get to blast your favourite songs and get on with what housework that needs to be done. once the chores are completed, you can chill for the rest of the day—sometimes, you just settle for being a couch potato and binge your favourite dramas with an entire tub of ice cream, maybe do some baking (i.e., chocolate brownies or cake that zayne adores), or you head out to do some grocery shopping, treating yourself along the way.

⟡ …is amusing for those around to see. from time to time, zayne is rather in a rush and forgets to pack his lunch box that sits on the bench, ready for him to take. this provides you a perfect excuse to visit him at the hospital, tapping on his office door at a certain time when you know he’s free—which is, of course, lunchtime. the idiot usually works through his lunch break. the scolding he receives upon your arrival always has him quickly turning off his computer and obeying your orders.

“you forgot your lunch box again this morni—” looking up, zayne sees you standing frozen in the doorway, his blue bento lunch box in your hands, staring at him with this expression of pure disappointment that immediately tells him what’s coming. resigning himself to his fate, zayne steels himself for a lecture in 3, 2, 1…

“how many times do i have to tell you to actually take a break when it’s break time?” slamming the lunch box down on his desk, zayne watches his wife plant a hand on her hip and jut a finger at him, then the bento box. “do i have to come down here everyday to monitor you like a fussing mother hen? i’m going to start calling you at twelve pm, on the dot, if you don’t get your act together, zayne!”

slipping his glasses off, he reigns in his annoyance and reaches for his bento box. he can smell the still-warm food within it, and his stomach instantly rumbles in hunger. eating meals made by you is always a highlight of his day. “no need, my dear. i’ll set a reminder—”

“rubbish! you said that last week when i barged in here, catching you spending more time with your damn computer and documents than you do me.”

“love, you need to understand that i have a lot of work that needs doing—”

“of course i understand that! but whenever you skip your lunch breaks, you come home grumpier than usual, you grumble at me when i don’t do something right, and complain of a headache! it also sends your evol off kilter, putting you in danger! i hate to be that one nagging wife, but sometimes it’s like i’m taking care of a seven-year-old who refuses to eat his brussel sprouts, and then wonder why he’s not getting any taller.”

so zayne did as he was told and ate every morsel in that bento box under your strict, watchful eye. dr greyson ushers the other interns away from the office when he heard you two ‘arguing’, the young kids snickering to themselves at the sight of the unapproachable, frigid chief cardiac surgeon zayne hastily obeying his wife’s every order.

⟡ …is sometimes stressful. zayne occasionally has these vigilante tendencies, roaming around the alleyways way past his due hour home and wiping out all these wanderers without sending you a single text about it. it leaves you absolutely worried sick, and the beratings he receives immediately upon his arrival home are ten times worse than the ones he’s subjected to when he forgets his lunch box.

⟡ …means there are ‘terms and conditions’ established. he makes the money, but you run the shop. your shared apartment is spacious and very modern, yes, but there’s still quite a lot of vacuum cleaning and window-washing to do. zayne respects that you’re the woman of the house, and never misunderstand that your marriage is a mutual effort. you both love each other very much, and you hardly ever fight (apart from petty arguments over who’s doing the dishes tonight). just because zayne works all day does not mean he doesn’t have to pull his weight around.

⟡ …means his days off are spent sleeping in, making love, and spending what time you have together preciously. you’ll go out to eat or go for a walk along the beach. he’ll tell you about his week, you’ll comfort him over the patients he couldn’t save. it never helps that he always beats himself up over it. no matter how much you try to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that sometimes there’s only so much he can do, he’ll always feel responsible. zayne may seem like a cold, unfeeling man, but he’s likely the most empathetic, humane person you’ve ever met.

it's the RATE at which feminism leaves my body whenever this man shows up 🙏

I apologise for this, it was written on a whim when I am supposed to be studying for my history assignment due next week!! 🥰 oh well <3

and I'd just like to say this - if this has already been done before, then I can tell you right now that I did not know. I don't want to have another anon enter my inbox saying "erm actually this is really similar to [this person]'s post 🤓☝️" and basically accuse me of being a plagiariser. because I wrote this, as I said, on a whim while eating my avocado on toast after doing my dailies on l&dps, not after reading some other author's fic and going "hey im gonna write that", because bro ☠️ that's crazy. so if it is similar to someone else's, I apologise! I genuinely did not know (I can't stress that enough) 💛

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace x reader #lads zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne fluff #zayne x you #lads #zayne #I have 54839753925943 things I should be working on but instead im posting this #pray for me guys im about to wither away completely 🙏#I also have a very bad headache anyways LOVE YALL!!#zayne love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons

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hannieehaee · 6 months

Text

18+ / mdi

content: once again, chan is a fucking loser, smut, f reader, dry humping, handjob, a lot of boob worship (?), spit kink (????) but not rlly, etc. this is a continuation to this, but can also be read as a standalone!

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

wc: 1258

masterlist

loser!chan, who feels like the luckiest bastard alive thanks to his chemistry teacher who decided to pair him up with his years-long crush.

ever since he started college, he thought that maybe he'd finally get rid of the loser nerd persona that had been assigned to him ever since middle school, when he started wearing thick-rimmed glasses to school and joined the anime club.

safe to say, that did not happen. due to his shy demeanor and lack of confidence, he remained an outcast in all situations possible, feeling as if he could never simply go up to someone and strike up a conversation. specially not with you, the pretty girl he met during orientation two years ago. someone who he had so badly wanted to get to know after catching your eyes one day during your intro bio course freshman year.

unexpectedly, now he found himself in your bed, your hands down his pants and your tongue lightly licking into his mouth as he moaned due to the friction. all thanks to his teacher's fateful decision to pair you up. ever since the first time you had invited him to your dorm for your group project (the first time he had ever felt the touch of a woman), you had found every opportunity possible to steal him away again under the vice of 'channie, we need to work on our assignment!'

your meetings tended to go pretty much the same every time. you'd both sit on your bed, pretending you were there for academic purposes as you set down your books and laptops in front of you while having much sinister thoughts in your heads. chan hadnt wanted to assume you'd always invited him over for anything other than studying, which is why he never made a move first, always allowing you to approach him and take him in whichever way you wanted.

that is how he was once again moaning into your mouth, trying to catch your tongue in his as you pulled your hands out of his pants, wanting to unzip them all the way through. so far, the most you and chan had done had been patting under your clothes and making out for a few hours, but it seemed like you wanted to go further this time.

chan felt like his heart was about to pop out of his chest, lifting his hips in order to help you take off his pants. what he hadnt expected, though, was for you to unglue yourself from him to throw your dress over your head before finally sitting on his lap. he had never felt the heat of someone else's body atop his like this before. he felt like he was burning.

"channie ..." you began. "why wont you touch me? you like how i touch you, dont you? dont you wanna do the same?", you pouted as you led his hands to your torso.

he gulped, breathing heavier than ever. "i- yes. wanna- please, show me. i-i dont know how, i-..." was his reply. he lowered his head, feeling embarrassed at being the ripe age of 23 having never felt the touch of a woman in this way.

"i know, channie. but it's okay. i'll show you."

with that, you let go of his hands momentarily to throw off your bra, quickly grabbing onto his hands again and placing them on your tits, "touch them channie," you breathed out, "touch them and rub them. it'll feel so good, i promise."

chan was frozen in place, eyes glued to your chest. he had never felt himself harder in his life. he'd obviously seen breasts before. both in class and through a screen (and he had maybe pictured yours sometimes before going to sleep..), but he had never felt the softness of them in his hands, nor the pebbles that hardened against his touch.

he followed your instructions, moaning at the way you threw your head back due to his fondling of them. your reaction made him intensify his touches. his actions had caused you to start lightly canting your panty-covered hips against his strained boxers, making him feel even more lightheaded. he decided to take initiative for once and lowered his head towards your chest, groaning as his tongue made contact with your nipple.

you let out a loud whine at the sudden contact, immediately pushing his head closer to your chest and grinding against him with more force now. "f-fuck channie. yes, please keep doing that. shit," your moaning kept driving chan insane, thinking about how desperate you must've been for him to have such reactions to his inexperienced touches.

you continued like this for a while. chan licking and sucking at your nipples while you whined and ground your hips against his. eventually this proved to not be enough for you, causing you to drag his face away from your chest and push him to lay fully on the bed, pinning his hands over his head.

"channie .. can i make you feel good? both of us. can i make us feel good?", you shallowed, delirious at the thought of finally meeting your end while with chan. the previous times you had met you had dedicated your time only to making him cum, wanting to warm him up for you before prioritizing your own pleasure.

"p-please. fuck. you dont have to ask. you can do whatever you want, just- a-argh fuck ..." his speech left him as you interrupted him with harsh grinding of your hips, the angle allowing his length to drag against the entirety of your pussy.

he hadnt known how warm and wet it would feel, having only ever felt his hand (well, now yours too) for the past few years. despite having his boxers and the light layer of your panties in the way, chan felt the heartbeat of your pussy pulse against his swollen dick, making all thought leave his head as he planted his feet on the bed and began to carelessly grind upwards against you, no rhythm to his movements but focused solely on chasing pleasure.

you humped against each other like animals, breathing into each other's mouths until you began to crave his taste, licking into his tongue as he threw his head back at the act. you lifted your head a bit, encouraging him to do the same and then directed him to stick out his tongue for you, which he did. you then began to lick and suck on his tongue, making him shake at the nastiness of it all.

he grabbed onto your hips, madly digging them against his with all the strength he could muster. you felt yourself get even wetter at the sheer force your cute innocent loser boy was using due to the pleasure clouding his mind, knowing that you'd cum any second now.

"'m gonna. fuck. gonna cum, channie. cum with me. please," you begged in a high whine.

chan had no willpower to respond and instead did his best to nod, once more throwing his head back as he came, you following soon after.

the aftermath consisted of a very exhausted chan being unable to move or process what had happened. you laid on top of him for a few minutes as you both caught your breaths. you were the first to speak up, lifting yourself off of him a bit, "sorry, i think i might've gotten over-excited," you chuckled, "id been thinking of that for a while. was that too much?"

he smiled moonily as he looked at the ceiling. "god, i hope we never finish our project."

n/a: not proofread aaahhhh sorry

#svt #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #seventeen oneshot #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #dino x reader #dino smut #chan smut #lee chan smut #lee chan x reader

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

An Unlikely Duo

Request by ✨ anon: Can I perhaps get a Ghost x GN!Reader, where reader got transferred to TF 141 and has two personalities? Like cold and badass on the battlefield and super friendly and chirpy back at base. So Reader, on day 1, already sees Ghost as a best friend and she loves hugs, so she decides to hug him after a missions success and leaves him frozen and a blushing mess?

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,310

Notes:

Big thanks to my ✨ anon for requesting this. I enjoyed writing it! Hope I did well on my first request!

Fluff (the platonic kind)

Want more?

———————————————————————

You walk behind him, holding a container filled with freshly washed strawberries. His strides are long and confident, making it hard for you to keep up with him as you walk to the truck.

“Would you like a strawberry?” You ask, extending the container to him, but he ignores you and quickens his pace.

You try to catch your breath as you follow him, but it’s difficult. Whenever you think you’re closing the gap, he increases his speed and pulls away again. You break into a light jog to stay close.

“So, I presume... you’re not... a strawberry fan?” You ask, out of breath. Instead of responding, he lets out a dismissive “tsk” and continues walking.

“Why don’t you like str-”

“Get that damn thing away from me and keep moving,” he says as he pushes your hand away. “We have work to do; no time for strawberries.”

You come to a complete halt. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, strawberries are-”

“Just get in the damn car,” he orders, opening the back door and gesturing for you to get inside.

It’s your first day as the newest member of Task Force 141, and the base already feels like a powder keg. But that doesn’t bother you; you’re excited to be a part of such an elite team and contribute as much as possible to future missions. Soap and Gaz were surprised but amused by your cheerful personality when they met you this morning. However, not everyone on the team seems to be on the same page; Ghost was less than impressed. He sized you up from head to toe, looking for any sign that you were ready for the mission. But, instead of finding comfort, he was met by your cheery attitude and endless questions about his fruit preferences.

“What is this, Captain?” He grumbled at Price, “I asked for an explosives specialist, not a fucking Jack Russell.”

“Laswell swears by their abilities,” Price reassured him, “just give ’em a chance, brother...”

Despite his trust in the captain, Ghost remained skeptical. Was it the way you expressively waved your hands while speaking? Was it because you couldn’t stop talking about strawberries? Was it because you couldn’t stop talking in general? Whatever the reason, Ghost was clearly not on board.

He has the same attitude as he sits across from you in the truck, driving to your assigned mission. It’s a look of concern and contempt. as if he can’t believe what fate has brought him this time—like he’s been dealt bad cards yet again.

But that’s okay; you’re used to feeling like an outcast, and you’re not going to let that get in the way of this mission’s success.

“Yo, Lt.?” You ask excitedly, attempting to break the ice by pulling a purple star-shaped charm from your pocket, “Do you like it?”

He looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “You look like you just got out of a toy store.” He comments flatly.

“That wasn’t my question, sir,” you say wryly, “and if that’s the case, then you look like you just got back from trick-or-treating.” You smile and attach the charm to your assault rifle.

“Take that off this instance,” he says, “I won’t let you and your sparkles hinder our position.”

“Okay, first of all, they’re not sparkles—they’re sequins,” you say, waving your gun around so he can see the charm, “and second, they won’t even see it when they’re dead.”

“Stop talking.” He sighs.

“I’m conversing, not talking.”

“Then stop conversing.”

“Like, who doesn’t like strawberries?” you ask, lowering your voice.

“I told you to stop.”

“And sequins are pretty cool, man.” You mutter to yourself as you cross your hands over your chest.

“Shut it and put your helmet on; we’re almost there,” Ghost says sternly.

You fall silent as you gaze out the window at the passing scenery. The tension in the truck is intense, but you refuse to let it get to you. Instead, you take a deep breath and relax.

As the truck comes to a stop, Ghost explains the goal of the mission: get to the door where the valuable information is stored and collect as much intel as possible. After his brief rundown, you quickly exit the vehicle and assume position. It’s game time, and you’re determined to prove to everyone what you’re capable of.

You move fluidly through the environment, using your firearms, knives, and bare hands with precision to take out any targets that come your way. You are agile and swift, never staying in one place for too long and using your surroundings to your advantage. He takes quick glimpses at you every now and then to check if you are okay. He seems impressed yet wary; as if he’s testing you to see if you’re up for the challenge, yet careful enough to not put you in danger. As you work through the guarded area, you keep calm and focus on the task, finally reaching the steel-framed door. However, the door remains unyielding despite using military-grade hammers and refuses to budge.

You turn towards Ghost to plan your next move when you notice an enemy approaching him from behind.

“Get down, Lt.!” You yell and throw a knife at the enemy. The lieutenant is stunned but quickly regains his composure. He turns to thank you, but you cut him off.

“This isn’t a playground, Lt.; I don’t need a babysitter, and I certainly won’t become yours.” You firmly tell him as you push him aside and place the purple star-shaped charm on the door’s lock. “Step back,” you order.

Ghost looks at you, puzzled.” What is-”

“You must learn when it’s the right time for chit-chat and when to listen to the specialist, sir; please take a step back.” You repeat, and he follows your instructions.

With everyone clear of the area, you pull the cord and duck for cover. Five seconds later, your bomb detonates, blasting open the door and granting you access to the information inside. You quickly survey the room and pinpoint the location of the vital information. You approach it with calculated precision, relying on your training and experience to predict potential threats. The room is full of guards, but you’re prepared for them; you take them out, using your weapons with deadly accuracy. The intel is kept in a secure case, and you begin working on cracking it open. You have a special tool for the job, and the lock gives way in seconds. You open the case and extract the valuable information.

After a quick glance at the documents, you are pleased to see that it is exactly what you were hoping for. Ghost calls for backup to secure the scene, collect the documents, and transport them back to the base. As he completes his orders, he turns to the team for a debriefing, but instead is met by the old, cheerful you.

“LT., WE DID IT!” You yell and leap onto Ghost, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. He freezes and raises his hands as if he’s been arrested for a crime.

“Get off me,” he orders with an unusually high-pitched voice.

“No, you deserve it.” You object and proceed to pat him on the back.

“I did nothing wrong to deserve this, soldier; get your fucking ha-”

“Shhh, Lieutenant.” You cut him off by putting your hand over his mouth to silence him. “You must feel the hug.”

“I said-”

“They’re right, Ghost,” Soap interrupts him with a sinister grin, “you must feel the hug.”

“Yeah, listen to the specialist, sir,” Gaz adds, trying hard not to laugh.

Ghost looks at Price for help, who has a satisfied smirk on his face. The captain turns to Ghost and mouths an inaudible “told you so,” establishing you as a valuable member of their team from now on.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #✨ anon #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost

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itskattkm · 4 months

Text

The air in my lungs

Chapter 1

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A stroke of fate changes you and leads you into the arms of Cairo Sweet. Will she be your downfall or save you?

Warnings: 18+, Grief, Injuries, Smoking, Trauma, anxiety, sexual content, student x teacher mentioned, harm, blackmailing, bad grammar

A/N: Based and inspired by Millers Girl. Mr. Miller himself isn’t really present but will be mentioned. Hope you guys enjoy. Also I’m not sure if I should make it a fem g!p reader. Let me now if so :)

Master list | Next chapter

It was almost the end of the current school year. Soon would be a long and warm summer in Texas maybe the last summer for Cairo here, before she would leave it for Stanford in California. As always she was one of the students that were pretty early, since this was a private school, she had pretty many ways to get in here and just do her thing. That’s why Cairo was working on a new idea for her book, holding a cigarette in her other hand. Not caring at all that she was smoking in the empty classroom. Well almost empty classroom. She had noticed you were sitting near her and gave you a frown. Why did you even sit so near. Like the class wasn’t already empty enough, couldn’t you sit somewhere else? Cairo was a bit pissed, she didn’t liked it when other students could see her work or maybe even interrupt her while working.

“I’m writing. I’d appreciate if you respected that” Cairo mutters, without even looking your way. She takes another drag of her cigarette afterwards. Her gaze fixed on the screen of her laptop.

You turned around “So what? I’m not allowed to sit near you?” You asked with a cold tone but a dirty smile on your lips making Cairo look up and straight into your eyes, with pretty zeros emotions.

“No.” Cairo replied, trying to go back to her writing without laughing. Unfortunately that didn’t happen, since Cairo was now laughing at your reaction. She put down her pencil, which had the cigarette dangling in her mouth still. Cairo turned and smirked at you. “You do realize you’re just asking to get teased, don’t you?”

You fully turned around now and walked towards her. In the way you walked Cairo could tell you were somehow… pissed? Angry? There was something frightening and exciting in the way you walked over her and suddenly stole her cigarette from her mouth, while taking a deep hint on it. Cairo was totally overwhelmed and watched you with fixated eyes. The cigarette left your lips and in the next moment you destroyed the cigarette by pressing it down on her desk.

The next move really caught her off guard. She felt like a frozen statue. Her brain wasn’t able to see that coming but still… it happened and she couldn’t do anything. You reached for her jaw with your hand and held it tight while pulling in and kissing her hard before releasing the smoke of the cigarette in her mouth.

Slowly your grip loosened and you took a step back while looking at her with the coldest eyes she’s ever seen. “Next time don’t smoke around me. I prefer fresh air” that’s what you said with your quiet but low voice before turning around and leaving the class room, making a departure like the newest villain in town.

Cairo was stunned. “D-Did that just happen?” She muttered, still reeling from the shock and adrenaline. She put her hand on her lips and bit them, trying to resist smiling. She turned to her desk once more, pretending to work, but couldn’t help glancing at the door every so often. She wanted to see if you would comeback, but she didn’t want her to get her hopes up. She took the pack of cigarettes from her purse and took another one. “Hmm.. fresh air?” She mumbled to her self.

The next morning was quite the opposite. Cairo was the first of all students like always. Sitting in class and working on her drafts till the teacher would arrive and do their thing. You weren’t there and Cairo could help but wondered why. Wondered why she never noticed you before. It was like you were some sort of a ghost. She knew her classmates. She knew you but still… she never really saw you. Then Y/N entered the classroom as the last one while everyone was already there. She sat down on her table in the last row and began to unpack her laptop, also waiting for the teacher to arrive now.

When Y/N raiser her gaze to look to the front of the class she saw Cairo sitting in the middle of the first row like always. She was holding a book in her hands that looked a bit older and seemed like she was Reading.

Like if Cairo had felt some sort of bigger power or more of a shiver down her shoulders she turned her head and glanced over to you, only to look away immediately, slightly blushing. She didn’t like the fact that you were making her blush already… but something deep down inside of her couldn’t help it. She still could feel your lips on hers. How surprisingly soft they felt and the way you stole her air while letting the smoke of the cigarette in her mouth. Like you were sucking out her soul or something. She could feel your eyes on her, and she didn’t wanted to think any longer about yesterday. So Cairo focused on the book she had been reading and turned to a chapter, ignoring your glances at her.

You couldn’t help but liked the fact that Cairo was turning around just to check if you were there. I small smile creeped up on your lips and you found yourself blushing. Feeling somehow proud and confident. But still, it was something you didn’t wanted others to see so you tried to get that fucking smile out of your face.

There was that invisible power, the urge to look back at you it was like fighting against the need, no the urge to look back at you and get lost in the moment. So Cairo looked over her shoulder with a blush on her face. She put the book down and cleared her throat. “Whatcha looking at?” She tried to say monotone to not show how excited she was. After that she put on her headphones and resumed reading as if nothing had ever happened. You continued to stare, so she shifted in her seat, getting irritated at the lack of privacy during a quiet time. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?

You didn’t respond to her question. Instead you stayed quiet and kept watching at the back of her long and dark hair. It was quite interesting for you how her hair looked almost black but on days where the sunshine fell on them you could see they were quite the opposite. A hidden chocolate brown making your mouth somehow watering at the thought of chocolate itself, how stupid you thought.

When finally the teacher attended the class Cairo tried to focus once more on something else than you, but kept glancing at you every so often, only to catch you staring at her. Even if you didn’t say anything, it definitely made Cairo feel uneasy.

“Don’t break your neck while keep turning around to look at me” I texted her and the message popped up on her laptop, you could see from your view.

Cairo’s eyes widened at the message. It was from you. She read it again, making sure it wasn’t a mistake. She turned around towards you and typed, “Well, you keep looking at me, so…”

“Because the teacher is in front of you. If I were you I wouldn’t have choose the seat in the first row and in the middle of the class” the text popped up on Cairos screen.

“And so? I can sit wherever I want.” Cairo rolled her eyes but couldn’t contain her racing heart when she send the message.

“Then stop wondering or thinking that I look at you. I’m trying to pay attention to our teacher” you texted back fast. Cairo wanted to believe her, but wasn’t sure if her words were true. Cairo looked at you again, who was focused on the teacher now “You really don’t look at me? Not even by accident?” She texted back curious.

Another message popped up from you saying “Your in the middle of my sight it’s hard to ignore”. Cairo looked to the side and muttered, “Oh..” She looked at you for a couple of more seconds, only to give up and focus on the class again. The class was a bit boring since the teacher went on for quite a while about a topic that seemed uninteresting to Cairo. She continued looking at you, and finally decided to text her again. “So.. Can I ask you something?”

As soon as Cairo send the message she heard her own heart pounding so hard that it made her feel like dying, dying to know what you would say and how you would react.

“Wow is our A+ student getting bored of class? oh my god it’s a miracle!” You answered and hoped she would get the sarcastic hint. Cairo turned to you, rolling her eyes. She wrote, “Shut up, please. And yeah, I’m bored.” She added an eye roll emoji.

You held back a chuckle and tried to focus on the class again. Cairo turned back to the class, then a few words of the teacher’s caught her attention. It was the first time during the class Cairo was actually listening again. The topic of discussion was writing, and she was listening to the lesson. Writing about the perspective of someone who was fighting with being good or bad. There was a moment of silence after the teacher had finished the lesson, which caused Cairo to look at you with a mischievous smile. It lasted only a second, though. She looked down at her notebook, which had a couple of doodles on the margins.

“So? What was your question?” Popped the curious question by you at Cairos laptop up. She wanted to ask you something before you just ignored it and started discussing about who was starring at who and where.

Cairo wrote, “Do you actually like me or are you just flirting with me to be funny?” She pressed the send button without looking at you.

You held back a grin and answered “you think I like you?”.

Cairo’s jaw dropped slightly. She read the message and looked at you directly, now confused. She turned back around and huffed, “So you don’t?”.

“Depends” you send and hoped to tease her. Cairo looked at you as if expecting her to elaborate on that. When you didn’t, she texted again, “Depends on what?”. You couldn’t help but chuckled quite by yourself feeling how you were getting on the nerves of Cairo.

“It’s so funny when you turn around. Your reactions are really amusing me” you texted her and smiled wide in a cute but cheeky way to annoy her even more while waiting for her to turn around again. Cairo rolled her eyes but couldn’t help looking at you. She could’ve sworn she saw your dirty smirk, but she might’ve seen wrong. Cairo rolled her eyes again and looked back at the notebook she was now doodling in. The bell finally rang out, signaling that the class was over. Cairo put away her notebook and turned in her seat again, finding you already staring at her. “Do you… need something?” She asked slightly annoyed since you didn’t moved and kept staring at her.

“Oh yeah” you said calm and your eyes softened while looking at her expensive green leather backpack

“Do you have a cigarette for me?”.

A smirk appeared on Cairo’s face. She looked away, but her smile never went away. “Do you think I like sharing my cigarettes with every person I’m flirting with? I could be flirting with every person on this campus if that was the case.” She had a smug look on her face as she said that, knowing that your response would be interesting. Her smirk stayed on while she waited for you to react. Dreamy. That was the first word that came into Cairos mind when she saw you smiled and looking at her with tilted head “So your flirting with me?” You asked, your voice giving Cairo and weird feeling down her spine… a good feeling.

“Mhm..” Cairo said, still looking away, but smirking at you. She took a cigarette from her pocket, pretending to put it in her mouth. She glanced over at you. “You might wanna get closer for it..” she said in a teasing tone of voice. “I will… trust me” you whispered with a low voice and got up from your desk, walking closer towards her. Cairo turned, and smirked at your approach. “I wouldn’t trust anyone that easily, love.” She said, a smirk still on her face. She took the cigarette out of her mouth, and put it in Y/N for her to take if you desired.

“That’s good” you said in such a calm way it made Cairo feel goosebumps. The way you took it slowly between your fingers made it look like she was watching some sexual commercial or a thirst trap but then you destroyed it right beside her on the desk while smiling cheeky. “What did that cigarette ever do to you, huh?” Cairo asked in a joking tone. She smirked, but was now slightly startled. She looked over to you with a raised brow.

“Stop smoking my dear. It’s not good for you “ you whispered and left the classroom. Cairo watched you leave, a smirk still on her face. “I think I’m getting somewhere…” she muttered, and followed you.

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting.

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival.

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things.

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless.

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window.

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold.

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it.

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief.

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return.

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours.

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing.

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation.

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different.

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow.

Now he was scaring you.

“Daryl?”

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved.

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there.

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you.

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened.

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart…

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much.

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word.

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again.

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you.

“Need your mouth,” he said.

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm.

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much.

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips.

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own.

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance.

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth.

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy.

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging.

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it.

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock.

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used.

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.”

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right.

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him.

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?”

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord.

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you.

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out.

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…”

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something.

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!”

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward.

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll.

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet.

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun.

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief.

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again.

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile.

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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tastywordgasms · 3 months

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helen-with-an-a · 1 month

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The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 2

Hi. So here is part 2 (it will have more parts ahahaha - I am incapable of writing small things)

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Ona Batlle x Reader

Flashbacks are in italics.

TW: Injury, suggestiveness, Vilda

Word Count: 3.5k

Description: R gets hurt

It was the final 10 minutes of the game. You were exhausted. England were down 1-0 and you felt like you were fighting for your life. You had the ball at your feet as you pushed forwards. You had made a simple pass to Lucy as you started your run up the pitch. It was a perfect cross back as you arrived near the box. You could feel it, this ball was going into the back of the net.

Something icy and white hot exploded in your leg. You didn’t even know what had happened.

One minute, you were pulling your leg back for a perfect strike, and the next … agony. The silence of the crowd told you it was something bad. The lack of arguing on the pitch told you it was something really bad. You wanted to move, to stand up and continue playing. You had to stand up. All you could see were legs. The pain was growing with every second. It scared you more that people were stopping you from seeing it. That only happened when it was really bad. You were quickly becoming a danger to yourself. Thrashing around – trying to escape the pain, trying to see what was happening to your body. You were petrified. Lucy clasped one of your hands, Alex pressed a hand on your stomach, Cata held your head, and Aitana held your other hand, all attempts to stop you from moving. You think it was Mariona and Millie who were trying to keep your other leg still. All of them trying to talk to you, to calm you down enough for the medics to do their jobs.

“Hey,” Alessia called out to a frozen Ona. Ona hadn’t been anywhere near you when it happened. She couldn’t have stopped the tackle, even if she knew how to. “She needs you.” Tooney gently shoved Ona in your direction. They might not have known what had transpired that fateful day in Manchester, but they knew how deep your love ran for Ona. Alessia had shared a room with you at every international camp. She saw the red shirt you slept in. At first, she thought it was an old United shirt – until she saw the Spanish crest over your heart. The pair of them saw the kiss you pressed to Ona’s hairline as you engulfed her in a hug after the Spain game at the Euros, whispering sweet words into her ear as she finally allowed herself to cry. Tooney saw Ona gently push a stray piece of sweaty hair out of your face in the tunnel after the Euros final, standing too close to be just friends, both of your smiles blinding. They saw the book and rose you left in Ona’s cubby on Sant Jordi. They saw how Ona looked to you first before making any decisions – no matter how small. They saw the devastated Ona look on the first day back at training in January.

Your pained screams eventually snapped Ona out of it. She was suddenly shoving Cata out of the way and replacing her at your head. Even in your pain, you recognised the rough but soft hands and blunt nails that scratched your head. You stopped writhing as Ona placed gentle kisses on your hairline. You stopped screaming as Ona softly shushed you, promising everything would be fine. As the medics carted you away, all the Ona could think about was how to make this right with you. She was moving to Barca after the summer. She was fairly sure you knew, but she couldn’t know for sure as nothing had been officially announced yet. She could tell by your reactions that somewhere, somehow, she was still a calming presence to you. You had always told her that.

You were pacing around your flat. From the counter to the table, table to the fridge, fridge to the couch, couch across to the TV, TV back to the counter. You had been walking in a loop for almost an hour now.

“Amor, calm down. She’s going to call.” Ona laughed, but she was still slightly concerned.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Your voice was weaker than Ona had heard in a while.

“She will. You have received a phone call from the Lionesses every camp since you were what? 19? She will phone.” It was 3.30 pm. On the day of the Euros squad, phone calls. You knew Sarina did it randomly. She had said as much when she first became manager. That way, no one can be sure they were bubble players. That way, no one’s egos could get too big. Ona had already had her phone call yesterday. There was a flurry of Spanish, and she had been a mix of emotions. She was terrified of the camps themselves. Sleep deprivation. The harshness from the coaches. The emotional and mental abuse. The borderline physical abuse. But she was so excited to be back in Spain with her friends. She loved Manchester, but she loved being around her people, where she didn’t have to translate everything in her head first or be the last one to laugh since she had to interpret the jokes into her native language.

“But what if she doesn’t?” This was the one thing Ona disliked about you – your inability to understand just how great you were. Not just at football. Yes, you were incredibly talented. Your ability to read the pitch, to pick out players and send perfect crosses to them, your technical skills with the ball were unparalleled. She didn’t doubt a Ballon d’Or was coming your way. But you were so much more than football. You were kind, and gentle, and honest, and funny, and beautiful – so beautiful. But you couldn’t see it.

“If Sarina doesn’t call…” she began, “which won’t happen”, she added quickly as your eyes widened. “You can just be my WAG. Sound good?” A peel of laughter erupted from you. If she could make that sound escape your lips every day, she would die incredibly happy. As you were about to open your mouth to respond, a buzzing cut you off. SARINA flashed across your screen. Ona made ‘go on then’ gestures at you as you panicked for a split second.

The phone call was short and sweet—just like every other phone call. You liked that it was to the point. As you hung up the phone, Ona came charging at you, pushing you back onto the sofa and kissing across your face. “You know… I’m kind of sad you don’t get to be my WAG now.” She said as you squealed, trying to escape the onslaught of affection.

“Shush Oni. You know I’ll always support you. I’ll always watch every one of your games, and you know it.” You laughed as she settled on top of you, the weight comforting as you began to play with her hair.

“Gracias,” you whispered into the quiet a little while later. The world outside seemed so far away whenever you were with Ona. The smell of her apple shampoo mixed with her perfume and something that was indescribably Ona.

“What for?” She whispered back, afraid to break the softness surrounding the pair of you.

“Everything. You always calm me down. Even if you don’t say anything. Just you being with me. I don’t know.” You laughed gently, slightly embarrassed at the confession.

“No need to thank me. I will always help you in any way that I can.” She replied as she shifted from your chest to hover over you, strong arms bracing either side of your head. “Ya sea que necesites un abrazo, un hombro sobre el que llorar, alguien con quien reír, alguien que te disuada de cualquier pensamiento desagradable que tengas en mente. I will always be here for you.”

“What if I need help in another way?” You asked shyly, shifting your hips up in an attempt to get the message across. This wasn’t the first time you had initiated sex with Ona, but you were always unsure what her answer would be – never wanting to push her too far. You would take whatever she was willing to give if it meant to could keep her in your life.

“Quieres que to folle?” She asked so bluntly. This dynamic you had with Ona was something you adored. Sometimes she would be the shy one, especially in the beginning when alcohol was required to get you into the bedroom. Sometimes she was so blasé about everything. It made your head spin in the best way.

Ona still had 10 minutes left to play. No one wanted to continue. You were integral to the English team, most of them considering you more of a sister than a friend or teammate. You were a good friend to a lot of the Spanish girls as well. You played with a lot of them at Barca, and through Ona or the others, you had met most of them multiple times. The game had lost any and all fight; the ball being passed around with little attacks from either side. Eventually, the final whistle went. Ona didn’t know how to feel. She had just won to World Cup – something she had dreamed about since she knew what a football was. But it was at the expense of her good friends. She went round and tried to comfort people, but she didn’t know how to help them.

And then there was you. Seeing you again had helped ease the ache that ran so deeply in her soul. She had known from the minute she’d left your flat in Manchester that she was the biggest idiot known to man. After a drunken night, she spilt everything to Laia and Leila. They had berated her for hurting you and herself, comforted her as she cried heart-wrenching, painful sobs into their arms, and helped her concoct a plan. A plan for what, she wasn’t so sure, but she was so desperate to see you again, to talk to you again, and if you would let her, to love you again. And then there was that stupid, reckless tackle. It was a straight red. The studs were obviously up, and she didn’t even make contact with the ball. The way you crumpled in a heap, the pure agony that was written across your face. Your leg was horrific to look at – the sight of blood and bone made Ona want to gag. She didn’t want to wait around and collect her medal. She wanted to run to wherever you were – hospital, hopefully – and help nurse you back to health if you would let her. She had tried to leave, but Vilda had been keeping a close eye on the ones that were closest to you.

You had met Vilda once. After the Spain game in the Euros, he had come up to you to shake your hand. You had refused to; you knew all about him from Ona. You knew it wasn’t professional, but you could find it in you to care. You were aware of the beginnings of a movement to stand up against the RFEF, and you hoped this would show the Spanish girls you were with them. He grabbed your shoulder roughly as you blanked him, your gasp catching the attention of those around you. He pointedly looked at his outstretched hand. You stared him straight in the eyes, shrugged his hand off you and carried on walking to Ona, wrapping your arms around her waist. It was caught on camera. You apologised to Sarina, the Lionesses, and the public for your unprofessionalism, but you didn’t mention his name in the apology.

Vilda made sure every girl received their medal, insisted everyone still stay for a minimum of an hour to celebrate the win and forced them all to get on the coach back to the hotel before finally allowing them to do as they pleased.

All of the girls from Barca travelled with Ona to the hospital. Lucy had given them the information as soon as they notified her of their plans. The room was crisp and white and smelled of antiseptic. Even the waiting room, with its plastic chairs and out-of-date magazines, had a sterile feel to it. The room was full to the brim. Every seat was taken. Your family was in a little huddle in the corner, speaking in low tones, talking to a man in scrubs. Everyone was quiet as they awaited news from your parents.

“She’s out of surgery for now,” your dad said to the expectant crowd. They have to go in again in a few days, but she’s stable.” The weight slowly crushing Ona’s heart lifted slightly at your father’s words. She had met your family a few times at games, but you had always seemed reluctant to let her get too close to them.

Ona had sat so still throughout all of it that people were convinced she had fallen asleep. She hadn’t. She was just so lost in everything she was feeling that the world around her faded into obscurity. A gentle cough from someone at the door brought Ona crashing back to earth.

“Um, I’m sorry to disturb you, but you’re the last one in here; even her parents have gone,” the nurse said. Do you want to see her?” She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting to actually see you.

“Sí,” She cleared her throat. “Um, yeh. If I’m allowed.”

“She’s in room 4, if you want to go to her” She pointed in the direction of the room you were currently lying in.

You looked so strange, lying in the bed. You didn’t look like she was expecting you to. Ona was anticipating you to look washed out and pale. But you looked almost normal like you could have been asleep in bed, not recovering from surgery and facing another one in a few days’ time.

“Hey,” your voice was a little croaky. You hadn’t seen who it was at the door. “Oh…” you trailed off as you realised.

“Is it ok ... that I’m here? If you don’t want me here, that’s fine too. Totally your call.” You had only heard Ona be so unsure of herself once before. She was always confident in herself and her abilities.

“Ona, you’re starting tomorrow,” Marc called from across the room. It was her first start for United. She wasn’t expecting it either. She had been sure she would be brought on as a sub for a little longer. It was the first Derby of the season, and she was getting her first start. It was too sudden. She couldn’t think very clearly. She was blindsided.

“Oni, estás bien?” Your sweet voice asked from beside her. That voice that she was slowly falling in love with.

“I… I’m starting… tomorrow. I’m starting tomorrow.” Her voice was shaky. You hadn’t known her long, but this was something else. She sounded so small, so unsure of herself.

“Really? Oh, my god, that’s great.” You jumped on her in excitement, her arms automatically catching you, keeping you close to her. She wanted you to always be this close to her. “We have to celebrate. Come back to mine, yeh? We could do a movie night or something. We could cook … well, actually, you could cook for me; you know how much I love your food,” you babbled excitedly. “I would suggest we order something, but with a match tomorrow, we should eat decently. But tomorrow we’ll properly celebrate after the match. We could go to that bar we’ve been wanting to go to? Have a few drinks?” You were seemingly oblivious to her nerves, too busy playing with the baby hairs.

“I’m starting tomorrow” She whispered again. “No puedo empezar mañana. No estoy listo. Esto es un error. Debería decirle a Marc que no puedo.”

“Now that Ona Batlle is complete and utter bullshit.” She hadn’t heard you swear before. It sounded wrong coming from you. “Estás más que listo. Eres perfecta.” The Spanish you were quickly picking up on sounded adorable to Ona. The way she was trying to learn and incorporate as much of her native language as possible was to make her feel more at home. She didn’t know that you had a steady streak on Duolingo that you kept up with to impress her. “You will start tomorrow, and you will have a great game.” You responded with such confidence and authority that she had no other choice but to believe you. “Now, we are going to go back to my place. You are going to cook me some of your fantastic food, and then we are going to watch a movie before having an early night.” You slipped out of her arms and took her hand, pulling her towards your cubbies.

“Umm … you can… stay … if you want to.” You answered her.

“I don’t want to impose. If you want to rest that’s fine. Simplemente me iré” She turned to leave. God, it was so awkward between you to. Everything used to be so natural.

Ona had just entered the changing rooms when she was jumped on. She knew immediately who it was, even without the excited squeal you let out. “See, I told you, you would be great. A start and the full game! Best day ever. We are most definitely going out tonight. Because Manchester is red, baby.” You chatted away as you clung to Ona’s back. Everyone around you was confused. You were never this talkative; you were always the one to soak up the atmosphere in silence, only really contributing to conversations when you had something you thought was valuable to say. Katie had seen this side of you, but she wasn’t upset. This new, chatty, happy Y/N was something they hoped would stay. They hoped your newfound confidence with shine through and you would finally realise how good you were.

After showering, you waited by your car for Ona. You were taking her back to yours before heading out for some drinks with the girls. All your attention was on her as she left the building. Ivana was chatting animatedly to her as Ona laughed, her head thrown back and the most amazing sound drifting across the car park. You knew you were falling in love with her. You had been from the moment you met her. She was shy and slightly awkward, not knowing much English, but you had quietly approached her and, with schoolgirl Spanish, introduced yourself. You liked who you were around her. She brought out the loud and carefree side of you. A side that you hadn’t let out in a long time. But you couldn’t help it, not with her around.

“You’ll catch flies” Tobin giggled as she walked past, her arm wrapped around Christen. You hadn’t even noticed you mouth was slightly open.

“Shut up” you grumbled as Ona arrived, looking concerned at your irritated tone

“Qué ocurre?” She asked immediately, trying to stop whatever was making you sad. You just shook your head, gesturing at her to get in the passenger side.

You arrived at the bar with her arm wrapped securely around your waist. Whilst she was a definite fan of your outfit – a black bralette and jeans – she didn’t like how much of you was exposed to people who weren’t her.

“Is that what your wearing?” She asked as you reached for your bag. She was wearing long sleeves and was already a little cold.

“Yeh… Why do I look not look good?” You looked down at yourself, slightly hurt but the insinuation.

“No, no … you, um, you look beautiful,” she was quick to reassure you. “It’s just … won’t you be cold?” You laughed loudly at her concern.

“Oni…” You cooed. Oni. You had never called her that before, but she liked it. It made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt before. “I won’t be cold, I promised. Whilst you might think it’s freezing, not all of us grew up in Spain. I’m Northern – this is a pretty mild night for me. And besides, it's sacrilegious to bring a coat on a night out, and I’ll have an alcohol jacket for warmth fairly soon. And even after all of that, if I’m still cold, you’ll keep me warm, right?” You grabbed her hand, pulling her out of your flat with ease.

The night was full of dancing and laughter. It felt like the most normal thing to press your body against her as you swayed your hips. It felt right as she stared into your eyes, stealing a sip of the fruity drink in your hand. It felt normal as your eyes focused on her lips more than what she was saying. The way your heart pounded felt nice when her arms looped around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. The way the world slid sideways as your lips pressed delicately against her felt like the more natural thing in the world.

“Llevame a la cama.” You wouldn’t have heard her if you weren’t already staring at her lips. It took you a moment to translate it. She could tell the moment you understood what she said. That dazzling smile spread across your face, your arms pulling her even closer to you. You didn’t even bother to say goodbye to your teammates.

“Stay … please” You called out.

I'm not too sure when the next part will be, but I hope you liked it.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #lionesses x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women

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iamsuckateverythingtobehonest · 7 months

Text

Between The Wall

Pairing: Sagau!Aether x Reader

Summary: Aether finds solace in the voice, he once hated and now loves.

!Warning!: First Time Writing, might be bad!

Part 1/3

Aether's first memory after he woke up from his long slumber is hearing a voice talking. It was distant but felt close to his ear but he saw no one near the vicinity.

He pushed himself up from the ground, patting his hair to clean off the remaining sand that stuck on his clothes.

'Where is this? How long I have been sleeping?'

Aether's eyes enlarged when he looked up to look around.

The world... He looking at is incomplete like it was just building itself. The sky had sun but it was dark, the birds that were flying in the sky moved without flapping their wings. The ocean and the sand he steps on, doesn't make a sound.

Aether started walking trailing along the shore, his frown evident. He doesn't know what to think about his situation at all, his first thought is to search for his sister who has been taken away fromm him but now he doesn't know what to do when he doesn't understand what kind of world he is in the first place.

Once again the voice he heard came up again, they sound frustrated but unfortunately, Aether couldn't understand the language they spoke, he couldn't decipher any of it even from the language he learned from another world he visited.

None of it fit.

Abruptly, Aether is frozen in place, his step is halted like some force holding him in place. He struggles through it, but his body doesn't respond to him, only his eyes can move to feel which wide as far as he can be.

Aether felt fears through his veins and fate, 'Lumine...' Aether's last thought before a bright light consumed him.

Aether opened his eyes with a jolt, breathing heavily, he turned his head when he felt movement only to meet with his beloved sister's eyes.

"L-Lumine..." Aether uttered, he quickly embraced her which surprised the other.

"Aether? What's wrong?" She said, worriedly.

"I have a long dream that you and me-"

Aether doesn't manage to say the rest of his words when everything happens so fast. He froze in place when fighting midair to escape before his sister was taken again.

Again they were separated.

Accompany with a voice that screams with him before his world becomes dark and consumes the bright light again.

"Lumine!"

Aether woke up again on the same beach but it was complete. The sun that bright, the bird flapping its wings, the sound of the ocean, and the sand he stepped on.

It's different, the voice too no longer there, and for a few months he is there.

He then meets paimon whom he saves from drowning, and not long after that excited voice enters his eardrums, this time the voice is clear like the flow of river.

Aether's eyes widened involuntarily which Paimon comments on, confused.

"No, it's nothing," he shook his head but then he heard a squeal, he still didn't understand the language but his cheeks went a bit red when he heard his name between the squealing.

But the moment is gone when Aether's body starts to move by itself around the beach, slashing at the bushes, running after golden crabs and Lizard, and jumping every step take took.

He almost died by drowning when the body suddenly moved to swim in the ocean and by the end of it, there was is treasure chest behind the rock.

The whole time Aether's face is full of terror, he even loses the capability to speak, he can't even ask for help from Paimon.

Suddenly he regained his body control and there was a light glow around his body. His body felt a little bit stronger and his stamina increase after the effect was gone.

He hears a gasp from Paimon, "An artifact blessing!"

"Artifact blessing?" Aether asked quietly, hugging himself, still feeling spooked by what just happened.

Paimon's nodded, "Uh-huh! You are so lucky even as an Outlander! You don't even have a vision but you got a blessing from the creator itself!"

"Creator? Do you mean Archon?"

"No! Archon is different from than Creator, The Creator is the one who created the world we live in right now, one of the people that even Celestia respect and believe in!" Paimon said, waving her hand around to prove her point.

"You will see!"

Paimon brought Aerher to the status of seven, the Anemo God. "Look up, if you see the clock the Anemo Archon wore, it belongs to the creator!" Paimon started.

"Each Statue has at least one or two things they hold of Creator belonging on their statues which to show they were favor by them!"

Aether looks at the statues, his face looks firm, and has a lot of thoughts in his head.

"What if...you can hear the so-called Creator's voice? They even can control your body anytime they please...what would the person be then...?"

Paimom blinked with a frown evident on her face, "That...would be...dangerous,"

"Huh?"

"I-I mean! Everyone herein Teyvat even the Archon loves the Creator if they know someone who can hear their beloved Creator and even can be controlled by them..." Paimon trailed off as she crossed her arms in troubled faces, "The person certainly would be a target."

"...I see," Aether nodded, "you still don't answer my question, Paimon."

"Well, that just means, the person is the Creator's vessel, and The Creator is fond of them to even let them hear their voices." Paimon said, "Also having a Creator by your side certainly will bring a lot of fortune, power, and a bright future to your side right?"

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #aether #aether x reader #genshin traveler #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #self aware genshin #sagau aether #sagau

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

ACOTAR Masterlist

GIF by kennedy1917sworld

*(Indicates smut)

Azriel:

Changing Shadows (complete series):

Summary: You have a new role in the Inner Circle — Heard Guard of Velaris. And as Rhys’s younger sister, you feel you have a lot to prove.

You and the Shadowsinger are also growing closer, and tension builds as your relationship changes from friendship to something else...

How will you juggle your feelings for Azriel and the dangers that come with your new role, without disappointing the rest of the Inner Circle and the Night Court?

Overwritten (complete series)

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

And Then There Were None

Summary: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 1 | Part 2

One shots:

A Shadowsinger’s intuition

Feel too much

Confessions at Starfall

Stay with me

Spin the bottle

In the arms of understanding*

Drabble:

Salad (fluff)

Cassian:

One shots:

Tides and turmoil

With benefits*

Remnants of a star

Azriel and Cassian:

Our Girl (series)

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Rhys:

Series

Dance with the devil

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Part 1 |

One shots:

Two lessons in one*

Make a bargain with me

Bat boys:

Drabble:

Bat boys react to being called ‘bro’*

Brat taming bat boys *

Lucien:

Frozen Flames (series)

Summary: After fifty years trapped Under the Mountain, you struggle to adjust to your new found freedom as Kallias’s third-in-charge to the Winter Court.

In an unlikely circumstance, you meet Lucien Vanserra.

As you and Lucien grow closer, dealing with the loss of your mother and trauma from Amarantha’s reign proves harder than you thought. How will you start to trust and love again?

Eris

One shots:

Conditions of entry*

Comment to join the tag list :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sarah J Maas, not my own.

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myabsurddreamjournal · 6 months

Text

Fate

(part 1)

Soldier Boy x Fem! reader

Summary: Reader is a scientist who is forced to work at lab that they keep soldier boy frozen, she talks and cries to him when she is alone, thinking he can't hear her but he hears everything.

warnings: None, im a ace so my character and story is going to be asexual💜

she slowly approached to cryo where they kept him frozen. it has been a while since she had a opportunity to do this. Since she was taken here they always kept an eye on her, watching every move, punishing any sign of disobedience. It didnt take long for her to learn to be silent, be obedient. scar on her arm reminded her to keep her mouth shut every time she wanted to question something they do. She still remembered the pain. It was her second week here, and she made a mistake of asking why they kept him frozen for almost 40 years. She got the scar for her mistake. The sound of her bone breaking... She could still hear it.

Teardrops started to fall from her eyes as she opened the door of cryo, whenever she was alone she was crying now. It almost became a ritual, sitting on floor with her head hanging low while confessing and apologising to him. Who looked like a statue of a almighty god.

"Hello Ben" she opened her mouth. It made her feel weird hearing her voice saying something other than "yes", or "sir"

"its september 19 today, your birthday isn't it?" she was crying harder now. "i read your file other day. It says you had a rough childhood, me too you know, and now we are both prisoners here. What a fate huh?" she looked at his face as she said that. He looked pale, too pale for human. Well he was in this damn lab for almost 40 years...but deep down she liked the thought of him being something other than a human. Humans always hurted her after all.

After watching the torture tapes she learned he experienced pain and anger just like her. (she threw up all night after seeing the tapes for the first time) he had a life once, he was a child, he had a family. favorite food, favorite drink, he even smoked weed which made her a bit shocked when she read it on the files. But in time she found out he was a lot different from what they made him seen. She saw the few unaired interviews where he acted strong and confident as usual until he was asked about his family or childhood. His eyes getting teary for few seconds, Then his hard expression getting back. His mouth twitching every time journalists made a rude remark.

She knew he was a human. But him being alive after all things human did to him told her he was also something other than human.

and it made her feel good.

"i never wanted to be here, i never wanted this, she said. "i wish i could save you. If i had a powers like you, i would burn here to the ground. And kill all of them. But im so weak. Im so sorry Ben. Im so sorry." She waited there for few minutes. Her head between her hands. Until tiny beeping sound from her watch made her flinch. Telling her it was almost midnight. She needed to get up. Too many work tomorrow. Another day as a prisoner here

She cupped his cheek before closing the door of cyro. It was so cold, but still soft. She couldn't help and kept her hand there while looking at his face. His closed eyelids, then freckles on his nose. Still remembering the first time she noticed his freckles, it was one of the days where her legs hurted for being on her feet for so long. She was taking his blood for monthly test. And she saw them. He had freckles on his nose! They were never shown in his movies or pictures, always hidden behind makeup or his green-gold mask. But they were here. She found them adorable. Never showed it of course. keeping hidden behind her cold emotionless expression.

But she often find herself thinking about him when she tried to sleep at night in "room" they gave her. what else he was hiding under all that persona? What made him happy or sad before all this happened? was it true that he never cried? She tossed and turned at night. Sometimes thinking about him and sometimes thinking about her life. The similitaries between them. Humans hurted him just like they hurted her. They stole their life. She usually fell asleep with this thoughts. And in her dreams it was always end of the World. Everything burning in flames and she watching it from distance with smile on her face.

with a deep exhale she withdrawed her hand from his cheek. "see you tomorrow Ben." she whispered. And she was gone. Not knowing that he heard every word.

that night, she dreamed of something else for the first time since she was captured. Pair of green eyes. They were looking at her. Their shade reminded her a small lake she saw everday when she was a little girl. It was on the right side of the road that she used while walking to school. She always loved the way water moved in small waves. After 2 years, for the first time, she woke up with a warm feeling that morning. it felt like gentle morning sunrise.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #the boys #the boys imagine

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