#he barely can handle a day in England

[thetorturedlovergirl]

I could handle drumming in my head and being a psycho but can the master handle a week in Argentina?

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Miguel w/an Innocent S/O

Warnings: Protective Miguel, Slight Yandere Miguel (if you squint), Implications of Smut, Fluff, More Fluff, Spooning, Mentions/Implications of injuries, Insecurity, No Pronouns used for Reader Except 'You'.

Him being fiercely protective of you 24/7.

If someone even so much as looks at you wrong, he stares them down until they either break down and start apologising, or their heart gives out.

You’re the only person he shows any affection to. You’re also the only person allowed to touch him. Period.

He’s so touch starved; please hold him and tell him he’s your big guy :-(

Goes FERAL when you rake your fingers through his hair; his eyes roll into his skull and he can’t help but moan a little, even if the context isn’t sexual.

Don’t bring it up or he’ll punish you for it later 👀.

He finds your innocence both endearing and worrying.

On one hand, you believe in the good of everyone, which, considering how insecure Miguel can be, is what initially drew him to you; your ability to empathise and sympathise with others, to not judge them.

However, he knows people would take advantage of your kind and giving nature.

One time, he found out that one of the Spiders – a Victorian England era ‘gentleman superhero’ – had tossed you a used coffee cup and told you to dispose of it on his behalf. When you tried to say something, to tell him you were busy and had better things to do, he just dismissed you.

Of course, Miguel had seen this. He has eyes on you every second of the day.

You never saw that Spiderman again. Nor did anyone else. All that seemed to remain of him was his suit thrown haphazardly into the storage room, where a great big tear edged with blood was ripped into the chestpiece, the hero’s signature top hat abandoned and crumpled beneath it.

He also broke another Spider-Person’s arm when they tried to steal one of the fairy cakes you’d lovingly baked for him; poured your heart and soul into.

Miguel also growls at people he thinks are looking at you strangely. Full-on bares his fangs like a rabid dog and watches them cower.

He purposely grows his fangs out and lets you play with them.

He’s careful to make sure you don’t get hurt, though, guiding your hands away from the pointed tips.

His guilty pleasure is when you kiss his fangs and tell him he’s “The coolest, most handsome man in the world!”

“Just the world?” He says, smiling, raising an eyebrow. His heart melts in his chest as your smile widens, eclipsing your eyes into crescents.

“In ALL the worlds!” You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, laughing. He brings his arms, thick and muscular, around your waist and pulls you into him, pressing ticklish kisses into your neck, revelling in your laughter.

Intimacy-wise, Miguel is horrified at the prospect of hurting you.

He’s ever so careful, as if handling glass, holding back his strength.

It’s worth it, though. The strain.

Especially when he hears you mewl and try to hide your face in his chest.

“Oh no, Sweetheart,” he says, tangling a hand in your hair and pulling your head back. His pointed fangs flint as he gives a smile. “I want to watch you like this.”

Loves your gentle kisses – they give him life.

Nothing can get him down when you’re around; especially when you’re sitting in his lap.

Though, issues have arisen as a result of your oblivion to…compromising positions.

More often than not, Miguel’s had to bite his lip and tongue when you shift in his lap, catching him, making his heart start and his breath shutter, electric anticipation jolting through him.

He takes you aside in the bathroom to deal with the issue you’ve unknowingly caused, but you don’t complain. Not that you can with your mouth full.

He looks at you with eyes which have seen the deaths of countless individuals, yet when he finds yours, he sees love and light spanning infinite universes within them. And they give him hope that there is more to life than loss and grief; more to him than his failures.

He revels in the feeling of you hiding behind him whenever you’re scared.

Sometimes he takes you to areas of the facility where he knows you’ll be easily frightened – for example, where captive villains are held – so he can feel your hands tightening around his arm or gripping the back of his suit. It makes him feel useful, like he can take on the world.

And he gets off on being the only person who can truly protect you. But he’d never tell you that, of course.

Loves demonstrating his strength around you. He can pick you up single-handedly and carry you anywhere without so much as thinking of breaking a sweat.

He prefers to be the big spoon, curling around you like a shield and protecting you from the outside world, his warm, broad chest to your back.

Tells you how much he loves you through hushed post-intimacy whispers and soft touches. Shows it through acts of service and the insurmountable adoration that fills his eyes whenever you’re around.

He can’t imagine being with anybody else. He can’t even remember the last time he felt anything save for contempt before you showed up.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. No cost is too great for the love of his life <3.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[coff33andb00ks]

45 + lando caus i need some angst in my life rn

"Lies. Just lies."

driver + number = drabble <3

angst and lando go together like me and red flag men tbh

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health struggles, accusations of cheating, lando's not a good bf

He hasn't looked right lately. He hasn't looked right since...

Miami, really. Once the exuberance of his first win wore off he's been... Different.

At first you could ignore it. Lando prefers it that way - just ignore it until he's ready to talk about it. He'll always struggle with his mental health, you're aware of that, and over the course of your relationship you've grown accustomed to how he handles it. You may not always agree with how he does, but you can only stand by his side and offer support.

Rather, you would, if he'd let you.

"You don't have to come this weekend," he's saying as he packs up for the trip to Austria.

You blink,freezing in front of the closet. You know that most of the other girlfriends and wives don't go to that race - darling there's literally nothing to do? - but it's one of your favorite tracks. The scenery, the atmosphere... You love going there.

Lando knows this. And he doesn't want you to go.

"Heading straight home after the race, spend a couple days with the family," he continues, either not noticing or not caring that you're looking at him with annoyance and worry. Zipping up his suitcase, he pushes it to the floor and rolls his shoulders. "So I'll see you at mum's?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it–

"Oh am I allowed to go there?" you ask, surprised at the bitter coldness in your tone. You can remember when snapping like that would have Lando overflowing with apologies and reassurances. Now, he barely flinches, and you feel dread chilling your heart.

"Go. Don't. It's whatever," he says, his jaw tense.

"Lando–"

"I get it, alright?" He grabs the hoodie lying on the bed and pulls it on. "You don't like my family anyway."

"What are you talking about? I love them," you insist.

He snorts, running his fingers through his hair. "Sure."

And you finally snap. Fuck waiting around for him to be ready to talk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lando isn't meeting your eyes. "Nothing," he says, gathering his wallet and phones. "Just tired."

"For almost two months?" you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. "You've been like this since Miami–"

"Like what?" he asks, and you notice he's growing more tense.

You gesture aimlessly. "This," you whisper. "What happened?"

He opens his mouth and you hear his slow inhale. But instead of speaking, he snaps his mouth closed and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm just stressed, okay?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Did you cheat on me?"

"Babe no, of course not. I'm just... Tired."

"Not too tired to go out every weekend."

"So I can't have any fun?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Lando, we–" You stop when you see him grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "Lan–"

"I gotta go. I'll see you in England. Or not."

"We promised we'd talk about problems, Lando," you say, following him from the bedroom. "You said–"

"Lies. Just lies." He slaps a cap onto his head. "Because neither of us wants the truth do we?"

And with that, he leaves, the slam of the door echoing in the apartment.

[its-time-to-write]

bored

Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been posting less. Life’s been busy and I’ve been tired. Here’s some angst. It’s very long.

bored

It’s not falling out of love if you still love him, right? It’s more…slipping away. You feel like you’re falling off a cliff, scrambling for a handhold and coming up empty.

You hate this part in a relationship. The slide away. The boredom that creeps in. It happened with your last relationship, too. His name was Joseph, and you were together a year and a half when he started pulling away from you. It was little things at first, not talking as much and kissing you less. Then it was missing date nights and only kissing you on the forehead and silent dinners. He buried himself in books and barely looked at you and you knew the breakup was coming, but you could’t bring yourself to be the one to leave. So you didn’t. You just waited until he dropped the news at dinner and pretended like you were ok with it, and not that you had been secretly packing up your things for weeks.

It broke you a little bit. The slow pull. The obvious boredom that he had. The dissatisfaction with you. 

The waiting was torture, the aftermath was worse. Your dad was worried as you continued to dwindle into a shell of yourself. Skin pallid, eyes hallow, never smiling.

Your aunt Eileen said you needed to get out of the country and into a change of scenery, which is why you’re on a plane on your way to live with her in England. 

You’re fortunate that your job in graphic design allows for remote work and an asynchronous schedule.

It’s fun to live with Aunt Eileen. She’s very loud and very Irish. She only lives in London to be near her sister, who married and Englishman (much to the chagrin of the rest of your family). Your dad, their brother, married an American which was better-received. You have your mom’s accent, which is mostly due to the fact that you grew up in America. You think maybe if you grew up over here it would be different. 

Eileen does not let you be sad. And, it’s easier to forget about Joseph when there are no reminders of him around. It’s a completely new place with completely new faces. 

Eileen takes you all over Richmond. You meet her friends and the locals, and begin to feel things again. Not happiness per se, but some positive neutral.

Eileen kicks you out of the house every Thursday evening. She says it’s so you can explore and have time to yourself, but it’s really when all her yoga friends come over for rosé and awful reality shows. You don’t really mind, you caught a minute of one and couldn’t handle the absurdity of it. You suppose that’s the appeal, it just isn’t for you.

So instead, you get out. You brings a small sketchpad and a pencil, and create.

You haven’t done analog drawing in forever, and it’s refreshing to be away from a screen. You draw whatever you want, whether it’s your mood or a sketch of your surroundings. Little by little, you find yourself again.

—

Richmond is a big football town. Everyone loses their mind when there’s a match, and the streets become a sea of red and blue. Aunt Eileen doesn’t watch football, and neither do you. Like reality tv, you just can’t get into it. Apparently the coach (or gaffer) frequents a pub that Eileen takes you too, and he’s American like you. He heard you talking once and came over to introduce himself.

“I’m Ted and this is Coach Beard,” he had said. “Nice to hear a familiar accent around here. What’s been the biggest culture shock for you? Mine has been the fact that the cars all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

You like Ted and Beard. They remind you of home, the good parts of home. You see them pretty regularly and they talk about coaching and football, and listen to you tell them about your designs and family.

“You takin’ new work?” Ted asks one day. “Could find you some projects around Nelson Road.”

So now you’re contracted by a woman named Rebecca to keep things up to date around AFC Richmond’s headquarters.

Rebecca is something else. She’s everything you want to be, confident and fearless. She charges ahead and takes what she wants, but does it with kindness and grace. 

You suppose the kindness is what gets you the most here. Eileen thinks it’s good for you to get out and work with actual people instead of remote on a screen, and you privately agree with her. There isn’t always a lot of work to do, but Rebecca set you up with an office and allows you to work on projects for your other companies. Her friend Keeley pops in from time to time, to chat and tell you that your designs need more pink.

“It’s objectively the best color, babe,” she says. “Makes everything else pop!”

Keeley starts becoming your friend, too. 

Rebecca takes it upon herself to become your mentor of sorts, and she sits you for a meeting after your first week.

“What sort of work do you really want to do?” she asks. 

You tell her you love everything. You love murals and sketches and passion projects and surrealism. You love pencils and paint and digital art, but hate watercolor and charcoal. You love artsy interior designs and posters and tiny stickers and large paintings. You love making things expressive and beautiful, in whatever capacity you can. 

A week and a half later, you’re redecorating Keeley’s office.

“You know what I like, babe,” she says affectionately. 

And you do. You’ve known her two weeks, but she’s made an effort to get to know you and to make herself known. You’re trusting people again.

—

Keeley bursts into your office in a flurry of sequins and fringe two days after you did her office, dragging someone by the hand. 

“Babe,” she says, breathless from her obvious run to you, “tell Jamie he fucking cannot wear socks and sandals.”

You look at this Jamie and see he is indeed committing a terrible fashion faux pas.

And… looking good while doing it?

You look back at Keeley. “Keels, why are you asking me?”

She looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’re Richmond’s art person! You know what looks good and what doesn’t! And this one-” she pauses to pinch Jamie’s cheek affectionately, “won’t fucking listen to me.”

Jamie shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Sorry to bug you,” he says. “Know you’ve got other shit to do.”

This is interesting. This Jamie is looking sheepish, blush tingeing the tips of his ears. You don’t know him, but what you’ve seen of all the footballers, they have egos for miles. They’re all incredibly kind, but definitely confident. Embarrassment doesn’t even seem like something any of them are capable of, but here’s Jamie in front of you, all apologetic and shooting glances at Keeley with the clear message let’s go.

Keeley isn’t paying attention, just bouncing on her toes and waiting for your response. 

You assess Jamie and say, “Actually, he’s pulling it off.” You give him your name and he smiles a little, sticks out his hand, and says, “I’m Jamie.”

Keeley frowns at you (not a real one) then grabs Jamie’s hand and marches out the door in a similar fashion that she entered. Jamie throws you one last apologetic glance before he’s dragged out the door.

You sit back in your chair, processing what just happened. This is the first time you’ve actually met someone on the team, and it was not at all what you expected. 

—

You’re working through lunch on a side project the next day, when there’s a knock on your doorframe. 

“Jamie!” you say, looking up in surprise, “What can I help you with?”

He fidgets for a moment then replies, “Keeley sent me to make sure you weren’t working through lunch.”

Oh. That’s interesting.

You frown, though not at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

Jamie squints at you. “You fucking lying?”

He says it so sincerely that you laugh, and put down your pen. “Yes I am, but if Keeley asks then no. I’m taking my required mental break and not working.”

Jamie moves from the doorway and plops down on the chair across from your desk.

“Whatcha working on?”

You spend the better part of thirty minutes telling Jamie about a redesign for a children’s center logo and the details of keeping the essence while modernizing it and revamping the color scheme, all while he nods and asks questions in all the right places. It’s not until your alarm goes off on your phone that you both jump and say, “Shit,” in unison.

“I’m late. Roy’s gonna fucking kill me,” Jamie groans.

You feel terrible. “I’m so sorry,” you respond sincerely. “Shit, I’m sorry. Tell Roy it was my fault.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, weren’t yours. Should’ve kept a better eye on the time.” 

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back and smiles at you. “I’ll tell Keeley you took a real break.” He winks and and disappears around the corner.

You make a mental note to ask Keeley about this whole thing later.

—

“Oh he’s into you, babe.” Keeley says, hours later when you’re at her house for drinks and dinner. 

“WHAT, no!” you protest, “He’s not! He was just- just-”

Keeley nods and smirks. “Can’t finish that sentence, can you? Y’know, I just told him to check on you. I didn’t say anything about eating lunch with you.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I also overheard him telling Ted that he didn’t think you were attractive at all.”

You and Keeley turn to her with matching quizzical expressions.

“He was clearly not telling the truth. I didn’t even have to see his face, I could hear it in his voice,” Rebecca explains.

“Ooh, right, yeah, Jamie’s a shit liar!” Keeley exclaims. “Oh my god babe, I literally can’t believe it. You’d be so fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca tilts her head and gives you an appraising look. “I can see it,” she says.

Your face is on fire but you’re laughing and shaking your head. “If Eileen didn’t have her yoga group over for drinks, I would be totally out of here.”

—

Rebecca was right. Jamie does like you and he asks you out the next week. 

He says, “I think you’re fucking amazing. Do you want to get dinner?”

He’s radiating so much confidence that despite yourself, you laugh and say yes. Eileen is beside herself, so happy that you are going out with “such a nice young man.” Keeley and Rebecca feel a similar way. Keeley’s boyfriend Roy just grunts. You like Roy. He’d never admit it, but he’s very kind. You know he threatened Jamie within an inch of his life when he heard you two had started dating, and the sentiment almost made you tear up. Almost.

—

You slip in to a pattern. Living with Eileen, spending nights with Jamie. Dinner with Keeley and Roy, drinks with Keeley and Rebecca. Walks in the park, early morning breakfasts, family picnics. Jamie is present for everything except girl’s night. (He makes a pretty convincing argument for why he should be included, if you’re being honest). 

It’s… scary. You’re still hurting from Joseph, but Jamie does his best to erase any trace of him. He tells you he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin, so that his lips are the only ones you think of. He brings you flowers and makes sure to tell you how much he loves you.

Eileen pretends not to notice that your bed is empty more nights than not, and you do your best to return that courtesy by keeping her in the loop of your comings and goings, so she knows if she should save you dinner. 

You and Jamie are together like this for four and a half months. It’s wonderful and terrifying and perfect.

You’ve almost forgotten Joseph ever existed.

Until one morning, Jamie has returned from morning training with Roy.

He walks in the door and you say, “Hi babe!” from your position by the coffeemaker. Jamie doesn’t respond, just absentmindedly kisses you on the cheek and grabs a cup. He doesn’t even smile at you. You look at him for a minute as he moves around the kitchen, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence. He doesn’t. He’s out the door again in a minute, barely even saying goodbye.

You chalk it up to the upcoming match. He always gets a little more focused than usual when it’s against Man City. You tell yourself he’ll be better by Sunday.

—

He’s not.

—

Jamie’s pulling away from you. 

It’s Joseph all over again.

You start to do little things to get his attention. You put on his favorite lingerie set under a “Tartt” jersey and greet him with it when he gets home. He kisses you on the fucking forehead and goes to grab dinner. He goes straight to the bed to sleep right after. 

You make his favorite dinner and set the table all fancy, candles and everything. Jamie says an absent thanks. You eat in silence.

He brushes off any attempt you make to kiss him, and you can count the amount of words he’s said to you on one hand. You feel like a child, the way he’s treating you and all of the sudden, in between bites of chicken, you know. 

Jamie’s bored.

This is ending.

You spend the night because it would be weird not to, but you lay in bed, awake the whole time. You’re under every single blanket Jamie owns, yet your blood is running cold. It’s the only thing you can feel, really, other than your heart beating furiously in your chest. The rest of you is just… numb. You pretend to be asleep when Jamie gets up at 3:30am for training, but the moment you hear the door shut you leap out of bed and collect your things. You successfully sneak back into Aunt Eileen’s house and sit on the floor of the bathroom until sunrise, knees pulled to your chest as you stare at the floor

There’s been a constant rushing in your ears since dinner with Jamie, one that accompanies you as you mechanically dress and head to Nelson Road. Your body is on autopilot as you head to your desk, past Ted and Beard, past Dani, past Sam, Nate, and Will. You know Jamie’s there, although you don’t see him. You spend most of the day glancing at your door, waiting for him to appear with lunch and an explanation.

He doesn’t.

—

It’s late, not too late but late enough that the boys are all gone, and you’re in the locker room making aesthetic assessments for Rebecca when you see it.

Jamie’s locker. 

The voice in your head screams don’t do it! but your legs are moving on their own accord, drawn by some strange impulse. You stop in front of his locker and look inside. 

Your picture is gone. 

It’s your favorite one. Eileen took it at dinner one night. You’re in the kitchen stirring something on the stove, laughing at something Jamie said. He’s grinning at you and looking at you with stars in his eyes. The love is palpable.

And it’s gone. 

Autopilot gives way to shock and your knees buckle. You’re on the floor and you’re not sure how you got there or how long you’re crying, but the door is opening and Nate is kneeling next to you and asking if you’re alright in a soft voice. You don’t respond, just keep crying, and next thing you know Keeley’s arms are around you as you panic on the floor of the Richmond locker room.

—

She drives you to Eileen’s, and you burst in through the front door. 

“Eileen!” you gasp, “It’s happening again, he doesn’t love me and I don’t know what I did-” you ram into something solid not he threshold.

“Fuck,” says Roy, although that’s not surprising because that’s roughly 80% of his vocabulary.

“Hi babe,” says Keeley in a small voice, hot on your heels, “Forgot this was yoga night.”

“What?” you ask, Jamie temporarily forgotten.

Roy just sighs and says, “Come on. Eileen’s got rosé in the kitchen. But you already fucking knew that, didn’t you.”

—

Turns out Roy is part of Eileen’s yoga group. You swear never to tell anyone.

He, in turn, succinctly grills you on Jamie.

“What the fuck did the little prick do?” he asks in his most growly voice yet.

You’re in the kitchen with him, Keeley, and Eileen. Aunt Eileen has let the yoga group know there’s been a change of plans, and they take it all in stride. Maureen herds them all to G-A-Y and they’re gone in a moment.

So now you’re here, eyes dry but red, explaining how Jamie is bored of you.

Roy says, “Fuck.” Aunt Eileen looks like she’s ready to murder someone. Keeley just looks sad. 

“You’re coming to mine,” Keeley says, in a voice that leaves no room for arguments. “We’ll put on pajamas and do face masks and Roy will make that fancy little cheese platter he’s so good at.”

Roy doesn’t even protest, just nods and slips his hand around Keeley’s waist. She settles back against him in a way that makes your heart squeeze, because it’s the exact same way you would settle against Jamie.

Eileen says, “I’ll go pack you a bag,” and then she’s bustling upstairs to your room.

—

You and Keeley have matching cucumber-mango face masks, and you’re in her bed watching Look Both Ways. You can hear Roy downstairs in the kitchen putting cheese, grapes, and whatever the fuck else on a tray. He brings it up and places it on the bed, kissing Keeley with an amicable grunt. 

“I’m headed the fuck to sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

You smile at him as best you can, which is really just turning your mouth into a straight line, and Keeley says “Bye, babe.”

Roy smiles (as big as he ever does) and leaves.

You reach for an olive and settle back on to the pillows.

—

You don’t sleep much, but you do sleep. Keeley is wrapped around you like a spider monkey so you finally drift off around 3am. It’s not lost on you that Jamie will be awake in thirty minutes, and that it should be his arms wrapped around you. 

—

You’re in your office for a grand total of fifteen minutes when Rebecca comes marching in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks.

“My job..?” you respond tentatively.

She shakes her head. “You’re getting the day off. As a matter of fact, you can take Monday as well. You do good work, and you’ve never missed a deadline. You can take a goddamn break.”

Oh. Keeley must have told her.

You nod slowly then get up to grab your bag.

Rebecca pauses for a moment, then pulls you into a hug. It’s incredibly calming.

Rebecca asks, “Do you need anything?”

You shake your head. “I think I’m just going to get my things from Jamie’s while he’s at training. I don’t want to make a scene. I’ll call him tonight and let him know we’re done, just so it isn’t prolonged anymore.”

Tears appear in your eyes and Rebecca hugs you again.

“Well,” she says, “just give me call. You know how to reach me.”

—

There’s a lot of things at Jamie’s, but fortunately you keep a box in the back of your car. You’ve cleaned out your tea from his cupboards, toiletries from his bathroom, and are now kneeling on the floor, emptying out your drawer. Your hands linger a little too long over the Tartt 9 jersey Jamie gave you when a voice says, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You jump. “Jesus, Jamie. Aren’t you supposed to be at training?”

“Coach said I had to go home. What the fuck are you doing?”

You skip over the fact that he didn’t elaborate on which coach sent him home and remind yourself to kill Roy.

You blow out a long, slow breath. Fuck. This was not how this was supposed to go.

“I um, I’m cleaning out my things.” You can’t look him in the eyes. You’re still on the floor, Jamie’s in the doorframe.

Jamie is silent so you continue.

“I just wanted to make things easier,” you tell the jersey in your hands. “I… know what’s happening. And it’s fine, really. I’m not…entitled to your love, you know? So… it’s ok. I just-” you sigh, body feeling so heavy all of a sudden, “I just wanna know one thing.”

You look at Jamie for the first time. “What is it about me that’s boring?”

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel on. “You don’t have to lie, we’re probably never going to speak again, so just tell me. Because I’ve been over it a million times in my head and I can’t figure it out. I tried to figure it out with Joseph too. I get it if I were too clingy or too talkative or something, but what is it that makes me boring?” Tears have started streaming down your face at some point. God, this has been such a shit week. All this crying is making your eyes hurt.

There are tears in Jamie’s eyes, too.

“I- you- you aren’t boring,” Jamie croaks.

He could’ve fooled you.

“Then why have you been pulling away from?” you ask, voice small. “You kissed me on the forehead, Jamie. Like I was, I don’t know, your great aunt or something.”

Jamie rubs his face with his hand. “Shit, I- shit. I’m so fucking sorry. God, babe, I’m so, so fucking sorry. Roy told me to come here, said something about fucking shit up again, so I came here and found you like that on the floor and- shit, I just fucked up.”

He’s made his way over to you, slowly, like you’re a wild animal about to spook. He crouches down on the floor next to you and reaches out a hand to your cheek.

“It’s my dad,” he says finally. “He came ‘round, asking questions and shit, and he asked about you. And I fucking hated that. He knew your name and shit. Made some threats. I didn’t- I wanted to protect you. And I thought once you knew about him you wouldn’t want shit to do with me. I was fucking waiting for you to break up with me once you found out.”

Jamie’s voice is far too raw for this to story to be made up. The only thing you know about his dad is that he exists, and Jamie never talks about him. This… makes sense. It’s fucking stupid, but it makes sense. So you tell him.

“Jamie,” you say, “that is fucking stupid. It makes sense, but it’s fucking stupid.”

He hangs his head. “God, I know. He comes ‘round and I forget how to fuckin act.”

“Hey,” you say softly, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. “This was shitty. But we’re learning. We’ll work on communicating, I promise. I’ll get better at it too. And as far as your dad goes, we’ll figure that out.”

Jamie laughs wetly and you bring his head close for a kiss.

You two will figure it out.

[flowerxbunnie]

Star Crossed

Chris x Fem reader

Warnings: angst, cheating/breakup, underage drinking, scene involving cigarettes

“Fuck you Garrett, like actually.” I spat, gripping at the handle of his jeep and threatening to leave.

“What is your problem? You never told me that it wasn’t okay. She’s literally Tristan’s cousin. And your best friend is a guy, I thought you would be okay with this.” he argued, his face plastered with confusion but his voice filled with anger.

“Don’t try to make me feel crazy,” I warned, turning back to face him and pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m okay with you having friends of the opposite gender. But I don’t care if it’s the Queen of England, since when is it okay to text other girls private details about our relationship?”

“I only do it when we’re in arguments and I need someone to vent to. She told me I could come to her when I was upset. It’s not like it’s an everyday thing.” He throws his hands up in frustration.

“Okay,” I let an angry chuckle out. “I’m gonna call up one of my girls’ cousins and tell him about this right quick then. See if he maybe has some advice for me.”

“That’s not the fucking same and you know it. He’d try to fuck you or god knows what else.” He scowled.

I stare into his eyes, blinking slowly, hoping the hypocrisy behind his words catches up to him. But it doesn’t.

“I just don’t get why you treat me like I’m some horrible boyfriend,” he starts, “I meet my best friend’s cousin at a bonfire, get her number and text her casually and you fly off the handle.”

“You text her about OUR RELATIONSHIP. When we’re at our worst. Why do you need advice from a random fucking girl who you barely know?” I snapped, my cheeks burning and my hands shaking. Tears threaten to spill over, something I hate about myself when I get angry. “Let’s not forget that you went through and liked every single one of her instagram pictures. Every single one. Was that a piece of the advice she gave you? To make your girlfriend look like a fucking idiot?” I fumed, his hands moving to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles. “And how do I know that’s all you talk about, hm? All the texts are deleted.”

His face remains blank as he grabs the gear-shifter and throws the jeep into reverse. His eyes flick up to the rear view and he backs out of our spot in the random shopping outlet’s parking lot, roughly shifting into drive a he pulls out and into the road.

“What the fuck are you doing, Garrett?” I grumble, watching the streetlights lining the road zoom past my window as he speeds down the highway.

“I’m taking you home. I’m not gonna stay with a crazy bitch who thinks she can micromanage my every move.” He spoke, his tone calm and his expression unwavering.

I take a deep breath. I’m done with the arguing.

“Okay.”

I close out of her instagram account, still trying to convince myself that my eyes are playing tricks on me as Garrett’s name is plastered under her newest scandalous photos. I toss my phone into the space between my bed and the wall, knowing it’s unhealthy to stalk her and mourn my relationship everyday. It’s been a week.

Somehow I’ve managed to drag myself to class everyday. The lessons don’t click in my brain this week, my notebook is empty and my pen is dry. I’m not even sure I have a voice anymore. I haven’t spoken to anyone unless I had to. None of my friends know what happened, I’m too embarrassed to come across as the crazy ex-girlfriend who got her heart broken because she can’t mind her own business.

Aside from class I’ve been lying down rotting for the past seven days, going back and forth on if I’m in the wrong or if I’m valid in my feelings. Garrett was right, my best friend is a guy, but I’ve known him since middle school. We know everything about each other, he’s like family. Garrett threw everything away for a girl he had just met, deleting text messages and completely failing to ever mention her name in conversation.

My body feels like it’s physically reacting, my muscles aching and my head throbbing. My mind races with questions.

How can someone who I poured so much of my love into take it and wring it down the drain?

How can I even feel angry? He just wanted a new friend.

Why did he like all of her pictures, even the first embarrassing one she ever posted in 2013?

Why are you so controlling?

Why didn’t he tell me?

Why do you care so much? It’s just Tristan’s cousin.

Is it bad for my boyfriend to like pictures of a girl in a hot tub?

I hear my phone vibrating, but I can’t even find the energy to move the comforter off of my body. I put a pillow over my ears and try to wish it away. I’m tired of the questions. I don’t want to explain why I’ve seemed down.

It keeps going off, vibrating against the wall over and over relentlessly. Huffing, I shove my hand down into the gap and dig for it, pulling it up and squinting as the screen beams light into my eyes.

“Party tonight at the same house as last week. Y/n please get off your lazy ass and come!!!”

“yeah y/n i need to see ur pretty face!”

“If Garrett gets mad tell him he can come too”

“its senior year pleaseee we don’t have many parties left :(“

My group chat is flooded with messages from my girl friends. I can’t even reply right now. Maybe getting out would be good for me, but I really want to sit in my two day old clothes and stuff my face with Oreos tonight. How dumb am I gonna look dancing alone?

My mind races for the next hour, contemplating whether going out will make me feel better or become a huge regret. Garrett and I never officially broke things off, we just haven’t talked in a week. What if he’s pining over it like I am? I can’t exactly just dance my feelings away with some random guy when I don’t even know the status of my relationship.

After a phone call from Sophie and a lot of convincing, I decide it would be best for me to get out tonight. I need the interaction, and maybe a couple drinks if someone was able to bum them from their college friends. I need to hear music, I need to speak with other humans. But I can’t go alone.

My phone hovers over Chris’s name, worried I might wake him up since it’s already late. I click it anyway, the dial tone only going off twice before I hear his voice on the other side.

“Y/n/n, what’s up!” he chirps.

I smile to myself, my best friend always cheering me up whether he knows it or not. “You know, the usual. Coming up with a blue print for a new and improved Golden Gate Bridge. You?”

“Fuck off,” he stifles his laughter. “I’m watching some show Nick and Matt told me about. For real though, what’s up?”

“Sophie is begging me to go to a party tonight. You down to be my plus one?” I question as I shuffle through my closet.

“Garrett didn’t wanna go?” he asks puzzled.

I take a moment and debate whether or not I want to tell him. I really don’t want to bring down the mood of the night. I’m supposed to be having fun.

“Nah, not tonight. He’s on some boys trip upstate.” I lie through my teeth.

“Sounds lame. I’ll be there, what time?” He asks and I hear rustling, presumably him getting up off the couch or his bed.

“Uhhhh like two hours….” I trail off, nervous it might be too short of notice.

“Alright, I’ll meet you at your house and we can walk together.”

“Perfect! Thank you Chrissy.” I feel tears well up in my eyes, actual happiness igniting, even if only a small spark, for the first time in a week.

“Don’t thank me, weirdo.” He laughs. “See ya dude.” The line goes silent.

I spend the next couple hours taking everything slow. I eat a meal, my first fulfilling one since that night. I wash my face, do my hair, throw on makeup to look and feel more alive. I decide on a maroon slip dress, silky and comfortable. As I’m saying my goodbyes to my parents and about to walk out the door, my phone vibrates in my hand.

“What color are you wearing?”

“Maroon!”

I smile as I text him back, knowing he’s gonna wear something to coordinate our looks. As cringe as it may be, that’s just Chris.

We meet exactly where we planned, the chill in the air causing us to walk shoulder to shoulder for any sort of warmth. We don’t talk much, but the silence is comfortable. We never felt the need to force something out of nothing. Nothing is everything with him.

We walk in and we’re immediately greeted by Sophie and a bunch of other people she’s been hanging around.

“Y/n!” She pulls me into a hug. “Where’s Garrett? Hey Chris!” She waves in his direction.

“Boys trip.” I shrug, going into as little detail as possible.

“Oh, well I’m SO glad you came. You haven’t been yourself the last few days.” She says while giving me a look of genuine concern.

“Class has been super stressful,” I lie. “But I’m so glad I came too!”

Chris smiles as he listens in on our conversation, waving at various people who greet him in passing.

He looks so handsome. He’s wearing a maroon sweater with a button up peeking out from underneath and some jeans that fall perfectly over his long legs. I’ve always been so jealous of his ability to throw anything together and make it an outfit, a good one at that.

“Chrissy I love your outfit,” I whisper in his ear, the music too loud to try to talk from a distance.

“Had to layer, it’s too cold for a ratty tshirt,” he jokes. “But I could say the same to you. You look gorgeous.” He smiles and bumps his shoulder against mine.

The night goes on and we drink, dance, take goofy photos in front of a prop wall, and talk to so many fucking people. I’ve went over my social meter for the night, but Chris looks like he’s having so much fun and I would never say anything to ruin that. He makes his way back over to me after a round of beer pong that he absolutely crushed everyone else at.

“I wanna get one more picture in front of the prop wall and then I think I’m gonna call it a night. Gonna walk to McDonalds if you wanna comeee..” he sing songs, giving me a pleading look.

“Thank fuck,” I laugh, relief washing over me. “I was done an hour ago. Just didn’t wanna take the experience away from you.”

“That’s crazy because I was also done an hour ago, but I thought you were having a good time.” He laughs, his nose scrunching up.

We walk over to the prop wall and find someone to snap a photo for us. I grab a pair of red heart glasses, he grabs a bow tie on a stick and holds it up to his neck.

“3.. 2.. 1… and cheese!” The girl slurs before the flash blinds us.

She tosses me my phone and we thank her before slipping out the door, thankfully going unnoticed by Sophie. We giggle and walk alongside each other on the sidewalk, the smell of dewy late night air flooding my nose. The streetlights carve out Chris’s cheekbones as he looks down at me, rambling about nothing and everything all at once. I listen intently, glad to have my mind on anything other than what it’s been rampant with recently.

“It’s fucking cold,” I complain as I cross my arms across my chest and rub some friction onto them.

“Here.” Chris quickly stops in his tracks and pulls his sweater off, his button up left behind. He tosses it my way and gives me a small smile.

It smells like him as I slip it over my head and bring the sleeves over my hands.

“Thank you.”

We make it to McDonald’s relatively quickly. Chris holds the door open for me and we order our food and find a booth to wait in. My feet ache and my hair just feels tangled.

“What a fucking night. I can’t wait to crash after this,” I sigh and lay my head on the table.

His hand comes down to rub my hair, a sweet gesture he loves to do. His love language has always been physical touch.

“Aww, I was hoping you’d hang out with me a little longer. I’ve got ideas!” He whines.

I look up at him with a raised eyebrow. You never know what this kid is going to come up with in the spur of the moment.

“Just wanted to walk around that nature park down the road. Seems spooooky at night.” He laughs and turns his head, standing up as the cashier calls out our number.

We laugh and eat, my mind completely free of any thoughts besides how much fun I’m having with Chris. Ever since we met in 6th grade art class he’s known how to keep a smile on my face. He’s the kind of person you can’t help but be drawn to. His laugh alone is infectious, filling up any room he’s in. He’s such an attentive friend, which is why I’m not surprised when his mood shifts and he starts to question me.

“So what’s been going on, Y/n/n?” He looks down at his fries and scoots them around.

Do we really need to do this right now? I’m prepared to sink back into my sadness once I’m alone. I don’t plan on telling anyone until I’m sure of where we stand myself.

“Uh, nothing really,” I mumble, taking a sip of my blue Powerade. “Just stressed from assignments and stuff I guess.”

“Not gonna fool me, kid. What’s up?” He looks me in the eye this time.

His blue eyes hold so much genuine concern. They flicker back and forth between my own and he blinks slowly awaiting my response.

“It’s Garrett.” I admit.

“What about him this time?” He huffs as his eyes harden, sitting back against his side of the booth with his arms across his chest.

“He… I don’t know. He crossed a boundary and I wasn’t comfortable with it,” I start, breaking eye contact and pushing my hair behind my ear. “And then he acted like I was out of line. He dropped me off at my house and I haven’t heard from him since.”

His gaze softens and he puts his elbows on the table, scooting closer to me with a knowing look. “I figured it had something to do with that. You know I can read you like a book. So is it over, or…?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I haven’t even tried to reach out.” I close my box of chicken nuggets as my appetite fizzles away.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. He fucking sucks.” He leaves it at that and gathers all our trash. “Let’s go.”

We walk to a nearby gas station in silence, the mood heavier this time. I wander around the snack aisle as he makes his purchase. I hear the bell on the door ring and look over as he holds it open and nods his head at me. The black bag swings lazily at his side as we walk to the park.

“What did you get?” I ask as we settle on a bench under a lamp post.

“Cigarettes. Oh and a lighter.” He says casually as he pulls them out of the bag.

“What the fuck,” I laugh, my eyes widening as I realize he’s serious. “Why?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, just figured we could try something new. You’re stressed and shit so I kinda just thought it would be nice, I don’t know.” He flicks his thumb across the lighter and the yellow flame illuminates his face before he blows it out.

“I mean.. I guess. I’m probably gonna cough super bad.” I laugh and straighten my legs in front of me, crossing my ankles.

“Eh, fuck it. I probably will too.” He laughs and rips the pack open.

He brings a cigarette between his lips and holds it there, cupping a hand around it to block the wind. His other hand comes up with the lighter and sparks it a couple times before he gets it to light. He holds the flame against the end and draws in a breath, the tip glowing red as it catches fire. He immediately pulls it away from his mouth and coughs loudly, standing up and holding his chest.

“What… the FUCK.” He says between heaving coughs, small puffs of smoke escaping his mouth each time.

I can’t help but laugh, throwing my hands over my mouth and taking in the sight in front of me. He shakes his head back and forth with his eyes closed, his brown waves flopping around. He extends his arm to me and squats down trying to take control over his breath again.

“Good fuckin’ luck.” He coughs out.

I lean forward and grab it between my fingers, his warm ones brushing mine in the process. He looks up and smiles before shaking his head in disgust again.

“So fucking dizzy.” He says as he sits down fully on the asphalt.

“Baby’s first nicotine buzz!” I joke, stopping my laughter quickly as he squints his eyes at me.

I bring the cigarette between my lips and drag on it, my lungs immediately filling with thick, rancid smelling smoke. I cough one big time and try to hold it in, puffing my cheeks out and attempting to hold my breath. My chest starts burning and my eyes are watering, and my body instinctively coughs over and over to try to clear my airway. I see Chris laughing through my blurry vision, smacking his knees and stomping a foot on the ground.

“Oh… my.. god.” I choke out, my head spinning and my fingers erupting with a static feeling.

“Yeah, shit’s no joke. How do people enjoy this?” He stands up and drags himself back over to the bench, reclaiming his spot beside me and grabbing the cigarette from me.

I cough on and off, still trying to rid my lungs of the contaminants. I throw my head back and my hair dangles off the backrest of the bench. Chris’s hand finds its way to me and strokes my hair softly and slowly. I bring my head back up and look at him, shaking my head with disappointment.

“Can’t believe you would do that to me.” I tease through a stifled smile.

“Just wanted to see what it was like..” he giggles and brings it back to his lips, the end glowing again as he takes a smaller puff.

He coughs once or twice as the smoke billows out of his mouth and dissipates into the foggy air around us. He looks at me with wide eyes. “Hey, that one wasn’t so bad!” He holds it back out to me, gesturing me to try again.

“Uhh.. I think I’m good. My lungs feel like they’re collapsing.” I push his hand back.

“You should try one more time..” he looks away in thought before snapping his head back. “What if we shotgun? I’ll take the brunt of the smoke and you can have whatever’s leftover. It’ll be less harsh that way.”

I’m sorry, but shotgunning a cigarette? First of all, that’s nasty. Does not sound appealing in the slightest. Secondly, I can’t fathom bringing my lips that close to Chris.

“Uhhh..” I trail off and shake my head slightly.

“Come onnnn Y/n/n!” He pouts, scooting closer to me on the bench. “I’m not gonna peer pressure you into it if you really don’t want to..” he says seriously.

“Fine. ONE more time.” I say and narrow my eyes at him.

He nods furiously and scoots even closer, our thighs touching and his cologne strong in the breeze. I can see every detail of his face under the light of the lamp post. His bushy but clean brows, his smile lines, his pink lips wet from obsessively licking them. His hair falls over his eyes as he brings the cigarette back into his mouth and takes a big drag. His eyes widen and he grabs my face in a rush, his warm hand against my cold cheek.

He pulls me close and our noses brush against each other. Time feels like it slows down to a crawl. I open my mouth and he does the same, our lips micrometers apart. His hot breath mixed with the smoke fan over my face as his eyes close, his long eyelashes fanning across his cheeks. I can feel heat in my cheeks that I’ve never felt around him.

He exhales as I inhale, the smoke that was once in his lungs filling my own. I take all that I can and he stays for what feels like a moment too long, his icy blue eyes opening to lock onto mine. I feel a weird pit in my stomach and the blood stills in my veins. Why am I feeling like this?

He pulls back and scans over my face, watching as I exhale and a comically small puff of smoke blows out.

“Well, that was lame.” He laughs and brushes his hair back.

“Yeah, little bit.” I agree flatly.

We sit in silence and finish the cigarette together, our lungs adjusting and my mind racing. I try to take my mind off the feeling of his thigh still brushing against mine, but the nicotine doesn’t have any effect at all. I thought these things are supposed to relieve stress.

Once we’ve burnt it to the end, he rubs the bud against the asphalt and flicks it away. It rolls until it hits the curb and we both sigh at the same time. We look at eachother and laugh at our ‘jinx’ moment, not knowing just how different we were feeling internally but thankful that we feel no pressure to be perfect when we were together.

“I’m so thankful to have a friend like you, Chrissy.” I smile and blow some warm air into my frozen hands.

He smiles lazily at me for a second, an almost sad look flashing across his eyes as his hand comes to lay on top of mine and stroke the back of it with his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

•••

The morning sun comes out from hiding, her rays illuminating his brown hair on his pillow beside me. I watch his chest rising and falling steadily, a calming rhythm that could lull me back to sleep any day. Nothing makes me happier than waking up and feeling warmth on his side of the bed. I feel whole in his presence.

I look around at our bedroom and realize just how far we’ve come. We’ve both left the comfort of our parents homes and have made these four walls our own. Piece by piece we made a sanctuary like a bird collecting sticks and paper straw wrappers for its nest. I could go anywhere with him and build a nest. He makes everything okay.

I take my phone off the charger and scroll around aimlessly, hoping not to disturb his sleep, his pink lips hanging open and his eyes moving under his lids. I go through instagram and flip through recipes, gym videos, and dog compilations before I’m bored and close it out. I try Facebook and my distant older relatives have flooded my timeline with political garbage, so I close it out too. I open Snapchat and see a memory, smiling as I start to click through the photos and videos taken on this day from the previous years.

The first video plays, a snippet from last year of us in his car, lip syncing to one of our favorite songs. The next one is from the same night, a photo of him with his arm around me in front of the door to our then-new apartment. His eyes shimmered with happiness, mine mirroring his own with a huge smile plastered on my face.

I click again and watch as our past plays out on the screen in front of me. I can’t help but feel so thankful for the way everything worked out. So much would be different if the world hadn’t knitted us in the exact pattern it planned, one frayed thread and I wouldn’t be sitting in this room with the love of my life.

Click

My smile fades as I scan over the photo. I reminisce on the night, remembering everything as if it were a movie playing in my brain. They used to be some of the best times of my life. He made me so happy.

It’s strange how well you can know the inner workings of someone, sometimes more than your own. You know the temperature they like to drink their water, their favorite salad dressing, the commercials that make them cry. And you sit together and watch the commercials from time to time, because you know the end makes them smile again.

It’s strange how quickly it can all fizzle out, both of you existing in the world without a clue of who the person could be today. Here one minute and gone the next. I know he’s out there. He knows I’m out here. But who is he?

How different would my life had been if I did end up with him? Would I have had the same opportunities, the same zeal for life, would I be happier? Would it be my single biggest regret?

I wonder if he thinks about me and everything we went through together. I wonder if he remembers the angsty songs we played in his car late at night, or the scent of the air freshener I always bought for him when he ran out. Does he wonder what his life would be like with me, or has he moved on and found his own paper straw wrappers?

I know he was in love with me. I knew I loved him. But sometimes things are star-crossed and confusing and they hurt and there’s nothing we can do about it. Sometimes the right people come into your life at the wrong time. Do we pine about it forever, or do we let the world continue knitting while hoping the strings don’t fray?

I look over the photo once more, our shadows on the ground innocent and unaware of the future.

I look over and the boy beside me stretches his arms above him and takes in a deep breath before turning over to me, his brown waves a mess. He smiles from ear to ear and I can’t help but return it.

“Morning, baby.”

“Good morning, Garrett.”

a/n: i sobbed many times writing this im sorry if you like happy endings

taglist: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @lxvlysworld @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

guys wait modern muggle au prongsfoot fic idea . james potter born & raised in india has his parents die when he's fourteen and he's sent to live with his father's brother, charlus potter, who fleamont didn't have a close relationship with and so james is distant from charlus and dorea. he's moved from india to england where he doesn't know anyone barely a week after his parents funeral and is completely isolated from his friends. he starts acting out and at first it's excused but once he restarts school it becomes worse. he yells at teachers, he gets in fights daily, he yells at his aunt and uncle, he's out late at night. it goes on for maybe two or three months before he gets in a massive fight. it's barely a fight, more of a brutal beatdown, james doing the beating. police get involved, james is starting to realize he may need to control his emotions, his uncle and aunt are more disappointed than mad (it's worse) (it's familiar) and he serves a shortened juvie sentence of two weeks.

enter sirius black. he's james' roommate and james' first look at him is sirius getting (quite roughly) handled by a few guards for something he said or did and james' first thought is oh he's cool and they kind of hit it off instantly when sirius tells james he was getting hurt restrained for switching out a guard's lunch for something he was allergic to + adding a divorce letter from his wife which included details on how she wanted to fuck guard's brother instead. james is like. oh my god, he is so cool. they share life stories in, like, two days of knowing each other. sirius is pretty closed off from james, who spills out words without a thought, but james gathers something about running away from home, and he knows sirius is here for a variety of different things and has been here a while.

once james leaves, he's aching to meet sirius again. he needs it, so he does good in a handful of tests and smiles at his teachers and begs his uncle for permission and he can visit for forty-five minutes a week.

idk. i didnt rlly think this out.

sirius is in for gta, drug possession, aggravated assault and numerous accounts of hacking and/or identity theft. he ran away a bit younger, here, maybe around fourteen so like same as when james' life went downhill. he was homeless, got into shady shit and shady people. once he's released his biggest worry is that - housing, getting back into that shit. obviously, james thinks its very obvious that theyre going to live together. also !! james has bpd, it's diagnosed and its partly the reason his sentence is reduced. sirius has bipolar type 2, depression, substance abuse issues, ptsd & struggles w derealization. something something sirius feeling very out of it because when he gets out james is going to college and sirius literally has no one so he just... tags along. as in he moves in the apartment near the big fancy smart kid college james is undoubtedly going to and sirius just. feels stupid. hes not used to feeling stupid. he feels left behind and hes realizing how everyone his age is very ahead of him where as he's been basically dissociating for two years. then yk ofc james forces him to enroll in courses and sirius does great and they live happily ever after

[starlightsuffered]

Forbidden (p1)

Info - forbidden love, trickery, accusations, getting caught having sex, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation and oral, sex on a horse, cream pie, cock warming, mentions of injury, murder, cheating

"I'm so glad your family is visiting," I gasped into his mouth. I was riding his cock in my room.

"I love you so much, you don't know how I've missed you," Hal muttered into my ear.

"Darling, I can barely focus without you around. I hate this," I said as he slowly rutted his large cock inside me. I remembered how we started all this.

It had been three years ago, and he'd caught me in a spare room, touching myself. I'd been horrified to be caught. I thought he'd call me a whore, or degrade me for doing such a thing as a Princess, but instead he'd come to me and bent down.

"Next time you feel this way, call on me," he'd said before giving me the best head I'd ever experience. Sure it had started out as a pleasure thing, but as it continued we'd fallen for one another. When I'd been injured falling from my horse, he'd visited immediately to "pay his respects" but really he told me he loved me. He'd gently made love to me, so as not to hurt me.

I remembered how he'd cried to me the night my engagement to Lord Appelion had been announced. He'd begged and begged me to run away with him, but we both knew how badly our countries needed us. We couldn't do it. So now it was letters and hook ups. We were blessed that our countries were close.

"Just focus on me for now. How do I feel? I've been out of practice, with only my hand for so long," he said sadly. Whenever he reminded me of his loyalty to me, my heart soared. It was never something I had asked of him. I wouldn't have denied him the right to pleasure. However, he was loyal.

"I just adore how you feel. You stretch me out so damn well. I love that you marked me, you don't usually let yourself do that," I said as I lovingly brushed the purple spot on my chest.

"Because after I fill you to the brim with cum, I'm going to tell your father who I am marrying," he growled.

"No need to alert me," came a dark voice.

"Father," I said worriedly.

"You are engaged!" He roared.

"But I love Hal. Hal is a king, much better than a lord. Can't I marry him instead?" I asked. Hal was grabbing a blanket to cover my body. I wrapped it around myself so I could go to my father.

"Please," I begged, touching his bearded face.

"We're kicking him out immediately! You are forbidden to see him!"

"No! No!" I cried as guards entered the room. Man handling Hal.

"I'll come back for you my love, you have not seen the last of me," he cried. I wept on the floor and my father left me there.

We wrote to one another in secret. I used a fake name for him. I called him Timothy. He told me he would find a way to marry me. I told him it was hopeless. I was going crazy without him all my days were dark and grey. I missed my Hal.

"Your highness, we couldn't stop him!" Said one guard. "He was actually killing us."

Hal came in disheveled and bloody. He held a long sword out in front of him. He often said he loved how I didn't cower away from his angry side.

"By order of the royal Court of England, I am taking y/n as my wife," He announced. Only the king knew we'd been a couple. To everyone else this must be odd. I think Hal was betting on that, the publicity of the moment. The King wouldn't want to disappoint his people.

"You cannot order that!" Spat my father.

"I can, because your daughter has stolen something from me, it is why I cant be faulted for charging into this room!"

"She hasn't stolen anything!"

Hal stalked to me, a foreign ferocity in his eyes. His eyes were always soft when he looked at me. He was a good actor. He grabbed my hand harshly and yanked down my sleeve. On my hand was a glittering ring he'd given me the day he'd confessed his love. It was Unmistakably English and expensive.

"She stole this, and it is much more valuable than her, but I'll take her in trade," he said loudly. He squeezed my wrist gently, to let me know he didn't mean what he was screaming.

My father was in a hard place. Either he reveal I had cheated on my fiancée and make the people think I was a whore, or he would have to give in to Hal's request.

"Take her then you malevolent scoundrel!" He snapped. Hal Escorted me from the room harshly. When we were alone on his horse he finally was himself.

"You're brilliant Hal," I said, leaning back into him as we rode.

"I'm just so happy to see you," he kissed my neck. "I had an idea on the way over here. Why don't you sit on my cock as we ride love."

We stopped the horse and he got out his cock. I lifted my skirts and he was soon nestled inside me. We began to ride again and the movement of the horse provided much pleasure. By the time we reached his castle we'd both cum many many times. We entered into our new life of love, as the castle doors shut.

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 18: [DDVD] lucifer / lost child

ao3 link

note: reminder: zhao calls ik "a-ke", and i also realised while writing this - in jtta, she's called ik because it's like an anglicised pronunciation of her birth name, but in ddvd they never move to england... i've thus decided that in this au, ik got her nickname from mammon right at the start of the year. that or they all speak chinese and ik is how i, as author, have transliterated her birth name. anyway, this takes place early on in the exchange year

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“Zhao’s upset,” is the first and only thing Satan has said to Lucifer today.

He’ll let his little brother off the hook for being rude, even if only just this once - what he wants to know is what Satan expects him to do about it. Lucifer is a student council officer, not a school therapist, and it is not his responsibility to deal with sad pupils. Even if they live under his roof.

Though it turns out that ‘sad’ is not the correct word for whatever emotional wringer Zhaoxi is currently putting himself through. Lucifer runs into him at the end of the same corridor he’s just passed Satan in, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Somehow there are shadows under his eyes that weren't there this morning.

He isn’t an expert, by any means - he's only consulted a few textbooks, and since the start of the exchange program most of his human research has been about the tiny ones - but that’s definitely not normal. Surely one school day can’t be that taxing.

“Ahem,” He says loudly as Zhaoxi powers past him with barely a glance in his direction. “Is something wrong?”

Zhaoxi pauses, mutters something very quickly that he doesn’t understand, then turns to run off again. Lucifer catches him by the shoulder before he can disappear around the corner.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, more insistently this time. “There are club meetings going on. You’re going to cause a disturbance.”

He mumbles a half-hearted apology and takes off his glasses, as if he doesn’t want to look at him in too much detail. “I can’t find A-Ke.”

“You lost her?” Who misplaces an entire child?

“She learnt how to open the door,” Zhaoxi says a little miserably. “And A-Ke is very quiet. I didn’t realise she left the room.”

Privately, Lucifer can’t fathom how she even reached the handle. He sighs. “...very well. I’ll help you search. We can’t have children running wild around the school.”

Zhaoxi blinks, then abruptly shoves his glasses back on. Behind them, his eyes are possibly the brightest thing Lucifer has ever seen. “You will?!”

No one else has even offered? He thinks, and makes a note to perhaps suggest to Diavolo that they remind the student body of the concept of compassion. (He has a feeling it wouldn’t be very welcomingly received, though.)

“I know most of the popular hiding spots,” He says. “In the meantime, you should consult someone from the Newspaper Club. They tend to know what’s happening around the school before even the demon it’s happening to.”

“You aren’t busy?” Zhaoxi asks anxiously.

“I'm only doing routine checks.” He glances at his half-complete inventory sheet, then sends the clipboard away with quick spell. “It can wait. The school won’t explode if I miss one day.”

He gives him directions to the Newspaper Club’s usual classroom, and Zhaoxi thanks him with what was probably supposed to be a earnest handshake, but delivered with such little force that it felt more like he was just having his hand held. Lucifer pauses to think about that for a moment, then very abruptly turns on his heel and makes for the library.

Zhaoxi’s daughter is not hiding in any of the gaps between the bookshelves, nor is she under any of the tables. Lucifer thinks about checking the canteen next, then finally realises just how gargantuan this task really is.

Yes, he knows the common hiding spots - of full-grown demons. Human children have far more options.

He heaves a sigh and drags a hand down his face. This is exactly the sort of situation he’d predicted, back at the start of the exchange year. The whole scene is practically seared into his memory…

He’d stood up just as the summoning spell ran its course, leaving the new arrival shivering in the middle of the circle. Diavolo had stepped forward with widespread arms. “Welcome to the Devildom! You— oh, that’s a baby.”

Satan had promptly dropped behind the table with a silent cackle. After a moment, Zhaoxi, trembling as if standing out in a blizzard, said in a tiny voice, “She’s three soon.”

Lucifer had gone through the full rehearsed explanation, trying very hard to ignore the tiny thing with giant eyes watching him intently throughout. And he’d succeeded in hiding just how perturbed he was - up until everyone else had left the council room.

“We need to talk about that exchange student,” He’d told Diavolo sternly.

“Zhaoxi? I thought he was quite pleasant. I’m sure he’ll settle in just fine.”

“Were you paying any attention? He looked as if you had a sword to his throat. He has a child. How do you expect him to cope?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Diavolo had said without dropping his smile in the slightest. “Human children are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“It’s miniscule.”

“Don’t be rude, Lucifer. Besides, we’ve welcomed him already - it hardly seems right to send him away now.”

“The child is barely bigger than your head.” It was hard to stop thinking about. He didn’t think something the same shape as a demon could get that small.

“Come now, that’s exaggerating. Besides, she’ll grow! Eventually… I think.”

It would be convenient if she could grow up NOW, Lucifer thinks now, aggravated, poking his head into a fifteenth classroom and beginning to wish he’d just taken a different corridor an hour ago. But a job taken is a job to be done, and he is nothing if not thorough. Onto the next.

…anyway, it’d reflect poorly on him - and the council as a whole - if the situation wasn’t resolved. He continues, apparently with enough grim focus on his face that the usual suspects don’t even attempt to bother him.

He’s on the verge of actually calling Solomon for help - banking on some kind of human-human sixth sense that only sorcerers can tap into, which he’s about half-sure could exist. He’s thinking so hard about how much he doesn’t want to resort to that he almost misses his breakthrough.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The sound is incessant, but quiet enough that anyone making any noise in the corridor wouldn’t be able to hear it. He hovers on the spot for a moment, listening intently, then follows the sound around the corner, to one of the Potions supply rooms.

Thunk, thunk— thunk! It speeds up as he approaches the door - hearing his footsteps, perhaps. ThunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthUNKTHUNKTHUNK!

He sees what’s happened here. All of the supply rooms lock as soon as they’re closed, for security reasons - only the faculty and certain senior students know the charm to open them. If someone were to toddle in after some irresponsible demon had left the door ajar, only for their movement to make it close, they’d be trapped inside.

With a deep sigh, he presses his hand to the metal plate where a doorknob would usually be, and mutters an incantation. The door swings open.

There’s a brief silence. Then IK zooms out of the door, and very determinedly latches onto his leg.

“Wh—” He stiffens, then does his best impression of a tree. “...hey. I’m not your father.”

IK doesn’t respond. If anything, her grip tightens.

“Oi.” He lifts his leg. No dice. IK clutches on, crushing the fabric of his trousers (he just ironed them yesterday) in her tiny fists. He quickly returns his foot to the ground, a little worried about the integrity of his belt.

He knows better than to do so, but asks anyway, “Have you been in there this whole time?”

IK, of course, does not reply. IK does not speak to anyone apart from her father. (Either that, or Zhaoxi is capable of producing that tiny voice, and only does so when he's alone.)

Lucifer attempts to take a step. IK doesn’t let go, but she closes her eyes tight and allows herself to be dragged along. Her grip is surprisingly fierce - if only his brothers approached their duties with the same dedication.

He makes it about halfway down the corridor when he finally decides that, even for him, this is a bit too callous. The little human’s face is beginning to darken with the strain of holding on so tight.

“...alright.” He comes to a halt. “Don’t expect this to become a regular thing. Come here.”

He bends down and extends his hands. After a moment, IK opens her eyes and blinks at him owlishly.

“You know how to do this, don’t you?” He asks, and makes an effort to offer a friendly smile.

Somehow, it works. After another long moment, IK unwinds her arms, then reaches up for him.

…it feels more like he’s picking up a particularly robust toy than a living thing. Like when he has to clean up Levi’s room (because no one wants to do the chores around here, and it’s a bad sign when his floor isn’t visible under all the debris), and he has to move one of those branded plushies that he spends far too much Grimm on.

“This is why you shouldn’t go wandering around on your own,” He says sternly as he continues on his way down the hall. “You’re lucky I heard you, or you might have been stuck in there all night. Is that what you want?”

IK hums - which is the most sound she ever makes in his presence - and taps idly at his school badge. He lets her, hoping silently that he’ll run back into Zhaoxi soon. If only he hadn’t left his phone in the council room.

“You are two.” He decides to continue as he walks. “That is too young to be going off on your own business. And the R.A.D. is dangerous - some demon might see you as a very convenient snack. Next time, tell someone, and they can accompany you, and don’t worry your father like that again...”

It’s unusual to have such someone listen to one of his lectures without interrupting. He’s almost enjoying himself. He wonders how many words IK knows.

“You’re supposed to be engaging in play behaviours at this age,” He says aloud, thinking of the most recent book he consulted. “Asking questions. Learning to count. What do you even do with your free time? I can’t imagine your hands are large enough to play with anything down here.”

IK is two and does not know how to respond, if she’s even listening. She leans back a little, peers curiously up into his face - then reaches up and attempts to stick her hand in his mouth.

“Pf—” He jerks backwards, then pushes it away with a firm, “No, we don’t do that. That’s rude.”

IK tilts her head at him, then makes a grab for his nose instead. When Lucifer ducks away again, she quickly shoots for his exposed left ear. He expects himself to get angry, but he just ends up begrudgingly engaging in the game.

This is new. IK is an oddly serious two-year-old, and so far Lucifer has only seen her willingly play with Simeon.

Which is am improvement, perhaps - Simeon is a good-natured angel, and he’s always had a way with the younger fledglings. Lucifer, on the other hand, has a scary resting face and an even scarier frown, and has made more than one grown demon cry without even really trying to. He's almost proud of the step-up in bravery.

Hmm. This human has very different developmental milestones to the ones he’s read about.

It doesn’t weigh on his mind for long - soon after that, Lucifer finds Zhaoxi standing helplessly outside an empty classroom (apparently he hadn’t even found the Newspaper Club), and hands IK off to her father, reminding him to be more vigilant next time. Then he walks them home, retreats to his office, and soon the ordeal leaves his mind entirely.

And that could have been the end of that, but it is not. The next morning, Lucifer walks into the dining room, and is promptly met by unsteady footsteps, then the already-familiar weight of something crashing into and clinging to his leg.

“Hello,” He says, and is too tired to put up any fight. He leans down and allows IK to practically clamber up into his arms. At the table, Zhaoxi freezes mid-apology.

The room falls dead silent. Levi and Mammon look at him, then each other, then him again.

Satan regards him with what can only be described as revulsion. A piece of food slides off Beel’s suspended fork.

“...hi,” IK mumbles into his collar. Somehow it makes the looks on his brothers’ faces unimportant in comparison.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week Day 3: Reality TV

Words: 1761

Read on AO3

-

“What the hell is ‘Celebrity Bake Off’?” Beca asked, her eyes briefly flicking up from the dough she was kneading. 

“The clue is kind of in the name, Beca,” Theo replied, taking a seat up at the kitchen island and accepting the coffee Chloe handed to him with a nod. “It’s the celebrity version of ‘The Great British Baking Show’.”

“‘Great British Bake Off’,” Chloe corrected. “That’s what they call it over there.”

“Yeah, c’mon Theo, aren’t you meant to be British?” Beca asked. She dropped the dough into a glass bowl and covered it with a dish towel, before washing her hands and drying them on the front of her apron.

“I was just testing you,” Theo said. “So in a few minutes when you try and tell me you’ve never watched the show, I can call you a liar.”

“Why would I say I’d never seen the show? We watch it every year,” Beca asked. 

“Because they want you to appear on the next season of Celebrity Bake Off.”

“Me?” Beca asked, eyebrows shooting into her hairline. 

“No, Chloe,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. “Of course you. You’re the only celebrity in the room.”

Beca pulled a face. “I’m hardly a celebrity.”

Theo sighed and turned his head to where Beca’s platinum record hung on the wall before turning back to look at her. “Are you interested or not?”

“Of course not,” Beca said. “Why would I want to go on reality TV?”

“It’s hardly reality TV,” Theo replied. “It’s not like I’m asking you to go on that show where they make you eat bugs and shit, this is Bake Off we’re talking about. It’s cosy and inoffensive and everyone loves it. It’s not like it’ll be a big time commitment, you’d only be in one episode.”

“Yeah, not a big time commitment other than that I’d have to travel to England.”

“Well it just so happens that the filming coincides with your UK tour dates, so you’ll be there anyway,” Theo said, grinning smugly. 

“I’m not going on TV, Theo,” Beca said. “I’ll make an idiot of myself, I can barely handle doing interviews let alone something like this.”

“You’ll do great,” Theo said, waving a hand at her as if he was swatting away her arguments. “And you won’t make an idiot of yourself because you happen to be a pretty good baker.”

“I bake as a way to unwind,” Beca counters. “I find it relaxing and what goes on in that tent is anything but relaxing.”

“Yeah, to normal contestants,” Theo said. “It means something to them, they’re baking for their lives. There are no stakes for you. You turn up, bake three things and then leave. If it goes bad, who cares?”

“Why are you pushing for this? Why do they even want me in the first place?”

“Because you suck at self-promotion and this is a great opportunity for people to see your face,” Theo said. “They want you because you’re a big deal. They want people to tune in and donate and all that shit. Plus you had that whole Twitter exchange with Paul Hollywood, the seed has already been planted.”

Beca sighed. She knew she’d come to regret that drunken tweet sent to Paul Hollywood where she’d asked if she could hang out in the tent for a day “just to help take care of any leftover cakes”.

“What did you mean by donate?” Chloe asked, trying not to smirk at the look on Beca’s face as she contemplated actually having to do this.

“Oh,” Theo said, his voice brightening. “That’s the best part! It’s all for charity!”

“What charity?” Chloe asked.

“Um, let me check,” Theo said, pulling up his phone as if he didn’t already know off the top of his head. As if he didn’t know this would be the final thing to convince Beca to do this. “Stand up to Cancer,” he said.

Beca looked at him and then turned to look at Chloe. Chloe shrugged and smiled.

“God dammit, Theo.”

-

“On your marks, get set, bake!” 

Beca looked down at her carefully typed-out recipe and told herself to breathe. 

They wanted 8 of her signature brownies. Easy. She could whip up a batch of brownies in her sleep.

So why did she feel so nervous?

She shook herself out of it and focused on mixing the batter, hoping that her hands would have stopped shaking by the time Paul and Prue made their way to her. 

The morning passed in a blur. Her brownies got rave reviews though were not quite handshake-worthy. 

Beca had recognised two out of the other three contestants - a teenage member of a boy band that she met at the Grammys last year, and a talk show host who interviewed her during her first UK tour a few years before that. The final contestant was a Scottish comedian whom Beca wasn’t familiar with, but whom the others in the group seemed to know well.

After a break to film some interviews outside the tent, they were ushered back for the technical challenge and were told they’d have to make 12 identical pieces of shortbread. 

The Scottish comedian cheered and clapped his hands. 

“Do we have to even bake now?” The talk show host asked. “Can’t he just have first place and save us the time?”

Beca looked down at the provided recipe and tried not to smile

“Beca, how are we feeling about shortbread?” Host Noel Fielding asked as he approached with co-host Alison Hammond. 

“I’m feeling okay,” she said. “Shortbread is like my wife’s favourite thing, I make it pretty often for her.”

“Ah, so we’re quietly confident?”

“Sure, let’s go with that. James over there is loudly confident, I can be quietly confident.”

“So, Beca, tell us why Stand up to Cancer is so important to you?”

Beca knew they were going to ask that question. Before filming started they were told that they’d all be asked it at some point during the day and that the producers would hand-pick a couple to air on the show, but it still seemed to catch her off-guard. 

She felt a lump in her throat and found it hard to raise her eyes from her shortbread dough. 

“Well my, um, my wife Chloe was diagnosed with breast cancer about five years ago,” Beca said. “Thankfully she managed to beat it, but if it wasn’t for charities like Stand up to Cancer, then she might not be here and that’s… well, it’s unthinkable really.”

They thanked her for sharing and wished her good luck with the bake, and Beca had to shake herself out of the memories before she got lost in them. 

She turned her attention back to the shortbread and hoped that she’d have enough left over at the end of the day to take back to the hotel room where Chloe was waiting for her. 

“And that means first place are these,” Prue said, gesturing to Beca’s stack of perfect shortbread.

The other contestants clapped and someone patted Beca on the back.

“This is cultural appropriation!” The comedian called out, head in his hands after his shortbread landed him in last place.

“First place,” Beca said to the camera during her last interview of the day. “Not bad.” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice and a small smile on her face. 

When she makes it back to the hotel that evening, Chloe is lying on the bed reading. 

“How did it go?” She asked, smiling and putting her book down. 

“Yeah, pretty good,” Beca replied. “I brought you something back.” She hands Chloe a box filled with her leftover shortbread. 

“Are these yours or did you swipe them from another contestant?” Chloe asked before taking a bite. She let out a small moan as her eyes closed in pleasure. “Forget I asked, I know these are yours.”

Beca laughed and joined her wife on the bed. When they kissed, Beca could taste the sugar on her lips. 

-

The next day passed quicker than the first with only one final bake left to do, and Beca got back at the hotel by dinner with a box of profiteroles, macarons, and a slice of thick rich chocolate cake.

“Well?” Chloe asked, biting into a macaron. “How did you do?”

Beca shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Come on, you’re really not going to tell me?”

Beca mimed zipping her lips. “The show airs in three months, I think you can wait until then.”

-

“And the winner of the Star Baker apron is… Beca!” 

On the couch beside her, Chloe squealed and wrapped Beca in a hug. “I knew it!”

On the TV Beca is being interviewed in her Star Baker apron, but neither Beca nor Chloe could hear over the sound of their other friends cheering in the background. 

Chloe insisted on having a watch-along party for Beca’s episode, Beca had insisted that she’d rather die than have to watch herself on TV, but as usual, Chloe won.

“I was honestly pretty pleased when I won it, but after watching the episode back it looks like I was the only one who even knew how to turn an oven on,” Beca said, rolling her eyes but grinning as Chloe pressed another kiss against her cheek. 

“I knew you’d win,” Chloe said. 

“Told you you wouldn’t embarrass yourself,” Theo said. 

Beca waved him off. “You were bound to be right about something eventually.”

“What made you decide to do it?” A co-worker asked, grabbing one of the cookies Beca had made for the occasion.

“I mean, you heard me on the show,” Beca said, referring to the segment when Beca had talked about Chloe’s diagnosis. She hadn’t expected they’d use her soundbite, or even that they’d throw up some photos Beca had taken at around that time. The room had gone completely silent, and her hand had found Chloe’s quickly. “My wife’s here because of a cancer treatment that might not exist without charities that fund research. Once I heard it was raising money for that, it was a no-brainer.” A few people nodded and murmured their understanding, but the room was still quiet. “Plus I knew Chloe wanted me to, charity or not, and Chloe always gets her way.”

“It’s true,” Chloe agreed. “Though you didn’t tell me that you’d won, even though I was pestering you for weeks.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“Babe, I found that apron in your suitcase the second we got home. I’ve known for months.”

[lucy90712]

Only here to party- Pedri

Deciding to study abroad was a hard decision to make but I knew it was best for me to move off the island and broaden my horizons by moving to England. As much as studying abroad was a good idea studying biology has turned out to be a bad decision I barely have any free time I never get to go out and I can never come home as I am always so busy. However now that the year has come to an end and it's summer break I can finally go home for a couple months and boy am I ready to have the best summer ever. 

I am going to make this summer the best few months of my life I want to spend nearly every day with my friends and go out as much as possible. The entire summer is going to be about going out and having fun not a single mention of university and definitely no boys. I tried dating a guy at university but he cheated on me with multiple people one being one of my friends so unless I don't want to get involved with any boys. Heartbreak is not on my to do list and I've told my friends to not let me get attached and they will definitely stick to that as they can be harsh with me when they need to be.

After getting back yesterday tonight is our first girls night out and I couldn't be more excited. I've spent pretty much all day getting ready I woke up late as I was tried from my flight but after that I showered, washed my hair, shaved pretty much everything. It's been a long while since I got dressed up at all but I still have all of my dresses and nice makeup which are definitely going to get a lot of use these next few months. I was really feeling myself so I picked my absolute favourite dress I own it's a bit short and quite form fitting but I want to look and feel good so I don't really care what anyone else thinks about me. I'm not one for wearing much makeup but I decided to put on a bit more than I usually would as I was feeling adventurous. 

It took me a good while but once I was ready I got my shoes on and made my way to the club which is only just down the road from my place so I decided to walk. The rest of the girls live a bit further out so we agreed to meet at the club as they were all coming together. Just as I got to the club a taxi pulled up with all of my friends in, we hadn't seen each other since I left last summer so there was a lot of hugs and a lot of catching up we need to do. 

"You look gorgeous girl that post break up glow is making you look magical" one of my friends said 

"All the guys in the club are going to be looking at you" another added 

"Thank you guys you all look amazing too but remember I don't want to be involved with any new guy so if you see me getting too close with someone stop me" I said 

"You got it girl no men we won't let you get hurt again" my best friend said 

We headed into the club and I was dragged straight to the bar to get a drink or maybe two whatever it takes to get me slightly tipsy. I'm not here to get drunk out of my mind I just want to have some fun and enjoy my life as I haven't done that in nearly a year. It was clear very quickly that there was a lot of guys in the club were staring at me but I didn't take any notice some of them were cute but not cute enough for me to change the one rule I set for myself this summer. My friends however are not following the same rules as me so they all quickly ran off to find a guy that took their fancy. That left me alone but it didn't bother me I can handle myself as I'm used to doing that when I'm back in England. I decided to dance for a bit and found my best friend on the dance floor so we danced together for a bit but at some point she went to the bathroom and never came back but I saw her talking to some guy that was definitely her type so I left her be. 

Seeing as the group had broken apart I took myself back to the bar to just sit and watch over them all just to make sure nothing bad happened. As I was watching the dance floor I made eye contact with a guy who sent me a smile. He was very attractive exactly my type with his brown eyes and hair and his slight beard that somehow made his features stand out even more. I quickly realised I was staring at him and stopped myself because I could feel myself being drawn to him but I don't want to find someone to get attached to. He clearly noticed my staring as the next thing I knew he was taking a seat next to me at the bar and flashing that smile that drew my attention in the first place. 

"Hey I'm Pedro can I buy you a drink?" He asked 

"Sure I'm y/n by the way" I said 

He ordered another of what I had drunk before and a drink of his own and we were also given free food.

"You must be well known here to get free things" I joked

"Wait you don't recognise me" he said 

"No am I supposed to" I said 

"No it's just most people here seem to know who I am" he said 

"Well now I need to know I feel left out" I laughed 

"I'm a footballer for Barcelona and for Spain I go by a nickname though the name Pedri might be more familiar to you" he said 

"I have heard that name but I'm not into football sorry to bruise your ego" I said 

"I like it people who don't care who I am are much more fun to be around" he smiled 

We continued talking he asked about my life and once I told him I was studying in England there was a lot he wanted to know. I asked him a few questions about his life as it's not everyday you meet a footballer especially in Tenerife but he wanted to focus the conversation on me. It was quite clear that there was a connection between us and really to stick to my rules I should stop talking to him but I can't help myself. It would feel wrong to leave this here and not give Pedri a chance especially as both of us don't live in Tenerife so it's not like we could run into each other once I think I'm ready to date again. Sometimes our plans don't line up with what the universe has set out for us and I don't want to ruin something that could go somewhere even if we only end up as friends Pedri is a cool person to be friends with. 

One by one my friends came to find me and say they were leaving with whoever they had met leaving me with Pedri. So much for them stopping me from getting attached to someone but honestly I kind of appreciate it I definitely would've fought them if they tried to take me away from Pedri. Once we reached the early hours of the morning both of us wanted to go home Pedri offered to walk me home and I wasn't going to say no to spending more time with him so we walked down the road together. As we got to the door I was starting to wish I lived further from the club so I could spend more time with Pedri. 

"I know both of us won't be here for long so can I have your number I'd love to see you again before we both leave" he asked 

"Of course give me your phone and I'll put my number in" I said 

I did just that and once I had put my number in we said goodbye and Pedri promised he'd text me in the morning. 

~~~~~~~~~~

This summer has flown by I have been back home for 2 months but I leave again in a few days and I'm really sad about it. My summer has gone completely differently to how I imagined it would too I was expecting to spend time mostly with my friends out at the beach most days and then going out drinking on the weekends but I have done that like 3 times. I have seen my friends and spent time on the beach but I've spent more of my time with Pedri. When I told my friends about Pedri they weren't shocked that I broke my rule in fact they told me that they saw me with him and were going to drag me away but once they saw how happy I was they let me be. If it wasn't for them I probably wouldn't have spent as much time as I have with Pedri they were the ones to tell me to just go for it and see where things go as I won't get another chance like this and that turned out to be good advice.

Pedri and I have spent so much time together we've seen each other nearly every day and we text each other constantly. In the last month we have been on a few dates all of which have been amazing. Whenever we spend time with our friends they are always telling us to get a room as we are pretty much attached at the hip, Pedri has developed a habit of having his hand on my waist pretty much at all times which I'm not complaining about as I love it. Over the last two months I've really fallen for Pedri and I'd like to think he feels the same way the trouble is we both have to leave at some point and I don't know if things will be the same when we can't see each other all the time. 

Today is the last day Pedri and I can see each other has we both leave in a few days so we need some time to pack. He invited me to his for the day as he has a pool so we can swim together and just sit outside in the sun all day. Pedri wanted me to come over early so I had to drag myself out of bed and to his place but it was worth it as he had breakfast ready for both of us and he greeted me with a kiss which always makes my morning better. 

After having some breakfast we both got into swimwear and got into the pool. More often than not we don't really do any swimming we just float around in the water and today was no different. I leant against the side in the shallowest part of the pool as that's where I can touch the bottom and Pedri stood in front of me with his arms around my waist. His hair was wet but somehow he still looked incredible possibly better than he looks on any normal day which is saying something. We were just staring at each other sharing the odd kiss but I could tell Pedri was thinking about something he had the look in his eye that I've learnt means he's deep in thought considering something. 

"What are you thinking about?" I asked 

"Oh nothing just daydreaming" he said 

"I know that's a lie you have that thinking expression of yours tell me what's on your mind" I said 

"What's going to happen to us when we both leave?" He asked 

This is the question I have been thinking about myself and dreading having to answer. I don't want to end things with Pedri but is long distance going to work. I'm always so busy and I know he is too so will we even get to see each other and if we don't will we just fall out of love. There is so many questions and most of which we won't know the answer to unless we give things a try. 

"I don't know I really like you and I've enjoyed these last two months more than the rest of the last year but we would have to be long distance" I said 

"I know it won't be easy but if you are willing to I'd love to try long distance I don't just want to let what we have go this feels special more than just a holiday romance" he said 

"If you're willing to give it a go then so am I but we need to communicate well and be ready not to see each other that often" I said 

"I will do anything to make this work we can FaceTime every night and any breaks we have we can visit each other we can make this work" he said 

"Then let's do it" I said 

"First though I have something I want to ask" he said 

"What's that" I questioned 

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He asked 

"I would love to" I replied leaning in to kiss him

[princessdimondheart]

Rave | Gaz x Reader

Pairing: Gaz x f! Reader

Summary: How Kyle met the love of his life while covered in holo glitter.

WC: 2,930

Warnings: 🔥- NSFW 18+ MDI, PnV, unsafe sex, creampie, oral f! receiving; 😭- slight angst

Edited: No; added Sarah’s outfit bc I forgot 🤦‍♀️

A/N 1: Sorry for the long wait as I healed my cut finger. It still hurts btw. I said Christmas didn’t I? It’s still Christmas here lol 😅😅 Reader is nicknamed Angel. My first smut 😳 If I messed up anywhere please tell me. I’m not 100% satisfied so I might add or change things later on.

A/N 2: I could not pick which outfit reader should wear. 😖 It’s between these two= Outfit 1 and Outfit 2: Top, Bottom ; the makeup is the same for both= Eyes, Lips ; Shoes for both but matte instead of velvet ; Nails are a bit more simple ; Kyle’s outfit will be linked in the fic. I’m not a fashion expert so I’m not sure if these fit well but I like them. I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment or note if you do. 😊

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Kyle was happy when Price decided to send him on a special training mission across the pond to the states, at least he was for a while. But then FOMO hit him when he realized that he would be missing out on a few missions. The training would last for a few months. Two months too long in his opinion, but here he was those months later and he had finally completed his training. Kyle was certain that his Captain would be proud to learn that he had made it to the top of the class. 

Now, he only had a few days left before he had to ship back out to the UK. He’d planned to chill in the barracks and maybe go to a bar for a couple of drinks. However, that was not the case when he received a random text from his cousin. 

Sarah had moved out to California from their hometown after she got accepted into UCLA. She was very excited when she heard about her acceptance. Kyle believed it was because she could now party it up without the scary eyes of their very religious grandmother baring down their necks. At least that’s how he felt when he first left home to join the military. 

Sarah had invited him to go out to a festival or perhaps it was a rave? He wasn’t sure because he had never been to one before so this was sure to be a new experience. He’d never been one to party, even less given that he’s living a military and not a typical college life style. However, he can say that he can handle his own with a couple of pints. 

He glanced back to her text to make sure that he had input the address correctly. He was lucky that her new home wasn’t too far from the base he was staying at so he could take the bus that ran through the base. Sarah had decided that the gloomy skies of England were no match to the sunny skies of Los Angeles, so after graduating she found a job in engineering and found a place to call her own. He was honestly happy for her and was genuinely surprised that she had messaged him since they had not talked in several years. He had a suspicion that their grandmother called her about him being there. 

The bus stop was only a few blocks away from Sarah’s house so he had to walk the rest of the way. It was early, almost 8 am on a Saturday, so Kyle was certain that his cousin was likely still sleeping in. He made sure that his walk took longer by taking in his environment. It must have been because of his military mindset that had him checking the area for security risks. He knows that L.A. has a bad rep but his cousin living in a decent neighborhood didn’t mean that there were no risks. Kyle didn’t see that many people out that early. Only a few dogs walkers and a mother pushing a stroller with a baby that seemed not too happy to have been woken from their sleep based on theirs incessant crying. Kyle winced when they walked by. 

Kyle made it to his cousin’s door in 15 minutes. She opened the door after two knocks with a few minutes in between. 

“Kyle! You’re here!” She engulfed him in a tight hug, her arms squeezing against his torso with enough strength to pop his back. “Ahhh!! It’s been forever!”

“Gah!” He wheezed as his arms were crushed to his sides. “You have gotten a lot stronger, Sarah. Please let me go.”

“Oh! Sorry. Sorry. I get a bit excited about this stuff. You know me!” Sarah let him go and cover her mouth with her hand to try to hide her laughter. Then, she flexes an arm. “I just did arm day so I’m pretty pumped.”

Kyle laughs, “Your noodle arms are nothing compared to mine.” He teased her while flexing his larger arm muscles. It was like they were back to being kids and laughing and making fun of each other. 

“Har. Har. Kyle!” She rolled her eyes and gestured into her home. “Get your ass inside, Popeye.”

“Who?” His brow rose. She stared at him blankly. 

“Just get in, you uncultured swine!” Sarah started pushing his back to get him in. He resisted of course, but after a few seconds he let her have her way and stepped through the threshold. 

They settled on the couch and began to catch up. He learned about her job and that although it wasn’t her dream job, she was still happy about working there. Kyle didn’t tell her that much about his work being that almost all of it was classified but he shared that he too enjoyed working with his team. Overall, they were happy that the other was happy. 

“Now, what’s this about a rave? Festival?” Kyle felt like he didn’t know what he was saying. “You wanted to go out later tonight?”

“Yeah! It’s a rave with festival vibes.” Sarah explained and he nodded along. “We have to dress up a bit so we can look cool I guess. That’s why I wanted you to come a bit early, though not this early!” 

“Sorry.” She chuckled at him. 

“Don’t worry about it. I should have known that with you military types that I should have specified the exact time. That’s on me. But! Now we have more time to go over what you’re going to wear!”

If Sarah could be more excited she’d be bouncing off the walls and out the door. Her face bright like the huge grin pulling at her lips. 

“Oh… I was just gonna go like this.” He gestured at himself but apparently that did not go over so well with Sarah. She had a grossed out face. 

“A button up with kakis? What are you Jake from State Farm?” Another cultural reference that he lacked an understanding of. Sarah’s accent had become more Americanized but her British voice would shine through on the occasion. “No, no, no! I will not be seen with you dressed like that, love!”

She stood up. “I think I know what to do.”

Kyle almost panicked. “Please, no cheeks handing out and nothing too girly.” His brows furrowed together. “Damn… what would my team say if they saw me like this??”

“They’d say nothing because they would see that you had girls hanging off of you. You know some girls like men who are in touch with their feminine side?”

“I don’t have a feminine side.” He pouted. 

“Well, now you do!” Kyle cursed himself at being more open about what she could dress him in. He just hoped no pictures made it back to the Task Force. 

~~~~~

Kyle and Sarah walked amongst the crowd heading into the music festival grounds. There were so many people there, and from what he could see, not so many security guards or police. His training had him looking around and eyeing any suspicious looking people. Although that was kinda hard when every other person had their ass and titties hanging out, with even more glitter on their bodies than he had. 

They made it through security which was just a metal detector and the guards checking their bags. Then their passes were scanned and off into the throng of people they went. 

“My friends texted that they were near the food stalls.” Sarah glanced up from her phone. “I told them we’d meet up with them. Come on, let’s go!”

She took off and Kyle followed after her. He felt like a protective older brother as he glared at anyone who gave her weird looks of lust. Sarah was pretty and everywhere she went she always garnered looks of appreciation from strangers. She was currently wearing a yellow outfit that complimented her skin tone rather well. Her hair was long and styled back in curls. Large hoops adorned her ears. She was also wearing a large yellow coat which he thought she was crazy for because of the heat, but she assured him that it would get colder as the night went on. He was certain that her new white shoes wouldn’t stay that way afterwards. 

~~~

His own outfit wasn’t too bad if he was honest, although the sheer crop top was new for him. He liked the baggy pants that Sarah picked out and he paired it with his black combat boots. Sarah had given him two thumbs up and started messing around with her makeup bag. He was checking his outfit out in front of the mirror when he saw a hand with a makeup brush making its way to his face. 

“Woah! What’ya doin’!?” He pushed her hand away. Sarah huffed. 

“Just adding to the vibes. Come on it’s just some glitter, you’ll look so hot that girls will be falling all over you.” She grinned. 

“You say that but I’m not so sure…” He squinted at her. 

“Ugh! Just let go!” She shook her arm around. 

“Okay, Elsa.”

“Bitch-!”

~~~~~

Sarah found her friends in the crowd by the food stalls. She squealed and yanked on his arm in their direction. Introductions were made and the group went together where the concerts were happening. The crowd wasn’t as pushed together as Kyle thought but he never took his eyes off the group for too long, not wanting to lose sight of his cousin. Call him overprotective if you want. 

They found a spot near the middle of the crowd. The girls danced around him and he bobbed his head to the music despite it not being to his taste. Maybe he tapped his foot but he won’t admit it. Although, he’ll admit that the live band was rather good. 

From the corner of his eye he saw arms shoot up and wave around. He followed the movement down and saw the form of a girl dancing and singing along to the song. Her wrists had multiple beaded bracelets, fingernails perfectly manicured. Her lips were in a smile, sparkling with her lipgloss, and her eyes reflected the bright colors of the strobe lights. Her makeup was pretty but he had no real knowledge about that. The more he looked the wider his eyes dilated. 

The girl wore a black three-piece bra, high-waisted bikini bottoms and skirt-wrap combo with flowers and tuffs of faux feathers. Her arms had long sleeves and she wore a matching choker necklace. Chains dangled from her form and bounced as she jumped and danced. His eyes lowers down her legs and to her feet in very tall heels that he was amazed she was jumping around in. He thought she’d break an ankle. 

When his eyes went back to her face, she was already looking at him. Brow raised in question and lips slightly pouted. Damn those lips. He flinched back a bit when their eyes connected. His cheeks burned at realizing she caught him eyeing her up. 

“Hi!” She said rather shyly, or really, she yelled over the music. 

It took him a moment to respond. “Hello, Miss?”

She yelled her name but said that everyone called her Angel, and he gave his own in return. The music changed to a faster beat and the people around him were dancing closer to each other. 

“Wanna dance?” Her hand reached for his, fingertips sliding softly up on his forearm. He could feel the slight scratch of her nails. It sent shivers up his back. 

He felt like a teenager with the slight nod to her question he gave. His damn voice was caught in his throat. He was better than this. Smoother at flirting with pretty ladies but right now all of his experience was failing him. 

She giggled at him, not that he could hear it but felt it as she drew herself closer to his chest. Her breasts pressed to his shear shirt. Her hips swayed with the music and his hands automatically rested themselves there. Angel raised her hands, gliding them on his chest. Her fingers teased the sides of his throat before curling behind his neck. 

As her nails scratched the short hairs there, he brought her hips closer to his. She was definitely aware that she was affecting him physically. He ground his hardness against her. They both moaned at the feeling. His eyes were droopy with lust, they glanced at her pouty lips. Someone from behind bumped him closer and he let his lips lock with hers. 

Kyle’s hand tangled in her hair pulling her closer. She moaned and his tongue slipped past and tangled with hers. He tasted her lipgloss and the sweetness of the alcohol she drunk earlier that night. Both reveled in each other’s touch. 

The moment was cut short by whoops and whistles to their left. When they separated, Kyle looked over and saw his cousin and her friends cheering him on. Sarah must have noticed that he wasn’t as close to them as before. His cousin gave him a thumbs up and a fist pump. The girl in his arms hid herself in his chest, her cheeks warming. As if she wasn’t just grinding up on him as they were making out. 

“Ah… sorry, that’s my cousin and her friends.” He chuckled, abashed. 

“It’s okay.” Angel smiled at him, taking in his pretty eyes. 

~~~~~

They spent the next few hours dancing, kissing, and occasionally touching more than what would be socially acceptable. During one of the set changes, Kyle introduced her to his cousin and her friends. They hit it off rather quickly. At the end of their night, Sarah decided to stay overnight with her friends and Kyle chose to go home with Angel after she invited him. Her apartment wasn’t too far from where they were at anyways. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t usually do this. Bringing home a stranger.” She glanced down. Her cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t do that either.” His lips tugged into a small grin. 

She looked up at him and smiled softly. Her eyes drifted to his lips. Kyle noticed and began to inch forward until their lips met. It was soft. Her lips and the motions were slow and sweet. Very different to the one in the heat of the festival. Her hands rubbed up his mesh shirt, nails scratching softly through the thin fabric before clasping tightly behind his neck. His own hands rubbed on her waist in slow circular motions. 

Their kisses and touches ached and Kyle began to quickly lead her back into the room. Not that he knew where he was going. His first mistake as the beautiful woman he was currently in a delicious lip lock fell from his arms. 

She yelped when her body hit the back of her couch. The suddenness of it causing her to tip backwards. She landed on the plush cushions with a soft ‘oof.’ Kyle looked down at her in shock, mouth open but no words came out. Part of her legs and feet dangled over the top. She looked up at him, eyes glancing back and forth between his own, dumbfounded before her the corners of her lips turned up and a giggle started. Then it turned into full blown laughter. Kyle grinned at her cute reaction and joined with a chuckle. 

She lifted her hands up to him and as he began to pull her up, she yanked him down over the couch with her. Giggling all the while. His arms stretched out to catch himself on the cushions. He could barely think before her lips were on him once again. This time there was more heat to it. More passion. 

Her hands were cupping his face. Fingers rubbing softly against his freshly shaven face. He shifted their bodies into a more comfortable position and put his weight onto one arm before bringing the other hand up. He let it glance lightly against her body until it rested softly against the crook of her neck and shoulder. His thumb rubbing her neck with an equal softness. 

He felt more than he heard the soft groan that left her lips, muffled by his own. Her legs shifted and he felt her knees up against his hips. Kyle gave into the temptation and lowered his lower body until he was flush against her. This time he heard her moan. He shivered in delight. 

Her tongue flicked out to lick his lips and he let her in. Their tongues danced against one another. Damn he loved the taste of her. 

Angel pushed him back so that she could reach behind her to unclip her top. His mouth immediately latched on her nipple. Her back arched, a pleasured sigh escaping her lips. She felt herself getting wet, her slick soaking her black bottoms and she bucked her hips into Kyle’s. His moan vibrated through her chest. 

Kyle kissed her chest some more before sliding back and removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Her hands helped him pull them down, leaving him in his boxers. 

“Where’s your bed?” He held her hands and helped her up off the couch. Angel led him to her room, she removed the rest of her clothes and heels and laid her bare self on the soft bed. Kyle stood by the doorway and just stared at her beauty. Her legs were slightly open and he could see the glimmer of her slick weeping from her pussy. 

Angel’s face burned at his intense gaze. “Kyle?”

That broke him out of his lustful haze, swiftly removing his boxers. He hung heavily, his arousal twitching against his navel. The tip flushed and his veins throbbing. Angel licked her lips as he grew closer. 

Her hand reached for his cock but was quickly intercepted by Kyle’s larger hand. “Let me…”

Angel let herself fall back as Kyle took his place between her legs. Instantly sucking and licking at her soaked pussy. His hands held firmly on her thighs, not letting her rub against his head. Kyle’s tongue flicked on her clit and she moaned rather loudly that she was sure she’d get a complaint about it later. 

“Oh, fuck! Kyle!” Her nails scratched at his short hair. 

The wet, juicy sounds of her slick and Kyle’s sucking turned her own, making her even more wet. He licked stripes up and down her pussy, then slipped a finger in rather easily. She was panting now, little moans interdicted with louder ones. 

He added a second and then a third, really stretching her out for him. The bed sheets had her juices pooled beneath her. His fingers pumped faster and his mouth sucked harder on her clit. She moaned loudly as her walls clamped down on his fingers as she orgasmed around them. The sounds coming from her nearly made Kyle cum but he held the base of his cock with his free hand to stop his load from blowing too early. 

His fingers slipped from her pussy and he watched as her slick lips clenched around nothing. 

“Kyle, please…” Her eyes were pleading, flicking between his eyes and his straining dick. 

“Angel…” He moaned as he tapped his tip against her clit. She wiggled her lower half in an attempt to get him inside her. She whined when he pulled away but groaned as Kyle pushed his tip just barely inside. 

He huffed and then pushed all the way in, earning himself beautiful, pleasure-filled noises. He was halfway in when she half sat up and pulled him closer, locking their mouths in a heated kiss. His hips jerked forward the final few inches until their hips were touching. His arms and thighs shook from the pleasure he was feeling. Her plush pussy was sucking him in, clenching against his thick cock. Desperately trying to milk him for what he’s got. And he had a lot to give. 

The first few thrusts were overstimulating, so Kyle went torturously slow. It didn’t last too long before he was pounding into her sweet pussy faster. Their bodies coming together created wet lewd sounds. His cum filled balls slapped against her ass with each hard connection. Kyle could feel her wetness dripping down his balls. The viscous fluid becoming creamier with each thrust. 

“There ya go, love.” Kyle panted. “Look at those tits bouncing every, every time I fuck my cock into ya.”

He looked down at her boobs bouncing with his thrusts. A hand reached out to pinch at her nipple. Her hips bucked in sync with his. 

“Ah! Ah! Kyle!” He pinched and twisted her nipple harder. “Fuck! Fuck!”

He thrusted his cock into her faster than before. His balls beginning to tighten while her walls clenched harder onto him. 

“Kyle~!” Her voice going a higher pitch. The bed creaked with their thrusts. 

“Shit! Ah! That’s it, love!” Kyle’s eyes began to roll back as his creamy cum left his body and streamed into hers. “Yes, ah! Fuck! Fuck!”

The feeling of Kyle’s hot cum squirting into her made Angel cum harder than she’s ever cummed before. Her legs shook violently and her back arched off the bed. Kyle’s pace slowed but her didn’t slip out as he came to a stop. Both panted hard and Kyle wrapped his arms around her, flipping them over still connected. 

A surprised squeak slipped her lips and he chuckled. Then she groaned softly at the new position. He didn’t move, however, instead tightening his hold on her. 

“Cuddler?” She teased, palms splayed over his chest. She could feel how fast his heart was beating as he took deep breaths. 

“Can’t blame me for hugging an Angel.” The laugh that shook her body was making Kyle giddy. The movement made him groan as her pussy clenched on his softening cock. 

“S-sorry.” She bit her lip. She took the moment to push against him and he let her go. Kicking a leg over, his cock slipped out along with a gush of his cum. “Ah!”

Kyle hissed as his cock slapped against him covered in both their fluids. He felt his dick hardening watching his cum drip from her twitching pussy lips. 

Angel then laid next to him, her head resting against his chest. Her hand reached over his stomach to his hand. She held it as she slipped one of her bracelets she made for the festival over onto his wrist. 

“To remember me…” She said it so softly, he almost missed it if he wasn’t staring at her in awe. His cheeks burned as feelings he’s rarely ever felt before churned in his chest. Her dilated eyes looking back just as fervently. 

On its own, Kyle’s hand reached for her chin pulling her into a deep kiss. She moved over him again, one of his hands on her ass cheek to help not that she needed it. He gave it a tight squeeze making her moan into his mouth. 

They continued their moment together past sunrise. Kyle made sure to bring her pleasure as many times as Angel could take. He hoped he’d spend more time with her in the future but knew it was unlikely since he lived on another continent. Silently, she hoped the same thing. 

Masterlist

🔖 Taglist:

@sae1kie

[oumaheroes]

Hi so I’ve seen you answering some asks and I thought I’d send one myself. I know you don’t do much of soft Arthur and Alfred but if you could that would make my day. Maybe something with a delirious!Al and comforting!dad!Artie? I just need like a tender moment between those two, where they’re not fighting.

Thank you so much ���😘

ALRIGHT.

You've all been asking for long enough- here's the start of a multipart mini story that has taken me longer than I'd care to admit to get going (three almost full attempts, to be exact)

Characters: England, America

-------

Wreckage: Part 1

The smoke was metallic: sharpened acid and modern warfare.

‘Hello!’

England pulled at the wreckage, bare hands flinching at the searing pain of handling too-hot metal. He wished he’d worn his leather gloves, wished he had thought to put them on a mere few minutes ago when the crunching whirr of broken engines and crashing trees had woken him, but they lay useless and forgotten back at his campsite.

‘Can you hear me! Allô! Pouvez-vous m’entendre!’

The plane wore allied colours. It was a British make but that didn’t mean anything these days- the pilot could belong to any of the allied official or resistance groups. All England knew was that there was to be a drop coming, they were in the middle of nowhere, and that it all had apparently gone horribly, horribly wrong.

‘English! French! Polish! Czy ktoś mnie słyszy- is anyone alive in there!’

The door to the craft was stuck shut, parts of the top hinges warped and buckled from impact. He gave up on opening it to try for the window, pounding at the thick glass with the butt of his gun in fool’s panic (that, at least, he had been sensible enough to bring). He could see someone inside through the thick black smoke, an outline of shoulders and head that seemed to be moving slightly whenever the flames behind them near the engine choked.

This was occupied French territory; the nearest village was a while away but not that far. This crash would be noticed and investigated all too soon. The least England could do was to get in there and end the pilot’s misery before whoever shot them down came looking, there was no help for them out here.

That, and to be sure that there was nothing incriminating to be found.

‘Hang on! Almost there.’ Stepping back, he scanned the forest floor wildly for something better to use and caught sight of a large stone, half buried in the ground by the roots of a tree. It had rained recently, the ground was soft, and England tore into the dirt impatiently to work it free.

‘If you can hear me, sit back!’ Raising the rock above his head, he brought it down with a crash in the lower centre part of the windshield, hopefully far enough away from the pilot’s face. A hairline crack appeared, nothing more, but it was enough. England raised the rock again, choking as the smoke whirled about him, and kept going until the glass had splintered into delicate, cobweb-like lines.

One last hit made a hole. Smoke billowed out immediately and England worked quickly before the flames grew too intense on the new oxygen supply, hacking away until the hole was big enough to push an arm through. His fingers found material, sticky with something England didn’t want to think about, and a weak hand that gripped him back.

Taking a last breath of mostly fresh air, England pushed his upper half through to get to the cockpit, groping about blind until he felt the pilot’s seat straps. The heat was ferocious already, fire just behind where the poor man was trapped, and England fought not to take a breath or retreat to the safety of the cool night air. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t see, and the glass bit into his stomach and arms when he leant more of his weight on the frame. It was a struggle but he pushed through, fingers groping by muscle memory to where he knew the clasps were, where he’d need to unhook an arm from the straps to pull the man free.

It would have been far easier to shoot the poor bastard.

It would have been quicker, kinder, than this certainly. No matter what happened, England wouldn’t leave him to die naturally. To die that way- encased in smoke, lungs desperately straining for clean air that wouldn’t come, flames against your feet- was one he knew all too well. It was a horrible way to go, one that he wouldn’t wish on anyone, but cruel though it was to make this child suffer needlessly, the engines hadn’t exploded yet and he couldn’t risk it.

Get him out first. See what message he had to give, if he could give it. Then let him go quickly and cleanly, the knife against England’s thigh waiting and patient.

It took three return trips for air, each one making his lungs burn more and more until he felt light headed and dizzy, but eventually they were free. Pilot cleared from his seat and legs thankfully clear, England hooked his arms under the man’s armpits and heaved them backwards out of the cockpit. There wasn’t far to go, the plane had nosedived onto its side in its final crash from the now broken trees, and they rolled backwards easily onto the forest floor.

The pilot screamed shrilly as they came free and gripped tight on England’s clothes to then sob piteously in his arms.

‘It’s alright.’ England sat up as carefully as he could and gently rolled the man off him to lay on his back. ‘You’re alright, I’ve got you.’

The pilot was a mess, aviator goggles and hair under his cap blackened by soot or oil or both. There was blood all over him, smeared across his neck and front that likely came from his head- England couldn’t tell. There wasn’t the time for it, and it wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

‘Give me your name.’ he asked urgently, struggling onto weak knees to sit over him, ‘Your ID and nationality, I’m-‘

He stopped.

Later, England couldn’t quite say what it was. He hadn’t noticed in the rush what he could feel now- the itch of someone like himself close by. But there was more, perhaps something about the pilot’s body that was familiar, or something deeper than that which ran through them both like the unbroken lines of history. An indescribable connection of family that mortal language couldn’t quite explain.

Fingers clumsy with sudden, familiar, terror, England tugged at the goggles which covered the pilot’s eyes and pitched forwards breathless and horrified at what he found.

‘Oh Jesus- Alfred.’

-------

AN:

The historical research that has gone into this is minimal, so please be kind to any inaccuracies that you see.

[ohwaynorge]

A Viking's Tale

It was a rare sunny evening, and the Nordics had gathered around a small fire near the edge of a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. Norway, Denmark, and Sweden had insisted on regaling Iceland with tales from their Viking days. Iceland, reluctant as always, sat cross-legged on a log, his expression a perfect mix of skepticism and quiet curiosity.

Denmark slapped his knee with a hearty laugh, holding his mug of beer aloft. "Back in the day, I was the best Viking around! The fastest ships, the most treasure, and definitely the most women!" He winked shamelessly at Iceland, who gave him a withering glare.

Sweden, sitting stoically next to Denmark, adjusted his glasses and muttered, "Doubt that. Y're usually th' loudest, not th' best."

"Excuse me?!" Denmark whipped around to face Sweden, nearly spilling his drink.

"He's not wrong," Norway said flatly, sipping his own beer. "I always had to clean up after you. Pillaging a village isn't just about yelling and waving an axe around, you know."

"I strategize!" Denmark defended, puffing out his chest. "Besides, who was it that stole that entire chest of gold from the King of England? Oh yeah, me."

"That was me," Norway corrected, looking unimpressed. "You tripped over a chicken and fell in the mud before you even made it to the treasure."

Denmark turned bright red, but Iceland could hardly suppress a snort of laughter. Denmark turned his attention to him with a grin. "Hey, Ice! You'd have loved the Viking days. The thrill of the sea, the raid on enemy shores, the endless drinking!"

Iceland, who had been inching his hand toward Norway's beer while everyone was distracted, froze mid-sip when he realized all eyes were now on him.

"Wait, is that my beer?" Norway asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Iceland quickly wiped his mouth and tried to look innocent. "No. I don't even like beer."

Denmark squinted at him suspiciously, then burst out laughing. "Oh, you sneaky little bastard! Trying to become a real Viking, huh?" He slid his mug closer to himself protectively. "Good luck stealing my beer, though."

Challenge accepted.

As Denmark launched into another exaggerated story—this time about wrestling a bear with his bare hands—Iceland casually leaned back and edged closer to Norway's mug again. He thought he was being slick, but the moment he tipped the mug toward his mouth, Norway snatched it away.

"Seriously?" Norway questioned, his expression unreadable but his tone tinged with faint amusement.

"I'm just...testing it for poison," Iceland said with an awkward cough.

"Ah, that's a classic Viking move!" Denmark crowed, slamming his own mug down on the table. "Alright, kid, you can have a sip of mine. Just to see if you’ve got the stomach for it." He shoved the mug toward Iceland, who hesitated before taking a cautious sip.

The beer was stronger than he expected, and he coughed, which only made Denmark laugh harder.

"Not bad!" Denmark declared, clapping him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him off his log. "But you'd never survive a proper Viking feast if you can’t handle that!"

Sweden, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally spoke up. "Y're all forgettin'. Bein' a Viking wasn't just 'bout drinkin' 'n raidin'. There was farm work, shipbuildin', tradin'... and keepin' Denmark outta trouble."

"Hey!" Denmark protested, clearly offended. "I didn't need anyone to keep me out of trouble!"

Norway smirked. "Oh really? What about the time you set your own longship on fire because you thought it’d make for a dramatic entrance?"

"That... was an accident," Denmark muttered, sinking into his seat.

Iceland finally let out a genuine laugh, his guard slipping for just a moment. The sight of the usually stoic young nation laughing made Denmark, Norway, and even Sweden exchange a brief look of fondness.

"See? You would've made a great Viking," Denmark said, grinning. "All the sneaking, stealing, and sass? You’d fit right in."

Iceland rolled his eyes but didn't argue. Instead, he reached for Norway's beer again, only to find the mug empty. Norway silently held up the drained mug, the faintest trace of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I hate all of you," Iceland muttered, but the corners of his mouth betrayed a smile.

And so the night went on, filled with exaggerated Viking tales, stolen drinks, and the occasional jab at Denmark’s expense, of course. For Iceland, it was a rare glimpse into the chaotic camaraderie of his fellow Nordics—and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind it as much as he pretended.

[jayswifewrites]

Hostage

sherlock x f!reader

You, the princess of England are being held hostage, the news reaches Sherlock and he comes to save the day but what happens when he finds out your secret….

(slightly edited)

*changes from third person to first person randomly idk man😓

warnings: smut!, choking, lots of teasing, degradation, fingering, edging, blowjob, dom!sherlock, sub!reader, riding, slight exhibition?, eating out, riding, unprotected s3x!, overstimulation ig?

word count: 3.6K

On another boring Saturday afternoon in London, Sherlock is in desperate need of an interesting case, one that preferably involves the nobility. Inspector Lestrade abruptly comes knocking at Holmes’ residence incessantly, the door gets opened opened by Watson.

Before Watson can even greet him, the inspector runs up the stairs to find Sherlock. Watson follows him confound but curious as to what could be so urgent. Watson runs into the room panting, “The princess…” moving his hands to his knees to catch his breath.

“What about the princess?” Sherlock inquires indifferently. Inspector Lestrade walks towards Sherlock holding a letter sealed with a stamp from the royal family. “She’s been held hostage, I was told to go directly to you and avoid informing anyone else in the Scotland Yard.”

Sherlock grabs the letter and analyses it to determine its legitimacy, after noticing the quality of the letter and acknowledging the insignia on the envelope he raises his eyebrows and opens the envelope eagerly.

The letter reads:

Dear Mr Holmes, we hope that this letter reaches you well

The king and I are currently dealing with some affairs in Paris, France. Last night we received a peculiar call from someone claiming that they are holding our dear daughter, the princess hostage. We assumed it was a fabrication until we heard the screams and pleads of the princess over the telephone. We are not able to leave the country to attend to this matter so we came to the decision to let you handle this matter.

Here are the coordinates we received: 51.509364 -0.137686

Please ensure the safety of our daughter and deal with this matter quietly so that it does not reach the newspapers and you shall be reimbursed accordingly

-The Queen of England

“Watson, what do you think? Sherlock enquires while getting up and passing the letter to him. “Well, I can tell from the envelope alone that it’s genuine.” Watson replies while analysing the paper. Sherlock walks towards the door, “Well, shall we John?” John agrees adamantly and follows Sherlock.

As they arrive at the large abandoned quaint building, the scent of burnt materials hits them immediately and the sound of loud screams from a young woman. “Watson I need you to into hiding, and I shall signal for you when I need your assistance.” John nods and finds a discrete hiding spot that isn’t too far from the cries. Sherlock enters the derelict building soundly while observing its surroundings. He notices a torn up piece of paper on the ground and picks it up, the words are barely legible, the only word he can make out is “HELP”. He puts the paper in his pocket and continues on until he can hear a man’s voice.

He attempts to open the door and immediately breaks it down with immense force when he realises it’s locked. As the door falls to the ground he is met with a tall man with wide shoulders covered in all black clothing, holding a handgun. He notices the princess tied to the leg of a couch, tears running down her eyes, her hair messy as she starts screaming for help through the cloth covering her mouth. The large man moves closer and points is gun towards her instead of Sherlock. “You don’t look like the king or queen.” He says lowly with a thick Russian accent.

“Think of me as a representative, I was sent by them.” Sherlock casually takes a seat on the old, stained cushioned chair at the corner of the room.”Do you have the money?” The Russian man questions him. “Yes I do but we have to come to an agreement before that.” The Russian man stays silent for a second waiting to hear the terms . Sherlock moves his left leg to his right thigh and brings his right hand to his chin, “The bag is outside, as you can see, I’m sure the money will be more than enough, just leave the girl and you can run away without being apprehended.”

“So you want me to believe that you seriously came alone?” The Russian man inquires suspiciously. “You don’t have to believe me but I can tell you that I am not a part of the police force, look outside the door if you want to.”

The large man walks towards the door hesitantly and peaks outside before grabbing the back swiftly and sprinting , as he starts running Sherlock takes out startling gun and shoots up at the roof making sure that he doesn’t cause the ceiling to collapse. Watson hears the signal and waits at the exit of the building to capture the hostage taker.

As soon as Sherlock Holmes hears their footsteps get quiet he approaches you slowly, keeping his gaze on you. You look down feeling hot from his intense gaze. Sherlock bends down to face you directly and lifts your face to make you meet his eyes. He removes the cloth from your mouth but keeps his hands on her jaw. he brings your face close to his and whispers in your ear, “You really thought I wouldn’t know princess?”

You feel shivers down your spine as his whisper touches your ear, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply lowly averting your gaze while pretending to be clueless. Sherlock chuckles lowly sounding pissed off “This whole scheme.” He brings his other hand to her neck, tightening his grip slightly. You cough out, keeping quiet.

“You know if you’re going to plan a fake hostage scenario, maybe you shouldn’t make the location a building that your parents recently bought.” You remain silent from embarrassment. “You also shouldn’t leave a sample of your handwriting in the building.” Sherlock pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket, ”This is the exact same handwriting as the one in the letter.” Sherlock leans against the wall cockily “But I must say, the plan was almost foolproof, but then again I am Sherlock Holmes.” He stares into your eyes with a smug smirk. “But I am curious, what were you hoping to gain from this? I thought about it and my first conclusion was that you’re a bored princess who wanted something interesting in your life while your parents left the country.” Sherlock gets up on his feet and starts pacing the room slowly. “So you thought it would be fun to fool the greatest detective in England.”

“But now that I’m here and looking at you, I can tell what it is that you really want, your gaze says it all.” Sherlock stops pacing and walks towards the princess towering over with his hands in his pockets. “I am somewhat of an expert when it comes to body language and your eyes princess, are filled with lust when you look at me.”

You attempt to keep your face emotionless and you gulp your saliva out of fear, “I don’t know what you mean.” Shifting uncomfortably against the couch

Sherlock goes down again bringing his thumb to your lips, rubbing against them softly “You know exactly what I mean.”

You feel your heart rate increase but you don’t try to move away from his touch, instead you open your mouth unaware of what are were trying to achieve.

Sherlock’s eyes brighten up after realising how willing you are to be under his control, “You know princess, since I am already here, I might as well give you what you want but I’ll have to punish you for your sly behaviour.” He puts his thumb on your tongue and watches you contently move your tongue around it. “Ill give you a real reason to cry princess.”

Sherlock grabs you by the neck and brings your mouth to his, kissing you gently at first with pecks and only a slow lip movements but then it suddenly switches to a rougher kiss, he moves his lips against yours with a sudden intensity, forcing his tongue through your lips. Matching his intensity you swirl your tongue around his and feel his hand move to your collarbone, brushing it slightly before his lips move down to your neck, causing your breath to hitch from the sudden sensation. You want to bring your hands up to him but then you’re remember that they’re still constrained.

When Sherlock notices you moving your hands around in the ropes, he stops kissing down your neck and stares at you with dark eyes , “I will remove the rope when I’m satisfied with your behaviour, until then, you’re stuck my princess.” Sherlock goes back to kissing your lips and you feels his hand move up and down your thigh as he kisses you passionately. He moves his fingers to your head and plays with your hair between his fingers, the kiss intensifying as his tongue invades your mouth, exploring hungrily. He moves his hands back to your thigh but this time he squeezes it possessively before moving his hand to your inner thigh and rubbing it teasingly.

You feel your core get hotter and react to his touch involuntarily, Jacob moves away from the kiss and moves his attention to your chest, he kisses your cleavage lightly before pulling down your ruffled top revealing your hardened nipples. Jacob smiles at you before rubbing your nipples, when he sees the you shut your eyes from pleasure he pinches them and you suddenly moan.

Sherlock enjoying the show, groans softly making you quiver and he brings his tongue to your sensitive nipples, you bite your lip in an attempt to hold back the unholy sounds but you end up faltering when he brings his hand back up to your thigh to rub it while keeping his mouth on your nipples.

“Please Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath in desperation

“Please what, princess?” Sherlock stops touching you entirely watching as you scowl your face in desperation

“Please touch me there, I beg of you.” You plead desperately feeling abandoned without his touch

“Im not understanding , where exactly should I touch you princess, use your words.” Sherlock teases as he watches you beg for his touch.

Sherlock brings his lips to your neck to kiss you teasingly, and he abruptly starts sucking your neck to leave a mark. You moan softly from the pleasure but come to your senses when you realise what he’s trying to do, “It is going leave a mark Sherlock?” Sherlock chuckles at your panicked state, “I know, I want everyone to know what kind of girl the princess really is.”

“So are you going to tell me where you want to be touched now.” Sherlock goes back to moving his hand up and down your thigh

You nod with desperation and reply, “Please finger my hole!” You scream out with urgency

Sherlock feels a surge of thrill overcome him after making the poise princess speak so explicitly for him. “Took you long enough, darling.” You blush at the use of the pet name as Sherlock shifts his hand up, cupping your pussy and brings his fingers to your clit, rubbing and pressing the nerves, causing you to moan at the wonderful sensation. He then moves down your snatch, putting one finger in. “You’re so wet for me, you really are a slut.” He feels you tighten around his finger at his degradation. “Oh.” He feels his slacks become tighter at the way your body responds to his touch and words, thinking about how badly he wants to feel you but moves his attention back to teasing you.

Sherlock hears footsteps approaching and instead of stopping, he adds a second finger and moves faster, you start panicking when your realise that someone is approaching the room and you notice the sly look Sherlock has in eyes as he fucks you with his long fingers. You shake your head at him as he goes faster, trying to keep your moans in. Sherlock smirks at you menacingly.

When the footsteps stop before the empty doorway, Sherlock uses his other hand to rub your clit while maintaining the speed of his two fingers. “Is it okay if I enter?’ Watson asks unaware of what’s happening in the room. Sherlock adds a third finger and you moan out, “No!” Watson gets caught off guard by your reposes, “Is everything all right in there?’ He asks worriedly. Sherlock looks at you as he replies, “Yes everything is fine, I’m just comforting the princess so we need some time.”

The innocent Watson doesn’t suspect a thing, “Well Sherlock, the inspector is here to offer us a ride, I’m assuming you are declining.” Sherlock intensifies the movement of his fingers inside of you if it was even physically possible and you feel yourself tighten at the thought of getting caught in this position. Sherlock replies to John, “Why yes, I shall catch up with you later.’”

James Watson’s footsteps disappear after a couple of seconds and Sherlock notices how close you are so he stops touching you. “You really are a whore, I felt you tighten around my fingers when John was here, you like the idea of getting caught, don’t you?” You shake your head denying the accusation in hopes that he would let you finish. Holmes brings his hand up your neck, “Admit it princess, or else I won’t let you finish.” He threatens. You inhale deeply and reply feverishly “Yes I got turned on by the idea of being caught in a compromising position.”

“That’s right princess, don’t forget that I’m a detective , I have a sixth sense for these things.”Sherlock goes back to rubbing your clit.”I want you to finish on my tongue but when you cum, I want you to say my name okay princess?” You nod while feeling a shiver down your body as he rubs and teases you. Sherlock keeps his fingers on your clit as he puts his mouth in between your legs, slowly kissing up your inner thigh causing you to whimper “please…” in desperation.

Sherlock brings his tongue to your entrance and plunges his tongue inside your desperate hole. “You taste so good princess.” He mutters against your heat. His praise heightens your pleasure, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

Sherlock can sense that you’re close so he moves his tongue to your clit and brings his fingers to your whole, the feeling of his warm tongue on your bundle of nerves makes you shake uncontrollably and he brings his mouth back to your hole as you finish and scream his name as you grind against his face. “Fuck, Sherlock!”

Your body shudders and you feel yourself twitch around his tongue as you feel the knot in your stomach come undone. Sherlock smiles with satisfaction when he hears his name, “Atta girl.” He kisses your forehead as you recover from the intense orgasm, when you come down from the high he unties the rope binding you.

“You were such a good girl for me, so i’ll set you free.” As he releases you from the ropes, he massages your wrists softly and kisses them gently, “Does it hurt princess.” You shake your head knowing that you made sure it wasn’t tied too tightly earlier. A sense of warmth overcomes you at his sudden affection. Sherlock sits down on the couch laying his head back, placing his index finger on his temple while manspreading from being spent. He made you feel so good and you wanted to return the favour, noticing his bulge, you move in between his legs and bring your hand to the bulge, rubbing through his trousers softly.

Sherlock brings his head down and looks down at you, “You want my cock in your mouth princess?” You nod adamantly, thinking back to how many times you’ve imagined yourself doing this. Sherlock unzips his slacks and brings out his member that was larger than you expected, it was about 6,5 inches. You couldn’t help but worry about how you are supposed to fit the whole thing in your mouth, even worse fit it in your hole. Sherlock notices the fear in your eyes and tells you that he can help you.

You nod as you nervously lick the tip, you swirl your tongue around it, “Fuck, princess stop teasing.” As soon as you heard those words you move your lips down, making sure your tongue brushes against the veiny sides of his member. You manage to take all of it in your month until it hits the back of your throat. Saliva starts dripping out of your full mouth as you take more of him. He groans as he feels you take him in completely, his fingers moving in your hair. You move your head back up and feel him help you push it down again.

The sound of your wet mouth taking him in and his groans combine and you feel him grind against your mouth roughly the more it goes on. Not really minding the roughness because it made you feel like a slut that existed for his pleasure solely.

He tightens the grip on your hair, “Fuck, you little cock hungry whore, you really love having my dick in your mouth.” His degrading words turn you on and make you moan sending vibrations down his cock causing him to increase the speed of his movements and you feel him jerk in your mouth, indicating how close he is. he grabss your face in his hand, “You better swallow like a good girl, okay?”

He lets you go back to sucking him off and moves faster, you swirl your tongue around him and feel tears come out of your eyes as he pushes himself deeper down your throat. He releases a stream into the back of your throat, and you swallow the thick, salty liquid as tears fall down your face. He cups your face after finishing and wipes your tears, “I told you I’d make you cry.” He brings your face up to kiss you deeply, tasting his own release.

“Strip and then get up on the couch princess.” You submit to his command in anticipation of his next move. You stand in front him making sure to seductively remove your garments, maintaining eye contact while also moving your hands across your body. And then you sit down on the couch, waiting for your next instruction.

Sherlock takes a seat next to you on the coach and gestures for you to lie across his lap. “This is your punishment princess, all you have to do is count up to 5, if you miss a number or skip a number, you have repeat that number okay?”

You nod in agreement but your heart beats fast from fear, Sherlock brings his large hand to your ass, smack “one” you shriek while enjoying the unfamiliar sensation. Smack “two.” you moan out incoherently. Smack “thre…” your breath hitches at the sore but enjoyable feeling.

“You should see how much you’re leaking from me spanking you princess.” Sherlock chuckles incredulously.

Smack “Five.” you groan out wearingly as you become a puddle in his lap. “Five princess? I think you mean four, which means two more, that’s if you count well. Smack “Five, please stop.” you scream out. “One more princess.” smack “six.” you scream out.

“You’re such a good girl, I’ll let you rest a little and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard that the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

Sherlock waits for you to recover, as you sit up on the couch, he moves upwards to face you. “I want you to ride me, I want to sense your desperation and the pent up frustration.” He pulls out his hard being member from under you and you take it in your hand and put it at your entrance.

You wince as you slowly adjust yourself to his size, making sure not to move for a while as you try to take his full length. “I’ve never felt so full.” you groan out, as you bottom out.

Sherlock smirks and asks you if you’re ready. You nod and start moving yourself up and down slowly until you find the perfect pace. Sherlock moves his head back but then you pull his head towards you to meet his lips. You move faster as the kiss deepens, feeling his cock hit places that you didn’t even know could make you feel these sensations. Your moans and the sound of your skin slapping against him fill the air.

You start grinding against him and roll your eyes back in pleasure. When Sherlock notices your facial expression he moans out “fuck, you take me so well.” You go back to the up and down movements while Sherlock kisses you all over your chest and neck.

Sherlock impatiently starts himself upwards, his thrust are incessant but don’t lose their strength.“You feels so good on my cock princess.” You start purposefully tightening yourself around him as he thrusts into you harder.

“Princess, look what you’ve done to me.” he starts whimpering in your ear as he gets closer. You feel yourself build up to your climax so your movements becomes messier, “I’m so close.” you moan out. Sherlock moves his hands to your clit and starts flicking it hastily to help you reach your orgasm first. You feel him reach your g-spot and rub your sensitive bundles at the same time and you cum so hard from the overstimulation that your vision becomes blurry and white. You mutter his name as if you’re in a trance “Sherlock, Sherlock…” As you convulse on him and become a moaning mess, Sherlock whimpers and moans and can’t help but release himself inside of your walls. The feeling of his warmth in you makes you twitch one more time.

“You were such a good girl today, it was definitely worth my time, I’ll make sure you get home safely.” You nod as you wrap your arms around him, the feeling of you naked bodies against each other making you feel closer. As you shut your eyes, you feel a coat, masked in a familiar musk scent. The feeling of a sudden forehead kissing making your heart flutter.

welp! i hope y’all enjoyed🌷, watching moriarty the patriot right now and this man is insanely fine so i had to write something😓 (first smut)

i’ll post this on ao3 edited properly when i make an account

[eamesandbellamyaremyheaven]

Somewhere, Now and Then Ch5 || Arthur x Sansa (Kalots/GoT Outlander AU)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword x Game of Thrones  Outlander AU (there’s no such thing as canon)

Warnings: Violence, blood 

Summary: England, 1945. After serving in the war as a nurse, Sansa Bolton (former Stark) seizes the opportunity of going on vacation with her husband Ramsay to rekindle their relationship. But what happens when Sansa finds herself travelling back in time, to the 6th century, where she meets the King Arthur and his Knights?

A.N.//- Needless to say, this is loosely based on the Outlander premise. The story is told through Guy Ritchie’s interpretation of the Arthurian legend, and for that locations and traditions - and the time itself - had to be adapted to work accordingly. Any questions you have, feel free to ask!

A.N.//- Thank you to the Anon that wrote that ask, this chapter is for you! Feeling validaded as a writer, I can't even begin to describe the feeling.... Much love, never change, you never know how much you can impact someone!

Prologue || Chapter One || Chapter two|| Chapter Three || Chapter Four

Chapter Five - Camelot

Petyr took his coat and hat, handling them to Mrs. Manderly, who greeted him with a smile.

“Any luck, Mister?”

“We asked around, but no one seen her. The police is setting up posters and a reward, that might spike the people’s interest.” Petyr replied with a weary tone. It’s been two days since Sansa disappeared. Lysa was a crying mess, wailing over her sweet darling niece, while he and Ramsay tried to work with the local police, pulling all their efforts and waking moments into find her as soon as possible.

Mrs. Manderly seemed apprehensive, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure she should. She pursed her lips, looking around the room, and only when she made sure they were alone she spoke lowly, only for him to hear.

“There are old stories, sir, about the magic of the stones. It is said that Stonehenge marks a place on earth were powers come together, allowing certain people, on certain days, to travel in time”

The woman spoke fast, and Petyr had trouble in understanding exactly what she meant.

“Your niece went to the stones, but didn’t came back, at least not in our time.”

“She travelled back in time, you say?” Petyr snickered, his eyebrow arching in amusement “Do you have any idea to when?”

“They say that it is different, every time. Each traveller must make their own journey, but it is said in the stories that they often return.”

Petyr looked the old woman in the eyes. She truly believed in what she was saying, and she was not shy with her beliefs. The last thing he needed was his wife becoming more hysterical and his nephew-in-law more furious.

“Can you do me a favour, Mrs. Manderly? I wish to keep this theory between us. The rest of my family might not take the news very well.”

“So you believe me, sir?”

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

※※※※※

The road to Camelot had been long and exhausting, and by the time the towering walls of the legendary city came into view, Sansa could feel the tension in the group. Arthur rode ahead, his posture rigid, his hands gripping the reins too tightly, as if he were bracing for something. Even Bill, who had spent most of the journey entertaining her with stories, had fallen into a contemplative silence.

Sansa’s breath caught as they passed through the massive gates, the clang of iron echoing in her bones. The city beyond was unlike anything she had imagined - grand and bustling, yet hardened by war. Soldiers patrolled the streets, merchants bartered loudly in the markets, and children ran barefoot through the muddy roads, their laughter a stark contrast to the grim expressions of the men who stood watch.

She barely had time to take it all in before Arthur led them through the winding streets toward the castle. At the entrance, a group of women awaited them, their dresses more refined than the common folk, their eyes sharp with curiosity. One stepped forward, a blond-haired woman with a confident stance and an assessing gaze.

“You must be Sansa” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Sansa hesitated before nodding.

“I’m Maggie. Welcome to Camelot.”

※※※※※

Preparations for Graybeard’s arrival began immediately. The halls of Camelot buzzed with activity - servants scurried to prepare the great hall, knights sharpened their swords with grim determination, and council members whispered in hushed voices. Sansa watched from the fringes, aware of the sidelong glances cast her way, feeling more like an outsider than ever.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Viking delegation arrived. Graybeard entered the hall flanked by his men, his presence like a storm rolling in. His cold, calculating eyes swept the gathering before landing on Sansa.

He smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

“Ah, a new face in your court” he mused, stepping closer “You do have the look of the North about you.”

Sansa forced herself to remain still, though every instinct screamed at her to step back.

“You know, there are many Starks in the North” he continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Curious that you ended up here, of all places.”

“You are mistaken, sir. I did not end up here—I am from here” she cut, her voice steady but edged with frost.

Arthur cleared his throat, stepping between them “Enough. You wished for an audience, and you have it.”

Graybeard’s expression did not change, but he inclined his head slightly. “As you wish, Your Majesty. But the girl and I will speak again.”

Sansa exhaled, only realizing then that she had been holding her breath.

※※※※※

Arthur and Graybeard spoke privately in the great hall, the torches casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. As the others were dismissed, Sansa was about to leave when a hand caught her wrist. She turned, startled, to see one of the women from the court.

“Come with me” she whispered, urgency lacing her tone.

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Sansa’s hand and led her through a side corridor, down a flight of stairs, and into a dimly lit chamber hidden within the castle walls. Inside, a group of women sat in silence, their eyes fixed on a grated opening overlooking the great hall.

“Thank you Kay” Maggie said, as she gestured for Sansa to join them “We listen” she explained in a hushed voice "We may not be allowed in the room, but we still need to know what happens there"

Sansa hesitated, but then turned her gaze to the opening. Below, Graybeard swirled the wine in his cup, his voice casual but yet edged with something sharper.

“The North is full of Starks” he said “One of the oldest families, clever and ruthless as they can be.”

Arthur said nothing, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Are you certain that woman is not one of them?” Graybeard pressed. “Not a spy, sent to infiltrate your precious Camelot?”

A chill crept down Sansa’s spine. Around her, the women exchanged uneasy glances.

“If she was, why would you tell me that?” Arthur countered, his tone even “Revealing your upper hand doesn’t seem like a particularly wise move.”

Graybeard smirked, leaning forward “You killed my man because of her”

“They attacked her. Why?”

He took a slow sip of wine, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s “We are Northman. We take what we want”

Arthur’s expression remained impassive, but his grip on the goblet tightened “Not here. Not in my lands. Sansa is under my protection”

“For now,” Graybeard mused “But for how long?”

A tense silence stretched between them. Then, with a final, knowing glance, Graybeard set down his cup and rose. As he turned, his fur-lined cloak swept the floor, his footsteps echoing through the hall as he strode towards the door.

Kay exhaled slowly beside Sansa, while the other women exchanged worried glances.

Sansa’s stomach twisted. What was Graybeard’s plan? Why would he try to make Arthur believe she was a spy? What did he stand to gain from it? Did he actually think he could weaken Arthur’s reign through her?

Whatever game he was playing, the board was set.

And she was the piece being moved.

She just wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay ahead of it.

※※※※※

Later that night, she found herself wandering to the secret room, her mind racing. That was when she heard voices from the council chamber.

“She could be a spy” Bedivere declared, sharp and unyielding. “We know nothing of her, except that she appeared out of nowhere, conveniently in your path.”

“She saved my life” Arthur countered, though his tone was careful, measured “She had every opportunity to let me die. Would a spy save the life of her enemy?”

“She might, to gain your trust” another man suggested, Percival was his name “You think it was mere chance that Graybeard claimed her as one of their own?”

Sansa’s stomach twisted. She had expected distrust, but hearing it spoken so plainly, so coldly, stung more than she anticipated.

Arthur set his hands on the table and turned to the man on his right “Bill, you spent the most time with her so far. What do you think?”

“What I think?” Bill’s voice was quieter, but no less firm. “I think we cannot afford risks, Arthur. Not with Graybeard under our gates.”

Silence stretched long and heavy. Then Arthur spoke again, softer this time.

“I know”

Sansa backed away before she could hear more, bile rising in her throat. So, this was how it was going to be.

She was not safe there.

※※※※※

By the time Sansa returned to her chambers, her mind was racing. She had walked through the halls, her thoughts a storm, each one colliding with the next. She needed to think. She needed to act. She needed to find a way out of there before it was too late. But before she could process any of it, she saw a shadow move at the edge of her vision.

She knew it was him before anyone spoke.

Arthur.

He was standing by the window, bathed in moonlight, his face unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here” she said, masking the unease in her voice.

“You shouldn’t have been there” he countered

Sansa swallowed, feigning obliviousness. Her voice was quieter when she spoke “I don’t know what you mean”

Arthur turned to face her fully. His eyes, darkened by shadow, locked onto hers“You were listening”

There was no point in denying it.

“Yes. Yes, I was” she admitted, crossing her arms in front of her in a shield rather than a stance.

A muscle in his jaw tensed “Then you know why we must be careful”

“You think I’m a threat” Sansa remarked, but it was not a question, and Arthur’s silence spoke louder than any answer he could have given. She exhaled slowly, nodding “Of course you do” She looked away, her chest tightening with something she told herself was not hurt “Why wouldn’t you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The weight of something unspoken settled between them “It’s not that simple, Red”

“Isn’t it?” She met his gaze then, holding it with quiet defiance. “You saved me from harm, but you don’t trust me, even though I saved your life. Twice. You offer me a place in your castle, but you don’t want me here. Tell me, Arthur, what am I supposed to do? Am I allowed to leave, or am I your prisoner?”

He hesitated, as if weighing his words. And hers. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I don’t know, Sansa. But we’ll make it up as we go.”

And with that, he was gone.

Sansa stared at the door long after it closed, the bitter taste of truth lingering on her tongue. Sansa had spent too long waiting for others to decide her fate. That was about to end. Arthur might not have decided what to do with her - but it no longer mattered.

She had.

She was getting out of there.

Taglist is OPEN! @anonymousme86 @goodqueenkaro​ @purple-moon123​ @elvensansa

[f1-disaster-bi]

How does Dan react when Pr agent Lando's ex comes back or when Lando reveals what he has done?

I did used to have a post with links to asks I had answered about this but tumblr has eaten and the links don't work any more so I can't even go back to read them 😭

I vageuly remember some of it, so I'm going to reinvent it a little as I answer this!

Lando and Daniel aren't dating when Lando's abusive ex comes back. It's towards the end of Lando's first season being with Daniel. The two of them have gotten close, Daniel kind of knows he might have a crush on Lando by this point, and Lando is pushing down any hint his brain and heart give him that he likes Daniel. The two of them hang out outside of work occasionally, Lando will now call him to laugh about the silly rumours he gets emails about and they generally consider the other a friend.

They're close enough that Lando has told Daniel that he is bisexual, and that his last boyfriend wasn't the best. He doesn't like to talk about it, so he doesn't tell Daniel that he was in a physically and emotionaly abusive relationship for two years or was living with his abuser during that time. He just tells him it wasn't a great relationship, that he's taking time to just be single right now and focus on his job, and that he likes the apartment he lives in now cause he moved to be a little closer to the factory.

Daniel starts to suspect something is off when Lando randomly stops responding to messages a few days before a race weekend. The alarm bells really go off when its solely Charlotte emailing him about his schedule and texting because Lando has been handling everything by himself for the last few months, and when he gets to the race destination on Wednesday, he's told Lando called in with a medical emergency and will be back after the two week break between this race and the next.

Daniel tries texting and call to check on him, but everything goes unanswered and leaves a bad feeling in his stomach. So instead of going back to Monaco, Daniel gets Charlotte to move his factory days to the week following the race, because it gives him an excuse to be in England and call on Lando.

When he does call on Lando, the Lando that opens the door breaks Daniel's heart because he seems so terrified to even answer the door and so so small. He has a black eye, bandages over his nose, and Daniel swears those are finger marks on his neck and he also has one of his arms in a sling. Lando just tears up when he realises it's Daniel because "You shouldn't be here", and "I'll be better next time you see me, okay?", but Daniel doesn't let him shut him out. He doesn't push Lando for an answer, just shows him he already picked up take away that Michael would complain about and suggests a movie, and it breaks him a little more to see how relieved Lando looks when he doesn't ask about it.

Eventually during that night, Lando tells Daniel what happened, that his ex showed up and did this. That Lando had thought about reporting it but his ex had threatened him so he refused to press charges even though the neighbours had called the police. That he feels stupid and pathetic and like his home isn't safe anymore. Daniel just hugs him gently and offers to help him break his lease, even offers him his own apartment near the factory because "You know I barely live there anyway" but Lando refuses.

Daniel keeps visiting him, refuses to return to Monaco because he can't help but feel something bad will happen if he leaves and luckily he stays because Lando's ex does come back on one of the nights Daniel is there, and Daniel is able to get him out and away from Lando before he can hurt him. He also convinces Lando that he should press charges and provide the security footage he had from the original attack and this attempted one, and stays with him when he reports it.

Even after that, Daniel makes sure to be availible on the days that Lando has to talk to the police or go to court, because he wants to be there to support Lando and remind him of how damn brave his is for doing this.