#write any scene as i envision it in my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starrylothcat · 9 months

Note

Hey hey! Love your writing!

I wanted to ask for some nsfw headcannons for Wolffe, Cody, and Rex. Where their F!Jedi reader keeps force projecting different sex scenes of them together during a briefing; with the boys trying to keep it together during the briefing and their reactions/what they say to her after.

I also just wanted to say, that you are one my favorite TCW/TBB writers on Tumblr!

Distractions - NSFW Headcanons with Cody, Wolffe, and Rex

Summary: You decide to spice up a pre-mission briefing meeting by projecting naughty visions to your clone, knowing you’ll pay for it later.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+. Absolute filth. Smut. No real plot. Dom vibes from Wolffe and Cody, slightly rough handling but everything consensual. Fingering, oral, PiV sex. Reader a Jedi, not described in detail.

Pairings: Cody x Fem!JediReader, Wolffe x Fem!JediReader, Rex x Fem!JediReader

WC: Around 2,000 total (bullet points)

A/N: Let me tell you, the squeal I squealed when I got this ask! Thank you for this filthy request, anon! And thank you for your even kinder comment, I was having some self-doubt in my writing lately and I’m glad that you are enjoying my silly little stories, it means a lot to me and I love writing for y’all!

This is pure smutty goodness below the cut, I hope it’s what you envisioned. I had fun writing this for sure! I kinda got carried away with Rex, oops. Enjoy! 💛

✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

💛 Cody 💛

He is a tough man to crack.

He’s always the Marshal Commander, taking his duties seriously on and off the battlefield.

You started innocently, visions of you kissing up and down his torso, slowly taking off his armor and blacks, fondling his cock, whispering how good of a girl you’ve been and that you’re ready to please your Commander in any way.

Cody didn’t even look at you, though you saw his hand twitch slightly at his side.

You smiled to yourself, projecting a more enticing scene into his mind.

This time, you were sucking his cock, his gloved hand wrapped in your hair, mumbling how amazing your lips felt around him, how much he was going to reward you later for being so good to him.

Still, nothing. Though his jaw seemed tense as he listened to Obi-Wan go over battle plans.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game, an exceedingly dangerous game, one that you will be thouroughly punished for later.

The thought shot a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, upping the ante again, needing him to crack.

The next image was of you, laying on his bunk, pleasuring yourself, two fingers deep inside your sopping pussy, your other hand pinching and tweaking your nipples writhing and moaning in pleasure, getting off completely fine without his assistance.

Since my Commander can’t be bothered to help me, I have to take matters into my own hands…

You held that teasing, lewd image in his mind, and you could almost feel the blade of his stare pierce straight through you as he finally made eye contact across the room.

It was a simple gesture that said so much, and you knew you had him.

After the meeting, you went straight to your personal quarters, knowing he wouldn’t be too far behind.

As your door hissed closed behind you, it was open again, and Cody had you pinned to a nearby wall so fast you barely had time to register what was happening.

Cody was deadly silent as he crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue clashing as his armored body pressed into your robed one.

You smirked against his lips as he pulled away for air, your lungs burning. “Cody-“

Cody growled as he flipped you around, your face pressed up agains the wall, tugging down your robes, revealing your ass to him and your glistening pussy.

He gave your ass a solid smack, his lips against your ear, heavy and commanding.

“You’re not getting away with this.”

You sighed in both pain and pleasure, hearing the clunk of his codpiece hitting the floor, his fingers gripping your ass hard as he rubbed his rigid cock at your entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He husked, “to be filled by your Commander? To beg for this cock? Oh, mesh’la, you’ll be begging.”

You let out a whine as he teased your dripping entrance with his cockhead, already thinking you maybe took it a little too far with your visions, knowing he was a man true to his word.

It was too late now.

“Cody, please, I need-“

Smack! Another slap to your ass, his other hand wandering between your folds.

“Only good, obedient girls get this cock. After that stunt in the comm room, you have a lot to make up for.“

He swiped a finger over your clit, causing you to cry out, your body twitching, unable to move much between the wall and his solid form behind you.

He roughly rubbed your clit, pushing two fingers into your entrance, immediately finding the spongy spot that made you see stars.

“You’re soaking, mesh’la, so needy for me.”

You could feel your release coming quickly, choking out his name as his other hand groped at your breast.

Cody knew you were close, feeling you tighten around him, your high pitched moans giving you away.

Cody removed his fingers right as you were about to reach your peak.

You whimpered, trying to lean back against him, desperate for your release, for anything.

Cody spun you around again, pressing his gloved fingers soaked with your juice to your lips.

“If you’re good, I’ll let you cum. You haven’t proved yourself to me, though. Now be a good girl, and clean me up.”

You licked his gloved fingers clean, tasting yourself and giving him a little show of what you could do with your tongue, if you let him.

Cody’s eyes darkened, slowly pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.

“On your knees, mesh’la. Like I said, you have a lot to make up for.”

🖤 Wolffe 🖤

The image you projected was absolutely filthy.

Your hands were pinned behind your back by his large hand, the other pressing between your shoulder blades keeping you down on the bed as he pounded into you from behind.

You were shamelessly moaning his name like a dirty Holofilm star, crying out for him to go harder, faster.

You stood at attention, casually glancing at him, noticing a bead of sweat forming at Wolffe’s temple.

You could sense he was trying his best not to leap over the holomap and ravage you in front of everyone.

You decided he had enough of the first fantasy, briefly closed your eyes, projecting another scene into his mind.

You were on your knees in front of him, your mouth open as he shoots ropes of cum all over your face, greedily lapping it up, kissing up and down his still-hard cock, begging for more.

Wolffe’s eyes flashed at you, his cybernetic eye and scar making him look more dangerous than usual, his eyes narrowing.

Got him.

You were enjoying watching him keep it together, a vein bulging at his forehead, his neck tense as he stood at attention, listening to Master Koon’s hologram.

You knew you were in for it after the meeting.

That was the entire point.

Wolffe was practically kicking down the door to your personal quarters after the meeting, pinning you to your bed, his mouth ravaging yours, moving down to suck and bite at your neck, hard.

He had your wrists held above your head with one hand, his grip like iron.

There was no escape.

“What was that?” He growled as he continued the assault on your neck, his hand tightening even more around your wrists that were wiggling to get free.

You whined as his hand that was digging into your waist moved under your robes, up toward your breasts.

“Answer me, mesh’la. Or you won’t get what you so obviously want.”

His gloved touch left a trail of fire on your skin, sending goosebumps across your body and a jolt of arousal straight to your pussy, your panties wet at the anticipation.

“You looked bored during the meeting.” You smirked at up at him, breathy pants leaving you as he touched you. “Thought you could use some entertainment.”

Wolffe’s gaze darkened at your teasing tone, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Without warning, he ripped open the front of your robes, yanking down your breast band.

You yelped as he attacked your breasts with this lips and teeth, leaving more marks for him to gently kiss over later when he was through with you.

“Do you want my cum, mesh’la? Is that what you want?” Wolffe grunted against your flushed skin as he switched to your other breast.

You gasped a yes, his teeth expertly nipping and tugging at your sensitive bud.

You writhed, your wrists still restrained above your head by his strong hand.

“I’ll fill your mouth to the brim, and you’ll swallow every drop, isn’t that right you filthy girl?”

You nodded, almost delirious just at his mouth on your nipples. He hadn’t even really started touching you yet.

“And then I’ll fill that pretty pussy of yours, but only if you behave. Will you behave for me?”

“Y-yes!” Your voice cracked, needing him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes…?” He stopped, his predatory gaze locking on you.

“Yes…Commander.”

“Good girl.”

Wolffe continued ravaging your breasts, your mewls filling the room.

“Please, I want your cock inside me, I want you to cum so deep inside me, Wolf-Commander. I’ll be good, I promise…”

Wolffe released your wrists, your hands finally free.

“You haven’t been good though, you knew that the second you invaded my mind with those visions.”

Wolffe sat up, and began removing his armor. You forgot it was even still on.

“I’ll make sure you’re properly punished for such distractions, and then I’ll decide when you’re ready for my cock.”

You shivered at his promise as he climbed over you, just in his blacks, the outline of his rigid cock straining against the fabric.

“I dunno, Commander. You seem to be all bark and no bite.” You teased, knowing you were getting yourself into even more trouble.

A dark chuckle reverberated in his chest, ripping your pants and panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

Wolffe grasped your thighs, biting down into the soft flesh of your inner leg, earning a loud yelp from you as his tongue eased the first of many marks he will leave on your body.

“Be careful what you wish for, mesh’la.”

💙 Rex 💙

You had him sweating and fidgeting as Rex tried to keep a straight face in the briefing room.

Rex was attempting to listen to the mission report, but your vision in his mind was proving to be quite the distraction.

You were on his face, his hands grasping your thighs as he feasted on your pussy from below.

“Rex, oh kriff, more, please, I need your big cock, I want you to ruin me.”

Rex gave you a desperate look from across the room, slightly shaking his head.

You ignored his pleading glance, changing the vision.

Now, you were splayed out on his desk in his private Captain’s quarters, his cock driving deeper and deeper into you, your back arching as you rubbed your clit, cumming over and over again around him.

His desk was dripping with your juices, your breasts bouncing almost comically as you cried out his name, hamming up the vision to see Rex squirm.

Rex suddenly coughed, everyone in the room looking at him momentarily.

You rocked on your heels, hands behind your back, pretending to listen as the pre-mission brief continued, completely innocent.

Finally, the meeting ended.

You exited the room, Rex quickly walking past you.

“My office. Now.” He hissed quietly, before being called over by Anakin to discuss further plans.

When Rex opened the door to his office, you were sitting at his desk, waiting for him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, General.” Rex strode up to you, placing his hands on his desk, leaning over toward you.

You loved it when he used his serious Captain voice on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain.”

“You know.” His voice dropped an octave, husky and gruff, just how you liked it.

“You’ll have to elaborate. I can’t read minds.”

Rex stood up straight, his expression unreadable. You continued to sit in his chair as he walked around the desk and over to you.

Rex leaned down again, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, caging you in.

For a moment, you thought he was actually upset with you. You felt guilty, maybe you did take it too far in the meeting.

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Rex spoke first.

“I think you can, mesh’la. How else would you know those visions are what I think about doing to you every waking moment?”

His lips were hovering centimeters from yours, a quiet gasp leaving your lips, your body quivering at his statement.

Oh, he liked it.

His breath fanned over your face, feeling your panties dampen, his usual soft eyes glazed over with lust.

You leaned forward to close the small distance, wanting to taste him, but he pulled away, avoiding your kiss.

“Mmm, mesh’la. You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” Rex purred in your ear, his gloved hand snaking up your neck, tilting your head to the side.

He placed a hot kiss right below your ear, lazily licking your neck.

“Rex…” you sighed, grasping at his shoulder pads, his teeth grazing your skin, his lips pressing to the side of your jaw.

“You want something from me?” He removed himself from you, kneeling between your legs.

“I’m not sure if you deserve it. I could write you up for what you did back there.”

Rex hooked his fingers under your pants, pulling them down your legs. You lifted your ass, helping him remove your lower clothes.

“Yeah? What would the report say?” You shuddered as Rex began lavishing your bare thighs, teeth and tongue sucking and nibbling as he slowly made his way up to your aching apex.

You could feel Rex smirk against your skin.

“My General coercing me into questionable situations. Inappropriate use of Jedi abilities.”

Rex stopped right at your core, aching and throbbing for him. You could feel his breath on your pussy, desperate now for any friction.

You let out a frustrated whine as Rex kissed your inner thigh, ignoring where you needed him most.

“Rex…”

“Patience, mesh’la. You need a lesson in discipline, it seems.”

Rex brushed his nose against your clit, your hips instinctually bucking up toward him, your hands grasping at his buzzed hair.

You groaned impatiently as he gently kissed your labia, touching you everywhere but your clit.

“You’re not going to get what you want so easily.” He rumbled into your core, a finger now teasing your entrance.

You panted, knowing you asked for this, that you deserved this, but you could still protest to his teasing.

“Captain, please…” You begged, shifting your hips, hoping he would press his finger knuckle deep inside you.

Rex continued to just tease your entrance with his finger tip, slowly circling, not quite pressing all the way inside.

“Kriff, you’re so wet. Do you want me to fuck you on my desk? Do you want to cum over and over again on my cock?”

You nodded, heavy pants the only sound able to leave your lips as he finally pressed his finger inside.

“Use your words, is that what you want?”

Rex’s lips were brushing over your clit, the teasing almost too much.

“Y-yes! Please, Rex, I need you inside me!” Your words came out as a garbled cry as he suddenly sucked on your clit, adding a second finger to your pussy, stretching you so deliciously you thought you might cry, pleasure shooting up your spine.

And his cock wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’ll get my cock, mesh’la, don’t worry. But first, I want you to cum just like this.” Rex added a third finger, his tongue and lips circling your clit, your vision white from the pleasure as you squirmed and writhed in his chair, totally at his mercy, your orgasm building quickly.

You came apart on his fingers, shaking and sobbing his name, pleasure coursing through you as Rex’s fingers and mouth worked you through your first orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Rex’s pupils were blown with desire, licking his lips as he cleaned you up, his baritone voice was laden with desire, his control now gone.

You barely had time to come down from you high as Rex easily lifted you onto his desk, removing his codpiece in a flash, pulling down his blacks far enough for his flushed, dripping cock to spring free.

“And you’re going to cum again, and again, and again. Are you ready, mesh’la? This is what you asked for.”

Your answer was a cry of his name, his hands gripping your hips as he slammed into you, starting a devastating pace, fucking you exactly like you showed him in your vision.

Your last coherent thought before being so thoroughly fucked and blissed out by your Captain was that you should definitely tease him like this more often.

Tag list: @littlemissmanga @maybethatfanfictionwriter @secondaryrealm @sinfulsalutations @anxiouspineapple99 @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @starqueensthings @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @dreamie411 @aconstructofamind @coraex @multi-fan-dom-madness @freesia-writes @kashasenpai @sunshinesdaydream @din-miller @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @pb-jellybeans @wanderer-six @blueink-bluesoul @the-cantina @king-chaos-world @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @523rdrebel @sleepingsun501 @sunshinesdaydream

1K notes · View notes

andraxicated · 2 years

Text

fantasy, fantasy~

Pairings: Pierro, Dottore, Pantalone, Childe, Scaramouche x f! reader

Synopsis: What does he think about when he sees you? Whether you deliberately seduce him or not, he's helplessly bewitched by you.

a/n: omg fatui I'm on my knees! had a lot going on with my life these days like my neighbor's house burst into flames and stuff.

wanted to write for capitano but there's no face to fantasize about. coz i feel like a face already tells a personality y'know.

Pierro

as he's a man well into his age, he does not long for worldly desires. he simply decided he had enough of those in his youth and all he wishes is for her majesty's will to be fulfilled. being no.1 of the harbingers comes with all kinds of people currying favor with him. it's uninteresting to listen to all their blabbers but when this certain politician pulls out his daughter from the side, pierro is captivated.

you look so innocent in white and your youthful face was shining, he almost thought an angel came down to earth. but what caught his eye aside from your face was the peek of cleavage on the otherwise modest frock. you brought in an air of freshness and purity along with the blend of a subtle seductress. you were exactly his type, and yours, him.

little side eyes while you're sipping on your wine, and he's staring at you while he's talking with another. to have pierro's attention solely on you have you excusing yourself from the sudden surge of heat. he cuts off the conversation quickly to follow this maiden he had only seen today. why has your dad kept you hidden for so long? you must be the trump card that he used to entice pierro and others. just the thought makes him seethe.

you jump at the shadow of the fire, startled to see the man behind you. "lord harbinger" you bow and greet, nervous yet trained in poise. 'a well-bred lady. perfect' you were perfect in all aspects that pierro cannot find a single flaw. when he slowly removes your garments and exposes your naked body to the light of the fireplace. he simply finds it suited for childbearing. "don't cover yourself darling. let me see"

when he finally sinks into you, he's reminded of how good it actually was. "fuck it's been so long" he groans and thrusts faster to gauge your reactions and to feel the rub against your walls. plus points if you're a virgin, he'd gladly oblige to show you the ways. but when he learns you're not, you're in for a punishment. "you disappoint me" he slaps your ass while you cry at the impact, yet he pays no mind and degrades you further. "whoring yourself out at such a young age. tell me...who was it?"

after finishing inside you and envisioning you as the mother of his child, he presses an unexpected kiss to the side of your head. "I'll save you. don't worry, I have a plan." pierro says while soothing circles on your tummy. it's a pity your father brought you to a political mishap but fear not; because pierro has a plan. a plan to destroy his enemies and to make you his pretty little wife.

Dottore

during the days spent in the akademiya, dottore doesn't make or have any friends. he's labeled a freak and a madman; disgusted shunning looks were thrown in his way yet dottore doesn't mind. for he is too engrossed in his research and science to give attention to what they say. it all went too far when he's suddenly ganged up by big, burly guys who started beating him up in the corridor. he has no choice but to pathetically cover himself and curl up as they kick and kick until patches of his skin turn purple.

he had to listen to their savage mouths while bearing the pain and archons, he hated them for delaying his research. after they're done with this little fun, he's gonna turn them into humanoids that does everything he says. you, who's an important student in the akademiya and wandering about, saw this scene that had you grabbing a nearby sculpture and smashing it at their heads. the bullies scurry after seeing it was you, and dottore grimaces at you before running away.

"what are you? walking justice?" he sneers whenever you're trying to help but doesn't shake you off. after months of persistence from you; you've become 'best friends' and earned him immunity from the bullies. dottore thought it was great because there was no one hindering him. unexpectedly, he found himself falling for you and fantasizing about you. in nights when he's feeling frustrated, he takes off his pants and takes out his cock to stroke it. closing his eyes; thinking of moments where your breast would suddenly press against him, your panties inside your dorm, and the sinful actions you did in his mind.

ultimately, fate had other plans for the both of you. neither of you didn't want it but your visions of the future just didn't align, and so you parted ways with him after graduation. it was years after when you saw the familiar tuft of blue hair that had you instinctively calling for him. yet the one that turned to you was eerily masked. you're suddenly unsure of who you called but the gloved hand took off its mask and showed you a smile. you caught up with dottore over drinks that had both of you coughing in bitterness. your lips and his were on the rim of the glasses then next those lips were stuck to each other.

years of pent-up frustration are released as you two frantically take off the other's clothes. you lift your sweater off your head as his calloused hands immediately follow in tracing your curves. you could only submit to him by falling back onto the sheets, letting him have his way down when he takes off your pants. little licks transform into devouring kisses have you clenching and gripping his hair. quick orgasms came one after the other to the point you're helplessly sobbing and squirming.

he laughs inside his mind. you remind him of his subjects when he's about to tinker with them. "stop squirming" he stills your shaking thighs while taking his time in rubbing his face against your pussy. "t's too much! dottore stop I-" "let me have my way with you tonight yeah? compensation for leaving me." you didn't even know he took off his pants; you just felt the startling penetration and the scream out of your lungs. dottore chuckled at your head thrown back and lunged for your neck to nip. all you could do that night was to stare at him with glossy eyes and a fucked out face as he does all the work above you. "just spread your legs. don't worry about anything"

Pantalone

with crossed legs and a stark expression, he watches you sing and act on stage. you reserved the best seats for him as usual, he was your benefactor after all. you creating scenes with a male actor; his hands snaking on your waist as you look at each other lovingly is unbearable. pantalone knows he shouldn't be jealous as those endearments are all fake. yet he can't help but be possessive when you swore that your body belongs to him.

you open the door to your backstage room only to see him drinking with a sullen face. "my dear patron is so kind to see me personally." he chuckles at what you said and puts down the champagne flute before standing up and towering over you. "your performance is marvelous is always." he helps you take off the fur coat, gives you a rough kiss, then expertly unzips your gown down to your ass. giving the flesh a light squeeze before a hard spank.

it causes you to jolt in surprise and pull away from him. confused doe eyes staring at his cheeky smile. "that hurts! 500 thousand mora for that." you huff away to take off your accessories yet pantalone suddenly pulls you back in his arms. if you looked in the mirror you could've fooled yourself that he was your real lover. but you had to remind yourself that both of you are doing this for pleasure and money.

"love, you could ask for more and I'll give it to you." he whispers with a lilt while looking into your eyes through the mirror. there, you both watch as he fully undresses you and grips your chin to direct an open-mouthed kiss. you always find yourself anticipating these trysts as it always manages to surprise you. this time it's having sex in front of a mirror, and you're forced to watch your tear-stricken face contort as he penetrates you from below.

pantalone groans at the feeling of your tight walls while you're caged in his strong arms, moaning and thrashing like some common whore. "you see that? you see yourself?" he asks then hisses as he feels your hole flutter when you nod. he lets out an airy laugh and positions his hands on your waist while his fingers press down on your lower belly, giving a stimulating squeeze as he remembers that the actor held this earlier too. the position lets waves of pleasure concentrate on your lower half and so you're uncontrollably dripping. "please move" you beg pantalone with the utmost helpless face you can muster yet he just raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"why should I move when you're the one on top?" "...huh?" your small voice comes out as a croak as you look at him confused. his smile disappears when he suddenly lifts you up and drops you down on his cock as a demonstration. a piercing shriek echoes in the room along with breaths of surprise from you. "didn't you want to be on top? then go on and ride." his dark voice prompts you to shamelessly start enjoying yourself and using him but the burn causes you to stop moving...yet, his sinister eyes reflected compel you to swallow down the protests and keep on bouncing lewdly.

Childe

this battle maniac never thought he'd be obsessed with something other than the thrill of fighting. it's all thanks to you who's the newest recruit, dressed in a skimpy and tight uniform that seems a bit too small for your size. it's very uncomfortable that you have to make some adjustments with the mannerism of biting your lip. and oh how much childe wants to see that face underneath him. moaning, sobbing and pleading. the walk towards you was difficult with blood rushing to his groin.

"need help?" his chirpy voice startled you as you attempt to pathetically cover yourself when he already saw it. "uhm, young master I don't mean to be rude but this is highly inappropriate." just from the tone of your voice tells him that you want him badly as much as he does. childe shakes his head with a "tsk" that made you cower a bit. "do you think your stares were appropriate?" "wha-" "I saw your lustful gaze when I was changing in the open the other day."

'caught you'. your eyes were trembling and your mouth unable to utter a word. you never thought you would be found out this easily by your superior, childe thinks you forgot he was a harbinger who senses leering. "I'm sorry" 'how cute' he muses then he feels another throb in his pants that has him doing a bold move. "why don't you show you're sorry?"

plops of skin slapping, your own muffled cries, and his stifled laughs were all that was registering in your ear. childe never thought he would be this freaky by fucking you in public. no one should be able to use this room as he has instructed but you don't know that of course. so why don't he put a little fear in you?

"fuck take it all" he plunges into your wet folds with a groan, steadying himself by burying his face into your soft mounds. you could only close your eyes and bear the pain of penetration as you work on calming your breathing. once you seemed to be at peace, childe destroys it all at once. "what would they think if they see you in this position? hmm?" "ah!" your eyes snap open when he pushes the limits of your walls. thrusting beyond what you could imagine as your juices squelch and flow.

"naughty girl. leaving evidence behind." he scoffed playfully at your messed up face while slowly pulling out and harshly pushing in. "noooo. I'm cumming!" you moan out something you didn't even comprehend but childe knows exactly what you mean as he speeds up his pleasure to catch up with your orgasm. it seems like childe has another newfound obsession. your dazed look, your filled wrecked cunt, and the thrill of being caught.

Scaramouche

he never thought he would be coming back to his homeland after years. sent on an important mission concerning the gnosis yet he had other things he wanted to achieve. scaramouche deems yae's deal good enough; the traveler's safety in exchange for the gnosis and his kitsune friend's whereabouts. they say never to trust a kitsune as those creatures are sly, but scaramouche's foolish heart would always lead him back to you. a heart? he has one only for you.

did that darn fox fool him? he's been looking around the island and chinju forest for hours now yet you're nowhere to be found. just the thought of losing on a bargain makes him so mad that— *ripple* scaramouche's head turns vigilantly on the sound of a drop on the river. 'someone's here' he senses and surveys the surroundings. the area is lit enough thanks to the blue flowers but there's still patches of darkness. if he isn't careful he might get ambushed on the spot. "agh!" ambushed it is as a groan comes out of his mouth when his back falls onto the ground, amidst the illuminating flowers. his hand quickly forms a ball of electro to attack, but his vexed expression and the energy in his hand soon dwindled when he saw the beauty laying atop him.

he could only stare and you could gawk at how much this person grew. "kuni? kunikuzushi?" you call out to him yet he just lays there underneath you. he's too much in a shock to see you after so many years. you've grown even more beautiful, your voice still like a lullaby, and your body matured, enhanced with curves and chest bigger...ah, scaramouche pushes you off him to hide the flush on his cheeks. you could only giggle at him as he still has a bit of his innocence despite what you've heard. "you're still pretty" he looks at you like you grew two heads at your remark, and another tint of pink paints his cheek once again. 'he never changed'

what's unspoken between the two of you was the summer night spent in secrecy. your squirming body against the futon, his sighs of pleasure, your mewls, and the tears that he shed as he came inside your womb. now, it's all but a distant memory as you act like nothing happened. did you use him for the experience? the thought of someone other than him seeing you vulnerable could make him straight up murder. a sly grin creeps on your mouth as you try to read what he's thinking. 'oh he's so in for a surprise' you giggle inside your head.

in a fit of anger, scaramouche decides to go outside but as soon as he slides the door, he's met with your body clad in a thin robe. your nipples perked and everything was on display for him. before you could say anything, he jumps on you to hungrily ravage your lips. deft fingers pull the robe and take it off your body, all the while making out and pushing you towards his room.

he's so happy he could die as he finally thrusts the head of his cock past your entrance. the feeling of being full once again makes you whine so loud that scaramouche has to shut you up with a spit-connected kiss. "never thought you for a romantic" you tease him with a lofty smile at his slow pace and he thrusts upward in return. "I'm not" scaramouche replies while pulling out; he puts on the face he wears when dealing with his incompetent subordinates. "surely you can take a harsh fucking right?" he growled before wiping the smile off your face with a plunge that made you see stars.

9K notes · View notes

grandprixwinnerlandonorris · 2 months

Text

Home | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Word count: 8316

Summary: it's been a week since George and you separated. One night he unexpectedly returns, but has enough time passed for everything to go back to normal?

Warnings: angst angst angst, fluff, more angst, but then even more fluff

A/N: Finallyyyyyy part 5 is here!!!! First of all, I want to thank everyone for reading, following, sharing, loving and supporting this mini series. I've had the time of my life writing this, something that's been brewing inside me for too long and I'm happy this platform allowed me to share it and for it to be so well received. Even if some of you called me evil for the things in part 4, but hey, I tried to make the plot interesting and unpredictable as much as I could. It would be boring if everything always ended in the same way, would it not? With that being said, I hope I manage to buy your forgiveness for the awful things in this FINAL part of bsf!George series! ♥♥♥ P.S. This song was a great inspoooo, you can thank it for getting this part

Previous part

George wasn’t mad at you. No, he was mad at himself. Mad at how his heart had betrayed him and at how he had let himself fall for someone he knew he couldn’t have. He should’ve been better at taking care of you last night, at keeping his feelings in check. He couldn't believe that he had let his feelings spill out like that, knowing deep down that it might push you away. And alcohol was no excuse. He just should’ve known better.

He stepped out of the building, the cold morning air biting at his skin, and walked towards his car, his mind filled with you. He couldn't bear to look up, couldn't bear to see the window where you stood, the image of your pained expression etched in his mind. George clenched his fists, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over once again. He had never felt so helpless, so lost.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. He tried to steady his breathing as he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again. The look of shock on your face, the pain in your eyes as you pushed him away. How could he have been so foolish to think that confessing his love would solve everything? It only complicated things further, driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Dammit!” he hit the steering wheel out of frustration. He wanted to run back and knock on your door, to beg for a chance to make things right, to plead with you to give him another opportunity. But he knew deep down that he had to respect your space, your need for time to sort through your emotions. He couldn't bear the thought of causing you more pain by being any more selfish and demanding your immediate attention.

And there was no time either. Race week had started and he had to go home and pack if he meant to catch the evening flight. The further he drove from your apartment the more he felt like he was getting away from a future he had allowed himself to envision with you.

When he finally reached his apartment, he sat in his car for what felt like an eternity, staring blankly ahead. The thought of packing for the race seemed inconsequential now, a triviality in the face of the emotional storm raging inside him. But he knew he had to keep moving forward, even if every fiber of his being wanted to turn back and fight for you.

The apartment felt empty and cold, mirroring the ache in his chest. He mechanically packed his bags, his movements robotic as he tried to push down the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. The sweater you had borrowed from him lay crumpled on the bed, a painful reminder of what had transpired between you.

As George zipped up his suitcase, he paused, his hand hovering over the sweater. With a determined glint in his eyes, he picked it up and folded it carefully, tucking it into a corner of his bag. It was a small reminder of you, a piece of him that he couldn't bear to leave behind. It was the second best thing if you don’t show up on the track like it was planned as well.

The drive to the airport was a blur, the city passing by in a haze as George wrestled with his inner turmoil. Should he have fought harder? Should he have just left without a fight? The questions swirled in his mind, each one stabbing at his heart like a jagged knife.

He barely remembered checking in for his flight, the motions automatic and distant. The loudspeaker announcements and bustling crowds at the airport seemed to fade into the background as he found his seat on the plane and as the engines roared to life, propelling the aircraft down the runway, George's mind was still consumed by thoughts of you.

The plane ascended into the sky, leaving behind the city where his heart remained tangled with yours. He stared out of the window, watching the landscape below shrink into miniature shapes. The distance between him and you grew with each passing second, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling that a part of him was left behind, anchored to you.

The flight attendant interrupted his reverie, offering him a drink with a polite smile. George instinctively accepted, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee but hardly registering its taste. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, regret and longing mingling with uncertainty about what the future held for him and for you.

He made a silent promise to himself, a promise to give you all the space you needed while also holding onto hope for a future where your paths might converge once again.

You spent the whole week thinking. Wondering. Realizing. You barely left your apartment or moved from that one spot on your couch. You couldn’t enter your bedroom without being reminded of George, the memories of his presence lingering in every corner. The faint scent of his cologne still clung to the air, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

It wasn’t just your bedroom. Your whole apartment was full of him. Starting from the clothes that were piling up every time you had borrowed something and never returned. They were now neatly folded in his section of your closet.

The books he lent you, with his notes scribbled in the margins, were scattered on the coffee table. You picked up one of them, running your fingers over his handwriting, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the easy camaraderie you shared. But now, everything felt tainted by the confession he had made, by the emotions that had spilled out into the open and shattered the already fragile balance between you.

In the kitchen, he had his mug he always used and you didn't let anyone else touch it. “It is George's mug,” you would say. At the time you didn't think anything of it, but was it normal that friends had such possession over each other's items? Not that you were just friends, though, were you? The events of that night had made it abundantly clear that there was a depth to your relationship that extended beyond mere friendship. But where did that leave you now? Confusion clouded your thoughts, making it hard to see a way forward.

Maybe the worst part was that he even had his own toothbrush in your bathroom. How often did he crash that he–or you–needed to buy one? Next to it was his razor. No, that was definitely the worst. He shaves almost every morning and you found yourself wondering how many times had he stood in your bathroom, meticulously shaving before a big race, the sound of the blade scraping against his skin, a familiar background noise in your shared space? How many mornings had you watched him from the doorway, a warm feeling blooming in your chest at the sight of him so vulnerable yet so achingly familiar? It was a mundane yet intimate act that now felt like a distant memory, a relic of a time when things were simpler between you.

The realization that George had seamlessly become a part of your daily routine hit you like a ton of bricks. How could you go back to your normal life without him now that he had made himself so at home in your space?

The signs. They were all over. And you were blind. Too blind. Maybe even deliberately so. Standing there, you realized it was like you did everything backwards. First it was like he lived there, was your lover, friend and now a stranger. Isn't it how it always ends though? Ultimately with every ending, a person you part with becomes a stranger. Maybe not literally so, but the person you knew turns into someone you don't recognize anymore and that's what leads to a break up.

Not that you and George were completely over, far from it, but that's what happened when he confessed his love. You couldn't recognize him as your friend anymore. That wasn't your friend, couldn't be.

You moved through your apartment like a ghost, your steps heavy with the weight of sorrow. Every corner held a piece of George, a piece of the life you had built together without even realizing it. How could you have been so blind to the depth of his feelings for you? How could you have missed the signs that now seemed glaringly obvious in hindsight?

The toothbrush in the bathroom seemed to mock you, a symbol of the intimacy that had grown between you and now lay shattered at your feet. Frowning, you went to the kitchen and pulled out a cardboard box out of your pantry. You started shoving each and every of his belongings into it.

The once familiar space of your apartment now felt foreign and cold, stripped of the warmth and comfort that George had brought into it. You couldn't bear to look at the empty spot in the closet where his clothes used to hang or the blank space on the coffee table where his books had once been. It was as if he had never been there at all, as if all of it had been nothing but a figment of your imagination.

You sealed the box shut and left it by the front door. You’ll send the stuff back. Or throw them away if he doesn’t want them. Either is good. But not just yet. You wanted to hold onto them just for a little while longer. You sat on the floor next to it, buried your face in your hands and finally allowed yourself to cry.

George busied himself with media stuff and training. His days were a whirlwind of interviews and practice sessions, leaving no solitary moment to spend lost in thought. He threw himself into his work and training with a fervor that bordered on obsession. Every spare moment was filled with activity, leaving no room for the thoughts of you that threatened to consume him. Or so he thought.

“Okay, that’s it.” his trainer announced. “We’re done for today.”

“Aw man, I was just in the zone,” George protested, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead.

“I don’t know what zone you were in, but you were definitely not focused. Your mind is somewhere else today. Like it was yesterday, and the day before.” the trainer replied, eyeing George with a knowing look. “I need you here, present.”

“Don't know how much more present I can be, I am literally here,” George frowned.

“Physically you are, but I need you mentally,” the trainer said and touched the side of George’s head. “I don’t mind training with you twice or even three times a day, but it’s obvious you’re running away from something.”

George's facade cracked, a flicker of vulnerability betraying the stoic mask he wore. He knew he couldn't keep up the charade any longer, not with his trainer's penetrating gaze boring into him. With a heavy sigh, he slumped down on a nearby bench, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“I told her,” he confessed, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “I told her how I felt, and she... I don’t know how to fix it.”

His trainer sat down next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “So you finally confessed.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped. We were having a fight because-”

“Because?”

He stopped, the memories flooding back in a rush. The fight replayed in his mind like a broken record, the sharp words and raw emotions still fresh in his heart. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before continuing.

“We got drunk and did something we shouldn’t have. We, uh, slept together. And it's not just that. There were things that happened even before...”

He felt his trainer's gaze studying him, waiting for the rest of the story. George hesitated, unsure if he should reveal more. But the words spilled out before he could stop them.

“It wasn’t just a mistake, though,” George admitted, his voice laced with regret. “I’ve been in love with her for a while now, you know that. I thought maybe she felt the same way, but when I told her...” He trailed off, unable to articulate the ache in his chest.

“She pushed me away,” George revealed, his voice barely a whisper. “Told me she didn’t see us that way. And now everything is so messed up between us. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“But she didn’t call it a mistake, did she?” His trainer's question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. George looked up, his eyes meeting the trainer's intense gaze.

“No, she didn’t,” George replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. “She just...said we needed space. That she needed space.”

His trainer nodded thoughtfully, absorbing George’s words. “Sometimes, space is what’s needed to gain a better perspective on things.”

George let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the tension that coiled within him. “I just can’t shake this feeling that I’ve ruined everything. That I’ve lost her completely.”

“You haven’t lost her, George,” the trainer reassured him, his tone firm yet gentle. “Sometimes, taking a step back is what you both need to figure things out. Give her the space she asked for, but don’t lose hope. Love has a way of finding its way back to where it belongs.”

George looked up at his trainer, gratitude shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Thank you for listening.”

“Don’t apologize, G, that’s what I’m here for. Not only to care about your body, but also your mind.” The trainer patted George on the back, a reassuring smile on his face. “It’s good to get it all out in the open. Now that you’ve told her how you feel, the ball is in her court. Give her some time to process everything, and in the meantime, focus on yourself. You can’t control how she feels or what she decides to do, but you can control how you handle this situation.”

George nodded, the weight on his shoulders feeling a little lighter with his trainer’s words of wisdom.

“Now go back to your room, take a shower, relax. And remember, this too shall pass. Tomorrow is a big day and she would like you to do good.”

George nodded in understanding once more, a sense of calm finally settling over him.

You never had to face any challenges alone. You always had George by your side and together, you could conquer anything. But now he turned into one of those challenges and you had to figure it out on your own. You knew deep down that the space was necessary, that you both needed time to think this through and figure out what you truly wanted in order to move on.

The familiar sounds of the city outside your window seemed to echo the turmoil in your heart. Each passing day felt like an eternity as you grappled with the weight of your decisions and the ache of George's absence.

You found yourself reaching for your phone multiple times throughout the day, your thumb hovering over his contact name before pulling back at the last second. You wanted to call him, to hear his voice and to mend the broken pieces between you two. But something always held you back. Not just yet.

You busied yourself with mundane tasks to distract yourself from thoughts of George, but his absence lingered like a ghost in every corner of your home.

A notification went off on your phone, reminding you of the race weekend approaching. If everything were right, you would be packing your bags and catching a flight and not choking on your tears in the living room, clutching your phone. The reminder only served to intensify the whirlwind of emotions already swirling inside you. You should’ve been there with him, cheering him on and supporting him through the highs and lows of the weekend. But now, the distance between you felt insurmountable, a chasm of uncertainty and unspoken words.

You missed him more than words could express, more than tears could convey.

On Saturday, you turned the TV on and watched the qualifying session even though you promised you wouldn’t. It would only torture you more. But you felt obligated to support him even from a distance, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he would feel the warmth of your encouragement seeping through the miles that separated you.

The cars raced around the track, their engines roaring like thunder in the distance. You couldn't help but watch, your heart heavy with a mix of longing and regret. Each turn they took on the screen mirrored the twists and turns of your own emotions, the unpredictability of the future weighing heavily on your mind.

As you watched the cars speed by, a flash of black caught your eye. It was George's car, unmistakable even from a distance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you saw him maneuvering through the pack with skill and determination. Despite everything that had transpired between you, a part of you still held out hope for a future where you two could find your way back to each other.

But now, as you watched him from afar, a sense of regret gnawed at you. You should have been there beside him, sharing in his triumphs and soothing his defeats. Instead, you were stuck in this limbo of unreliability and self-reflection.

The qualifying session seemed to pass in a blur, the cars flashing by like ghosts on the screen, but George’s final lap had you holding your breath. When his time flashed on the screen, you let out a heavy sigh. It was a good time, but not good enough to qualify on the front. You couldn’t help but think that maybe if you had been there, things would have turned out differently. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched George’s disappointed expression on the screen. You wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you knew it was impossible.

You turned the TV off. The weight of your decision to give each other space settled deeper in your chest as you stared at the blank screen, the remnants of George's image still burned in your mind. The silence of your apartment felt stifling, suffocating you with its emptiness. You knew that you needed to make a decision soon, to either reach out to George and try to mend what was broken or to continue down this path of separation and solitude.

The following day, you woke up with a heaviness in your chest. It was race day. Would George be able to focus on the race with everything that had transpired between you two? Would he be thinking of you as he navigated each turn and straightaway? Is he even thinking of you?

As the race time drew near, you found yourself pacing around the apartment, unable to sit still. Your phone lay on the coffee table, silent and untouched. In normal circumstances, you would send him a message of encouragement, a simple "Good luck" to let him know you were thinking of him. But now, the words stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to give him false hope in case you needed more time before you finally talk. No, it was better this way.

The sound of the commentator's voice filled the room, announcing the start of the race. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the TV this time, the thought of watching George out on the track without you by his side in this situation too painful to bear. Instead, you stood by the window, staring out at the city below as if searching for some semblance of clarity in its bustling streets.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each passing second heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Finally, the roar of engines reached a crescendo, signaling the end of the race. Your heart raced alongside them, unsure of what news awaited you.

You turned to the TV, your hands trembling as you searched for George's name amidst the list of racers. When you finally found it, your heart dropped. He was in the top 10, he scored points, but you knew it was not the result he wanted.

You couldn't help but feel responsible, as if it was your decision to give each other space that had kept you both from achieving satisfaction and now you had to live with the consequences. A tear rolled down your cheek as you thought about what could have been if you had chosen a different path.

In the quiet moments that followed, you realized that you had set yourself on this course of action alone, but you had no idea where it would lead. You needed to take a deep breath and figure out what you wanted from this arrangement, and whether it was possible to have the life you both deserved with each other.

You were getting ready for bed and it was around midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You frowned, thinking who could it possibly be at this late hour or if to even open at all. With cautious steps, you made your way to the door, a sense of apprehension tightening your chest. As you reached for the doorknob, you paused, gathering your courage before swinging the door open.

You expected a neighbor, or anyone else, but standing before you, illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the hallway, was George. His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a vulnerability you had never seen before. His eyes, usually bright, now held a mixture of sadness and longing as they met yours.

“I could’ve gone to my apartment, but it is cold and empty and I wanted to… come home.” George's voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with emotion.

You stood there, stunned by his unexpected presence, unsure of what to say or how to react. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, the tension palpable in the space that separated your bodies.

“But I see now that was a mistake. You clearly—” but as he reached to take his bag, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, catching him off guard.

“You’re home,” you murmured against his chest, holding him tighter.

George hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond to your embrace. But as he felt the warmth of your arms around him, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift, and he slowly returned the hug. The barriers that had kept you apart for so long melted away in that single embrace, leaving behind a sense of relief and an unspoken promise of forgiveness.

“I missed you,” you choked out, your voice barely audible. “I missed you so much, George.”

His response was to hold you tighter, as if trying to erase the distance and time that had separated you.

“I missed you too,” George whispered, his voice shaking with tears he was holding back. “I missed you every single day.”

The silence that enveloped you was no longer suffocating but comforting, a space where words were no longer necessary to convey the depth of your feelings for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, George finally pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was a deep-rooted affection and a silent plea for a fresh start.

“Come in,” you finally said, whipping away little tears and moving aside.

George stepped inside, his eyes never leaving yours as if searching for any hint of uncertainty. As he walked further into the apartment, you couldn't help but notice how the dim light from the hallway accentuated the lines of weariness on his face, lines that spoke of sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

You led him to the living room, both of you enveloped in a cocoon of silence that felt both heavy and fragile. George sat down on the arm chair, his hands fidgeting with the straps of his bag, while you perched on the edge of the couch, unsure of what to say or do next.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something quickly—”

“No need,” George interrupted, his voice soft yet firm. You nodded, another silence falling among you.

“No offense, George, but you look awful,” you couldn't help but blurt out, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them. George's head shot up, surprise flickering in his tired eyes, before a hint of amusement crept in.

“I haven’t slept in days, y/n,” he replied as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

A pang of guilt twinged in your chest at his admission, but also relief that you weren’t the only one having nights with little to no sleep.

“I understand,” you said softly. George nodded, his expression a mix of exhaustion and relief at being back in your presence.

“You know what I’m the most tired of?” he didn’t wait for your answer. “Being apart from you.” he opened his eyes and met yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes at George's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the sentiments you had been carrying in your own heart all this time. You reached out a trembling hand to brush a lock of hair away from his face, your fingertips lingering on his cheek as if trying to memorize the feel of his skin.

“I’m sorry for what I put us both through—”

George placed a finger against your lips, silencing your apology. “Y/n,” he called, his tone warning. “I’m tired.” his eyes darted to your lap and then back to your eyes again and you understood.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll talk in the morning. Come here now.” you pulled yourself on the couch and patted your thighs, making room for him to lay and rest his head on your lap.

You ran your fingers through his hair, the simple act bringing a sense of peace and familiarity that had been missing in both your lives for more than long.

In the soft glow of the lamp beside the couch, you sat together in silence, the rhythmic pattern of your fingers against his scalp creating a soothing lullaby that seemed to calm the storm raging within both of you.

“Did you watch the race?” he murmured.

"Yes, I did," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I watched it all."

George let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his exhaustion evident in the slump of his shoulders. "So you saw me messing up," his voice tinged with regret.

You continued to run your fingers through his hair, offering him comfort in your touch. “You didn't mess up. You did well, George. Top 10 is nothing to be disappointed about. I’m proud of you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he closed his eyes, basking in the comfort of your touch. “I wanted more,” he admitted softly, a hint of frustration seeping into his words.

You smiled, somehow finding it unusual he wanted to make a small talk out of his race. He never wanted to do that if he wasn’t satisfied with the results. But everything was better than talking about you two at the moment, you guessed.

“You always want more, George,” you replied, a teasing lilt in your voice. “But you gave it your all out there. That’s what matters,” you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing.

George let out a contented sigh, his body relaxing against yours. The weight of the past seemed to lift off his shoulders with each passing moment spent in your embrace. He turned his head slightly, looking up at you with a mix of gratitude and longing in his eyes. "Thank you for letting me come back," he whispered.

A wave of tenderness washed over you as you gazed down at him, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity in his expression. Without a word, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, a silent promise of forgiveness and understanding.

As George closed his eyes, a sense of peace settled between you, the weight of past grievances slowly lifting.

“Tell me what you did without me. I want to listen to your voice,” he said, his words trailing off as sleep began to claim him.

You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through your chest at his request. But how were you to tell him about all the days spent missing him, about the hollow ache in your chest that only his presence could fill, about the countless moments when a simple sight or sound would bring back memories of him flooding into your mind. How could you convey the depth of your longing, the way his absence had left a void in your life that no amount of distractions could fill? How were you to tell him that the most you’ve done in the week was pack his things in a cardboard box that was still by the door?

But you knew George needed to rest, to find solace in the peaceful refuge you offered him. So, you began recounting mundane details of your days, from the way the sun cast golden hues through the windows in the mornings to the sound of rain tapping against the roof on lonely nights. You spoke of small victories and minor setbacks, all the while keeping your voice soft and soothing as he drifted off into a much-needed slumber.

As George's breathing evened out, you continued to stroke his hair gently, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against your thighs. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

You leaned back against the couch, your thoughts swirling with memories of the time you had spent apart. The ache of missing him had been a constant companion, a dull throb in your heart that no amount of distraction could alleviate. And now that he was here, lying in your lap once more, you were at a loss for how to bridge the gap that had formed between you. But that will have to wait till morning.

With a heavy sigh, you shifted slightly on the couch, careful not to disturb George, and closed your eyes.

A motion woke you. You were moving, but not of your own volition. As consciousness slowly seeped back into your mind, you realized that the movement was not yours alone. Someone was carrying you, their arms wrapped securely around your body. Confusion and fear jolted through you as you tried to make sense of the situation.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself met with darkness. The soft glow of the lamp by the couch was nowhere to be seen, leaving you disoriented in the black void surrounding you. The arms holding you tightened slightly, a silent reassurance in their grip.

"George?" you whispered, the word barely audible even to your own ears. A shiver ran down your spine as the silence stretched on, broken only by the sound of footsteps echoing in the dark.

A voice, deep and familiar, cut through the void. "It's me," George whispered, his warm breath tickling your ear. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back as he carried you towards the bedroom.

You wanted to protest, to insist that he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but the comfort of his embrace and the rhythmic sway of his movements lulled you into compliance. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent that brought a sense of peace unlike anything else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself being laid down gently on the soft bed.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he whispered, his voice tinged with regret. "I just couldn't bear to leave you there on the couch."

You reached out a hand to find him in the darkness, intertwining your fingers with his as a silent reassurance that it was alright.

“Stay with me,” you breathed.

George's hand tightened around yours, his touch grounding you. “No, let’s not repeat past…” he trailed off, not wanting to call it a mistake. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Then let me sleep on the couch, you can stay here—” you insisted, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. You sat up, the covers pooling at your waist, and made to move off the bed. But George’s hand on your arm stopped you, his touch gentle yet firm.

“No,” he murmured, his voice holding a note of determination that brooked no argument. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.” he kissed your forehead and left the room.

You woke up to the first light of dawn filtering in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, the events of the previous night almost feeling dreamlike. That’s when your eyes shot up and you bolted upright in bed, the bed sheets slipping off your body as you stumbled out of bed and ran to the living room almost tripping over your two feet.

You leaned against the doorframe and breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted him sleeping still on your couch. It wasn’t a dream. He was really there. Silently, you made your way over to him and sat down in the arm chair beside the couch.

You took in the sight of him. He was sleeping on his stomach with mouth slightly parted, stretched out with his whole length that his feet were dangling over the armrest. His hair was tousled, and the early morning light painted a golden hue over his features, highlighting the faint stubble on his jawline and the way his eyelashes swept against his cheeks.

The blanket he found was too short to cover his whole frame and the decorative pillow he used as a makeshift headrest had slid slightly to the side. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a surge of affection welling up inside you as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply be in his presence, to take in the quiet intimacy of this shared space. The distance that had seemed insurmountable in the past now felt like a small gap waiting to be bridged. With each rise and fall of George’s chest, you felt a renewed sense of hope blooming within you.

“… You’re staring.” George murmured without opening his eyes.

You immediately turned away, a blush creeping in. “I was not.”

“I could feel the intensity of it, even with my eyes closed.” you could hear the chuckle in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. You shifted in your seat, trying to appear nonchalant as you averted your gaze from George’s sleeping form.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his eyes still closed. “I don’t mind.”

You risked a glance back at him, finding his lips turned up in a small, lopsided smile. The warmth in his expression eased the tension coiled within you, and you couldn’t help but return his smile.

“Hey, y/n, look at me,” he said and your eyes finally met, making you suck in a deep breath. “Good morning,” he smiled.

“Good morning,” you replied. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did,” George answered, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the couch. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a contented sigh.

"You should have slept in the bed," you said, unable to keep the words from spilling out. "I could have taken the couch."

George shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine here," he assured you, his voice warm and gentle. "Besides, I've slept on worse during my travels."

You shook your head, but chuckled anyway, the tension ebbing away as you let yourself relax into the moment.

“Do you… Do you want to stay for breakfast? I could make us something to eat,” you offered, a flicker of hope dancing in your eyes.

George’s smile widened, his gaze meeting yours with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Yes, I would love that, y/n,” he replied, gratitude shining in his eyes.

“Great!” You rose from the arm chair, a newfound sense of determination fueling your steps as you made your way to the kitchen. The familiar sounds of George following behind you brought a smile to your lips, the simple act of sharing a meal together filling you with a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll just wash up while you prepare the food,” George offered, rolling up his sleeves as he headed towards the bathroom to freshen up.

The sound of running water mingled with the clinking of dishes as you set about gathering ingredients for breakfast.

As you cracked eggs into a bowl, a sense of contentment washed over you. George’s presence in your home felt right, like a missing piece clicking into place. The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen, punctuated by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. But the magic of the morning was disrupted when George called for you.

“Um, y/n, did you throw away my toothbrush?”

You froze mid-crack, the eggshell slipping from your fingers and landing in the bowl with a soft splat. The box.

You quickly wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and rushed to the bathroom, where George was standing with an open toiletry bag in his hand. “I thought I left my toothbrush here,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face.

Your heart sank as you remembered how you packed all of his things into a cardboard box and put it by the front door, looking to erase any trace of him from your apartment. The guilt washed over you in a wave, knowing that you had acted rashly in a moment of hurt and confusion.

“George, I…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you tell him that you had packed up his belongings, fully intending to remove every trace of him from your place? The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken regret and heartache.

George’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, his gaze flickering with a mix of disappointment and resignation. “You were going to send my things back,” he stated quietly, more as a statement of fact than a question.

You nodded wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes as shame burned hot in your cheeks. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, the weight of your actions crashing down on you with full force. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, y/n,” George interrupted gently, his voice soft and forgiving. “I understand why you did it.” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you in the midst of your turmoil. “I know things have been difficult between us, but we can talk about it. We can figure this out together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally dared to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze that mirrored the ache in your own heart. “I never wanted to push you away,” you whispered, the words heavy with regret. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything.”

George’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and full of understanding. “We both made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t try to make things right.”

A surge of hope blossomed within you at his words, a flicker of light in the darkness that had clouded your hearts for so long. But all of a sudden, the apartment smelled of burning.

“Oh my God, the bacon!” You bolted back to the kitchen, where smoke billowed from the skillet on the stove. The once-crackling bacon lay charred and forgotten, a victim of your distraction. Frantically waving a towel to disperse the smoke, you turned off the burner and opened a window to let the acrid fumes escape.

George followed you into the kitchen, a chuckle escaping his lips at the sight of the burnt bacon. “Well, I guess breakfast is going to be delayed a bit,” he remarked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but join in his laughter, the tension that had gripped your heart moments ago loosening its hold. “I promise I’m a better cook than this,” you said, a sheepish grin on your face as you cleared away the charred remains of breakfast.

“I have no doubt about that,” George replied, stepping closer to you and taking the towel from your hands to help with the clean-up. The simple act of working together in harmony warmed your soul, a silent understanding passing between you as you moved around the kitchen in tandem. Once the cleaning was done, you both settled at the small kitchen table.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” you said, rushing to the corner by your front door.

You returned with the cardboard box that held George's things, feeling a mix of apprehension and determination.

“All your things are in here,” George watched as you placed the cardboard box on the table, his expression unreadable as you spoke. Silence enveloped the kitchen, broken only by the distant sounds of traffic outside. Talking about packing his stuff was one thing, but seeing that you actually did it was another. You held your breath, waiting for George’s response, unsure of what to expect. Would he be angry? Hurt? Disappointed?

Slowly, George reached out and lifted the lid of the box, his gaze flickering over the contents within. His fingers brushed against familiar items—a toothbrush, a worn paperback novel, a battered travel journal, a familiar beanie, the softly knit fabric a testament to the countless times he had worn it on chilly nights—as if seeking reassurance in their presence.

George's eyes flickered between the contents of the box and your face, searching for any hint of what was to come. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of your actions, the fear of rejection looming over you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“I never should have tried to erase you from my life like that. It was a mistake and I’m sorry.” you said. “You can have everything put back or take them with you. It’s your choice now. If it’s the latter, I’ll understand—”

“What do you want?” His voice was soft, but the question echoed loudly in the space between you. What did you want? It was a simple question with a million answers, each one more complicated than the last.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s not up to me—”

“It matters to me,” George interjected, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes. “I need to know what you want. Not what you think I want to hear, but what you truly desire in your heart.”

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, you met his gaze. “I want you back. All the time, everyday.”

George's expression softened, a mixture of relief and hope shining in his eyes. Without a word, he reached for your hand and pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t protest. The gesture was both familiar and foreign, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you like a lifeline.

“I want that too, y/n,” George said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want us to try again, to work through our problems together and rebuild what we had.” he rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around you as you leaned into him.

“I was so scared, George. When you confessed—”

“Look, we can pretend I never confessed if it means we’ll stay—”

“What?! No! You can’t just take back your confession! That’s such a cowardly move and the least I expected from you, George William Russell!”

George's eyes widened at your outburst, surprise flickering across his face before giving way to a mixture of amusement and affection. His grip on you tightened briefly before he loosened it, allowing you to turn around and face him. You could see the humor dancing in his eyes as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Oh no, you pulled the middle name card and now I’m terrified.” A chuckle escaped George’s lips, the tension between you both dissipating with each shared smile.

“I had to. I will not allow it. Especially not when I feel the same way towards you.” your admission hung in the air like a fragile thread, waiting to be strengthened or severed by the response it would elicit.

George’s eyes widened at your words, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. “Eh… fucking pardon?"

“I’m in love with you too, George William. I mean it.” you even surprised yourself how easy it was to say it. You didn’t feel scared anymore. If anything, you felt invincible.

But seeing the look on his face made you doubt. You held your breath, waiting for his response, the silence stretching between you like an impassable chasm. What if he didn’t love you like that anymore? What if the space you have asked for helped him get over you? He did try to take back his confession.

Slowly, a smile spread across his face, breaking like the dawn after a long night.

“I… I don’t even know where to begin,” George murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never expected…” He trailed off, at a loss for words as he reached up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

You rested your forehead against his, sighing in relief. “Time apart helped me open my eyes. I realized how much you mean to me, that I was so lost without you. I tried to fill the void your absence left with distractions and busyness, but nothing ever felt quite right. It was like a puzzle missing a piece, incomplete no matter how hard I tried to force it together. But now, with you here in front of me, holding me close and looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters, I finally feel whole again.”

George’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he listened to your heartfelt words, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. The weight of the past lingered in the air between you, but the warmth of your confession enveloped you both like a comforting embrace. In that moment, all the uncertainties and fears melted away, leaving only the truth of your feelings shining bright.

“I love you, y/n,” George finally whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never stopped loving you.”

You captured his lips in a tender kiss, pouring all your love and gratitude into the simple act, catching him off guard. But quickly, he kissed you back, burying his hands in your hair to pull you even closer.

It was a kiss filled with longing, with promises of a future together, of rediscovered love and unspoken apologies. The world outside faded away as you melted into each other, the taste of forgiveness and hope on your lips. The box of George’s things lay forgotten on the table, a silent witness to the reunion that had unfolded before it.

As you pulled back, George cupped your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. “I want to make things right between us, y/n. I want us to rebuild what we had and create something even stronger. Will you give me that chance?”

There was no hesitation in your response as you nodded, a smile of pure joy lighting up your face. “Yes, George. I want that more than anything.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, but his stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the tender moment with a burst of laughter from both of you. George’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly rubbed his stomach, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I think that’s a sign we should probably eat something,” he said with a chuckle.

You nodded, feeling your stomach join in with its own protest. “I think burnt bacon is off the menu for this morning,” you replied, teasingly.

George laughed and stood up, pulling you along with him. “Let’s order in. I’ll make sure this time it’s something edible.”

“What’s wrong with my cooking?”

George raised an eyebrow at your question, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your cooking is charming. But let’s just say I prefer my bacon a little less… crispy.”

You playfully swatted his arm before following him to the living room, where the two of you settled down on the couch with your favorite takeout menus spread out. As you leaned against George’s side, the scent of new beginnings lingering in the air around you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for second chances and the love that never truly faded, no matter how much time had passed. Together, you began planning your first meal as a couple, laughter and joy filling the space that once held only precariousness and regret.

And as you listened to George’s easy banter and felt his fingers interlaced with yours, you knew deep in your heart that this time, everything would be different. This time, you both were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, hand in hand, knowing that you’ll always have each other.

266 notes · View notes

eliciana · 4 months

Text

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

-> Chapter 1(Here)| Chapter 2 | ...

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

____________________________________

Hello everyone, pls don't expect much from this chapter,which is going to be part of a series, will be that good. I may have grammatical errors and wrong spellings so please don't hesitate to tell me in the comments about it. English is not my main language. Also, I write some very descriptive and long scenes about what the reader does because i got used to writing descriptive essays so please bear with the long paragraphs and sentences. Thank you.

And yes, I'm back. Also the Misunderstanding series will be updated after my exams this is just in my drafts and I wanted to just upload it.

-Eli

____________________________________

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms (😝 im joking bro) if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3.

____________________________________

You close your eyes and think back to that very fateful day — the day that entirely altered your life's course and shatter any semblance of normalcy you once knew. The memory is etched in your mind, clear and vivid. The secret your café had.

You had always dreamed of owning your very own café when you get older. It had always consumed your thoughts and fueled your ambitions. Doing everything you can to be able to make your dream come true. It was a dream that guided you through your highs and lows, the setbacks and triumphs, and now, your very own cafe is now right infront of your eyes. You stand awe, gazing upon your newly built dream café that represents your years of hard work and dedication. It almost feels surreal. The weight of such an accomplishment settles in your shoulders, filling with a sense of pride that it threatens to burst out of your chest.

The obstacles and challenges you faced along the way have not gone unnoticed. The countless hours of planning, the sacrifices made, the hurdles overcome—each scar and battle wound a testament to your unwavering determination. They have shaped you into the person you are today, a person who is standing on the precipice of their own extraordinary creation. In this moment, you can't help but reflect on how far you have come. You just want to curl up into a ball and cry for how proud you are for yourself.

As you approach the door to your café, your hand trembles with anticipation. You grasp the smooth handle, feeling the coolness of the metal against your palm, and slowly turn it. The door swung open, emitting a soft creak that pierced the silence. Above it, a small, quaint bell dangled delicately, waiting to be disturbed. The cascade of delicate notes wove together seamlessly, announcing your presence, like a whispered greeting to anyone who would listen.

You stare in awe and wonder at the interior design of your cafe , captivated by it's beauty. The space exceeds your imagination and sketches, each detail meticulously brought to life. You explore every corner, your eyes eager to take in every detail. The plants you selected with great care breathe life into the space, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of freshness and enhancing the cozy, warm aura you envisioned. Sunlight steams through the windows, casting a golden glow that illuminates upon your carefully handpicked furniture, adding a touch of charm. Every detail, from the placement of tables and chairs to the color palette and textures and to the shelf placed at the wall behind the counter with small sized standees of genshin impact, comes together harmoniously, painting a reality that is more beautiful than it was in your imagination.

You took one last look at your own café, only to catch sight of a door that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. It wasn't in your sketches, nor was it part of the layout you had memorized. How could something so out of place suddenly appear in your beloved café? How weird. You were sure that when you went inside this café it was never there. It was on the opposite side of the front entrance door of your café. It had a very different kind of design from the doors you had. How weird . Were you perhaps hallucinating? Was your stress and sleep deprivation finally getting to you? You resort to pinching and slapping your cheeks in an attempt to jolt yourself back to reality. Nope. You can still see it. You rushed to go outside of your café. As you step out into the open, your eyes scanning the exterior, you're met with a surprising revelation—the door you saw inside your café is nowhere to be found. It's as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving you bewildered and questioning your senses.

Nonetheless, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief and once again went inside of your café, blaming your hallucination to your stress. However, as your eyes scanned the interior again, you saw the door still there.

'Oh, hell no.' You thought and quickly opened the front door again, took a look at the exterior, look at the door inside, and continued doing that action for a minute. Yup, you're officialy hallucinating.

You looked at the strange door and felt a nagging feeling of curiousity wanting to try and open that door. Maybe it was actually a big ass sticker that one of the builders placed as a prank. You never know. Steeling yourself, you went closer to the door on your tippy toes. Carefully trying to be quiet. Why? You don't know. You just knew you had to. Maybe it was an instinct of yours. You were now infrot of the door and you tried reaching for the door knob still thinking it was a sticker but the coolness feeling in your hands said uno reverse. You abruptly took back your hand in shock. You stared down at the atrocity in front of you. You quickly raised your foot and took off your shoes/heel/slipper and held onto it tightly. Preparing yourself to open the door, you took in a deep breath and reached for the door knob once more. Twisting it open, a ray of sunlight shone through the small crack as you pushed the door open gently.

Your eyes widen at the sight infront of you as you had fully opened the door. The grip your hand had on your lethal weapon widened and it slipped from your hands. The sight infront of you was so surreal. 'This can't be true, right?' your head was going to so many places, unable to comprehend what was going on. You felt kinda dizzy.

You would be a fool not to recognize this place that you had seen so many times throughout your life. A few kilometers infront of you was the City of Mondstadt in view. You could even see the knights guarding the gate and Timmie with his pigeons at the bridge.

The weird door from your cafe was actually a door to the Genshin Impact world. Wow... wtf.

____________________________________

also pls take a look at my poorly drawn drawing of what your view looks like cause for the love of god I can't seem to explain it:

Also you're in a cliff or something. so yeah

Taglist:

None

#genshin sagau #genshin reverse sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin reverse isekai #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #various genshin characters #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader x various genshin character #•works[🍡]•#genshin series

210 notes · View notes

leejenowrld · 4 months

Note

could you write a scene where jeno & y/n talk about their future with kids?? like asking how many kids they wants, how they want to raise them up etc up to your imagination! i think it’ll be cute since jeno has already made it clear he WILL marry her 🥰🥹

something quick and cute i wrote whilst sitting in my terminal <3

Amidst the soft glow of fairy lights, you and Jeno found yourselves wrapped in each other's warmth on the couch, immersed in a date night that felt like a haven. The emotional yet comforting family movie played on the screen, ‘Instant Family,’ a masterpiece. it unexpectedly unravels a cascade of feelings within you.

Sobbing into Jeno's chest, he shushed and comforted you with warm hugs and tender kisses to your temple. The movie's resonance lingered until you stopped shaking, tear-stained eyes meeting his as a frown crept onto your face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I don't know why, but that movie made me think about us, our future."

You’re both 25, engaged, living in a new home, and growing more in love with each passing day. The topic of having kids had always been part of your conversations, and in the intimate glow of the moment, you couldn't help but ask, "When do you see yourself having my babies?" No filter, no hesitation, just the transparent openness that defined your relationship.

Jeno thought for a moment before responding with a soft smile. "I want to get married first and enjoy our life as newlyweds, but let's say you fall pregnant now, or any time soon, I wouldn't mind." Grinning, his words brought a small tear to your eye as you marvelled at the depth of your love and the journey you'd taken together.

The conversation naturally flowed into discussing the number of kids you wanted. Jeno contemplated, "Maybe 2 or 3. I think more will eat my brain, but I want a cute family." Your smile mirrored his sentiments, knowing you shared the same mindset about these things. Curious about his preferences, you asked if he wanted a boy or a girl. "I just want healthy and beautiful babies who all look like you," he confessed.

“You’re crazy! They’re all gonna look like you, I will speak it into existence.”

Playfully arguing about whose features the babies should inherit, Jeno expressed his love for the idea of a mini-you, while you envisioned adorable duplicates of him. As the banter continued, you cooed, "I can just imagine our future son and you being attached at the hip." The idea of having a daughter was something you both agreed on, with Jeno declaring, "My little princess. I'd spoil her so much. Say we had 2 sons and 1 daughter, you and our daughter would be my main priority in life." The conversation unfolded like a sweet glimpse into the dreams you were building together, creating a tapestry of shared visions and boundless love.

159 notes · View notes

pamicakery · 20 days

Text

₊✩‧₊˚౨How to manifest Sp ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Okay... I will tell you a success story of mine, when I manifested a crush.. Who was about to become my boyfriend and... That you must be really careful about what you want.

It was when I was 16, and I had this crush on this guy let's call him Wolfie. Firstly we became friend because we were in the same group of friend so during class we used to hang out together. I grew up fond of this guy, he was sarcastic, funny and single.

At night I would draw ourselves being lovers, listening to music and making imaginary Music videos about us. Writing stories about him being my crush in them and everytime I saw a cute couple I told myself '' Hehe it gonna be us''.

Times to times he used to hang out with others girls, and I got jealous many times but I was persisting in the fact that he was my boyfriend.

Everytime we had an interaction, I would repeat Thoses scenes on loop,and draw the scene of it. The idea of us not being together was out of my mind.

Every scene I envisioned came true :

I visualized and drew us talking via text messages ➡️he asked for my number the next day

I drew us talking together during a class assignment ➡️we worked together for that class assignment and I even drew us get married.

Him sitting next to me in class ➡️he did.

We were at a point that we even had lunch together, going back home together. We were always together.

But it was too much for me, I started to complain that we were too much together and guess what? I didn't had time to breathe.

Sometimes I wanted to be alone, he was there. During the field trip, the guy came in my bedroom. (Nothing happened don't worry, but I scripted this). He even asked me out and invited me to drink milkshake... Like my first date... I was like '' noooo I don't '' but I said yes because I was about to have a milkshake for free.

I didn't know about '' manifesting '' back then, I was just imagining us being together. And it reflected, not instantly but it took 1 or 2 weeks. Manifestation is very powerful and if you are not sure about what you want, it can be really scary.

But it's just a case, maybe I was too obsessed with him. Hehe but what you have to do is :

💖 PICK A STATE :

From now on you will identify as someone who's Sp is their boyfriend. Leave the 3d alone, (By the way I didn't know about 3d or 4d at that time.)

💖: EXPRESS THAT STATE WITHIN :

Draw, visualise, listen to music, write stories. You must train your brain and Show it that SP is your boyfriend with Internal proof and validation. (Look inside of your 4d's 3d because your 4d's 3d is reflecting a state of you already having and being this person) And at every positive interaction with SP, repeat it on loop in your mind.

💖 : IGNORE THE 3D :

My Sp used to hang out and smile with girls, and I was jealous about it. But in my head he was my boyfriend.

💖:IT'S POSSIBLE :

It's possible to attract Sp, don't put logic into it because love doesn't walk with logic. Keep that image of you being together, your brain and yourself will be used to it.

I know that sometimes tell ourselves that it's only imaginary. But really, don't put chains to yourself in your mind. You didn't had to take actions in your mind, you are already there, you are already with them.

Once again, don't seek validation in the 3d of lack. Seek validation within yourself. The year before that SP, I had a rejection from another SP, same the year prior. So... Actually I didn't even changed my self concept, I just imagined myself with that guy like any girl would do.

#loa tumblr #loassumption #robotic affirming #manifestation #law of assumption #loa assumptions #loa blog #affirming loa #affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#affirm and persist

126 notes · View notes

sophswritingthings · 6 months

Note

hii i'm the person who had the request about mizu having a dream about the reader!! it was so perfect, omg. this isn't any pressure to continue it or do a part 2 i just wanted to scream about how soft it made me. cause like. mizu would totally be so flustered after the fact, she can't help herself from envisioning the dream every time she looks you in the eye now like. you portray her character so well with the subtle kindness towards the reader like her not wanting them to be scared?? got me. ugh just so incredible thank you for writing it!!

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): mizu + reader being a dumbass, swearing

a/n: AHHHH thank you!!! all the compliments are making me kick my feet 😭 and because you were so nice I have a present for youuu

summary: every time mizu looks at you; all she can see is you two together. happy. in love. one day she lets her dream slip to ringo; and you hear it.

word count: 490 words / 2,655 characters

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

at this point; she was close to tying you to a tree and leaving you there where she could never find you—let alone you find her.

but she couldn’t do that; it would hurt you, and you being hurt would in turn hurt her.

every time she saw your pretty-ass face; all she could think about was that dream.

that sweet, beautiful fucking dream.

and it was bad that she liked the dream. It was really, really bad.

the idea and the scenes she saw would keep replaying in her mind; over and over again.

every time she would even think of you, even for just a second, she’d see it over and over again.

It was like a good movie she hated watching because she didn’t like the actors.

or maybe she was just denying she might like a certain actor a little too much.

“master?”

mizu snapped out of her thoughts; glancing at ringo, he was walking right beside her.

“yes, ringo?” she rasped.

“master seems.. distracted,” he described. “you are never distracted.”

“never is a strong word, ringo,” she narrowed her eyes, watching you just up ahead. you had stopped at an herbalist’s shop.

“than what is master so distracted about?”

worry flooded over her head; did she want to answer that question when you were probably in earshot?

no.

but maybe she needed to say something to someone; maybe than she’d stop thinking about it. and ringo was the perfect person; he was.. actually, somewhat, trustworthy with secrets.

“(y/n),” that was the first word she said, before sighing.

“what about her?” ringo implored.

“.. her stupidly pretty eyes— and for gods fucking sake, why is she so damn nice? It’s absurd, really,” mizu paused, hearing how loud she’d really said the words.

well—fuck.

you were gazing at her, your eyes a bit wide. she couldn’t be talking about you; that was impossible.

and you honestly didn’t know, if she was talking about you, wether to take it as a compliment or an insult.

you supposed she meant it as a compliment.

“i—erm—thank you,” you murmured, gazing up at her.

she was in deep shit now. a hole she didn’t know how to dig herself out of.

“.. you’re welcome, I suppose,” she murmured back, adverted her gaze.

ringo, on the other hand stood between you two, glancing back and forth.

“(y/n), why don’t you—“

before he could finish his words, you clamped a hand over his mouth.

you smiled awkwardly at her.

she arched an eyebrow at you. what was he going to say that you so desperately didn’t want her to know?

“why can’t he—“

“—it isn’t important!” your face was ridden with a pink blush, backing away from the situation. “It just isn’t.”

“.. okay,” she conceded, not wanting to push you any further.

but she so needed to know what he was gonna say.

and why didn’t you want her to hear it?

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

a/n: again, my darling, thank you!! ya’ll are all so sweet it’s gonna kill me one day istg <3 also mizu is a character I can really get into and understand; seeing as we share something in common: both being half white (plus I have blue eyes too but that doesn’t really factor in). and being so hell bent on “fixing” what is wrong with her, when there’s really nothing wrong with her in the place! I just get into that so bad ahahahah. also she’s hot, so there’s that 😅

#mizu x you #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #ask #asked and answered #request #fic request #x reader

163 notes · View notes

vanillacreambunny · 4 months

Text

enjoy the silence

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

words: 2034

warnings: reader is not gendered but has breasts, smut (mdni), biting, blood, established relationship, probably ooc; if I forgot anything, let me know.

notes: this scene popped into my head, and I wrote it. I intended for it to be around 500 words, and it quickly grew out of control. There is no dialogue. I wanted to write something without it, and it seemed to fit what I envisioned. I'm unsure if I accomplished what I wished to. I enjoyed writing it, but I'm not exactly happy with the end. Perhaps I'll rework it one day.

Second time writing for Dottore. Second time writing for Genshin Impact. Second time writing smut, which I didn't want to write in too much detail (for the sake of the story), so I'm sorry if it falls short; I did my best.

Titled after Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode.

As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

Another failure.

Dottore’s not one to let his composure slip, cool and calculated in his actions after centuries of learned patience. First and foremost, he’s a scholar; he cannot allow his emotions to distract from or influence his work. Frustration and doubt simmer below the surface, buried deep within his heart as he starts over from square one with a determination to see the experiment through to the end—to prove to himself he can. Now here he stands, materials knocked haphazardly across the floor, blood on his hands, and his work in ruins. He rips the pages from his journal, cursing his past self for his incompetence. Days locked away in his lab, forgoing sleep, wasting time that could have been better spent elsewhere, and for what purpose?

His fingers tangle in his hair, pulling until pain pierces his skull and dances along his spine. A laugh reverberates through his chest, shaking his shoulders, and echoing off the walls. His voice sounds foreign to his ears, and he almost doesn’t recognize his reflection when he catches his gaze on the scraps of metal at his feet, the smile on his warped face unsettling even to him. A monster stares back at him—expression bordering insanity—baring its pointed teeth in mockery as it too laughs; not with him, but at him.

Wrenching the mask from his face with an angry shout, he tosses it across the room, nearly hitting you as you step inside.

No one dares to approach him at his best and certainly not at his worst—except for you. There’s not a trace of fear in your eyes, only concern. You treat him akin to a wounded animal and not the predator he is, a growl of defiance dying in his throat as you reach up to cup his face in your hands and kiss along the scars that mar his skin, whispering words of comfort he doesn’t deserve though refuses to deny. You’re a mystery he has yet to unravel, and he wonders why you make his heart beat when so little in this world can.

You coax him from the bowels of his lab into your shared living space, once cold and empty until you wandered into his life, a rabbit making its home in the wolf’s den; fortunately for you, he decided to keep you and claim you as his own against his better judgment. You proved yourself useful, and he’s loath to admit to anyone—including himself—that he longs for your touch when apart and finds solace in your arms, the chaos that is his mind falling quiet in your presence. If he’s a madman, he’s convinced it’s your doing, and his fellow Harbingers may agree. He’s spent years alone, growing accustomed to the loneliness that followed him in his adolescence, embracing who he is and what that meant for him. You’re an outlier, blindsiding him and driving him to question all that he’s come to know.

With a gentleness that brings him pause, he observes you as you clean and bandage his hands. You care for him. The cynic in him wants to laugh and renounce your foolish affections. How can you let your guard down around him; do you not realize what he is? Your lack of awareness infuriates him. If he were anyone else, you would be dead. The thought itself is sickening. He shouldn’t be bothered; however, you speak to the part of him that yearns to be understood—accepted—to feel the love he once believed out of his reach.

Smiling, you kiss his knuckles as if those same hands hadn’t spilled blood and taken countless lives. Your eyes meet his, and he’s at your mercy.

Your patience knows no bounds. No matter how long he’s away, you wait for him. Maybe he had it wrong. It’s not you who is fortunate, it is him, and he’s unsure of how to feel when he comes to that realization.

He brings your hands to his lips, looking up at you through pale lashes. You shiver beneath his touch, your skin prickling with heat, and he smirks, a low chuckle escaping him. How easily you fall into his grasp, leaning into him instead of pulling away. Sweeping you into his arms, he cradles you against him, humming in contentment. His frustrations disappear, your warmth and the softness of your body easing his mind. You understand the importance of his work, never complain when it demands his undivided attention, and, in turn, he always makes up for lost time.

His eyes meet yours, and he sees himself mirrored in them, his gaze intense—hungry. Your scent alone is dizzying, and he thinks he’s truly lost it. These carnal desires were of no interest to him before, but you drive him mad. He wants your mind, your heart, your body, and your very soul itself, hoping you can continue to accept a monster such as himself into your loving embrace. He’s so pathetic, and he can’t find it in himself to care.

The anger that coursed through his veins boils over into an excitement he often feels when his research ends in success, his hard work culminating in a fever pitch that leaves him sated and breathless. And you, you never disappoint. No, you are familiar and comforting, similar to the Ruin Guards he’s studied time and time again, mapping you out from head to toe in a way no one else can. Rather than wires and circuits, you are flesh and blood, full of life and love—a love you willingly give to him. He doesn’t need you. He wants you, your affection, to chase the emotion that swells within his chest when you’re together. These are the moments he accepts his humanity, and he ponders a life that could have been . . .

The bed creaks under your weight as he lays you down upon it, studying you, how your breath hitches in your throat and his touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. His actions are methodical, precise, removing your clothes at a painstaking pace and trailing kisses down your body all the while. You reach for him, tugging at the collar of his harness, but he pins your arms above your head with a growl and nip of warning to your lips; he wishes to lose himself in you and analyze every dip and curve, every little detail that makes you who you are—he cannot afford distractions, and the tenderness of your caress is far too potent.

He swallows your whine with a kiss, slow and languid, his free hand coming to rest on the column of your throat, stroking the delicate skin with his thumb. Still, you do not fear him, baring your neck to him with a sigh of longing that makes him all too aware of his own arousal as your legs spread to accommodate him. You’re so needy, but he’s no better, his resolve wavering the second he tastes you on his tongue.

Your thighs tremble, muscles tensing, as his fingers gather your wetness and sink into your heat. The sound that leaves you is music to his ears. Nuzzling between your breasts, his lips poised above your heart, he listens to the sweet melody of its beats mingled with your breathy moans and the slickness of his thrusts. You are far from perfect, a slave to your humanity, and yet your beauty is unparalleled. Without your flaws, you would not be the person he’s come to adore.

When his cock replaces his fingers, and your warmth envelops him, he sees stars.

For a moment he forgets to breathe, his chest tight and eyes glazing over. Every time feels like the first—beautiful and agonizing all at once. He both curses and praises you for bringing him back down to earth and forcing him to feel things he hasn’t in years. How is it possible to hate and love something as much as he does you? His attempts to snuff out the flames you ignited in him failed long ago. In the beginning, the burn was much too painful, and now he welcomes it, melting into you without hesitance or remorse.

He exhales, shuddering as you brush the hair back from his face and stroke his cheek—tethering him to this godforsaken planet. You gaze up at him, face flushed and eyes brimming with affection. You’re exquisite, and his heart aches at the sight. His fingers flex, digging into your hips, and your lips meet in a bruising kiss.

You want him.

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him in as he pulls you into his arms and holds you tightly against his chest. This close he can watch the pleasure flicker across your face, not missing a single detail, not even the most minute. His desire comes second to his observations, mind working to commit the image of you to memory. For as long as he lives, he wishes to remember you this way, tears on your cheeks and back arching when you call out a name he once considered long dead.

You want him.

His head spins, your cries a siren song he can’t help but follow over the edge. Your body tightens and convulses, and he loses all rationale, swept out to sea in the waves of your ecstasy. It’s as if he’s drowning, gasping for air but unable to stay afloat, and he doesn’t want to.

A deep growl reverberates through his chest, and he thrusts into you like the madman he is, sloppy and unrefined, but he loves the way you squeeze him, your body begging for all he is and has, and he gives it to you. You writhe beneath him, screaming when his teeth sink into your shoulder, the heady scent of blood filling his nostrils and sliding down his throat like a fine wine. Laving his tongue over the wound, he tilts his head up to lick away your tears before kissing you, staining your lips red.

In his eyes, you look perfect; his finest creation. Beads of sweat dot your skin like stars, creating constellations he could study for hours. You’re more real than the sky above at any rate.

Collapsing atop you, into your awaiting arms, you tuck his head beneath your chin as your fingers stroke through his hair. The sensation is electrifying, grounding him as he steadies himself and catches his breath. Exhaustion weighs heavily upon him, though he hasn’t felt such peace in weeks. He allows himself this, your warmth and affection regardless of how many times he’s told himself he doesn’t need this—need you. It’s a part of himself he has yet to come to terms with, but he doesn’t want to lose the happiness you bring him. It’s different than the happiness his work provides. It makes him feel human—it makes him feel whole.

There’s no harm in exploring it further, is there?

He rolls onto his back, bringing you with him. A smile softens his features, and he doesn’t hide the fact he’s enamored by you, admiring your blissful expression in the afterglow of your lovemaking. Sliding a hand between your legs, he gives a purr of satisfaction at the stickiness of his release that now coats your thighs and the shiver that travels through you from his touch.

This calls for another round of tests to evaluate his findings, he decides. A true scholar wouldn’t stop here, after all.

The following morning, fractured sunlight pours through the frost on the windows, and you snuggle into his thigh, blanket pulled over your head to keep out the cold and catch a few more minutes of sleep. Perhaps he merely required a good night’s rest to clear his mind, and he has you to thank for that. His pen glides across the parchment with ease, and it’s almost infuriating how everything falls into place. You were the exception it seems. Setting his notes aside, he joins you under the covers, tongue tracing the bruise that now darkens your shoulder. He grins, all teeth, when you gasp.

It’s only fair he rewards his assistant for their hard work.

#genshin impact #dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x you #reader insert #noelle writes

111 notes · View notes

writingquestionsanswered · 5 months

Note

Hey! I've written a first full outline and a few scenes (YAY) and I'm kinda worried that the readers will catch on that I actually have a favourite character. I'm attached to all of them, but this guy is Special - he has traits I really like, an arc I'm excited to write, he's bit of a self-insert, bit of a wish fulfillment, the whole thing. How can I hide my fondness from the reader? If I let it shine through too much, it'll kill any charm this character is supposed to have :(

Hiding Character Fondness from Reader

Here are some things to be aware of:

1 - Keep the Plot on Track - One of the biggest tells that the author has a thing for a character is when the plot seems to shift in favor of the character. Not only does this character slowly elbow their way to center stage, but the plot seems to completely shift course in order to highlight their conflict/adventures. So, make sure you stick to the plot you had in mind and keep the character's role as you originally envisioned it.

2 - Avoid "Author's Pet" Armor - Another giveaway that the author favors a character is when the character has immunity to every bad thing that happens in the story, even when it makes no sense. They're the one character who emerges from battle completely unscathed (or with superficial injuries), they always draw the long straw and luck is always on their side; and if something bad has to happen to a character, it's never this one.

3 - Avoid "Author's Punching Bag" - Conversely, sometimes author favoritism plays out by treating the character like a punching bag. I guess this results from a hurt/comfort perspective, where the author enjoys putting the character through the wringer because it creates an opportunity for them to be comforted by another character. But when it's the same character who's hurt over and over again, with the rest of the cast seeming to be armored against trouble, it has the same effect as being the one character that's never hurt.

4 - Avoid Special Snowflake Syndrome - Consider all the characters in your story. If your favorite character is always the one with the skills, knowledge, experience, connections, to solve the story's problem and/or save the day, that's a problem. Not only does it make them overpowered, but it means the spotlight will always be on them because they're the one everyone else has to rely on all the time.

5 - Avoid Complete Lovability - This is a big one... there are few people who walk the planet who are genuinely without flaws and are universally loved by everyone who knows them. Real people, most of the time, have flaws. Someone can be the nicest, most generous person in the world, but they could have bad breath or be chronically late, or really stubborn about trying new things. Flaws don't make a person bad, they just make them real. But we all have our pet peeves, too, so if you know someone who is chronically late, they might get on your nerves and not be your favorite person in the world. We want that for our characters, too. They should have believable flaws and not give everyone they know heart eyes every time they walk in the room.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

LEARN MORE about WQA

SEE MY ask policies

VISIT MY Master List of Top Posts

COFFEE & FEEDBACK COMMISSIONS ko-fi.com/wqa

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

86 notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 9 months

Text

burn your life down: the director's cut, or rather, fun facts about this story now that it's over

luca's last name in my fic is davies, and formally davies-bernardi. bernardi in italian means 'strong as a bear' which, was truly a perfect coincidence that i originally thought it sounded good hyphenated with davies. it felt like the perfect little nugget to drop in here.

this one kind of took on a life of its own. I thought maybe a headcanon or a few chapters, then 46.5k words later... before writing a fic, i always like to map out where i'm going, because it helps me zero in on what story i want to tell. as someone (and who hasn't, truly) who has plenty of abandoned fics, i like to get clear on what story it is i want to tell before beginning to write so that i know it's a fic worth writing for me. no, i don't think finishing a fic should be a marker of success, but where i'm at right now, it feels like the best way for me to see if i have a story to tell or not.

speaking of stories to tell, the reason i wanted to have our main character divorced was because i wanted to try something different. i wondered how i could differentiate this mc (while keeping the reader neutral so you could picture yourselves in it if you wanted to) from others that i have written / will write in the future. the divorce and growing apart is actually kind of inspired by my previous upstairs neighbor who i met a year after his divorce. i wanted to imagine what the inner world of someone who had experienced a divorce that wasn't messy, but its relationship had just run its course and i the end, left two people who weren't sure who they were and how to talk to each other anymore would be like.

music and playlisting really helps me envision and feel into the world that I’m building. I ask myself questions like: what does their love sound like? what does this relationship shound like? how do i want the world i'm building feel, and how do i convey that in sound? and then of course, what songs could underscore certain moments of this chapter? listening to the playlist i create as i go really helps me get into character aka enter the world of the story when i'm sitting down the write.

so many of my fics and interactions are based on my own real life experiences, which is why they often feel so human and so real. i weave in little details like conversations i've had, a person i reminded of. i often write dialogue after i've imagined the scene in my head down to the cadence of how characters speak to one another to make sure it feels grounded.

speaking of, we've got to talk about the food in this fic, something that you all complimented me on at the very beginning! it was important for me to have the food feel deeply personal to reader, and be an expression of her identity through the years. yes, i wrote it with an mc with asian heritage in mind. however, i wanted to make space, again, for you to picture yourself in this fic, which is why mc's ex and family were written with japanese heritage.

a lot of the dishes were inspired by dishes i've had that were similar to what i think her culinary pov would be, and a lot of it is the way that i cook as well. i am not a chef by any means, but i am AM a home cook who occasionally does pop ups who very recently discovered my own culinary pov. food for me is something that not only helps me express myself, but has helped me connect to parts of my own identity. in so many ways, as someone who describes themselves as a cultural melting pot, food helps me feel closer to myself; it helps me find and define, and express who i am.

the culture of food and the role it plays in allowing us to connect was really important for me to weave into this story as well.

for the mikkelson twins, i pictured timothee and pauline chalamet as jesper and mathilde.

for the kimuras: rina sawayama would play astrid, darren barnet would play joe, and gia kim would play lina.

let's talk about luca's character development: so many things were so will poulter-coded/borrowed for will poulter, which felt right to do considering he wove his own life into the luca's tattoos. examples? the nike book, the kendrick lamar on the playlist, how much internal work the man has done on himself.

in the end, I initially had mc have a way bigger freak out than she did -- that it would be her final: holy shit am i ready to be loved moment, but as i wrote it, it ended up being luca who brought up the main conflict. it just ended up going in a different direction and didn't feel right to go with my original plan, because she felt so in their relationship already that i pivoted.

i watched a lot of travel and lifestyle copenhagen vlogs because i'm obsessed with youtube.

after season 2 of the bear, i wanted to explore what positive relationships with mothers could look like in these characters. that's why mothers (and single mothers) are the superheroes of this fic.

i knew i wanted this fic to be about these things: second love, loss, trusting the beginning that comes after the end, inspiration, following your heart, and mothers. these are the guiding principles that i used when writing, knowing that these were the pillars i wanted this story to be about.

looking forward: i am working on two oneshots that will live in this world, one about marcus visiting again -- an eat, pray, love for him of sorts -- that's about mothers and loss and life. the other one is a fun, sexy little smutshot that will hardlaunch their (she and luca's) restaurant so keep an eye out for those. truthfully, i've only just started workshopping the marcus one and am prioritizing finishing my carmy fic first.

opening myself up for q&a! feel free to ask any questions about this fic or my writing process in the comments.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

156 notes · View notes

sorencd · 10 days

Text

ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU

little moments with neil that you’ll never forget. cw: the moldy peaches

you’re a part time lover and a full-time friend,

“i promise you neil, if you even think of dropping me.”

your hands held an iron-grip on your forearms which wrapped around neil’s neck, trying so hard to steady yourself with how wobbly he’s walking right now.

“i don’t know, i think i’m feeling kind of tired right now.”

he started drooping lower to the ground, his voice cracking with each step. you could feel the smirk through his words.

“neil!” you squealed, hiding your face in his neck, bracing for impact.

but instead of feeling the rough, hard ground— you felt neil standing up straight. he was also laughing.

“i hate you.”

he smiled, “i love you more.”

the monkey on your back is the latest trend.

“i think he likes me.”

neil smiled from across you, disregarding the book he was reading a second ago and started petting the stuffed-toy on his back with tenderness as if it really was alive.

“yeah, you two look the same, too.” you teased, giving the monkey a pet as well.

“haha, you’re very funny.” neil monotonously replied, but a grin still evident on his lips, i’m taking that as a compliment.”

you laughed, amused by his reaction. you took a hold of his cheek and stretched it like your grandmother used to, “i’ve been practicing.”

“you should be a clown one day.”

i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

“hello? are you even listening.” your friend deadpanned, upset that you weren’t responding to a thing she was saying.

“what- i was, i mean- i am. i still am.”

she sighed, rolling her eyes with a huff. “look, i get it you’re madly in love, just don’t shove it in my face, please and thank you.”

you were fixated on neil, he was playing on the field with his friends and he just looked, surreal. he still had his hair all tidy, despite being drenched in sweat. he looked breathtaking, despite looking like an absolute mess. he also looked very kissable, too.

“why do i even bother?” your friend laughed and lightly shoved you, pulling your attention back at her.

“yeah—i agree.”

i kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,

the loud resounding horn of the train in the distance echoed loudly in the tree-covered valley. you and neil sat on the edge of the cliff, hand on top of the other’s, listening to the crickets chirping.

“i think getting on a train once would be nice. the view would be amazing!” you said in a soft tone, imagining the different scenery you’d be able to witness alongside neil. imagining a world outside your everyday life.

neil chuckled, looking at your eyes with so much adoration. he could almost envision it all himself as well. the amazing scene he’d have in front of him—a quaint small room just for two, dozens of trees and fields and natural life passing by; almost enough for him to write hundreds of poems about. but most beautiful of them all—you.

the scene in his mind was could never beat the moment he’s living in right now, however. you’re eyes—reflecting the bright stars above, giving his life another light within him. he could almost kiss you, and he decided he will.

“(y/n).”

you turned your head, raising your eyebrows with a smile. his nose was only a few inches away from yours, and the close proximity got your blood running up to your cheeks.

“can i kiss you right now?”

now you could really feel the heat across your face. with a small nod, you closed your eyes and puckered your lips.

neil let out a soft laugh, “if only you could see how cute you are right now.”

“just kiss me already, perry.”

i kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swinging from side to side.

his lips felt soft on yours, and his hands were holding your cheeks—somewhat grounding you. your entire body was pulsing with electricity, it was like you could implode any moment.

unfortunately, neil parted his lips from yours, giving you the relieving breath you didn’t know was taken away from you. and you stared, stared at him with star-struck eyes that was being illuminated by the street light, your pajamas crumpled between your fingers.

“that- you were-“ neil struggled to form a proper thought, still buzzing from the kiss.

“i love you.” you blurted, filling the silence and overlapping the chirping of the crickets. realizing the words that left your mouth, you turned your back against the awestruck boy in a rush and blurted ‘talk to me tomorrow’ before running away in a flurry of emotions.

“bye.” neil muttered with a small smile, his cheeks adorning a pink color of his own.

i don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

“(y/n),” neil whined with a grin, holding in the laughter that’s begging to be let out while simultaneously trying to keep his pajamas up. “stop pulling on my pants! you’re pulling my underwear along with it!” he desperately pleaded, walking away with your hands gripping the fabric with such strength.

“exactly.”

neil pulled on harder, he was laughing loudly now, enjoying the playful tug-of-war you two were having. before suddenly, you heard a tear.

you stared into neil’s eyes, and he stared back into yours before letting go.

“(y/n).”

“neil before anything i just want to say i love you.” you waved your hands in front of you, slowly walking towards the door facing neil. to your surprise, he jolted towards with a smile, and ripped pants, causing you to run like there’s no tomorrow.

“please—let’s talk about this!”

#dead poets society x reader #dead poets society #neil perry x reader #neil perry

46 notes · View notes

queen-haq · 1 month

Text

Fic: Never You (Polin) - Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

Chapter 6

Dearest Penny,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My journey home was perilous and took far too long. However, I did receive good news upon my arrival. Mother was awake in bed, the worst of her illness having passed recently. It will still take a few weeks but the doctor is confident she will recover fully. I have told her a lot about you. As I predicted, she is excited to meet you.

I miss you. I remind myself it’s only a matter of time before we can start our new life together, full of adventure and laughter, but it still feels too long.

Once my affairs are settled, I will be traveling to London to see you. I know your Mama will not take kindly to me but I hope to win her over with my intelligence and wit (I’m envisioning the mocking smile on your lips as I write this). If all else fails, I shall win her approval through jewelry, as you suggested. Hopefully that will alleviate her concerns about an untitled son-in-law.

Love,

Arthur.

Penelope read the letter again, smiling to herself. While she and Arthur could converse for hours, his letters tended to be short and to the point. And though they lacked a writer’s flair, his letters still felt distinctly like him and she appreciated that.

With other men she was shy and tongue-tied, and they were never interested in her anyway, but Arthur Debling had been different. At a dinner gathering in Ayleshire, it was he who had approached her, and once she got over her initial shyness the conversation flowed between them. Perhaps it was because he was a merchant and not a member of nobility, but from the very beginning he treated her with respect and a matter-of-fact stance rarely displayed by others. To him she wasn’t some woman in desperate hunt for a husband or an awkward, shy wallflower to be avoided at all times. She was Penelope Featherington and she was enough.

For the first few weeks there had been no romantic intentions, they simply talked of art and poetry. Over time she came to see he possessed a brilliant scientific mind that he went out of his way to hide. Only when she questioned him did he finally admit he was embarrassed of his intelligence and felt the need to dampen his curious mind from others. That was the first night she started to see him in a different light.

“Penelope!”

The sound of Mama's voice brought Penelope out of her reverie. After hiding the letter, she made her way toward her mother’s chamber in the opposite corner of the hallway. Portia was already dressed for bed and brushing her hair when Penelope entered the room. “Yes, Mama?”

The older woman cast her a quick glance in the mirror. “Lady Violet has invited us for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

Pen paused. Tea at the Bridgertons meant seeing Eloise and perhaps even Colin. “I will be in-”

“And before you come down with a sudden case of illness, I will remind you that personal invitations of this nature have been rare of late. We can not afford to turn down any, let alone the Bridgertons.”

Between the Marina scandal and then Cousin Jack, there were many who no longer wished to associate with the Featheringtons. While that was a relief for Pen, she knew the slow exclusion really hurt Portia even if she did hide the pain behind a mask of angry condescension.

“Yes, Mama. I understand.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, child. I will not have you looking haggard tomorrow.”

Penelope sauntered back to her chamber, her mind still reeling. No doubt Eloise would be present and angry with her. Would she at least pretend to be polite? Pen didn’t know. So far they had mostly avoided each other, except for the ball last week when Eloise had warned her to stay away from Colin.

After entering the chamber, she was busy locking the door when a noise startled her.

“Pen.”

Colin’s throaty growl made her gasp, her body suddenly taut.

Hesitant, she turned around.

It had been two days since she last saw him at the park. And now he was here in her chamber, shamelessly sitting at the edge of her bed. Hair tousled, clothes messy and disheveled, he stared at her intently. His face was unshaven, revealing a stubble growth of a day or two. Instead of taking away from his looks, however, it only emphasized his handsomeness more.

Her heart started pounding in her chest, both from the anger that flooded through her veins and the knowledge that his hold upon her was still so potent. “How did you get in here?” she asked, keeping her voice steady so he couldn’t sense how much his presence unnerved her.

“I climbed up the tree and through the window.”

As if violating her privacy was a daily occurrence for him.

“You’re so very determined to ruin me, aren’t you?”

“I was careful. No one saw me.”

“Well, that makes it alright then.”

“I didn’t take you as the sarcastic sort, Pen.”

“Add it to the growing list of things you don’t know about me.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes locked with hers.

The silence between them grew more tense by the second while they held still, as if a single movement could ignite a fire that would burn them both.

And then he stood up. “Do you know why I’m here, Pen?”

There was a button missing from his waistcoat, dirt on his breeches, and he had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. Her heart flipflopped in her chest. “I don’t care. I simply want you to leave.”

A bitter smile shadowed his lips. “Because it’s that easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve moved on already.”

“Yes.” The strength in her voice surprised even her when all she felt was anxiety twisting up her insides. “It’s time you do the same.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? That I’ve been trying?” Anger laced his words, hurt etched onto his face. “You don’t want to have anything to do with me yet I can’t imagine a single moment of my life without you. Why is that, Pen?”

With a slow and deliberate gait, he swaggered forward.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Your voice, your smile, your taunts...” He tapped the side of his temple erratically, eyes heavy with emotion. “Always in my fucking mind, refusing to give me even one moment of peace. You’ve been torturing me!"

With every step that drew him closer, waves of madness surged through her body. She didn’t want to feel like this, like her mind and body were completely out of her control.

“Why is this happening to me, Pen?” His voice cracked. “Why do I feel this way?” He clutched his heart, his long, lean fingers rubbing the spot over his waistcoat repeatedly. “It didn’t used to be like this, I was fine before! But now I think about you leaving me and it’s like I can’t breathe. Like a part of me will be lost forever.”

Her eyes softened. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the one who broke her heart. In his place was her dear friend, the boy she had known her entire life and loved for as long, and he was pleading for her help. “That empty feeling will go away, Colin. I promise.” She took a furtive step toward him. “You’ve only just returned, your life probably feels untethered with everything changing around you. But give it time, let yourself settle in, and things will be better.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Nothing will ever be the same without you.”

“It will, I promise.” She sent him a sad smile. “You will meet someone beautiful and kind, and she will be everything you ever wanted. The true love of your life. And this sadness that you feel right now will become a distant memory.”

A beat of silence followed as he contemplated her words.

Would the agonizing pain that coursed through her at the thought of him with another woman ever lessen? She didn’t know. Maybe with time and distance she would be free of this curse, but for now he was still very much embedded in her soul and the eventual reality of him falling in love made her want to retch.

“Is that what you think will happen for you, Pen? You’ll marry this Arthur and make me a distant memory?”

There was no outward change in him yet she immediately sensed the shift within.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Do you think I will let that happen?”

She stared at him defiantly as he approached her. “You have no say in my life.”

“But I do, Pen.” The glint in his gaze sharpened, making his blue eyes appear even darker. “Because it’s me you’re in love with. It’s me you swore never to forsake.” He came to a stop in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “I intend to hold you to that.”

Her anger returned. “And I intend to fight you. Because I will not sacrifice my future to appease your selfishness.”

“I know,” he sighed, regret looming over his face. “I should never have asked you to do that. But that’s why I’m here, Pen. I want to make things right between us.”

Her demand to know how died on her lips as soon as he retrieved something out of the pocket of his waistcoat. Stunned, she stood frozen as he held out an emerald ring, one she recognized right away from having seen Lady Violet wear it occasionally.

“My father gifted this to my mother on their tenth anniversary.” There was reverence in his voice as he spoke. “I think he chose it especially for the colour. It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“This has always been my favourite of mother’s jewelry. I knew one day I would gift it to my wife.”

Her mind went blank.

“And maybe now is that time.” He bent down on one knee in front of her, holding up the ring. “Will you marry me, Penelope Featherington?”

Time stopped.

For so long all she wanted was to be Colin’s wife. In her mind marrying him meant she would finally be happy and fulfilled. He would be the perfect husband, and she would be a member of the happy and loving Bridgerton family at last. All her dreams would finally be realized.

Except she wasn’t happy or even excited. The man she loved was on his knees, proposing to her, and all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. The proposal didn’t come from a place of love. No. Instead it was borne out of fear and a stubborn refusal to grow up. A last resort so he didn’t have to face losing their friendship.

Then there was Arthur. With him she didn’t have to hide, she could be who she truly was and not have to apologize for it. And she could continue to write, whether that be as Lady Whistledown, someone new or even herself, and do so without shame or regret.

Colin may have been her lifelong dream but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have new ones. And with Arthur, the life she wanted was within her grasp. A true possibility rather than simple fantasy.

Immediately she felt a sense of peace, knowing she was doing the right thing for herself. “I’ve already said this to you before. I’m betrothed to another.”

In one fluid motion he slid the ring back into his pocket before rising to his full height. He had always towered over her but that had never intimidated her before. For the first time she felt a small twinge of fear percolating in her stomach, realizing the stark darkness on his face was also new.

He was quiet, too quiet, stalking her every move with his eyes, slowly pushing forward. A predator enjoying the rituals of the hunt, preparing his prey for the kill. Instinctively she retreated, moving back until the door lodged against her spine. He continued to move in, slowly but ferociously, invading every inch of her space until he was standing directly in front of her. She craned her neck to meet his stare, refusing to bow down.

“Is that a no, Penelope?”

She couldn’t think with him so close but she held strong. "Yes."

“Even though you’re in love with me and not fucking Arthur.”

Maybe he thought throwing her love back in her face would embarrass her into submission but it had the opposite effect. Infuriated, she stood on her tiptoes to glare up at him. "So what? You think you can use my feelings to manipulate me?" She shook her head no. "I have dreams that matter to me far more than my love for you. And I will not jeopardize my chance to achieve them just for scraps of your attention."

Her words were meant to provoke his temper so he would withdraw. Instead his eyes softened as he hunched lower to look at her, his gaze roaming languidly over her face, a gentleness to them that made her insides dance with anticipation. She trembled when his hands cupped her cheeks while he studied every inch of her features, as if marking her in his memory. And then his thumb gently brushed over her pout, his dark blue eyes following the tremor of her lips, and all she could do was breathe slowly, tentatively, her heart drumming in her chest.

“I used to think you were the sweetest person I knew. Always so kind and agreeable,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “And easily forgotten.”

It hurt. Even though she had always known that that’s how people viewed her, if they bothered to see her at all - but to have him admit it was a different kind of pain. “Then forget me. Leave.”

He didn’t move, his gaze concentrated on her lips, thumb stroking left to right, right to left. “And now I can’t get this impertinent mouth of yours out of my head.”

It came as a shock when she realized Colin was hard, his erection pressed against her body. "You're aroused."

He met her eyes. “I’m aware.”

She swallowed audibly. “Why?”

Irritation surged through him. “You’re here, dressed in a robe with your beautiful hair down, talking to me, arguing with me, breathing around me, and you ask me why I’m aroused?” His hands slid down her body until they were at her waist, fingers curving into her sides as he pressed her tightly against him.

A faint gasp escaped her lips feeling his hardness.

“I want you, Pen,” was his raw, throaty plea. “I can’t stop.”

“Show me.” Her voice was firm, determined. “Show me how much you want me.”

To be contined...

A/N - Thank you for the support on this fic. Hope you're still enjoying it!

#polin #colin x penelope #penelope x colin #bridgerton #my fics

52 notes · View notes