#Wall heating cables

[electronalytics]

Indoor Heating Cables Market Analytical Overview and Growth Opportunities by 2032

The indoor heating cables market refers to the market for electric heating cables used for indoor heating applications, such as floor heating, pipe heating, and roof and gutter de-icing.

The market has experienced significant growth in recent years due to the increasing demand for energy-efficient heating solutions and the growing adoption of smart homes and buildings.Indoor heating cables offer benefits such as precise temperature control, energy efficiency, and ease of installation, which have contributed to their rising popularity.

The market is driven by factors such as the need for thermal comfort, stringent building codes and regulations, and the expansion of the construction industry globally.The market is highly competitive, with several key vendors offering a wide range of indoor heating cable products and solutions.

Analytical Overview:

The indoor heating cables market has witnessed robust growth in recent years, driven by increasing demand for energy-efficient and smart heating solutions.

Market players are investing in research and development activities to introduce innovative products with enhanced functionalities and improved energy savings.

Regulatory standards and building codes play a crucial role in shaping the market landscape, as they drive the adoption of indoor heating cables for compliance purposes.

The market is characterized by intense competition, with key vendors focusing on strategies such as mergers and acquisitions, partnerships, and product launches to gain a competitive edge.

Technological advancements, such as the integration of IoT and smart controls, are revolutionizing the indoor heating cables market, enabling remote monitoring and control of heating systems for improved efficiency and user experience.

Growth Opportunities:

Increasing adoption of smart homes and buildings presents a significant growth opportunity for the indoor heating cables market, as these systems often integrate advanced heating solutions for enhanced comfort and energy efficiency.

The growing focus on energy-efficient solutions and the need for sustainable heating options will drive the demand for indoor heating cables, particularly those with high energy-saving capabilities.

Expansion of the construction industry, especially in emerging economies, will create a favorable market environment for indoor heating cables, as these cables are essential for modern building projects.

Advancements in technology, such as the integration of IoT and smart controls, provide opportunities for innovation and product differentiation in the indoor heating cables market.

Increasing awareness about the benefits of indoor heating cables, such as improved thermal comfort and reduced energy consumption, among consumers and end users, will drive market growth.

Key Points:

Indoor heating cables market is experiencing significant growth due to factors such as the demand for energy-efficient solutions, smart homes and buildings, and stringent building codes.

Pentair, nVent Electric, Nexans, Emerson Electric, and Danfoss are key vendors in the market, offering a wide range of indoor heating cable products.

The market can be segmented based on applications, types, end users, regions, and distribution channels, allowing for targeted strategies and market expansion.

Growth opportunities in the market include the adoption of smart homes, energy-efficient solutions, expansion of the construction industry, technological advancements, and increasing consumer awareness.

The indoor heating cables market is highly competitive, and vendors need to focus on innovation, product differentiation, and sustainability to stay ahead in the market.

We recommend referring our Stringent datalytics firm, industry publications, and websites that specialize in providing market reports. These sources often offer comprehensive analysis, market trends, growth forecasts, competitive landscape, and other valuable insights into this market.

By visiting our website or contacting us directly, you can explore the availability of specific reports related to this market. These reports often require a purchase or subscription, but we provide comprehensive and in-depth information that can be valuable for businesses, investors, and individuals interested in this market.

“Remember to look for recent reports to ensure you have the most current and relevant information.”

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Market Segmentations:

Global Indoor Heating Cables Market: By Company • Nexans • Danfoss • Ensto • Young Chang Silicone • Raychem • SST • Anhui Huanrui • Thermon • Bartec • Wuhu Jiahong • Emerson • Anbang • Eltherm • Heat Trace Products • Anhui Huayang • Chromalox • Isopad • King Manufacturing • Flexelec • Garnisch • FINE Unichem • SunTouch • Urecon • Thermopads Global Indoor Heating Cables Market: By Type • 10W/m • 20W/m • 100W/m Global Indoor Heating Cables Market: By Application • Residential Buildings • Commercial Buildings Global Indoor Heating Cables Market: Regional Analysis All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global Indoor Heating Cables market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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Reasons to Purchase Indoor Heating Cables Market Report:

• To obtain insights into industry trends and dynamics, including market size, growth rates, and important factors and difficulties. This study offers insightful information on these topics.

• To identify important participants and rivals: This research studies can assist companies in identifying key participants and rivals in their sector, along with their market share, business plans, and strengths and weaknesses.

• To comprehend consumer behaviour: these research studies can offer insightful information about customer behaviour, including preferences, spending patterns, and demographics.

• To assess market opportunities: These research studies can aid companies in assessing market chances, such as prospective new goods or services, fresh markets, and new trends.

• To make well-informed business decisions: These research reports give companies data-driven insights that they may use to plan their strategy, develop new products, and devise marketing and advertising plans.

In general, market research studies offer companies and organisations useful data that can aid in making decisions and maintaining competitiveness in their industry. They can offer a strong basis for decision-making, strategy formulation, and company planning.

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Syndicated market research reports, on the other hand, are pre-existing reports that are available for purchase by multiple clients. These reports are often produced on a regular basis, such as annually or quarterly, and cover a broad range of industries and market segments. Syndicated reports provide clients with insights into industry trends, market sizes, and competitive landscapes. By offering both custom and syndicated reports, Stringent Datalytics can provide clients with a range of market research solutions that can be customized to their specific needs

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CORRECTION ⋆✦⋆ ushijima wakatoshi

synopsis ➸ after a fight that was entirely your fault, you’d do anything to make it up to your husband. and by anything, you really mean anything.

tags ➸ dom!toshi, size kink duh, belly bulge, cockwarming, dirty talking, degradation, punishment sex, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, manhandling, spanking, slight asphyxiation, rough sex

wc ➸ 3.6k

The living room settled in tense silence, only the faint ticking of the wall clock filling the stillness between you and Ushijima. He sat rigidly on the couch, back ramrod straight as his piercing gaze stayed locked onto the volleyball match playing across the TV.

You lingered by the entryway for a long moment, worrying your lower lip as you studied the stern lines of your husband's profile. Even in his obvious frustration, you couldn't tear your eyes away from that strong jaw peppered with the faintest hint of stubble—a delicious reminder of how he felt like rugged velvet under your touch.

With a shaky inhale, you finally summoned the nerve to approach the couch. Ushijima didn't so much as twitch a muscle as you settled onto the cushion beside him—cognizant of the careful distance you left between your bodies out of instinct now. More than once before, you'd gravitated into his personal space during an argument only for the overwhelming pull of his presence to leave you utterly distracted and undone far too soon.

"'Toshi..." you began hesitantly, craving the familiar cadence of his name on your tongue despite the circumstances. "Can we talk about this? Please?"

Your plaintive murmur seemed to drift across that weighted chasm without any effect. Ushijima's jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, but beyond that razor-sharp movement he remained utterly motionless. You recognized the subtle tells immediately—those micro gestures so easily missed by anyone not intimately attuned to each infinitesimal shift in his demeanor.

Despite his frustration, he was pointedly restraining himself from any potential overreactions in the moment. Years of sharpening that single-minded discipline coiled like taut cords beneath his olive complexion as Ushijima listened in silence. His strength of will always hit you with renewed reverence in these tense moments between you both.

"I shouldn't have said those awful things earlier," you pressed on, hating the tremor in your voice but pressing forward regardless. "You were just trying to help and I...I lashed out in the worst possible way when you were only looking out for me like always."

You fell silent again as Ushijima worked his sharp jawline, clearly processing your paltry apology behind that unshakable mask of restraint. You studied the minute details greedily—the burnished gold flecks gleaming in his irises, the faintest hollow of his cheeks carving into sharp relief whenever his jaw tensed in irritation. The familiar pull of adoration despite your self-recrimination threatened to steal your breath entirely.

Because no matter how he punished you with frigid indifference or terse retorts, Ushijima remained the single most beautiful man you'd ever feasted your eyes upon in your entire life. A sublime vision of rugged, masculine strength burning with unshakable passion tucked beneath that stoic exterior that few ever got to taste the true depths of so intimately.

Heart pounding against your ribcage, you finally indulged your impulses in the face of his frustrated silence. You scooted closer, allowing your palm to drift over the thick cable of muscle joining his throat and collarbone in a whisper of contact.

Ushijima drew a sharp inhale through his flared nostrils, but he didn't cease you. So you traced your fingertips further down over his pec, feeling the coarse fabric stretched taut over his sinuous chest. You swallowed hard at the heat and hardness radiating off him—achingly familiar textures you recognized better than your own skin.

"I'm sorry..." you rasped out once more, barely restraining a whimper as you slid your palm across his abdomen next.

You watched Ushijima's knuckles whiten around the remote gripped tightly in one large fist, his jaw ticking with the minute clenches and releases indicating his struggle for control. Lower still, you drifted over the rigid corrugation of his stomach, fingertips dipping beneath the hem to find the sublime ridges of his Adonis belt finally. Shameless in your worship, you followed the carved trail lower to palm the distinct swell of his cock already tenting the front of his sweatpants openly.

Ushijima let slip a low groan then, eyes fluttering shut briefly as you boldly kneaded the rigid length through the thin material. You licked your lips reflexively, mouth flooding with saliva at the sheer masculine musk wafting off that sensitive area you'd mapped and savored so many times before.

"Please, 'Toshi..." you demanded with a raw tremor of need roughening your voice now. "Let me make this up to you properly..."

Olive-toned lids sliced back open to pin you beneath the full weight of that blazing glare. You held his scorching scrutiny steadily as Ushijima seemed to silently weigh his next calculated move in the wake of your unashamed seduction attempts.

Then his large palm anchored itself against your nape forcefully, dragging you forward until your parted lips ghosted his own in dizzying proximity. You whimpered openly at the molten brand of his touch and piercing focus honed solely on you entirely.

"You've been very naughty indeed, wife," he rumbled out with a dark, rasping undercurrent that made your belly swoop with visceral heat. "Purposefully testing my restraint like a spoiled brat desperate for a thorough... correction, aren't you?"

You shivered bodily at the wicked promise laced through his gravelly benediction, aching to shift closer and chase more of that delicious friction and searing drag of his calloused palms over your sensitized nerves. Somehow though, you managed a jerky nod instead—surrendering over without further protest to Ushijima's unholy thrall and the intimate torments sure to follow.

In one graceful, unhurried movement, he tugged you fully into the cradle of his lap. Those large palms anchored your hips flush against him as his hooded stare drank in the sight of you spread so wantonly across his solid bulk.

"I'm not finished punishing you yet, little minx," Ushijima promised through barely parted lips, calluses raking over your lower back possessively. "But I suppose indulging you some sweet relief along the way couldn't hurt...as long as you take all of it, of course."

He didn't wait for an answer, large palm wrapping around your nape once more to tug you into a brutal kiss that stole your breath entirely. Ushijima devoured your every whimper and whine hungrily, the slick slide of his tongue tangling against your own enough to make you melt further into the furnace of his embrace.

It felt like an eternity before he finally eased off the drugging assault of his lips and teeth and tongue. Your mind whirled with a pleasant haze as you swayed dazedly, struggling to regain your equilibrium in the wake of Ushijima's devastating attentions.

"Take off your panties," he ordered in a husky baritone, those callused hands falling away from your body. "Only your panties."

You trembled faintly, fingers trembling as they obeyed the directive immediately. You lifted up onto your knees just enough to slip your underwear off beneath the hem of your— his shirt, thighs slick and sticky with your arousal as you settled back into his lap.

Ushijima's nostrils flared with his shallow, ragged breaths as his hungry gaze raked over the obscene display. One large palm slid over your inner thigh, nudging your legs open wider for his viewing pleasure. You shuddered visibly as he traced his thumb down the slick seam of your cunt, his touch so infuriatingly gentle and slow.

"You're always so wet and ready for me, my love..." he rumbled out, gaze darkening further at the way your arousal smeared his thumb with a shiny coat. "It's almost a shame I have to be so cruel, but you deserve nothing less, don't you agree?"

You shuddered again, thighs trembling with the strain of remaining upright as he continued to tease and torment you so cruelly. "Y-yes, 'Toshi," you managed to reply hoarsely, fingers twisting into the thin cotton covering his chest. "Please..."

He gave no indication of acknowledgement, continuing his leisurely torture of tracing over every inch of your slick folds save where you craved him most. You bucked your hips up, searching for the relief that eluded you, only to earn a firm slap on the ass for your trouble.

"Patience," he reminded you in a clipped tone, not bothering to slow the torment even as he disciplined you. You whimpered but forced yourself to be still, fingers digging into the hard planes of his pecs as he toyed with you so cruelly.

It felt like forever until he finally brushed against your swollen clit. You shuddered visibly, eyes rolling back with a guttural groan at the sensation.

"I know what you want, love..." Ushijima rasped, dragging his thumb in firm, tight circles against the bundle of nerves. "I know what this greedy cunt craves, but you've been so disobedient and naughty. It'd be unfair of me to give you the relief you so desperately need, wouldn't it?"

"I'll behave, 'Toshi, I swear," you gasped out, hips rocking against his touch despite yourself. "Please, please..."

The rough pads of his fingertips circled your entrance, teasing you with the slightest breach but never enough to penetrate. You let out a frustrated sob, tears blurring your vision with the intensity of your need.

"Oh, you're definitely going to behave..." he agreed, the subtle edge of a threat lacing his husky baritone. "And you'll learn to appreciate my punishments properly, too."

Before you could process his cryptic statement, the blunt head of his cock nudged your slick folds. You sucked in a sharp breath as the chubby tip dragged up and down, coating himself in your essence with each agonizing pass.

Your husband wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination—and his girth and length had been daunting even on your wedding night. You'd been nervous, yes, but he'd been a patient and attentive lover that made sure to leave no part of you unsatisfied.

But this? This was an entirely different level of fullness as Ushijima slowly impaled you inch by agonizing inch, stretching you around the thick length until you swore he'd split you in two. You'd barely adjusted to the overwhelming sensations when he gripped your hip with a punishing hold, pulling you down fully to seat him to the hilt inside of you.

"Now sit still," he ordered gruffly, emerald eyes flashing with dark intent as he reached for the remote control abandoned beside him. "I've got a game to finish and you're going to help me enjoy it."

"Wh-what do you—"

The question died on your tongue as he resumed the program, his other hand splayed possessively over the curve of your hip to keep you from moving. He gave no further explanation, gaze flickering back to the TV as he leaned back into the couch cushions once more.

You stared at him incredulously, mouth hanging open as he proceeded to ignore your presence entirely. Your eyes widened with disbelief when you realized the full extent of his plan—the wicked, horrible, cruel plan he'd concocted to punish you.

"No," you groaned, shaking your head vigorously. "No, please, 'Toshi! This isn't fair!"

His grip only tightened on your hip, the pressure enough to bruise in the most delicious way possible. "Fairness isn't an issue when it comes to punishments, love," he replied mildly, as if he wasn't balls-deep inside you and refusing to move. "Now, behave. Otherwise you won’t get my cock for the rest of the week."

You let out another miserable sound at the threat, the sheer idea of him leaving you unsatisfied and craving his touch for an entire week enough to make you go insane. Tears blurred your vision as he continued to watch the game with utter nonchalance, acting as if his cock wasn't sheathed in the tight grip of your cunt.

You were so painfully full and yet, you wanted more. Craved that delicious friction that only came from Ushijima using your body in whatever ways pleased him most. The urge to rock and grind against him overwhelmed your senses, but his grip held you steady.

You looked down to where his cock pierced into you so deeply, your eyes widening at the slight bulge of his girth visible through your lower abdomen. You whimpered, the sight of it turning you on beyond belief. You clenched and squeezed around his hard length, reveling in the way his nostrils flared and his jaw tensed slightly.

At least he wasn't entirely unaffected.

A wicked idea suddenly sparked, lighting your insides with a fresh wave of fire. You leaned back, bracing yourself with a hand against his knees until the outline of his cock jutted more prominently through the soft skin. You swallowed hard, taking a steadying breath before you pressed down on the bulge with your other palm.

Ushijima let slip a guttural sound then, the noise low and dangerous and so fucking sexy you had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper. But the damage was already done, your hips giving an aborted roll on instinct before he stilled you.

"Behave," he warned you in a raspy undertone, those piercing eyes honing in on the subtle outline of his cock visible beneath your lower belly. He let out another groan, his fingers digging into the meat of your hip hard enough to leave new marks.

You couldn't help yourself—not when you knew how much it affected him, too. You repeated the motion, rolling your hips forward with a gentle press. Ushijima's eyes fluttered shut, his breathing growing ragged and shallow.

You did it again and again, each time pressing down with more and more pressure until the game became little more than white noise to your ears. All that mattered was watching Ushijima's self-control slowly slip as you worked his cock deeper inside you with every deliberate thrust.

His fingers fell away from your hip, and you didn't waste the opportunity. Your pace was slow and steady, grinding him into your slick walls with a filthy grind of your hips. His head lolled back, the veins in his throat protruding starkly as he finally succumbed to the pleasure of your body.

You continued riding him torturously slow, working every last inch of his impressive girth inside you until his cock kissed the opening to your cervix. Your clit dragged along the coarse hair of his pelvis on each downward thrust, and soon your own breathing became ragged with the intensity of your pleasure.

You were so close—so fucking close, your toes curling and core tightening with each delicious glide of his cock against your spasming walls. Just a few more strokes and you'd have the release you so desperately craved...

Only then Ushijima's strong arm locked around your waist, tugging you back into his chest and pinning you there with his iron-clad grip. You cried out, the denial making your skin burn and pulse thrum wildly.

"Did I tell you to move?" he demanded in a ragged voice, teeth nipping the shell of your ear sharply.

"Please, 'Toshi," you sobbed out, nails biting into his forearm as you squirmed in his hold. "I'll be good, I promise. Just fuck me, please!"

His free hand slid over your inner thigh, spreading them apart and leaving your aching pussy exposed and dripping. The rough pad of his thumb found your clit, drawing torturous circles against the bundle of nerves as he nipped and bit at your neck.

"That’s too bad," he replied in a husky rasp, the dark edge to his voice making your belly swoop. "Because I'm not done with my game yet. If you move one more time without permission, I'll pull out and finish in my fist instead. Do you understand, love?"

You whined and whimpered but managed to jerk your head into a nod. "Yes, yes, please..."

"Good girl," he rumbled, giving your clit a final flick before he resumed his hold on your hip.

You forced yourself to remain still and silent, not daring to move an inch lest he make good on his threat. Tears slipped down your cheeks at the agony of waiting and watching Ushijima continue to ignore you in favor of the game.

His fingers flexed against your hip, a subtle tremor in the muscle and tendons that betrayed his struggle for control. He was holding back, you realized, not willing to give in just yet. You clenched around him deliberately, reveling in the way he twitched and hardened even further.

The sudden roar of the crowd from the TV was enough to startle you both, and Ushijima let slip a guttural growl as you tightened reflexively. Your heart pounded wildly, and you could feel the sweat slicking his chest beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Fuck it," he swore under his breath, finally reaching for the remote and switching off the TV with a flick of his thumb.

In the next instant, Ushijima's large palms wrapped around your hips. He lifted you up, pulling out and flipping you around so you were bent over the arm of the couch. One large palm pressed between your shoulder blades, pushing you into the cushions. The other grabbed your hip, anchoring your lower half up so your ass jutted out lewdly.

He nudged your thighs wider with a knee, and then he was sliding back into you. You moaned at the fullness, the delicious stretch of your walls around his thick girth. You fisted the couch cushions, burying your face into the plush fabric as he finally began pounding into you with a ruthless pace.

His grip was bruising, but you welcomed the ache, reveling in the sweet mix of pain and pleasure that only he could bring. His other hand slid over the slope of your ass, and you shivered as he caressed the tender flesh before a sharp smack rang through the air.

"Greedy, insatiable whore," Ushijima growled, palming the abused skin as you gasped and rocked back into him. "Making me break my own rules. Now I'll have to discipline you some more, won't I?"

"Yes," you cried out, his name falling from your lips like a benediction as his hips pistoned into you with a punishing rhythm. "Yes, yes, punish me, 'Toshi! Please!"

He gave your ass a harsher slap, the sting making you yelp and writhe beneath his weight. You could feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, his own orgasm fast approaching.

"Is this what you wanted, little minx?" Ushijima demanded in a husky tone, his hand sliding from your ass to curl over your throat. He pulled you upright, forcing your back to arch and breasts to thrust out as his fingers flexed. His other hand smoothed over your lower belly, thumb tracing the slight bulge of his cock spearing into you.

"Y-yes," you gasped out, head falling back onto his shoulder as he pounded into you with brutal precision. You reached up and twisted a hand into his hair, gripping him tightly as he nipped and sucked at the juncture of your shoulder.

"I can feel myself in you, love," he rasped, his hips slapping against yours in a wet, filthy slide. "Can you feel how deep I am? How your cunt's swallowing me whole?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you sobbed out, eyes rolling back and lashes fluttering. The hand on your stomach found your clit, the rough pads of his fingertips stroking and circling the sensitive bud in a dizzying tempo. "So deep, 'Toshi, so full!"

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he ordered in a husky baritone, his hips losing their steady rhythm. You could feel his cock twitching and throbbing inside you, and the knowledge that he was about to lose control set off a fresh wave of arousal. "Now."

Your body obeyed before you could even process his demand, every muscle and tendon in your body going taut with a force so intense it was nearly painful. You clenched and spasmed around him, hot, fragrant liquid gushing and squirting around his cock as you came harder than ever before.

"F-fuck," Ushijima groaned, his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you as you came undone. He buried his face into your neck, hips stilling as his release spilled deep inside you. He kept pumping his hips, the warm flood of his cum clinging to your walls and filling you so completely.

He held you upright as you both came down from your highs, his breath hot and ragged against your throat. His hand slid over the soft skin of your belly, the other still gently massaging your clit to prolong your orgasm.

It took a moment for you to regain your senses, blinking dazedly as he carefully lowered you onto the couch. You shuddered as he pulled out, a hot rush of his release seeping from your swollen cunt. You winced, the sensation almost painful as you slumped bonelessly into the cushions.

Ushijima knelt before you, olive-hued eyes roving over your thoroughly ravished form as if to assess his work. A faint flush stained his high cheekbones, his dark hair disheveled from your greedy hands and damp with perspiration. He leaned forward, large palm sliding up your inner thigh as he pressed a kiss to the tender flesh of your sex.

You shuddered at the tender gesture, fingers twisting into his hair once more. "Did I... Am I forgiven yet?" you managed to rasp out, wincing slightly at the hoarseness of your voice.

His lips curled into a slight smirk, gaze flashing up at you knowingly. "Not yet," he rumbled, his fingertips stroking lightly over the soft petals of your cunt. "I don't think you've learned your lesson properly just yet. Now, why don't we go upstairs, hmm? I have a few ideas of what I can do to you next..."

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[thesandsofelsweyr]

Could you write fic based off of this img

《 ALSO ON AO3 》

Comments & kudos on ao3 are much appreciated, as are reblogs here on Tumblr! ❤️

The red hot branding iron was inches away from his other cheek when he woke with a choked gasp. His ragged breath was running away from him while his heart pounded like fists against his ribcage. His wide, pale blue eyes blinked frantically, adjusting to the darkness, trying desperately to latch onto something—anything—that didn’t belong in his dank, dark prison cell. A bed, he told himself. His chest rose and fell as if he was running a marathon. He swallowed hard. I’m in a bed. The only bed he’d known in Arkham was the cold, hard, filthy wood floor of his cage. But he could still feel the intense heat radiating off the cruel metal onto his tender, unbranded cheek; the Clown’s maniacal cackle still echoed in his ear. He clawed at his pillow, pulling it over his head as if he could hide from his master, as if he could drown out the grating laugh that would haunt him even after he was rotting away in his grave.

“He’s dead,” he panted as his body shook like a leaf in a hurricane, “he’s dead, he’s dead, I’m free,” he repeated, but icy terror still clutched at his throat as his mind refused to believe the words. The walls of the dark room seemed to close around him, swallowing him back down into the bowels of Arkham Asylum, where his master was waiting to punish him again. He choked back a scream. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, which he screwed shut. “Not again,” he whimpered helplessly. “Please don’t do it again.”

His muscles were as taut as a grappling cable. Cold sweat drenched his entire body. He pulled shuddering knees to his chest, curling into the fetal position, as if he could protect himself from the crowbar in the Clown's lavender-gloved hands. 

A pair of ungloved hands slid beneath the crooks of his arms, and he squealed in terrifying despair.

“Shh,” a voice whispered, as soft as satin, as gentle as a breeze. Then the warmth of an embrace enveloped him, dragging him out of hell.

“I-I’m sorry…” he stammered, sniffling. Warm tears trickled down his cheeks, which flamed red with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t mean to wake you…”

She squeezed him even tighter, curling herself around him, wrapping him up in a cocoon of protection. Her heart beat steadily against his mutilated back, and he grounded himself with the comforting sensation; the reminder that he was needed, that he was loved. 

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmured sleepily. “You’re safe. I’m here…” She placed a tender kiss against his trembling shoulder, and his body relaxed in her arms. “I got you.”

[starry-crossing-zone]

General Storyteller - Rex

Summary: After the Battle of Kamino, Rex finds you surrounded by clone cadets. Length: 1.4k Warnings: Post-Battle; Lots of Teasing; Rex's Flirting is Improving

The battle of Kamino had yielded heavy and unfortunate losses, but the Republic managed to repel the Separatists in the end. Rex, after promoting Echo and Fives to ARC Troopers, sought out the generals. He walked over to where Jesse and Hardcase were relaxing, assuming they would have an idea.

“Has anyone seen the generals?” Rex asked, resting his bucket against his hip.

“General Skywalker’s at the south end of the city, but I have a feeling that you’re not asking about him,” Jesse quipped, causing Rex to narrow his eyes. “She’s with Kix in the infirmary.”

“You know how she always turns into a mother hen after battle,” Hardcase reminded his captain, leaning back against the wall. He elbowed Jesse with a mischievous grin. “She’s probably giving shinies heart attacks.”

“Well, if she can make our esteemed captain blush, what hope do the shinies have, Hardcase?”

Rex, tuning out the rest of their conversation, turned and made his way to the infirmary. Due to the overflow from battle, it had expanded into the mess hall. But Rex assumed that a Jedi would be easy to spot among the clones and Kaminoans. But when he didn’t spot you, Rex made his way over to Kix, who was setting another trooper’s ankle.

“Kix, have you seen the general?”

“She’s in the other room,” Kix stated, pointing to his right. “You won’t be able to miss her.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, but continued on his way. Stepping into one of the wings of the infirmary, Rex paused when he spotted exactly what Kix was talking about. You sat at the end of the room, smiling and talking with all of the young clone cadets gathered around you.

“And then the bridge started to collapse,” you retold dramatically as you carefully bandaged up a cadet’s wrist. “The Separatists planted detonators along the bridge and lured us onto it. And the tactical droid tried to blow us all up.”

“How did you escape?” one of the cadets asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Well, we started running. Anakin and I pushed your brothers to safety with the Force because all of you and all of your brothers in every corner of this galaxy are important to us.”

You gently poked one of the cadets on the tip of his nose to emphasize your point. He blushed bright red, reminding you of another clone, and looked down at his feet bashfully while one of his brothers grabbed his shoulders from behind.

“And no good leader and certainly no good Jedi would say otherwise,” you added, looking out around at the clone cadets. 

Rex was quite sure that the meaning behind your story was not part of the approved Kaminoan curriculum, but he couldn’t help but smile at his younger brothers’ reactions to your story. You smiled and finished up with bandaging a cadet’s wrist before continuing with the story.

“But then we had to run to safety ourselves. Now, Anakin was lucky enough that he was standing close to the edge. So, he escaped easily. But I wasn’t so lucky because a lingering detonator went off right behind me, causing me to lose my balance.”

“What happened next?” a cadet gasped.

“Shhh!” one of the other cadets shushed his brother.

“I’m getting to it,” you promised them with a chuckle. “As I was saying, your brother, Captain Rex, grabbed a long gun—right out of Mule’s hands, mind you—and shot a cable at me.”

“Did he hit you?” one of the cadets asked quickly.

“Do you think I’d miss, Cadet?” Rex called out teasingly.

“Captain Rex!” the cadets called turning around to see him walking towards them.

They all jumped to their feet and stood at attention. Rex stopped in front of the crowd of his young brothers and dismissed them, urging them to sit down again. He turned to you as the cadets got settled again. And even though Rex felt a familiar heat start to climb up his neck, he moved to take a seat on one of the beds. Clearing his throat as you offered him a soft smile, he nodded.

“You were saying, General.”

“Right, Captain,” you mused before turning back to his brothers. “No, Captain Rex didn’t hit me with the cable. It landed in front of me and I held onto it as the bridge tumbled down. And with some help from some of your other brothers, he pulled me up to safety.”

“Captain Rex saved your life?”

“Yes, he did,” you stated without hesitation.

“To be fair, you’ve saved mine a number of times, General,” Rex spoke up, causing you to smile.

“Yes, shall I tell all of you one of those stories next?”

The cadets cheered but Rex got back to his feet and motioned towards the door. You nodded and slowly stood up, causing the cadets to sigh and whine. Giving them a kind smile, you kneeled down so that you were eye level with all of them again.

“I must go back to being a general. But you should try and find General Kenobi, for he’s an even better story teller than me. But which battalion is the best in the GAR again?”

“The 501st!”

“And don’t you forget it,” Rex added, causing his younger brothers to grin.

Bidding the cadets goodbye, you stood up and walked with Rex out of the infirmary. The two of you moved in silence for a moment before Rex turned to you with a soft look.

“You survived the battle alright, General?”

“I should be asking you that question, Rex. This is your home. All of your homes.” You sighed and added quietly, “I’m sorry we didn’t defend it better.”  

“Kamino was always a target to the Seppies,” Rex stated, turning to look forward again. “But thank you, General.” Clearing his throat a bit, Rex turned forward once again. “And thank you for looking after the cadets. They were bred for war, but they were never trained for it to happen in their own home.”

“Of course,” you returned, nodding politely. “I have a soft spot for children. I believe my master’s habits rubbed off on me.”

“It’s not a bad habit to have.”

“Well, and clone cadets are adorable. In a way, the clones and the Jedi have a lot in common. We were raised communally as well. It’s a setup most citizens find unnatural, almost.”

“Well, your people can move things with their minds. My brothers and I all share the same face. They might not be far off,” Rex quipped, causing you to chuckle.

Stepping into the lift together, you stood side by side as you made your way back to the upper floors of the facility. No doubt that Shaak Ti and Obi-Wan were looking for the two of you. Placing your hands on your hips and turned to Rex with a mischievous smile.

“What were you like as a cadet, Rex?”

“Top of my class, of course.”

“Of course,” you agreed teasingly, causing Rex to tilt his chin up. “But don’t tell me that you were always this stoic and brooding.”

“Brooding?” Rex repeated, earning a laugh in return.

“Come on, Rex. You must have broken a few rules in your time on Kamino.”

“I would assume as many as you did when you were a padawan, General.”

“My master was on the Jedi High Council, so I had an image to uphold.” After a moment, you added with a grin, “But also more time unsupervised. And, well, Anakin was a poor influence on me.” Your smile softened as you turned back to Rex. “Perhaps I’ll tell you some of those stories one day, Captain.”

“I look forward to it, General.”

Stepping off the elevator together, you and Rex shared a smile before Commander Cody called out to the two of you. Rex winced when he spotted Cody’s knowing look and you pulled on a more professional expression in the presence of the marshal commander.

“General Kenobi requested your assistance with moving some of the larger pieces of debris,” Cody told you. “He’s in the eastern part of the city.”

“Thank you, Commander Cody, I will go meet him.” Nodding to Cody, you turned to Rex, who returned your burning gaze. “I’ll see you later, Captain.”

And with that, you walked down the hall and away from them. You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at Rex. Staring after you until your figure disappeared around the corner, Rex ignored Cody’s stare and smirk. Rolling his eyes, Rex brushed past his brother.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Cody called after him, causing Rex to wince.

“Stow it, Cody.”

[in1-nutshell]

My lord and savior, I come baring a request:

TFone B127 with an opposite personality daughter. He going about his duties on the trash conveyor when something odd drops down: a little sparking. At first he is very concerned about how a crying sparkling ended up in the trash shoot. It must have been a mistake! He needed to find a supervisor- but then the sparkling looks up at him. She starts to calm down in his arms and reaches to touch his faceplate. When he lets her she giggles, and that was when his spark was stolen.

He raises her the best he can, sharing rations and telling her stories he made up. Throwing little parties with his other friends he built.

As she gets older she becomes his little assistant with organizing the scrap he collects. She can be a bit bossy, scolding him for slacking with the guys (the bots made of trash). It was also a challenge for B that she had a tcog, since being cogless made it hard to teach her how to use it. Plus the cramped space made it hard to transform.

Of course Orion and D16 are confused and concerned about what a youngling is doing down here with such an… eccentric mech. Although D found a bit of amusement in her scolding Orion for ‘killing’ Steve, their priorities quickly change to getting to the surface.

Expanding continuities I see, I welcome this with one arms!

Hope you enjoy!

B-127 with a daughter with the opposite personality

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TF1

B-127 was doing his usual duties watching the scrap get smelted when something heavier fell through the shot.

He picked it up, holding it at arm’s length.

It was a newly forged sparkling.

He freaked out and nearly dropped them in the process

 He quickly readjusted his hold when the sparkling started to cry.

B-127: “Okay B, what to do? What to do? What to do?” The sparkling started calming down. B-127: “I know! Find a supervisor and hand them the sparkling. Simple…” The sparkling stared up at him with wide optics before giggling. B-127: “…But maybe spending the night wouldn’t hurt right? She needs to mee the others before she leaves! How does that sound little buddy? Buddy! That’s what I’m gonna call you until the supervisors come and get you.” Buddy just chirps before tucking her helm into his neck cables. B-127: “…Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached.”

The night turned into a day, then a couple of days, then a month.

By the end of the first month B-127 was already quite attached to her and vice versa.

He decided he was going to adopt her.

Sure, he was still quite young, but he also wasn’t THAT young.

This was going to be easy.

…It was in fact not easy.

It was a bit of a challenge raising a sparkling down there with limited access to rations and space.

Not to mention his job being near the smelting pit.

Space is one of the biggest problems B-127 would have to face.

Especially realizing that his sparkling had a T cog and was growing increasingly bigger by the day.

B-127 marks the wall with Buddy’s height. She was around his waist. Buddy: “How much taller am I now?” B smiles down at her. B-127: “At this rate, you’ll be just as tall as me in a couple years!” A couple weeks later… B-127 uses a step stool to measure her height. His little bean was now a good two feet taller than him. Buddy: “Couple weeks huh?”

Don’t get him wrong, he absolutely adores his little bean growing up and being her own bot.

Even if she does end up growing almost double his size, she will always be his little bean.

With the grow spurts and being unable to use her cog, Buddy develops limb and joint pains.

B-127 has a bunch of heat pads and a semi usable heated tarp at the ready.

This eases the pain a bit.

He keeps her entertained with stories and chatting as she replied in chirps and whirls.

B has made it a drill for her in case a supervisor decided to pop by.

As his sparkling grows, she develops a bit of a bossy personality.

Always trying to get him to go back to work and organize the good things from the conveyor belt.

Buddy: “Dad, you got today’s reports in?” B-127: “Umm…” Buddy rolls her optics. Buddy: “It’s a good thing I already have them filled out and organized.” B-127: “Thanks Buddy!” She smiles at him as he attempts to rub her helm. She smiles widely. Buddy: “I’ll let you do it if you can get in the rest of the quota for the day.” B-127: “Are you bribing your own Father?” A brief flash of fear is present in her optics. But it goes away quickly with his signature smirk. B-127: “You better believe I’m gonna ive you the noogy of a lifetime my little bean!” Buddy: “I’m taller than you Dad.” B-127: “Still not gonna stop me!” Buddy: “How am I the more mature one?”

Buddy slowly becomes a bit protective of her dad as she notices how he sometimes gets hurt handling sharper scrap pieces from the belt.

She always insists on helping him with those pieces.

She wants to see what is above Sublevel 50, but decides the work down here with her dad is more important.

All they needed was each other.

And if they worked hard enough, they would get promoted up the ranks and get better conditions.

Better space.

Better rations.

If we’re adding to the list, maybe even see a good live video feed of the Great Sentinel Prime.

Things, however, change when they receive two new guests.

B-127 suddenly whistles loudly after introducing himself to Orion and D-16. B-127: “Its all-clear Buddy! You can come out now!” Orion: “Buddy? Is that your friend?” B-127: “Even better! She’s, my daughter!” Both mechs are seriously taken a back. D-16: “You? You’re a Father?” B-127: “I know! A bit young and all but I made it work. Buddy! Come one!” Orion and D-16 watch as a large bot slowly emerge from a cramp corner in the room covered in scrap. The bot is slightly hunched over but makes her way to them. She has a steely gaze on them. B-127: “Buddy, this is Orion Pax and D-16. Guys, this is my little bean, Buddy!” Orion: “Little?”

Both are surprised to not only find out B is a Father of a youngling who is much bigger than him, but who also has a working cog.

They feel a bit unsettled by her hard gaze drilling holes in the back of their helms.

Even more when she punches Orion in the arm for ‘killing’ Steve.

The miner was sent into the wall with slight dents on his side.

But after making plans to go to the surface, the hostility that was once present slowly left and turned into protectiveness.

She admired Orion’s ambitions and his want to help other bots.

He also wasn’t a bad bot, which was good in her book.

But it was D-16 that Buddy found herself gravitating to.

He understood the seriousness behind these great actions no matter how great it could benefit everyone.

He knew what was at stake and considered everyone else getting negatively affected by this.

She could understand him just a bit better than Orion.

She likes this mech.

Was not a fan of Elita One after she nearly flattened them all with cargo crates.

Buddy was gripping to the train for dear life while B-127 was having the time of his life riding the train.

On the surface… Everyone is staring at the scenery. Buddy: “I am never going back to Sublevel 50.” B-127: “What was that kiddo?” Buddy: ���Nothing, just enjoying the view.” She was glad no one heard her. At least she thought no one did. D-16 whispering next to her: “You won’t have to when this is done.” Buddy gives the miner a soft smile as he gives her an encouraging smile. Hope. Hope was good. Buddy starts to notice the mountains coming towards them. Buddy: “That’s not normal right?” Orion: “I think its coming closer.” Buddy books it and throws her father over her shoulder. Buddy: “RUN! RUN LIKE THE QUINTESSONS ARE ON YOUR BACK!”

[wolvietxt]

𝓭aryl 𝓭ixon

… as your boyfriend !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : fluff, headcannons, slightly suggestive wc : ~700

꩜ daryl's not much for public displays of affection, but when it’s just the two of you, his guard’s down. he’s incredibly soft with you, even if he doesn’t say much. he’ll just hold you, strong arms wrapped around you while his hand rests on the back of your head, his touch warm and steady

꩜ sometimes, when you’re alone together, he’ll back you up against a wall, his hands braced on either side of you as he leans in close. he doesn’t say much, just looks at you with that intense gaze, his lips hovering near yours until you finally close the distance. he likes drawing out the anticipation, watching the way you react to him

꩜ he’s surprisingly attentive in small ways. he’ll remember exactly how you like your food, even if he’s never cared much about stuff like that before. when he’s out on runs, he brings back things just for you, little finds he thinks you’d like - a flower, an old record, or a jacket he thinks would look cute on you

꩜ his fingers tend to linger on you without him even realizing it. whether it’s resting a hand on your knee when you’re sitting next to each other or brushing your arm as he walks past, he’s just naturally drawn to you, needing to be close

꩜ when you’re around others, he keeps his distance, but if he senses you’re even the slightest bit uncomfortable, he moves closer. he doesn’t say anything, just stands next to you, solid and dependable, his quiet way of letting you know he’s got you

꩜ he’s got a habit of pulling you into his lap, especially when he’s feeling possessive. his hands slide down your sides, holding you in place as he presses slow, lingering kisses to your neck. sometimes he’ll let his lips trail along your jaw, whispering a quiet “mine” against your skin, a little rough but so full of warmth

꩜ when he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll sometimes just watch you, his hand gently brushing a stray hair from your face. he has this soft, almost vulnerable look in his eyes, like he can’t believe you’re really his. sometimes, he’ll press the gentlest kiss to your forehead, whispering things he’d be too shy to say when you’re awake

꩜ whenever he catches you looking down or upset, he’ll do these little things to make you smile - like placing wildflowers he finds in your hair, even if he acts embarrassed afterward. he’ll try to hide how happy it makes him when you smile back, but you’ll catch him stealing these quick, soft glances, his own quiet way of showing he cares

꩜ when things are quiet, he’ll sometimes pull you into his lap and rest his chin on your shoulder, his rough hands resting on your hips. he doesn’t say much, but his fingers trace small circles on your skin, like he’s memorizing the feel of you

꩜ he has a soft spot for seeing you in his clothes, especially his shirts. when he sees you wearing one, he’ll get this shy, almost proud look, glancing away with a small grin but pulling you close anyway

꩜ he’s gentle with his kisses, at first just soft brushes of his lips, like he’s savoring every second. but when things start to heat up, he’s more confident, a little rougher, his hands gripping your waist like he never wants to let go

꩜ whenever you’re curled up in bed together, he’ll run his fingers through your hair or trace lazy patterns on your back until you fall asleep. it’s his way of comforting you, making sure you’re safe, even if he’d never admit how much he likes doing it

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi, @omen-keke

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Fem!Reader (Part.2)

You leave them speechless with your bikini (Part.2)

You arrives at a private X-Men beach in a stunning bikini, instantly capturing the attention of your crush who struggle to maintain their composure

Characters: Rogue, Emma Frost, Mystique, Kitty Pryde, Laura Kinney, Sunspot, Alex Summers, Cable, Wade Wislon & Jubilee

Rogue (Anna Marie)

The sun was shining, the waves crashing gently against the shore, and the air was filled with laughter. Rogue had been lounging on her towel, enjoying the rare peaceful moment when she caught sight of you emerging from the changing room in your bikini. The sight made her freeze, her book forgotten in her hands as she took in the way you moved so effortlessly across the sand.

Rogue bit her lip, her usually cool and confident demeanor faltering as she watched you. You had always been stunning to her, but something about the way the sunlight hit your skin today was almost too much for her to handle. Her heart raced in her chest, and she could feel the familiar tug of desire, a feeling she had tried to suppress ever since you two had grown closer.

She glanced around, trying to see if anyone else had noticed, but it seemed everyone was too wrapped up in their own activities. Well, everyone except Gambit. Rogue groaned inwardly as she saw him giving her a knowing smirk from across the beach, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Chère, you look like you’ve seen a ghost," Gambit teased, walking up to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Or maybe it’s somethin’ else?"

Rogue’s cheeks flushed, and she shoved him away playfully, but her eyes never left you. "Shut up, Remy," she muttered, though there was no bite in her words. She was too focused on the way you were moving toward the water, your laughter filling the air.

Gambit chuckled, but didn’t push further, knowing when to back off. Rogue, on the other hand, found herself torn between keeping her distance as she always had or finally taking the plunge. The tension between you two had been building for what felt like forever, and seeing you like this only made it harder for her to keep her feelings under wraps.

With a deep breath, Rogue stood up, brushing the sand off her legs. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to cross that line yet, but she knew she couldn’t ignore it forever. Maybe it was time to stop running from what she felt.

Emma Frost

Emma Frost wasn’t one to be easily caught off guard. She had a reputation for being composed, always in control, always one step ahead. But when you stepped out onto the beach in your bikini, even Emma couldn’t help the subtle widening of her eyes.

Her usual icy demeanor melted, just a bit, as she watched you stroll across the sand. You were radiant, the sun catching the highlights in your hair, the way the water shimmered around your ankles as you walked along the shoreline. Emma's heart, usually locked behind an unbreakable wall, gave a small, unexpected flutter.

Of course, she’d never let anyone else see that. She masked her reaction immediately, schooling her features into their usual cool expression, though her eyes betrayed the heat she felt bubbling under the surface. She adjusted her sunglasses, trying to appear unbothered, but the way her gaze followed you made it clear she was anything but.

"Quite the distraction, isn’t she?" A voice cut through her thoughts. Scott Summers stood beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced between you and Emma.

Emma’s lips quirked into a slight smile, but she didn’t bother with her usual sharp retort. She knew Scott could see right through her, and in that moment, she didn’t mind. "More than you could ever know," she said softly, her eyes never leaving you.

Scott chuckled, giving her a knowing look before walking off, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts. She watched as you waded into the water, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on her. Emma could feel the tension between the two of you growing, a palpable thing that neither of you had addressed yet, but it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

For once, Emma allowed herself to indulge in the moment. She stood, brushing off the sand from her pristine white swimsuit, and made her way toward the water where you were. She wasn’t one to chase after anyone, but for you, she might just make an exception.

Raven Darkhölme (Mystique)

Mystique had always been a master of control. She was used to manipulating situations, changing forms, and bending others to her will. But when it came to you, her grip on that control slipped ever so slightly. She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Yet, as she watched you step out onto the beach in your bikini, that familiar tightness in her chest returned. You were breathtaking, and she hated that you had this effect on her. She hated how vulnerable it made her feel, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from you.

You were oblivious, of course, completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside her as you strolled across the sand. Mystique clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look away, but the image of you was burned into her mind. She shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms over her chest, her blue skin gleaming in the sun.

"Looks like someone’s in trouble," a voice drawled. Mystique didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Logan stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face. "Can’t hide that look, Raven."

Mystique’s eyes narrowed, her usual icy demeanor snapping back into place. "Mind your own business, Wolverine," she snapped, though the edge in her voice lacked its usual sharpness. Logan just chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She glanced back at you, her heart hammering in her chest. The tension between you had always been undeniable, a constant push and pull that neither of you had ever fully addressed. Mystique wasn’t one to show weakness, but with you, it was different. You had the power to break down the walls she had so carefully built around herself.

For a moment, Mystique considered walking over to you, letting the mask fall, even just for a second. But then, she remembered who she was, what she was. Vulnerability was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

So, she stayed where she was, watching from a distance, her emotions carefully locked away once more. For now.

Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat)

You had always known Kitty Pryde to be bubbly, fun, and full of life. But when you walked out onto the private beach the X-Men had rented, wearing that bikini you had picked out just for the occasion, something shifted in the air between the two of you. Kitty had been sitting under the shade of an umbrella, reading, but the moment she saw you, the book slid from her hands, completely forgotten.

You walked toward the water, the sand warm beneath your feet, and you could feel her eyes on you. It wasn't the first time you'd caught Kitty looking at you, but today, something about it felt different, heavier. There was a tension that neither of you had addressed yet, and now it was palpable, almost electric in the salty breeze.

"Hey, uh... Y/N!" Kitty called out, trying to sound casual, but there was a nervous edge to her voice that made you smile. You turned back toward her, catching her eyes as she quickly stood up, brushing sand off her legs.

"Yeah, Kitty?" you responded, tilting your head innocently, even though you knew exactly what you were doing. You could see the faint blush on her cheeks, the way she fidgeted with her hair as she walked over to you.

"I was just wondering if you, uh, wanted some sunscreen? It’s... really sunny," Kitty stammered, holding up a bottle as if it was the most important thing in the world. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at her awkwardness.

"Thanks, Kitty, but I think I’m good." You winked at her before turning back to the water, leaving her standing there, clearly flustered. Kitty wasn't usually one to get shy or stumble over her words, but you could tell she was having a hard time keeping it together around you.

As you waded into the water, you could hear her mutter something under her breath, probably scolding herself for not being able to play it cool. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, you found it incredibly endearing. There was something sweet about how Kitty tried so hard, even though she didn’t need to.

A part of you wondered how much longer you could dance around this tension before one of you finally made a move. But for now, you were content to let Kitty be flustered. It was cute, and you knew that when the time came, you’d both be ready.

Laura Kinney (X-23/Wolverine)

Laura wasn’t one for beaches, or crowds, or... well, anything that required her to relax. But here she was, sitting on the sand, watching as you stepped onto the beach in that bikini. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not out of disapproval, but because something inside her tightened at the sight of you. Laura wasn’t used to feelings like this, feelings she couldn’t quite place or understand.

As you walked toward the water, Laura’s gaze followed every step you took. She wasn’t subtle about it, not like some of the others might have been. Laura didn’t know how to hide what she was feeling — not well, at least. So, when you turned around and caught her staring, she didn’t even flinch. She just held your gaze, her expression unreadable, but her eyes... her eyes were full of something you couldn’t quite name.

You smiled, trying to break the tension that had been hanging between you for days now. "You coming in, Laura?"

She didn’t respond right away, still watching you, her eyes scanning over every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. Finally, she stood up, her movements sharp and precise, the way they always were. Laura wasn’t graceful in the traditional sense, but there was a power to her that you found captivating.

As she walked toward you, her steps silent on the sand, you could feel the heat of her gaze. You’d known for a while that there was something between you two, something unspoken but very real. Laura wasn’t one to talk about her feelings, and you’d never pushed her. But today, standing there in the warm sun with the waves lapping at your feet, you wondered how much longer the two of you could avoid it.

Logan, who had been nearby, noticed too. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched his clone-sister approach you. "Don’t get too worked up, Laura," he teased, but his tone was light, more brotherly than anything.

Laura shot him a look that could have cut through steel. "Shut up, Logan," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. But you knew her well enough to catch the way her lips twitched, just slightly, like she was holding back a smile.

When she finally reached you, she didn’t say anything, just stood there beside you, her presence enough to make your heart race. You glanced up at her, wondering if today would be the day she finally said what you both had been thinking for so long.

Laura wasn’t the type to act on impulse, but as she stood there, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her skin, you knew that something between you was about to shift.

Roberto da Costa (Sunspot)

The moment you stepped onto the private beach in your bikini, Roberto da Costa's eyes lit up like the sun he was known to channel. He had been lounging in a chair, casually sipping on a drink, but the second he saw you, his posture stiffened, and a smirk tugged at his lips. Roberto was always confident, always suave, but you knew the effect you had on him was more intense than he liked to admit.

You felt his gaze as you moved toward the water, the warmth of his attention causing your skin to tingle. The beach was nearly empty, just a few other X-Men scattered around, but Roberto’s focus was entirely on you. You could hear the playful chatter of your friends behind you, but it all faded as you felt the intensity of his stare.

"Damn, Y/N," you heard Roberto mutter under his breath as he pushed his sunglasses up to get a better look. His voice was low, meant for himself, but you heard it loud and clear, and you couldn’t help but grin. Roberto always had a certain charm, a playful arrogance that drew people to him, but you knew there was more to him underneath the bravado.

As you waded into the water, the waves lapping against your ankles, you turned back toward him, catching his eyes as he continued to watch you. His usual cool, collected demeanor faltered slightly, and you could see a flash of something deeper in his expression — desire, yes, but also something more tender.

"Hey, Sunspot, you good there?" Sam Guthrie called out from the side, a teasing grin on his face. Roberto shot his friend a glare, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

"Mind your own business, Sam," Roberto snapped, though there was no real bite to his words. His eyes flicked back to you, and you could see the determination there, the way he was trying to regain control of his emotions.

But you knew better. Roberto might be able to control solar energy, but he couldn’t control how he felt about you. And as you turned back toward the water, letting the cool waves wash over you, you wondered how long it would be before he made his move. The tension between you had been building for a while now, and you could feel it crackling in the air like electricity. It was only a matter of time.

Alex Summers (Havok)

Alex Summers wasn’t one to get easily flustered, but the moment you stepped onto the beach in that bikini, you saw the way his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with an emotion he couldn’t quite mask. He had been talking with Scott a few feet away, but the second his gaze landed on you, the conversation came to an abrupt halt.

You knew the effect you had on Alex. He was usually so composed, so in control, but today, as the sun highlighted every curve of your body, he couldn’t hide the way his breath hitched. You smiled to yourself as you walked toward the water, feeling his gaze follow you every step of the way.

"You okay, Alex?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow as he noticed his brother’s sudden silence.

"Fine," Alex muttered, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. Scott, ever the older brother, smirked knowingly but didn’t push it further. He simply gave Alex a pat on the back and walked off, leaving Alex standing there, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

As you dipped your toes into the water, you turned back, catching Alex’s eyes. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the desire burning beneath the surface. Alex wasn’t like his brother; he wasn’t one to hold back when he wanted something. And right now, it was clear that he wanted you.

You watched as he took a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as if trying to ground himself. But the tension between you was thick, palpable in the summer air, and you knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in.

"Alex?" you called out, your voice soft but teasing, drawing him closer. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he battled between maintaining his usual calm and letting himself go.

But then, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he strode toward you, his steps purposeful. When he reached you, his hand brushed against yours, sending a spark of electricity between you.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice low, barely above a whisper. You could hear the restraint in his tone, the way he was trying so hard to keep himself in check. But you knew Alex better than that. You knew it wouldn’t be long before the wall he had built around himself came crashing down.

Nathan Summers (Cable)

Nathan Summers, or Cable as most knew him, had seen and lived through countless battles, but nothing had quite prepared him for the sight of you in that bikini, stepping out onto the beach with the sun glistening on your skin. Cable wasn’t a man who got distracted easily, his mind usually focused on the mission, on the bigger picture, but right now, all he could think about was you.

He had been standing by the water’s edge, his arms crossed over his chest, but the moment you appeared, he froze. His steely gaze, usually hardened by years of war and survival, softened as he took in the sight of you. You were breathtaking, and it was clear that even someone as disciplined as Cable wasn’t immune to the effect you had on him.

You waded into the water, feeling the cool waves lap against your legs, but you could feel Cable’s eyes on you, watching your every move with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He was a man of few words, but you didn’t need him to speak to understand how he felt.

As you glanced back at him, you caught the way his jaw clenched, his eyes dark and stormy as they locked onto yours. Cable wasn’t the type to openly show his emotions, but you could see the struggle in his gaze, the way he battled to keep his composure in front of you.

"Wipe that look off your face, old man," Deadpool’s voice broke through the tension, his tone laced with his usual humor. "You’re drooling."

Cable shot him a murderous glare, clearly annoyed by the interruption. "Shut up, Wade," he growled, but his eyes never left yours. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the exchange, amused by the way Cable’s usual stoic demeanor was slipping.

As you continued to move through the water, you could feel the tension building between you. Cable wasn’t a man who let himself be vulnerable, but around you, he couldn’t help it. You had a way of breaking through his defenses, of making him feel things he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time.

You knew Cable wasn’t one to act on impulse, but the heat in his gaze told you that it was only a matter of time before he did something about the tension simmering between you. And when he did, you knew it would be explosive.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Being at the beach with Wade Wilson was never boring, and today was no exception. The moment you stepped onto the sand in your bikini, you could feel Wade's eyes on you, though his usual witty commentary was momentarily absent. For Deadpool to be silent was a rare occasion, and you couldn’t help but smirk, knowing you had successfully rendered him speechless.

You felt his gaze follow you as you made your way down to the water. Wade had been lounging under a massive beach umbrella, sipping from a comically large drink, but now he was watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle with awareness. You knew the effect you had on him, but Wade rarely allowed himself to get serious for long.

"Sweet mother of tacos, Y/N, I thought you looked good in combat gear, but this… this is a whole other level of hot," Wade called out, finally finding his voice. His comment was both teasing and genuine, and you could hear the lust beneath his playful tone. You grinned, glancing back over your shoulder to see him leaning forward, his mouth agape behind his mask.

"You’re gonna scare away all the beachgoers if you keep staring like that," you teased, walking back toward him. But as you approached, Wade didn’t back down, his eyes roving over your body with exaggerated appreciation.

"I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry," he quipped, standing up and stretching, his muscles flexing under his suit. "You make it very hard for a guy to keep his cool, especially in this sweltering heat. But hey, if you ever need help applying sunscreen, I’m your man. Or, you know, I could just skip to the 'rubbing you down' part."

You chuckled, shaking your head at his relentless flirting. But as much as Wade joked around, you could see the raw desire in his eyes. Beneath all the quips and bravado, Wade had real feelings for you, and it was moments like this when his mask—figurative and literal—slipped just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man underneath.

Behind him, you could hear Colossus mutter something about Wade needing to behave himself, but Deadpool was already too far gone. "Tell the big guy I’m totally behaving! I’m just appreciating nature’s beauty!" Wade shot back, before pulling you closer, his tone shifting from playful to something a little more serious. "But seriously, Y/N… you are beautiful."

And for a moment, the tension between you wasn’t hidden behind jokes. It was real, it was palpable, and Wade wasn’t hiding how much he wanted you. Not this time.

Jubilation Lee (Jubilee)

The sun was bright, the waves were crashing, and Jubilee was her usual energetic self—until she saw you walking onto the beach in your bikini. She had been setting off small fireworks from her fingertips in the air, just for fun, but the moment her eyes landed on you, her playful display fizzled out.

"Y/N, girl, what are you trying to do to me?" she called out, a wide grin spreading across her face as she adjusted her oversized sunglasses. Jubilee had always been vocal about how much she adored you, and today was no different. As you made your way toward her, you could see her eyes light up in that mischievous way they always did when she was planning something.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "What? Too much?"

"Too much? Babe, you look like you walked straight off a magazine cover," she teased, her voice full of affection. "If you keep looking that good, you’re going to put the sun to shame."

Jubilee wasn’t shy about showing her appreciation for you, but today there was a new edge to her teasing. You felt her gaze linger a little longer, her eyes tracing over your form in a way that made your stomach flip. You had always been close with her, but there was something electric in the air today, something that made your skin tingle with awareness.

As you sat beside her, you felt her hand brush against your arm, a small, affectionate gesture, but one that sent a jolt of warmth through you. "You know," she started, leaning in closer, "I’m not the only one noticing how amazing you look. I think Bobby almost walked into a palm tree back there."

You laughed, glancing over to where Bobby was indeed rubbing his head, clearly distracted. "Oh, please," you said, but the lightness in your voice was undeniable.

Jubilee smiled, her eyes softening as she leaned back in the sand. "But for real, Y/N… you look incredible. Like, I always knew you were gorgeous, but today you’re just… extra stunning. You sure you’re not using some of that mutant power to mess with my heart?"

There was always a playful dynamic between you, but today it felt different. The way she looked at you, the way her tone shifted—it was as if Jubilee was realizing something about her feelings, something that had been bubbling beneath the surface for a long time. And though she tried to play it off with jokes, you could feel the weight of her emotions behind every word.

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad!William Afton x (f) Reader - Telephone Cable (WARNINGS, SMUT)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, stepdadxstepdaughter, while mom is away, (slight) choking kink, cockwarming, daddy's girl, unprotected s*x, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, secrecy, Modern Day AU!, Henry giving William a call. AN: The first two paragraphs are a decoy. Underneath the read more is the real stuff. Based on this post

Sunlight peeped through the blinds, creating stripes of gold on the two intertwined figures. It was William’s favorite chair, so naturally, he’d sat down on that, drink in his hand, while the clock behind him ticked as he waited for your mom to go out.

The distant sound of her car became fainter and fainter. And then you and him were alone.

A smile spread on his face, showing straight teeth in a joyful but perverse way. A silent promise. And all he needed to do was pat his hand on his lap, and you came over to him like an obedient little pet.

~ * ~ You could feel the heat of his body against your back, the way his hairy hips rested against you from below. Your pussy squelched delightfully with each shallow thrust, and a low hum escaped his throat.

"You’re a real daddy's girl, aren’t you?" He whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps over your skin.

You’d been on your stepdad’s cock for a little over an hour. Just there to function as a warm cocksleeve around his shaft, until his cock had grown hard inside of you and your body thrummed with desire for more.

You bit your lip and tried to nod, but the movements made it difficult. So instead, you answered by moving your hips against his own, lifting yourself a little further off his cock before you sat back down again. Your hands were on his legs, near to his knees.

You could see your reflection on the inky black television screen.

"So nice,” William’s low voice sounded, his hands tightening on your hips before this grip loosened again. He kept your hips deliberately still, making sure he had full control again. The thrusts he gave were shallow, as if he wanted to draw it all out, making the pleasure last as long as possible.

“Still so tight," he grunted, The gentle thrusts were not enough to bring you to the brink, but deep enough to make you shudder and your walls flutter around him. You could feel the ridges of his veins, the hot flesh of hard erection as it was buried inside you, the head pressed snugly against your cervix, kissing your womb and leaking the first drops of cum.

“Think I can make you come before your mom is back?” you heard your stepfather ask, his voice hoarse with delight. His hand squeezed your right breast, hidden underneath yoru sweater.

His hips still only moved leisurely.

“I think I’m gonna fill you up before she comes home. Have you carry all my seed inside your womb while she prances around, not knowing Daddy filled up her little girl good,” the mental image sent shivers down your spine and you bit your lip again. “Would you like that, huh? Keep Daddy’s secret?”

Your heart raced, the threat of him coming inside you while your mom was away only made the moment more exhilarating. Still, his hips only moved slowly and shallowly. The itch inside your core begged for more. And so did you. "Harder, Daddy," you pleaded, unable to contain your desire as you tried to move your hips. But his hands tightened on your hips, keeping you firmly pressed against him. He stopped moving fully now.

“Do you think you are in a position to make demands?” came the rough voice of your stepdad. William let go of your right hip to push his glasses back on his nose, the frame pressing against the skin around his eyes.

You whimpered sadly, wishing he would pick up his pace and let you come. Your eyes went to the clock. Not long before your mom would arrive home. You’d been on your stepdad’s cock for a little over an hour, cunt sopping wet and his shaft coated with your juices. Yet, he never let you properly ride him or come.

You just hoped he would have mercy on you and decide to make you come before your mom arrived home. You wanted to have your fill. No. Needed it.

He might love edging, but you loved it more when your pussy throbbed around him and pleasure washed over you. Nothing weird about that, right? You thought you deserved it with all the things he made you do.

“Didn’t I ask you a question?” he wondered, though the teasing in his voice was evident. He just wanted you to acknowledge his filthy desires.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, eager to move your hips. He stilled them again, smacking the flat of his hand against your right ass cheek for good measure, an indication for you to keep still. Yet, your pussy squeezed around his cock, eager for more. You heard the gasp that escaped his lips -  he wasn’t left unaffected.

“I’ll keep your secret Daddy. I won’t tell anyone that you filled me up. Won’t tell Mom. Just, please, make me cum.”

“Well,” William drawled, the fingers of his hands gently stroking past the soft flesh of your hips. “Since you ask so nicely…”

You bit your lip, prepared for the ecstasy that was about to come. But just as William tightened his grip on your hips again and the muscles in his hips tensed, his mobile phone lit up with an incoming call.

You growled in annoyance, throwing the screen a glare. The name that lit up on the screen was a familiar one and your heart sank. It was his business partner, Henry. He would never deny Henry. It might be something important, especially as Henry was at work today at the restaurant they both owned.

As predicted, your stepdad picked up the phone, still holding you close, and you were just incredibly grateful that Henry hadn’t started a video call but a normal audio one.

“I’m sorry, Henry, could you repeat that again?” you heard your stepdad say, frowning while he pushed the glasses back on his nose again. His other hand, still on your hip, forced you slightly up from his cock only to guide you back down again with a squelch. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. Suppose if Henry heard…

“It’s really hard to hear you,” a pause. “Could be… Henry, can you call the landline instead?" he asked.

Another thrust, deeper this time, hard. His cockhead bumped against your womb’s entrance, involuntarily slickening your core.

And then William put his mobile phone down, screen facing the table. You could see just in time how the call had ended and glanced at William over your shoulder to try and measure his reaction to it all.

His eyes were hidden behind glinting glasses, his expression hard to see. But then he frowned and grabbed your hips harder. Your stepdad snarled in your ear: "You better keep quiet. This is an important call."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the anticipation building as the landline phone rang. William picked it up, and you noticed how the cable of the phone brushed against you, sending another shiver down your spine. Glancing over your shoulder you saw he must have noticed it as well, eyes focused on the cable.

He hooked the phone between his chin and shoulder, using both hands to guide your hips up and down until he found the right pace and angle.

"Hello, Henry," William said, his voice steady despite the situation. Your mind swirled with thoughts of what might happen next, the danger of being discovered only heightening the thrill. But you knew you had to keep quiet, not wanting to ruin this moment or jeopardize his work.

"William, we've got a problem at the pizzeria," Henry's voice crackled through the phone. "One of the arcade games is on the fritz again."

Thrust. You brought your hands up to your lips, covering your mouth with both of them as your stepdad decided that this was the perfect moment to properly start fucking you.

After being inside of your warm cunt for so long, this was the time. When you had to be quiet.

You silently cursed him inside your mind as he picked up a pace. The position in which you were in enabled him to hit you deep inside.

"Which one?" William asked, his voice steady even as he wrapped the telephone cable around your neck, surprising you. Your eyes flew open wide, hands darting from your lips to the cable. His strong hand pulled, tightening the cable around your neck, cutting off your flow of oxygen ever so slowly. You gasped as he forcefully made you ride him, guiding your movements with his hips and the grip on the phone cable.

"Whack-a-Mole," Henry replied. Slick sounds came from where your hips met, where his cock moved in and out of you with force. "It's been acting up all week, and I can't figure out what's wrong with it."

"Did you try resetting the system?" William inquired, gently tightening the cord around your neck. You struggled to keep your breaths quiet, focusing on the sound of their conversation.

"Of course I did," Henry sounded exasperated. Your cunt clamped down on William’s cock and you bit your tongue from crying out. Behind you, William transferred the cable of the phone to the same hand he was holding the phone in – not only tightening the cable around your neck but also leaving his left hand free.

That free hand circled you to rub against your clit, making you writhe on top of him as you tried to suppress a moan. Your walls started to flutter helplessly around his shaft, and he closed his eyes and nibbled on his bottom lip in reply.

"It worked for a while, but then the problems started up again."

"Sounds like a short circuit," William suggested, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he watched your eyes widen. "You'll need to open it up and check the wiring."

Thrust, squelch, thrust. Your breasts bounced underneath your shirt as he picked up the pace – no bra as requested. You felt your face flush in embarrassment, praying that Henry did not hear the wet noises that filled the room, and grateful that phone calls with smell hadn’t been invented yet. The room smelled heavily of musk, of raw intercourse and hot slick.

His fingers against your clit roughened, increasing the pace until his index finger slipped forth and bumped against your slick hole and his cock. And then his touch subsided, just in time to prevent you from coming.

You subdued a groan in annoyance. Nearly there, you thought. But the promise that he would make you come still lingered.

"All right, I'll give that a shot," Henry agreed, though there was a brief pause in which William’s hips didn’t move forth, but instead circled, stirring his cock - like a wooden spoon in soup - inside of you.

You gasped at the sensation, your hands loosening the grip on the cable and grabbing air instead as you threatened to fall forward. The cable pulled you back, the only thing holding you upright on your stepdad’s lap.

And then, with a devilish grin, your stepdad pressed his hips against you again with a loud squelch. His cockhead bumped against your cervix, eliciting a yelp from your lips. Although not loud, it obviously had been loud enough.

"Is everything okay over there?” Another pull on the cable took your breath away, preventing any more sound. Somehow, the suffocation was just enough to tip you over the edge. Stars started to cloud your vision, your walls clamping down hard on your stepdad’s cock.

Tears formed in your eyes as your stepdad humped his hips against yours, cock pressing against that delicate spot deep inside while you came.

You actually came.

The grip on the cable loosened and you brought your hands to your lips again to keep from crying out, walls trembling around William’s cock as your body was submitted to wave after wave of orgasm.

It felt so good.

And he didn’t stop or show mercy. He just kept fucking you as if he wanted you to betray your secret tryst.

“It sounds like there are some...odd noises. Are you playing with one of the new animatronics, hmm?" Henry said, indicating that William had promised to work on a new animatronic for their enterprise.

William grinned. “Perhaps,” he teased, another particularly hard and deep thrust. It betrayed that he was near now as well. That, and the hoarseness that crept into his voice.

"But you will have to wait and find out," William lied smoothly, giving the cord a playful tug. Your body reacted accordingly. "Don’t worry. My day off is well spent."

"Okay, if you say so," Henry said, still sounding a bit suspicious. "I'll let you know how it goes. Thanks for the help, William."

"Anytime, Henry. Good luck," William replied before hanging up the phone.

As soon as the call ended, he removed the cable from around your neck, leaving behind a faint red mark. His hands went down to your hips, forcing them up and down. Your tight walls were forced up and down his shaft, clamping down like a vice. His breathing increased.

You muttered nonsensical things, all soft whispers as the overstimulation was getting too much.

“Almost,” your stepdad mumbled, “almost, there, baby girl, almost,” and with a loud groan he came with one firm thrust deep inside.

You felt your body tremble as you came down from your high, breath returning to you as your pussy pulsed softer and softer around his throbbing cock.

Hot liquid coated your walls. And then there was silence. Just the ticking of the clock.

You moved gently on top of him, turning to face him over your shoulder and placing a petite kiss on his lips. His blue eyes were fixed upon you, following your gaze with affection. You knew he would deny it if you asked him, but he truly cared about you. This was more than just a primal hunger for sex. Your stepdad loved you, and you were starting to feel the same.

More and more with each day.

"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, flushed and breathless from the exhilarating experience. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to the top of your head, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Get dressed," he ordered firmly, his eyes glinting with a hint of danger. "Your mom will be home soon."

You obeyed without hesitation, standing up on trembling legs. His cock, for the first time in nearly two hours, slipped free from its confines: you.

It felt odd after having been filled for so long. You knew your stepdad loved to be close to you and to enjoy your warmth for as long as possible. And quite often that wasn’t long enough. It was why he wanted you to sit naked on top of him – whether just with your pants off or skirt flipped up, or perhaps naked in full. It didn’t matter, as long as he would be inside of you.

At first, you had thought it weird, but exciting. Now, you’d grown used to it, and you loved the feel of his stretch. You missed him when he was gone.

Slipping your panties back on, you made sure that William could see the evidence of his actions. The sticky cum that slipped out of you was dripping on the fabric of your panties, coating the crotch of your panties like paint. You left them deliberately halfway up your knees, waiting for all of the sticky liquid to have left your folds. Once the dripping stopped, and most of it had collected in your panties, you slowly pulled them up and pressed William’s hot cum against your core once more. As if your body could absorb it like this a second time.

Once your mom would be home, those panties would still be on, and your stepdad would still be inside and against you. He growled appreciatively, a predatory smile curving his lips.

"Daddy's good girl," he murmured, just as the sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached your ears. Both of you glimpsed outside, hidden by the blinds, to see your mom step out of the car, a bright smile on her lips. Your stepdad turned to you, flicking a knuckle of his fingers gently past your cheek; an affectionate gesture.

His blue eyes slid down to your now-clothed cunt, knowing his cum was still there. Then, William quickly left the room. You hurried to make yourself presentable, running a hand through your disheveled hair before retreating to your room, pretending as if you'd been there all along.

When your mom opened the door, you were behind your desk working on an assignment that needed to be finished soon. You smiled up at her, innocently. “Hi Mom, how was your day?”

AN: For @likoplays 8) Might do a different approach to the same prompt later on. Not betaread etc.

Taglist: @likoplays @2pacl0ve

AN: For more, follow me (:

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[radiosteve]

Call Me At Midnight

Summary: Your friend Steve invites you over for a late night movie. But you don't really like each other that much, right?

Note: Here's a shorter fic based on the song Apple Cider by beabadoobee. Hope you like it!

Warnings: No use of y/n, friends to lovers, a curse word or two?

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 3.1k

The wind rattled brutally against your bedroom window, although you were none the wiser. Instead, you were lying face down in your bed, arms cradling your head as soft snores exuded from your lips. It's not like you meant to fall asleep when you got home from work, but the hours of standing on your feet and making coffees really did you in. So, when you toed off your shoes and laid back in your bed at 6 p.m., you couldn’t help but lose your ongoing battle with consciousness and let your eyes flutter shut. It was nice to get some shut-eye after a long day, even if it was short-lived. 

The telephone on your nightstand rang out, reverberating off the walls and waking you from your slumber. Your hand shot out on instinct, grabbing the receiver to quell the incessant ringing. It finally stopped as you peeled your eyes open and brought the phone up to your ear. 

“Hello?” you asked, voice strained and groggy with sleep. You were met with a chuckle on the other end of the line as you ran your hand over your face, attempting to rub the drowsiness from your eyes. It was a warm sound, like a blazing roar in the fireplace that encased the entire room in heat.

“Sorry grandma, didn’t realize you went to bed so early,” the smooth voice of Steve Harrington echoed through the phone. You and Steve had been friends for a while, meeting through Robin and the insanity that was working at Scoops Ahoy. Your eyes drifted to the alarm clock on your nightstand, its face reading 12:01 a.m. 

“Don’t grandma me. It's after midnight, which is a perfectly reasonable hour to be asleep,” you defended yourself, throat still hoarse as you slowly withdrew from your sleep-induced haze. “Why’d you call anyways?” you asked bluntly, wanting to cut to the chase and wondering why you were awoken.

“Wanted to know if you’d come over and watch The Princess Bride. I know you’ve been dying to see it and I finally snagged a copy from work,” Steve said, brushing his sweaty palms against his jeans. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous about asking you to come over. It's not like this would be a date, and he didn’t even like you that much, right? You considered his offer, going back and forth between how late it was and how much you wanted to watch The Princess Bride. The latter won. 

“Alright, I’ll be there in ten. But just know, I’m coming over for the movie, not you,” you shrugged on a sweater, struggling to keep the phone to your ear as you did. It was your favorite sweater, a forest green cable knit that was soft to the touch. Steve had complimented it once, said that it looked good on you, and from then on you found yourself wearing it more and more, though you didn’t like to read into why.

“Noted. See you soon, grandma,” Steve spoke through the phone, a smirk that you couldn’t see dancing on his lips. He hung up just in time to hear your groan from the other end, which only encouraged his smile to stretch further. 

The drive to Steve’s house never took very long, usually the duration of a song and a half from whatever pop station your radio was tuned to at the time. Steve’s house was dark when you arrived, no light seeping through the cold, empty window panes. It almost made you question if he was actually home, though you knew he was. The driveway remained empty too, save for Steve’s car, indicating that his parents were off on another business trip without him. Your car pulled up behind Steve’s in the driveway, the sound of some Tears For Fears song cutting off as you came to a stop and turned off the engine. You took a moment before getting out, trying to control the butterflies that suddenly bubbled up in your stomach. It’s just Steve. A loud thump startled you from your thoughts. Turning towards the window you found Steve knocking on it with a blanket wrapped around his head and shoulders.

“The hell are you doing?” you asked, getting out of the car and closing the door behind you. He looked like a baby swaddled in a blanket, the soft material obscuring his voluminous hair.

“E.T. phone home,” he outstretched his hand with his index finger jutting out towards you. It was his typical goofy Steve antics and you couldn’t let him know how much you enjoyed it. It’d go straight to his fluffy-haired head.

“Fuck off,” you smacked his hand away with a smile, walking towards the steps that led to the front door. Steve trailed behind you snickering to himself while his eyes drifted down your figure. He’d moved the blanket down from his head, letting it hang over his broad shoulders instead. His hair was disheveled, brown locks wildly out of place. It made you want to run your hands through his hair, tug on its strands, and bring him closer, hovering your lips close to his. But you didn’t.

With the turn of the knob, you opened the door, snapping your thoughts back to their regularly scheduled programming. You migrated to the couch across from the TV, taking a seat on its soft cushions while Steve disappeared to the kitchen.

“Want some apple cider? I just got it from the farmers market this morning,” Steve called out to you, catching the nod of your head that just barely peeked over the couch. The two of you bonded over your shared love of apple cider, ignoring Robin’s protests of how it was too appley, whatever the hell that means. You stood up, inserting the tape into the VCR and prepping the movie while Steve grabbed the snacks. He returned as the previews began to play, setting two glasses of apple cider and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. 

You’d expected him to sit down then and join you on the couch. But he didn’t, wandering off back into the kitchen. You refocused your attention on the TV, watching a preview for a movie that you’d already seen so you seemed less interested in what Steve was doing. It was then that his head popped up next to you. Steve’s face was close to yours, only inches apart, as he leaned over the back of the couch to face you. You could smell his shampoo, its distinct scent reminding you of fruit punch.

“Left or right?” he asked and your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned, unwilling to comply with whatever he was doing until you knew more.

“Just choose,” Steve insisted and you rolled your eyes. You studied him, searching for a sign of which one to choose. After a moment, you gave up and turned your head back towards the screen.

“Right,” you spoke confidently and a pack of Skittles dropped in your lap no more than a second later. Steve hopped over the back of the couch, landing in the spot next to you with a thump. He had a pack of Reese’s Pieces in his hand, tearing the wrapper open and shoving a handful in his mouth. You raised a brow and Steve chuckled, the sound made you want to laugh too.

“You chose the right side. That’s what was on the right,” Steve shrugged, looking away from you, unable to maintain eye contact while he lied. The Skittles were originally in his left hand, but Steve knew they were your favorite, so he switched them at the last second.

“Thanks, Stevie,” you nudged him with your shoulder, a small smile encasing your lips as you opened the candy. It was as if the world had stopped when you smiled, or at least it did for Steve. He’d do anything for you if it meant he got to see the wide stretch of your mouth pointed in his direction. Steve let his gaze linger on you for a moment, only redirecting his eyes away when the movie started.

The movie played, invoking giggles and gasps from both of you. As you swooned over Westley and Buttercup’s romance, Steve couldn’t help but swoon over you. His hazel eyes never strayed from you for too long as he pushed down the overwhelming urge to brush your hair from your face and kiss you. To live out a fantasy romance of his own where he could spend his days trying to save you. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but it was getting harder to hide that he did like you, that he always liked you.

The credits rolled and you immediately knew that The Princess Bride was your new favorite movie. It was perfect and everything you could have hoped for. The fact that Steve had been the one to watch it with you in no way affected that decision, right? Steve stood up, distracting you from the pull of your thoughts. He ejected the VHS tape and put it back into the case. It was then that you noticed how late it was, catching sight of the clock on the wall behind Steve and the television.

“Shit, it’s late. I should probably go,” you rose to your feet, shuffling to grab your empty glass of apple cider and discarded candy wrappers. 

“Wait,” Steve stopped you, his voice almost panicked. He didn’t want you to leave, didn’t want the night to end. “You could stay over. I don’t think you should be driving so late,” he suggested, hoping it would convince you to stay. Truthfully, you didn’t want to leave, so when Steve made his offer you easily accepted. Steve led you upstairs where you dug through his dresser drawer to find a shirt and a pair of sweatpants you had left the last time you stayed over.

You shut the door to Steve’s bathroom, ignoring the jitters that ran through you. It’s just Steve, why were you so flustered? Granted, Robin was usually there too when you stayed over at Steve’s house. So the idea of staying alone at Steve’s felt new and exciting. It was like finally being allowed to do whatever you wanted, no watchful eyes lurking over your shoulder. 

Steve was sitting on his bed when you emerged from the bathroom in your makeshift pajamas. Even in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, you still stole the air from Steve’s lungs, momentarily ceasing his breathing. Steve had changed too, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips and bare chest exposed to the cool night air.

“Where am I sleeping?” you asked, setting your clothes down on top of Steve’s dresser and hoping you wouldn’t forget them in the morning. You restrained yourself from letting your eyes drift to Steve’s shirtless figure, his chest hair taunting you with its curling tendrils from across the room.

“There’s a guest room down the hall,” Steve couldn’t help but notice the twinge of sadness that encompassed your expression when he spoke, one that he shared internally. “Or you could sleep in here. The house is kind of creepy at night,” Steve added, giving you a way in, an excuse to share a bed with the brown-haired boy. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll just sleep in here then if you’re okay with that,” you spoke approaching Steve’s bed to join him where he sat. He nodded, ensuring you that he was indeed okay with sharing his room with you for the night. Honestly, he’d be more than okay to share his room with you every night.

The two of you laid back in Steve’s bed, making no argument about one of you sleeping on the floor. It was no use, and you both knew you’d just end up sharing the bed anyway. Steve flicked off his lamp as you pulled the bed sheets up to cover your shoulders.

It was late and you were tired, but the warmth that radiated off of Steve kept your mind alive, incapable of drifting off. He was like a fire that burned just for you, flames flickering in the cool night to make your skin slick with sweat. It didn’t help that the fruit punch smell from Steve’s shampoo was laced into the fabric of the pillowcase underneath your head, filling each inhale with the overwhelming scent of the boy that you tried to deny liking.

You turned to Steve, unable to feign sleep any longer, eyes searching his side profile. It was unclear what you were looking for, even to yourself, but you still felt drawn to him. Steve, who couldn’t sleep either, felt your eyes on him, invoking a smirk to uplift the corners of his mouth as his eyes opened. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Steve teased, turning to meet your gaze, his hand laid under his cheek, flat against his pillow. You let out a sarcastic laugh at his joke, eyes narrowing in faux anger.

“It’s kind of weird being here without Robin,” you spoke softly, still letting your gaze drift over Steve. His brow furrowed at your words, worry washing over him. Did you not want to be here with just him?

“What do you mean?” Steve shifted in his spot, tucking an arm under his pillow, smoothing its edge to better see you.

“She fills in the gaps with her little rambles,” you answered, unable to hide the fond smile that stretched your lips at the thought of your talkative friend. Steve hummed in agreement, reminiscing over Robin’s inability to stop talking when she should.

A silence settled over the two of you, only accentuating your point. But it was comfortable and pleasant, leaving you to swallow the air that passed between the short distance from each of your lips. Steve glanced at your hair then, admiring the way it spread across the pillow, his pillow.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you shot back, repeating Steve’s own words from earlier after noticing his prolonged stare. You expected Steve to shift his eyes then, settle his gaze on some object across the room. The last thing you expected was for him to reach out, to run his thick fingers through the tangled strands of your hair. You sunk into his touch, feeling the gentle scratch of his nails against your scalp. A sigh fell from your lips, soft and shallow as if you were barely breathing at all.

“Have I ever told you how much I like your hair?” he asked, voice calm and quiet, hardly audible despite the silence in the air. You shook your head, suddenly incapable of forming words. “Well, I do,” his hand rested there for another moment before dropping down, finding your hand that rested on the mattress. Steve laced his fingers with yours and you could’ve sworn that your skin tingled at the feeling. The brush of his hand against yours, ridged fingerprints pressed to the back of your palm.

“Steve,” his name escaped your lips in a whisper, the silence emphasizing the crack of your voice. You said his name like it was your favorite word, like you’d never speak any other name again. He simply kept his gaze on you, unwavering and surprisingly calm given how fast his heart was beating in his chest. “What are you…” you began, letting your question hang in the air. You didn’t want to break the moment, but you were desperately curious about Steve’s sudden shift in behavior.

“I just-” Steve breathed out, his voice shaking with nerves. “I just really like talking to you,” he finished, and your heart swelled within your chest as a feeling of anticipation filled you. You read between the lines, taking Steve’s words for what they truly meant, not just what he said. It was like seeing the sun peek through the clouds, making your first friend in kindergarten, hearing the final ring of the bell on the last day of school. It was the hope, the realization, that maybe Steve liked you too.

“I like talking to you too, Stevie,” you inched closer, Steve’s hand still wrapped around yours. You looked up at him, doe-eyed and hopeful. If there was ever a chance, then this was it. Steve observed you, admiring the flutter of your lashes as you blinked, the plush of your lips, the curve of your cheeks. 

He wanted to kiss you, and he was starting to get the feeling that you wanted to kiss him too. So he put on a brave face, leaning in ever so slowly, giving you a chance to pull away if this wasn’t what you wanted. God, Steve hoped you didn’t pull away. You didn’t, meeting Steve halfway as his breath fanned your face, his lips ghosting over yours.

A gasp expelled from within your chest as Steve finally closed the gap, brushing his lips fiercely against yours. He swallowed your gasp, relishing in the feeling he craved since he first met you. His lips were soft, the lingering taste of apple cider invading your taste buds as he slipped his tongue against yours. You melted into Steve, your body now flush with his. One of his hands cradled your face while the other untangled from yours, snaking around to pull your hips closer to his. It was a bruising kiss, one you never wanted to pull away from.

But then you started laughing, your teeth bared in between kisses with the uptick of your lips. Steve couldn’t help but reciprocate your giggles until the two of you broke apart, foreheads pressed together as your chuckles broke through heavy breaths.

“What’s so funny?” Steve finally managed to get out, his hands still caressing your skin. His soft gaze held you comfortably in place, keeping you right where you wanted to be. 

“Didn’t think I liked you that much,” you spoke with an air of levity in your tone. The repressed feelings you had for the boy beside you, your friend Steve, finally coming to light. Steve’s smile only grew, his fingers dancing across your cheeks in a gentle stroke of your skin.

“I didn’t think I liked you that much either,” he shrugged, and you wanted to laugh. You were two fools, hopelessly and desperately pushing aside your feelings for no good reason. Steve liked you and you liked him, it was as simple as that. It made you think about all the time you both wasted, all the kisses you could’ve shared. So you dove back in, sinking into the plush of Steve’s lips once more. And he welcomed you warmly, swallowing your shallow moans as he thought about how lucky he was that you accepted his midnight invitation.

[jackthepeeper]

English is not my first language, I've never written a fanfic before

Ramattra x GN!Reader

CWs: Slight NSFW(?)

Summary: Ramattra enjoys having repairs done to him way too much

You cautiously reach deeper inside, with your hand disappearing up to the elbow in his chest cavity through a small opening in his midriff, each section of his "abs" detachable if need be.

There's enough room to wiggle your soft flesh without touching the surrounding machinery. You're sat in his lap, with his visors burying holes in your forehead from underneath the emotionless plate of his face. The pressure is driving you wild, and you lose yourself briefly trying to decide which is hotter: his insides, where the scorching wind from his fans licks your skin, already sleek with sweat, or your cheeks, flush with embarrassment.

You're not an engineer. Far from possessing any meaningful prowess in mechanics, only having fixed house appliances a couple times in your entire life. But you're the best thing he can count on, and the task is more than simple: you just have to replace an extremely distinct knob just under his shoulder blade, easily accessible from the inside if you are lucky to have hands small enough to fit through the access hole. He sighs, flexing his giant palm idly. If he wanted, he could've closed his fingers around your thigh with ease.

You locate the knob, feel its melted form and unscrew it as carefully as you can while the edge of his armor digs into your skin, drastically reducing the freedom of movement you have. With your fingers tiptoeing around a ruined part of his, your eyes track every movement of the rest of the omnic's body. You don't trust him, just as much as he doesn't trust you. He sighs, his giant frame shuddering, vents creaking open and fans whirring louder as his head comes to rest against the wall he's leaning onto. You continue.

The knob falls into your palm eventually, and you can almost feel his disappointment of being empty as you retrieve it, completely pulling your hand out of the oven of his chest. He puts a heavy hand on your hip - a gesture you interpret as him making sure you don't run off without installing the new part in place of the ruined one. You shift against his thigh, and he grips harder as you plunge your hand back inside, bolder now than before.

Rough movements of your palm, metal being dragged against his insides as you try to insert the new knob where it belongs, failing miserably. He groans, and you feel every single one of his slender fingers dig into your flesh. You are sloppy, way too confident, a stray wire catching onto your finger as you screw in the knob. His heavy breathing replaces all your senses, leaving only the task at hand and the heat enveloping your body. Why would an omnic breathe anyway?

This time you can't even get your hand out without trouble. You're stuck in a rat king of his inner workings, your fingers slithering along the edges of his machinery, tracing thick wires in an attempt to find a way out of the endless loops, and to your horror you feel him tighten around you, heavy breaths turning into gasps and whimpers as you become more frantic, trying to free your hand from the scorching hot trap. Your lower body comes flush against the plate covering his groin as he drags you with both hands now, moving your flesh closer to his metal torso, deliberately grinding against the softness of your belly - you are too scared, too concentrated on the wires ensnaring your wrist to read him. You think he is in pain.

Your ass is the perfect size to fit in his palm, meat squeezing between his fingers as he holds you in place while his hips buck to meet your welcoming curves. He moans, silver caps on the ends of his flat cable "hair" clanking against his shoulders as he throws his head back and relaxes as suddenly as if he'd pressed his own power button.

You remain in his lap, playing with the limp wires until he wakes up.

[kurvinitty]

wriothesley 👁️ 👁️ as your soulmate

( * ₊ 🦋◞ ˚ ) ⠀ ⪼ ⠀soulmate au drabbles. ( open )

tags. ⠀ ⪼ ⠀ 1.5k wc, reader works as an engineer, swearing lol, not proofread bc i'm eepy and going to bed now

notes. ⠀ ⪼ ⠀ listen to colors by halsey while reading this bc i think it fits rlly well !! anyway this may be ooc but do i care? no. i only care about he.

You can only see colour when your soulmate is with you and you’re touching. This gives a whole new meaning to them bringing colour to your world.

Who knew that out of all places, a prison would be where your world of grey would suddenly burst into bouts of colour?

As an engineer, you were stuck fixing & maintaining things more often than actually creating them. Your colleagues sometimes pitied you, as your already monotonous world made your job even harder. Those lucky enough to have found their soulmate are not only favoured by cupid’s bow, but also by whoever delegated your working tasks.

You wouldn’t lie — it pissed you off. Yet at the same time, you were aware that it was much safer dispatching someone who could identify a cable’s colour before installing them. However, that still did little to soothe your frustrations.

It’s also what had lead to you being stuck with more tedious tasks — maintenance and routine inspections. Despite all this, you still loved your job — and you’d be damned if your peers’ mocking pity would bring you down.

Ironically, it was due to them that you’d get what you were looking for all this time.

To beckon the call of help from the Fortress of Meropide was definitely not your field of expertise, yet you were still the one who answered. Due to the aforementioned reasons, it was also your first time setting foot on the premise. The prison’s damp walls added a chill to the already eerie atmosphere, and you now regret not taking your coat with you. The gardes were kind enough to escort you to the administrator’s office, saving you the pain of navigating this labyrinth on your own.

You flinch at the sound as the garde opens the door, holding it open for you to enter. Only now do you realise how tense you’ve been so far — the temperature undoubtedly having played its hand in it. Archons, you couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

With a thankful nod towards your escort, you step inside the room, Wriothesley already expecting you. Before you could fully enter, the man was already on his feet to receive you. Well prepared — as expected of him.

You have heard many things about the Duke, rumours both good & bad — but you’ve never had the chance to confirm them yourself. But now that you stand before him, you think you understand why everyone respected him greatly — no matter their personal opinion of him. At a glance, you could tell that an air of authority accompanied his every step, and you feel yourself subconsciously shrinking before the man.

Should he notice, he doesn’t say a word though. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he seems quite relieved when you finally arrive.

“You’re the engineer we requested, I assume?”

He speaks matter-of-factly, yet he also sounds… quite friendly? You didn’t know what to expect of the man, but you were sure it was closer to ice cold apathy, rather than the soft-spoken silk you experience now.

The first words this man had ever spoken to you, and you were already at a loss for words. Both because you didn’t know how to explain the situation, and also due to Wriothesley himself. While the first impression he made was better than expected, you were sure you’d somehow manage to piss him off in the next second. But then again, was it really your fault?

You clear your throat, fumbling over the words, before you settle on something to say. “Well, uh- yes I am.”

It’s evident how the Duke senses your hesitation and raises and eyebrow in question. Where he once looked at you in relief, his expression now falters and his eyes scrutinize you with suspicion.

Oh, you’re fucked.

Heat floods your body in embarrassment, your mind now drawing an even bigger blank as you desperately try to backtrack. “With that I mean— I am an engineer, but I doubt the work here will be within my expertise,” you sheepishly explain as the words escape your mouth in a single breath. What an absolute wonderful way to start off this interaction. “I am terribly sorry.”

You have half the mind to bow in apology, for an inconvenience that wasn’t even your fault. Doing your colleague’s dirty work was one thing, but your company being under staffed was a whole other issue.

But Wriothesley only shakes his head. Though you could swear you saw his face drop in annoyance for a split second, you felt like there was no need to worry when he next spoke. “It’s alright. I’m just glad there’ll be someone to look at it. This stuff has been giving me trouble all week already.” his hand moves up as he sweeps it over his forehead in exasperation, fingers combing through his thick dark hair. And for the Archon’s sake, you wanted to do nothing more to curse out loud when he did that. Even more so when you catch yourself examining his features more closely now, with your eyes lingering on his for a moment longer than they should. You wonder what colour his hair may be — dark, for sure — but there was only so much you could determine with a world full of grey.

You’re here to work, not to admire pretty men.

Pretty.

It took you more self-restraint than you’d like to admit to not slap yourself.

“Anyway, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced yet,” the man continues, thus effectively pulling you out of your self-loathing session. His hand reaches out toward you, an invitation for you to reciprocate in kind. “Wriothesley.”

Surely, you wouldn’t be able to mess up a simple handshake, right?

You waste no time to clasp your hand in his & tell him your name, your dainty digits being engulfed by the rough and calloused skin of his own. And in that moment, you felt as if time had completely stopped.

It wasn’t due to the feeling of his skin coming in contact with yours. As much as one could sing songs about how the touch of your soulmate could invigorate & keep you warm for a thousand winters to come — it wasn’t the case for you. The catalyst for sure, but the event that followed was worth your song.

The moment your hand touched Wriothesley’s, you didn’t even feel it. The only thing you felt was the feeling when your world suddenly filled with colour. All it took was the blink of an eye, and you were in a whole different world. You stare at the man before you, your mouth hanging wide open while you were freeze in shock. There was so much new information to process, but your eyes & mind could only focus on him. You can’t exactly pinpoint all the new colours you see, but the first thing you notice is his eyes.

You weren’t the only one at a loss for words, and even if you tried — you could not pry your gaze away from holding his. His eyes don’t look much different than they did before, actually. They’re naturally blessed with a light colour, but now you notice all the different shades and hues within them. Does he know what colour his own eyes are? Do you know yours? For all you know, anyone you asked could have been lying to you so far.

You also notice how his pale face now gains the slightest bit of colour, and you wonder if he sees the same with you.

Honestly? If time would allow it, you’d stay like this forever. But of course, it’s the man you’re supposed to spend eternity with that would deny your wish.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

And he acts as if nothing happened.

You, on the other hand, are still in the process of digesting this experience. Before you knew it, his grip on your hand loosened, until it completely fades away and your vision is plunged back into an array of black & white.

“Wait, I—” The words slip out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, your body almost acting on it’s own accord to wrap your hand around his wrist again. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of this — of him — you desperately want your world to burn up once again, like a new hunger that begs to be satiated. Did he not feel the same? Did you just imagine it?

It seems like Wriothesley took notice of your crestfallen expression. He doesn’t back away, yet he doesn’t come closer either. Instead, he speaks — in a tone so beautiful & soft, you can scarcely believe it’s real.

“I think we’ve got more than enough time to talk later.”

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