#i need to write part 2 with the spice

[kentocalls]

kusakabe atsuya | gentleman suggestive. regency!au , psst @jjk-eugie i owe you a part 2 with spice heavily inpsired by the lovely art by @jjk-eugie

Kusakabe Atsuya has little need for pride. He’s worked hard enough to establish his shipment company, is considered successful in all matters of the world that matter — to him.  You see, the ton would tell you a different version on the gentleman Kusakabe’s success.

He’s a businessman first and foremost. Practical, doesn’t use his masculine charm to strong arm anyone into a bad deal, yet commands presence as soon as he enters a room. He’s not one for small talk, couldn’t tell you how to butter anyone up.  Perhaps this too adds to his charm.

Being a man of not many words is ideal for many afterall, and frankly a  line of suitors that would exist for the gentleman Atsuya if; well… if the gentleman were friendly. Nay, that’s too vague, if the gentleman were approachable.  Not only is it impossible to get Sir Kusakabe to attend affairs of the society, it seems when he does show face; he’s akin to that of a ship adrift in a stormy sea.

His aura is….intimidating.

He stands tall, proud, strong. 

Eyes lost.

Provides society members little to gossip about and yet, somehow, has attracted the attention of a cousin of the Crown Prince.  Probably a Princess or almost a Princess from a far away land who has yet to learn that the gentleman Atusya is not someone you approach for a favor. And yet,  “Your..Lady.… you’d want me to what?”

Perhaps he heard wrong, perhaps the almost Princess is looking for a decorative item. “Good Sir, I’d like you to teach me the sport of Fencing. It seems you’re quite an expert.” The way you bat your lashes, this is, this is flirting is it not?

Why would an almost Princess approach a stern man like himself?  “Please, I do not wish to make a fool during the Autumnal play. It would ruin my chances at a proper debut.”

Debut? You’re not too young looking but then again Atsuya couldn’t care less. You’re either a fool or have more guts than most of the ton, and guts are something he can respect.

“Please Sir Kusakabe, I promise I’ll have the Crown Prince reward you handsomely, something for your travels a far…”  Oh, aren’t you a businesswoman?  As you walk around him, if his eyes linger at the sway of your hips, it’s only to assess your gait. Nothing more, if he’s to teach you, he must discern if you can maintain proper form. It has nothing to do with how beautifully intricate the lace on your dress is nor the curve of your—“A new ship?”

A few days of his time is not worth an entire ship, he sighs. It seems you may just be a splendid fool.

If he thinks of your smile, the way your eyes light up upon his affirmative nod, it means nothing. He thinks not of your pretty hair as it sways opposite your hips. Nor is he intrigued by the many tows of ribbons lining the back of your tight dress, corset isn’t is it?

All those curves are simply an illusion.

But still, his mind supplies that you are;

A beautiful, splendid, fool.

  —

  This has to work.

The Sir Kusakabe Atsuya is a perfect gentleman. Doesn’t encroach in your space despite being tasked to teach you how to move. Always asks if he can touch, always announces where he is going to touch, and yet his touch doesn’t linger, he’s clear and precise in his instruction. You’ve already adapted to his style of attack and defense, making strides. You have yet to best him in a duel, but truly, is it a duel if he’s not taking it seriously?

“You are distracted today Princess.”  Tch, that nickname.

You’ve told Sir Kusakabe as a cousin of the Crown Prince you don’t bear any real royal title. You’re simply provided the comforts and privileges. Things that you have used to your advantage many a times, whether it be indulging your hobbies or proving others wrong. Your royalty adjacent status has helped you many times. Folks consider you innocent, harmless, stupid.

You wonder if the Sir Kusakabe also considers you as such. You hope so.

It will work in your favor. Because eventually, he will loosen up. Let you wander his home without an escort, let you roam the expansive gardens and satisfy your curiosity with his esteemed weapon room. That will allow you to accomplish your real mission.

Why yes, you will be in a play and will have a sword duel in it. However, your Fathers have had you learn the art from French professors every single Friday since you were seven. You don’t need Sir Kusakabe’s help at all. What you need is to charm and disarm the man.

Sir Kusakabe is in possession of your custom Bavarian sword. An angry cousin and suddenly your precious metal was cold heartedly sold off  to the stoic, handsome man in far away lands. You had just gotten your hands on the sword by trading a very beautiful jade hilted saber. How you acquired the jade hilted saber is a story for another day.

Currently, the Bavarian blue decorated gliding blade is somewhere in Sir Kusakabe’s manor.   You’ve gather it sits somewhere in the weapon room, and with his vast collection, there is no reason he’d notice one beautiful blade go missing.

Wait, it’s not going missing, it’s returning home, back to your side.

But nothing is working, he does not respond to your flirtatious remarks nor lingering looks nor looks of distress. It angers you, forces you to hold your foil closer, tighten your stance, lunge at him with force.

When you concentrate a little too hard in the duel and knock his foil from his hands he stands stunned. Eyes discerning and expression neutral. “You’ve made progress.”

Is that the way to his heart?

Not that you need to know. You simply want...to distract the man.  That's all.

—

  Progress that is beyond potential, Atsuya notes. There’s far more grace and tactical strategy in your movement that cannot be considered beginners luck.   Had it not be for societal rules, Atsuya is sure you’d best the current champion. You’re up to something bigger perhaps; using the play as a ruse for something, or a natural genius.

Whatever, it’s likely harmless.

He discredits his growing doubt because receiving your smile across ball rooms is much more merciful than the dreaded gossip what wallflowers make about him. A womanizer, a salacious brute and his favorite — rude.  He follows society rules just fine, thank you very much. So what he doesn’t send thank you cards or get well flowers or dance at these things.

He eats when he’s supposed to, greets the hosts upon arrival and before leaving, and is gone by 7pm — a decent time!  His business is international, he spares what he can to attend these silly society functions.

“You’re glaring into Lady Fushiguro’s vase. Why?”   Sneaky, sneaky, thing you.

Walking right up to him, without an escort, dance card full of names that Sir Kusakabe has no interest in knowing. “Was I?”

He shouldn’t look at you, not the new shade of berry gracing your lips, nor that even tighter corset providing you the perfect posture and dip. And absolutely not your exposed neck, he’s used to your hair being up in a ponytail as you spare. The high necks of your sparing jacket keep you fully clothed and concealed after all.

Besides, what use is the visual knowledge of what your neck looks like to Kusakabe? It’s not like he would trace his fingers across it, not like he’d paint his lips up the column towards your ears that dangle with sparkly rocks, it’s not anything, it’s simply nothing. He’s a gentleman, your teacher. Nothing more.

  —

  The fact that Sir Kusakabe has finally started cancelling your sparring sessions last minute is perfect.  You wish he’d only let you take drink tea alone in his home instead of rushing you out back to the carriage. All you need is a good ten minutes, you’re sure your sword is in the back room, where he keeps the expensive books.

You don’t have long left on your trip to see your cousin the Crown Prince, Suguru is busy climbing a mountain to impress his Lady friend after all.  So, despite not wanting to, you take a spoon full of black pepper. Let yourself down a whole glass of water and then enter the Kusakabe manor.

He’s ready to rush you out, on premise of working, but stops as soon as he sees the reddened eyes and tears that threaten to spill. A well timed, organic, coughing fit and he has you seated in a guest room, personally taken a carriage to call a doctor over, making sure to bring one he trusts.

This is it. 

Ten minutes.

  —

  He does not attend the museum gala for any other reason than making friends with the artist. He can export these paintings and make a fortune, nothing else.

If you happen to be around and wander in front of him, it’s only natural his eyes follow that seductive swish of your hair and the shift of weight by your hips.   If you happen to be within earshot, discussing the nuance of capturing a persons soul in portraiture, it has nothing to do with his own desire to hear your voice.  It’s not his fault your voice is honey sweet.

But it is his fault for smoking in the garden, for causing that coughing fit and compelling you out from hiding. It’s his fault for not stopping you when you ask, “Does this taste good?”   And take his lit cigar and pull it to your very berry lips.   

It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, patting your back, tucking you into his side away from any potential pedestrians or your lady maids or your escorts. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, wipe at your lips and offer you whatever candied goods he has in his pockets. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, unwrapping the butterscotch sweet and pushing it past your lips.

The tensing of his jaw?

The extra swipe across your bottom lip?

The way his eyes bore into you?

  —

 You should put it back.

Even though your cousin stole and sold the sword from you, Sir Atsuya paid a fair price.  If you had simply told him the ordeal, as a gentleman, he would’ve sold the sword back to you, nay, he would’ve handed the thing over.  The once coveted blade now prickles at your heart because you lied to such an handsome, honorable. infuriating man.

He has to be doing it on purpose right?

Waiting for all the other men to fill up your dance card, never approaching you for a dance, leaving at 7pm on the dot.  Pray tell, why bother showing up to these balls at all?  He speaks to the host and no one else, sometimes older gentlemen but never a woman.

Perhaps, you’ve misread him?

No, no, no.

The swipe of his thumb at your lips still burns, causes your face to flush and your thoughts to wander.  All this from one, singular swipe…imagine if his hands dared to— no, no, no.

He’s a gentleman.

Honorable.

He’s likely sworn himself away from society and pursuit of a wife and yet…yet your mind supplies that doesn’t mean he’s sworn himself away from sex.

He’s a healthy, strong, broad man.

There’s no reason he doesn’t have a Lady friend….or two….or three…or….oh no, no, no.

Do not think of him without his shirt, do not think of him with loosened slacks and his head lolled back in pleasure, do not think of the sounds he makes.

Do not let your duels with him supply the grunts, and groans, and praise.

Do not.

  —

Madness, pure madness.

You’ve snuck out of your chambers and the Royal Palace, no less with the help of the Crown Prince Suguru who was also breaking curfew.  You agree to never having seen one another and part ways. It’s nice to borrow a royal carriage and driver who will keep his mouth shut.

You stop a bit away from the Kusakabe Manor, absolutely certain at this time, Sir Atsuya is likely barricading himself inside the office wing. Which leaves the weapon room open and free. You can return the sword without him ever knowing it was gone.

Only, only.

It’s not madness that drove Sir Kusakabe Atsuya to the saloon, no.  It’s simply, the need of a distraction, the need to forget how soft your lips felt under his skin and the way your eyes darted to his in no, no. He won’t let himself add labels where they should not exist.

And perhaps, it was also trouble Sir Atsuya sought, especially when scoundrels dare state that you make no Princess? That you have no grace or elegance ? The buffoons had to be dealt with, and perhaps he had drunk too much and fought too many dishonorable men, that results in him staggering about his manner.

It’s a small wound, but a wound nonetheless.

“Sir Atsuya!” A ghost, a vision, a dream.

The scent of rose and amber, soft perfumed skin invading his space. He’s floating before he’s miraculously tossed into his study.  Small deft hands pulling at his cravat, then his vest jacket and opening his white red stained dress shirt. “Princess…this is but a scratch.”

“A scratch does not bleed Sir Atsuya.” You look around the room, notice bowl that can be used as a water basin. He keeps clean towels on in the second floor lavatory, and you ask his staff to boil some water and go to inspect his medicinal cabinets.

You’re too familiar with his manor, a grin on his face, commanding it as the Lady of the House.

He must still be drunk to imagine such a visual, a Princess in his home as his wife?

A very warm, very wet rag is applied to his abdomen, your hands work as quickly as possible to clean the wound, inspecting the depth, trying to discern if a doctor is needed. At his grumbling you compromise and instruct his staff to call one tomorrow morning. You clean his skin as best you can, pulling his slacks down just a tad, making it easier to bandage his skin but, “Princess, you mustn’t do this with others.”

What? “Being kind is not a crime, Sir Atsuya.”

Oh but it is, it is when it’s the form of you, on your knees, concern etched in your eyebrows, touching him so dangerously with innocence—do you, do you even realize what this looks like? Anyone other than his staff would be quick to label this as a compromising position and yet —“My Fathers taught me how to handle wounds, it game in handy when I would fall from…my horse.”

What a lie, you’ve never ridden a horse, and falling from a horse would not result in a blood wound. You had almost slipped about your fencing training, fuck. Stop, bandage this man up and go home, hide in the safety of the Royal Palace. But it’s so distracting. This… man.

Well, you know that, you’ve always known that but…it’s different. He has defined abdominal muscles, the broad chest you expected but the way it tapers into a V towards his hips is…well…concerning.   You want to touch more, you want to confirm just how different he is—

“Princess…” why does his voice sound like that, “What are you doing?” Your hand grazing and pushing softly against exposed skin.

“It’s…you’re…so different.”

 Sin after sin runs through his mind before he can finally address a proper reply, “Different?”

 “Well I don’t have these,” fuck your hand shouldn’t feel that good against his burning skin, you shouldn’t take his own rough hand to your soft, delectable belly, “See, it’s like a loaf of bread compared to your…washboard.”

It, has to be on purpose, yes?

The way you look up at him, the way you display curiosity so openly, this must be what you consider seduction or charm or whatever Princesses’ need to do to get all favors they want.

But, what possibly could you want from a gentleman like Atsuya?

And you don’t know what it is, the mood shifts, his hand leaves your belly to rest at your hip, you like the weight of it there, the grip. Why? Why does the intensity of his gaze cause your body to feel feverish? What does he do that causes embers to flame inside your chest?

“Sir Atsuya?” 

Perhaps, it’s only proper, for you to lean forward, his hand supporting your movement. It slips to your lower back and then snakes itself to the push at the nape of your neck as your lips inch closer to his.

Perhaps, a proper, honorable man would make a better effort not to compromise a Princess in secret as such.

However, as a gentleman, Sir Kusakabe Atsuya places the honor of guarding your heart above some silly notion of society. As a proper gentleman, he will not reject your advances, especially for a kiss so feathery soft and sweet.   

You haven’t done this before, and yet you want more, there’s a hunger in your eyes. And you hope, you hope he can see it, you home the grip in your hair doesn’t loosen, that his wound is truly just a scratch as he adjusts to seat himself higher, pulling you into his lap.

After all, isn’t it the gentlemanly thing to do, keep you in his arms and teach you how to kiss?

Where else would you learn such a thing?

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!

a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him.  he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.

shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering.  he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.

post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck.  he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head.  and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.

minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk

praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.

vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else.  all he needs is you.

kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered.  he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*

minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay

mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms.  happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.

wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.

dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too.  always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.

minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play

massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect.  he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!

fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs.  he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open.  he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)

the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them.  he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.

minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk

face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.

wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head.  nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.

anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.

minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare

teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine. 

overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.

morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk

cowgirl — this man & his obsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”

photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word.  he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.

threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.

minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling

rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.

aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard.  he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.

pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.

minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials

exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!

spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.

brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)

minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys

final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes​ where i reblog inspo & recs!

[nervoushottee]

With Want | Paul Atreides x Fem!Reader

Summary: Paul Atreides always had dreams. But from the very beginning, there was an invisible string pulling him to you.

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Reader's secret name is Nuri, Set in Dune Part 2 , fingering, soulmate/destined pairing, shitty understanding of the Dune universe (only watched the first Dune move and only half of Dune part 2 whoopsie so I'm probably butchering some of the lore or whatever. Its fanfiction babes, I'm not writing this for accuracy),

Note: Hey hottees!! Y'all I'm not even finish watching Dune 2 and I started writing this. Timothee was doing something to me in this movieeee. Hope y'all enjoy!

*not edited at all babes*

---- ---- ----- ----

Paul Atreides had dreams. Both enchanting and horrifying dreams that would eat away at his mind and soul. And from the very beginning, he had always felt this small pull of a feeling. 

It was weirder than his dreams because even when he woke, he still felt it. Like it was a small tether, a light string in his heart and soul that hummed so softly. A light that was so dim that you would have to squint to see. 

After everything that happened with his father and being forced out of his home. The Fremen people found him and his mother. And that feeling grew stronger. He thought it was about the sayings of what his mother, the Bene Gesserit, would tell him but it felt more than that. 

It was odd, he could never see what it was in his dreams, or hear whispers of it like a name. But it was always that same enchanting feeling. So when Paul followed the Fremens, it continued to grow. By the time they walked deeper into the caves, it went from a strong pull to an overwhelming presence. 

And that’s when he saw you. 

“Who is she?” Paul asks Chani. The young woman already knew who Paul was asking for before she turned her head. A small smile engulfs on her face. “Nuri.”

Nuri.

Paul repeats your name to understand the feeling on his tongue. He hadn’t seen you before. Or maybe he did, he wasn’t too sure. The Fremen people covered their faces from the desert and a lot from what he was learning.

‘She moves like the wind.’ Paul says to himself as he watches you glide through the crowded room. Paul’s eyes meet yours briefly. Yours blue from your sclera to your irises. You stop moving through the crowd to stare at him. 

That feeling buzzed around him, stronger than ever within Paul as his eyes never leaving  yours. Your lips slowly turn up into a smile. Your eyes move towards Chani who still stands next to him, nodding in acknowledgement. Chani repeats the same gesture with a smile on her face, your gaze lingers back on Paul before a group of people walk in front of Paul’s view of you. By the time the people separate. You were gone. And the feeling suddenly fades from a sharp intensity to a dull buzz. 

“You should be careful around her Outworlder.” Chani says to him in a low tone as the common area starts to get a bit busy with people. The two of them sit down on a blanket as other where for food. 

“Was she with the group when you found me and my mother?” Paul asks, dodging the statement his acquaintance gave him. 

Chani shakes her head, chewing her food before speaking, “No. She doesn’t come with us all the time.”That intrigued Paul. He turns himself fully towards Chani, his bowl of food mixed with spice long forgotten . “So is she not a fighter?” 

“She is.” Chani says between chews, ”But she also walks with the Sayyadina.”

The Sayyadina. The Fremen’s Reverend Mother. 

“From what I’ve been told, her family was killed just after she was born. Stilgar took it upon himself to look after her. As she grew, the Sayyadina felt something within her. So Stilgar gave them the authority to let her walk with them. She is truly a great fighter, so when we need good fighters she will come with us when necessary. If not, she stays.” Chani continues. 

“A fighter and one that walks with the Sayyadina? Is that possible?” Paul questions. 

“To a nonbeliever? No. But to those who do? Yes. Stilgar believes in the old ways and in the faith. The Lisan al Gaib.” She says to him in a taunting tone which causes Paul to avert his eyes. The moment they came in, some shouted hatred towards him and his mother but others screamed in rejoice, calling him The Lisan al Gaib.

“Our people follow behind him, he is a good leader and his judgment is almost always right and trustworthy.” Chani finishes. 

Paul sits with the information he tells her, his hands slowly dipping in his bowl to start eating the food that was cold to touch but warm against his tongue. The heat of the spice warms his insides as it goes down his throat. “And what about you? What do you believe?”

”I don’t believe that you’re the Lisan al Gaib, that's for sure.” She chuckles. Paul feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment but urges her to continue. “I believe in our people. And she is a part of our people. And if she plays some part in whatever faith stories then so be it. But she has never faltered in training. She has never failed in the dessert and she is a good friend. She believes in our people as much as I do.”

After the words Chani said, Paul felt that she was over talking about you, more hungry and interested in the spice beneath her fingers. So Paul didn’t ask anymore. He ate his food in silence but his mind was racing with the thoughts of you. 

—— —— —— ——

The day had turned into night. Stilgar showed him and his mother the small room for them to sleep in for the time being until their fate was decided. A lot of them didn’t trust him and his mother, and for that Paul understood. 

His dreams woke him in the late night. Lifting his head from the makeshift pillow, he looks over to his mother who is still sound asleep. Her hand was placed on her lower stomach. 

‘Rest easy sister, I will be back.’ He says in his head before getting up and quietly leaving the room.

The caves are quiet at night. Besides from the guards that linger within the open spaces to protect those who rest. Paul doesn’t think it’s necessary but he avoids walking around where they are. Just in case to not stir any trouble. The people were calm at the moment since their fates were going to be decided soon enough. 

He walks to the small body of water his mother had told him about. The scared waters of the Fremens. The waters they would never touch. He sat there for a while. Enjoying the stilllness in the air and the calm look of the water. It reminded him of home. “I miss you father. I will take care of mother and sister.” He says to himself quietly. 

He wants to cry but reminds himself to save his water. “Don’t waste your tears on the dead” from what Stilgar told his mother. 

Paul sat still for a moment longer before he felt that pull again. That invisible string strong and tight as it pulls him to his feet. He absentmindedly walks into a dimly let hallway, his pulse quickening against his neck. His heat beating erratically against his chest as he turns the corner to see you. “You’re Nuri.” Paul states.

“You shouldn’t be out at night Paul Atriedes.” You say to him, your back towards him but he can hear the teasing smile within your words.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Paul explains to you simply, “And I made sure to walk where the guards can not see me.” The feeling nearly suffocates him as he walks toward you. 

“Ah.” You turn towards him, you’re dressed in almost the same comfortable linens as him. His a tan brown color and yours an off white. “You and your dreams.”

How did you know about that? He questions in his head, unconsciously taking another step towards you. You both now at arms length.

“I see you in my dreams.” Paul lies. 

“Do you?” You ask back, your tone sounds as if you know he’s lying. 

“No but I can feel you. In my dreams and out. And I don’t know what it is or what it means.” He explains. 

You hum in satisfaction as you slowly walk around him. Like a beast or a predator trapping its prey. “And what do you feel now?” 

He feels like his body is vibrating, His skin tingling and his veins jumping. His fingers buzzing as if he wants to reach out and touch you. He does what to touch you, he wants to feel your skin on his. “What do you feel?” Paul asks the question back to you.

You stop walking to stand behind him. The hairs on his neck stick out as he feels your body heat near him. Your lips slowly grazing his ear making his eyes flutter close. 

What the hell is happening to him?

“I feel like the spice on my tongue. I feel like the sand beneath my feet. I feel like the beauty you see in your dreams. I can feel you.” You whisper against him. 

Paul turns around to you, your bodies closer than ever. His lips inches towards yours as his flickers between your eyes and your lips. 

“You speak in tongues.” Paul whispers to you desperately.

“Shall I tell you in a way you understand?” You whisper against his lips. 

“Yes please.” he begs softly. 

And you don’t hesitate to put your lips on his. Paul moving quickly as his hands clasp softly against your cheeks. Moaning in the delight as he feels your hands glide against his chest, gripping his shirt. 

He feels you everywhere, but it isn’t overwhelming anymore. Now that he’s holding you and tasting you, your tongue glides against his. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him as his body and soul settle into the feeling of you. 

So warm and inviting. So enticing and serene. 

You push him towards a dark hidden spot in the hallway. Your bodies are engulfed in darkness but when you break apart for air, you can see him all the same. Paul moves you toward the wall, his body trapping you in as he kisses your neck. 

“I’ve dreamt of you, Paul Atreides. I’ve seen you in my dreams, felt you lingering in my mind, heart and soul.” You say to him breathly. Moaning quietly as you feel his tongue glide against your neck. Your guide his hand to touch your breast, causing Paul to move away from your neck and look into your eyes. 

‘So beautiful.’ Paul thought. He brings his other hand on your cheek and kisses you hungrily. Squeezing your breast, feeling the weight of it in the palm of his hand.His hand glides to let your nipple slip in between his fingers as he squeezes.“I want to dream of you. I want to see you in my dreams, want to hear your voice call my name.” he mutters to you in between kisses.

When you break away from his kiss, Paul starts to ask what’s wrong until he feels your hand on his and glides it up to your lips. You kiss his fingers individually as he stares at you in adoration and desire. You slowly slip his middle and ring finger into your mouth causing Paul to groan. His hips shifting upwards against you as he feels the wetness of your warm tongue glide against his fingers. He watches as you pull his fingers out of your mouth, his digits glistening wet. Your hands glide his now wet ones down and underneath your linen pants.

“Touch me and you will see me.” 

He lets his hand glide against you as is greeted by your wetness, causing you both to moan out in pleasure. You are sinking deeper into the wall and Paul sinking deeper into you. His fingers continue to glide there experimentally as you pull him back for a kiss. “Help me see.” Paul mutters desperately against you

. 

Your hands reach down in your lines to move his hand into the position you need for him to make you feel good. You mimic a small circular rotation with your fingers on the back of his hand that was still against you. Once Paul understands, he begins to move his fingers in the motion you instructed, making you moan against his lips. 

He pulls away to watch you. You looked more ethereal than any other being or spirit that was believed in all of Arrakis. Your head back against the mountain wall, your lips slightly open as you moan. Your hips moving against his fingers as if you’re chasing for pressure. Paul dips his head in the corner of your neck and kisses it feverishly as he applies more pressure in his movements. Causing you to hold on to shoulder and call out his name. Oh how he wanted you to say his name again.

Feeling a little confident he glides his fingers down, but keeps his them pressed against your swollen bud. He pushes his middle finger inside of you causing you to gasp. You hold onto his shoulder gripping his shirt as you breathe heavily. You drag his head from your neck to kiss him. With his finger going in and out of you at an agonizing slow pace, you kiss him sloppily. But Paul doesn’t seem to mind, he enjoys it. Humming against you with a smile. 

When you feel his ring finger follow in for a second is when you lose it. “Paul!” you say loudly. 

His tongue mingles with yours as he silences your cries. With the slow circling of his thumb against your clit and the way he pushes his fingers into you makes you clench against him. “Fuck.” he moans. 

You whine as you feel your orgasm growing inside of you. The feeling you both shared with one another makes you feel even more on edge as you grip Paul in anyway you can. You rapidly as you feel yourself getting close. “Pau-Paul -” you begin to tell him as such but the building pleasure doesn’t get you far. Paul places his other hand against your cheek, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed. You feel his thumb brush against your bottom lip. 

“Let me see you.” 

His words are the final push that sends you over the edge. Paul kissing you to silence your cries, you mewling against his lips as his fingers never stop their learned rhythm. You shiver against his fingers, your body tingly and warm. He kisses your face from your cheeks, to your eyelids and everywhere in between as he waits for you to come down from your high. He whispers your name, making you flutter your eyes open to see Paul stare at you with want. 

“Show me again.”

[monster-disaster]

Hey, I hope you're doin' great! So... I just read that boss!orc x curvy!reader that you posted a while I go and I was thinking if you could write a part 2 for it? I'm not the one who asked for it but omggg it was so perfect. Thank you. 🥺♥️

orc!boss x human!curvy!Reader Good to know: original request, some lying and manipulation, but nothing angsty or bad, spice, spanking

He has to force himself to keep the growl buried deep within his broad chest. The rumble churns and bubbles in his throat, begging for release, but he swallows it down with a sharp breath before it can escape. His mouth twists into a wild snarl instead. His tusks, thick and prominent, dig into his upper lip. A deep wrinkle forms between his brows, furrowing so intensely it casts a shadow over his dark, piercing eyes as he stares at you through the darkened glass of his office wall.

You sit at your table, humming softly under your breath as your fingers glide over the keypad, pausing every now and then while your eyes flick between the screen and the document in your other hand. The soft glow of the screen illuminates your face, your long lashes, and the gentle gleam of your lipstick. You are wearing a sleek black piece that barely reaches the middle of your thighs. The soft fabric is snug against your curves, cupping your breasts into a delicious cleavage and hugging your wide hips just enough to make the orc's palms tingle to feel your flesh underneath his touch.

You always look beautiful in your dresses and skirts, but today, he knew something was different the moment he laid his eyes on you. You are glowing. You seem lighter, and more cheerful than usual. The way you move as you carry yourself, the brightness in your eyes, and your smile, everything about you is a touch more vibrant. More alive.

And he didn’t have to dig for long to discover the reason for it all.

His fingers curl into hard fists as the thought crosses his mind. A simmering heat flares up in his chest, twisting with something bitter and unspoken. It makes his jaw tighten and his pulse quicken.

You have a date tonight.

After the lesson on keeping your space tidy and the reward for doing so, he made the mistake of leaving things between you two as they were. He didn’t push forward. He let his head, his hesitancy, and the fear of what could go wrong win. And now, he's forced to face the consequences; you with another man. A snarl threatens to break free from his throat, but he swallows it down again. His frustration buzzes just beneath the surface. It makes his posture rigid and tense. No, the orc thinks, clenching his fists tighter. Not if it’s up to me. He can feel his resolve hardening with each passing second as he watches you glancing at the clock on your wrist with a giddy smile on your pretty lips. He had waited too long, but that was over now.

Reaching for the phone, he presses the button that connects straight to your desk. He watches you jump at the sudden noise, your head snapping up, but you answer immediately with your other hand still on your chest to calm down your rapid heartbeat.

"Hey, boss," you greet him. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you remember the file I sent you yesterday?"

"Yes."

"I need them for tomorrow." Even though his jaw is tight and tense, the lie slips out smoothly between his rigid lips.

He sees you freeze in your seat. "What? You said it could wait until next week."

"I got the date wrong," the orc says almost apologetically, his voice deliberately innocent. "Why? Is that a problem?"

"Well... I won’t finish them without putting in extra hours," you admit. Your voice is softer now, hesitant as you click away on your computer, scanning through the files he sent.

"And what's the problem with that?" he asks, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are locked on your figure the whole time.

"I... I already have a program for tonight," you respond, uncertainty lacing your words. "Are you sure it can't wait until tomorrow?" You glance at his way, but the man knows you can't see him through the dark fog of the glass.

"Are you sure you can't postpone your plans?" His voice is calm, too calm. Even though he phrased it like a question, both of you know there is only one acceptable answer.

"Yeah," you sigh in a reluctant surrender. "I can, boss."

"Great."

His satisfaction doesn't last long, though. His triumph fades as the hours drag on while he watches you from his office. Each glance at your hunched form tightens the knot in his chest. Your shoulders sag as you tirelessly type away on the keypad. Guilt gnaws at him, sharp and persistent, and no matter how much he tries to focus on his own tasks, he can't shake it off. The smile he had envied earlier has vanished from your face, replaced by a strained focus. Your pretty, shiny lips now are in a pout. The glow he had been so jealous of is nowhere to be seen. He wanted you to cancel your plans, but now that he has you all to himself, he feels like an asshole.

The thought of letting you go crosses his mind several times throughout the day, but every time he reaches for the phone, his hand hesitates above the button. Each time, he pulls back, unable to go through with it. Despite his inner battle, the thought of you going out with another man burns much hotter in his chest than the guilt that nags at him. He can't make himself let you go.

So he does nothing, and before he knows it, it’s just you and him left in the building, along with the security guard downstairs. The lamps have been turned off, leaving only his office and your desk bathed in a dim glow. The city outside sparkles with lights and neon signs. The apartments' yellow hues spill through the windows onto the busy streets and bustling roads.

The orc remains at his desk. His fingers hover above the keyboard, dancing in idle patterns without actually pressing any buttons. The bluish light from the screen illuminates the slightly curved line of his nose, the fullness of his lips, and the hard edge of his jawline. He tries to focus on the chart in front of him, his gaze fixed on the shifting data, but his thoughts are far away. They are tangled in the images of you and what he did.

"Boss?"

For a long moment, the orc just blinks at you from his desk as you stand in the doorway. The shine of your lips has faded, and you look weary, worn down by the long hours. His heart clenches with guilt once again at the sight. A sharp pang of remorse cuts through him. He should have approached this differently. He should have been honest and asked you out directly instead of pushing you into working on something he didn't even need.

"Yes?" he finally manages to ask, his voice rougher than he intended.

"I'm done."

The orc’s surprise is barely contained. He hadn't truly expected you to finish it. He almost grimaces at the thought of how much you had to hurry with it.

"Thank you, Y/N," he hums. "I’m sorry you had to cancel your... program." The mention of it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

You shrug, allowing a small but tired smile to curve your lips. "It's fine. I can go tomorrow."

The orc's jaw tightens. Being an adult, he scoffs to himself. That option is clearly out of the window now.

"Do you want to sit?" he asks, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of him. "Something to drink?" He adds, already rising from his seat to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "You deserve it."

You sigh with a nod, heading to the chair. "Thank you."

After handing you one of the glasses, the orc doesn’t return to his usual spot at the desk. Instead, he sits down beside you, legs spread wide. He takes a long gulp of his drink. The amber liquid burns down his throat. He watches you from the corner of his eye, noting how tired but oddly relaxed you look. Your legs are crossed, causing your skirt to ride up slightly on your plush thighs.

"So," he clears his throat, attempting to break the silence. "What was your plan for the evening, anyway?"

A long moment of silence stretches between you, and when he finally glances over, he sees a small, mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"What?" he asks.

"Don't act like you don't know what my plan was."

The orc feels himself freeze, his mind racing. "What?"

"I know you heard me when I talked about it with my friend."

"Y/N..." he starts, the words faltering on his tongue. He feels like he is in trouble, yet, your mischievous grin tells him otherwise.

"Do you want to know something?" you ask, leaning in slightly.

He nods, still not finding his voice.

"I lied," you say, barely containing a laugh as you watch his bewildered expression.

"Lied about what?" His frown deepens into a scowl.

"I lied about the date," you reveal. The curve of your lips widens, and your eyes sparkle with satisfaction and pride. "There was no date."

The orc’s confusion turns into a stunned silence. "No date?"

"No," you confirm with a grin. "I wanted to see if you cared enough to do something about it."

The orc's mouth opens and closes, but he is too shocked to say anything. You lied. You lied to see if you could make him jealous enough to do something.

You little minx.

Before he can gather his thoughts, a loud, surprised gasp escapes his lips as you stand up and settle onto one of his thighs, facing him. The black fabric of your dress stretches tightly around your legs where they drape over his. Your heat presses down against his trousers as you let your weight rest fully on him.

"Did it work?" you ask, nibbling on your lower lip. The only sign of your nervousness is the slight tremble in your hands as you play with the buttons of his shirt near his belt. You're clearly stepping out of your comfort zone, risking everything just because he couldn't muster the courage to take the lead.

His hands rest on yours for a moment, squeezing your delicate fingers as a reassuring gesture before moving up to your bare thighs. His touch is lingering and exploring. You feel soft and yielding beneath his fingers, and he can’t help but note the contrast between his firm grip and your pliant warmth.

"Did you lie to me, little one?" His voice rumbles deeply, sending a shiver up your spine.

You bite down on your lower lip, the soft flesh already swollen and tender. "Will you punish me for it?"

The orc growls low in his throat, squeezing your hips one time before hauling you up from his lap. The sudden movement punches a loud squeal out of your chest, and before you know it, you are on his table, knocking off his things onto the ground.

“Stay like that,” he growls, pressing one hand firmly in the middle of your back. Your upper body is now pressed down against the wooden surface of his desk, while your bottom is positioned toward him. The black skirt you wear rides up, revealing the lush curve of your ass and the thin fabric of your underwear.

“You lied to me,” he says, his voice heavy with frustration. “I could barely concentrate on my work because the thought of you with another man drove me mad.”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out, but you sound anything but sorry.

“You manipulated me, little one,” he continues, his anger tinged with a hint of a smile. “And now I have to punish you.”

With deliberate movements, the orc pushes your skirt higher, exposing your round ass and the thin black thong wedged between your cheeks. His cock twitches at the delicious sight.

“Ah!” you cry out when his large palm lands on your exposed skin with a loud smack.

“Now tell me,” he hums, his fingers gripping the warm, flushed skin, “was it worth it?”

“Yes,” you reply immediately, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. Despite the sting, there’s a spark of satisfaction in your voice. This was your goal all along. And more.

“So there’s no other man?” he asks, his voice rough and demanding as his hand lands on your ass with a series of loud, stinging slaps that make your whole body shudder.

“No,” you cry out.

“No one who wants to see your pretty little ass like this?” His hand comes down again with a sharp smack.

“I don’t care about anyone else." Your voice strained as you lie on the table. Your fingers clench into tight fists at the burning heat on your ass.

“Good answer,” the orc snarls, his hand moving relentlessly. Each slap makes your round bottom flush warm under his touch.

The zipper of his pants presses uncomfortably against his throbbing erection, a constant reminder of the raw, urgent desire he’s struggling to contain, but he knows that if he releases himself, there will be no turning back. He would need to be inside you immediately.

And he has too much fun now to end it so quickly.

The office is filled with the sounds of your panting and ragged moans as you squirm on the desk, desperately trying to rub your thick thighs together for some friction, but the orc quickly intervenes, pushing his leg between yours with a disapproving tsk of his tongue.

"I don’t think you’ve earned it yet," he says. His chest expands at the sounds of your pathetic whines.

"Please." Your plea trembles with need.

The orc grins, pressing his own thigh against your panty-clad cunt, teasing you without offering any real relief.

"Don’t you think you deserve your punishment?" he hums, his tone laced with amusement.

"I do," you reply in a whine, resting your forehead on the cool surface of his desk while he continues to knead your warm, sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he says approvingly, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your black thong. "I will give you pleasure when I think you earned it."

His name is barely out of your mouth when a loud gasp escapes your lips the moment the orc’s hand pulls at your panties, pressing the black fabric deeper between your flushed cheeks. The material slips between your damp folds, soaking up your wetness.

“Fuck, little one,” the orc groans at the sight of your panties almost disappearing into your fat pussy. “I would never let any man see this,” he says with a fierce possessiveness. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this sends a surge of burning anger through his veins. “It’s just for me.”

You remain silent, which earns you another sharp slap on your ass from the orc. You gasp and moan. The combined sensation of the burning sting on your ass and the thong rubbing against your pussy creates a heady mix of pleasure and pain that makes your hips grind instinctively.

“I want your answer,” he demands firmly as he lets go of your panties. His fingers slip between your ass, slipping down and finding the wet heat between your thighs. He teases you, making you shiver as you burn under his fingertips.

"Yes," you cry. "It's just for you! It's just for you!"

"That's what I like to hear," he hums, his fingers digging deeper between your swollen, sensitive lips. Your panties are ruined, the crotch is clinging soaked to your puffy cunt.

He can't wait to taste you, to feel your soft walls around his cock as he pounds into you until you see stars and know nothing but his name.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he says, his patience thinning with each passing second. “You’ll spend the night at my place, and if you’re a good girl while I feed you, I’ll take you to bed and fuck you on every surface in my house.”

“Yesyesyes,” you sob. You tremble with desperation. “Please.”

“Come on, then,” he groans, pressing his hard cock against your pussy one last time before helping you off the desk and smoothing your skirt back into place. “Let me take you home, little one.”

[lilacs-stars]

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt. 

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it. 

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side. 

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more. 

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him. 

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers. 

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions. 

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate. 

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either. 

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you. 

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions. 

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath. 

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out. 

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve. 

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face. 

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor. 

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides. 

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him. 

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze. 

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back. 

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face. 

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm. 

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising. 

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there. 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems. 

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours. 

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan. 

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you. 

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it. 

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself. 

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right. 

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him. 

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run. 

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James. 

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. 

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response. 

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. 

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall. 

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal. 

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm. 

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight. 

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on. 

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide. 

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him. 

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “I heard of how he harassed you in your class earlier. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @maggiecc

just leave a comment if you want to join the taglist!

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[crestapex]

Yesss we love a foodie simon!

Mans will tear up some fried rice and then fuck up some rotisserie chickens 2 min later. Yall stupid if u think u can leave 2 big plates unattended with him. 3 slurps and its gone.

If hes dating and u cant finish ur food he gladly finish it for u. Gets lowkey offended when i pull the plate back and tell him u just ate off that plate/fork. Like wtf u mean i cant eat off ur plate/fork it doesnt matter bc I kiss u anyways SO LET ME FUCKIN EAT😫

Hes the type to eat from the pot/pan. Like as soon as u tell him the food is ready hes already digging in the pressure cooker with a spoon.💀

Yeah-no, ‘cause he’s definitely the type to look at you all confused when you don’t just give him your plate and instead try to shove your uneaten food on to his. He’s quirking his brow, looking at you like, ‘Hello? My tongue has literally been inside you.’ 🤨 And he just gently takes your plate and fork out of your hands while staring at you, nodding in disapproval.

Update: sort of part two.

And “3 slurps and it’s gone” PLEASE, I’M DONE. Also, I just couldn’t stop myself from writing a (semi) little blurb. 🤭 Now introducing big boy helping you cook!

You stand at the stove, wooden spoon in one hand, and switching from spice to spice with the other. Your eyes stay focused on the silver pot below, nearly filled to the brim with hot, simmering soup. It’s one of your own recipes, fresh and homemade from start to finish. The savory smell fills the kitchen, and having certainly flooded into the other rooms of your shared flat. As it appears you’re not the only one who favors this recipe, someone else clearly does as well.

You try your best not to acknowledge the beast of a man looming over you too much, instead letting him quietly watch as you work your magic. Simon’s hand rests on the counter beside the stove, his other hand opting to rest knuckle-first on his hip. Sure, he mostly chooses to remain silent, but he has no problem reaching for and handing you a utensil or spice—often times before you can, and even before you can ask him to do so.

Every now and again you’ll find yourself having to step away for a minute, and a minute is all he needs. All the time he needs to inch over to your spot and take a hold of the wooden spoon, gently stirring the soup. All the time he needs to lift the spoon and bring it to his lips, slurping up the smallest amount it could possibly take to drench his taste buds, no matter how steaming hot it is. And all the time he needs to lower the spoon back into the pot and swiftly move back into position, just as you begin to turn around and make your way back over to the stove.

And you pretend you don’t notice, you like to pretend you didn’t just catch Simon from out the corner of your eye sneak a bit into his system. Though you can’t help but silently laugh to yourself as he lightly pushes a spice in your direction with his thumb, his own, kind way of telling you it needs just a little bit more!

[thatdeadaquarius]

Hello there, friend I'm here for fluff

OK, this has been on my mind for a while

But like

The reader is just becoming the biggest parent to the Benny's adventure team kids

And the wolfs

We are like a parent of like 27

Knitting and making food brushing razors hair(let's be for real, you would hear a crunch when you brush it)

I'm not gonna lie

Do these kids know what spices are?

Cuz when I think about it

Razor hasn't had shit so he's has the least tolerance for spice

He would probably cry if you feed him a pepper

Bennett has tried spicy food but does go well with it

And not completely sure if fischl has had a spicy food before

But what flavor does mondstadt add to their food??

These kids need the damn flavors

AHDHAKALL FERAL ANIMAL AQUARIUS- ANOTHER PLATONIC ASK AAHHHHGGGGDJJSFHSAK!!!!!

AND ITS YOU!! ITS- ITS- ONE OF THE WRITING RULERS OF SAGAU (FOR ME AT LEAST) <3 !!!!!!!!

You cooking in genshin all anime studio ghibli style looking like food from god (literally): ⬆️

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: Benny’s Adventure Team! (Bennett, Fischl, Razor), Diluc, mentions of other Mond characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

^^ The posts being referenced in ask, (OG Razor ask) (Benny + Razor) and a more direct sequel, a part 2? a part 4 atp?? of this post (Imposter/Not Dark AU + Razor + Diluc) ^^

OMFG

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP BITCHES

SINCE UR IN TEYVAT

YOU GONNA COOK LIKE TEYVAT

AS IN-

SHIT BE SUPER EASY TO COOK, AND MASS MAKE DEPENDING ON COMPLEXITY OF DISH

(So, like Zhongli's special Bamboo Shoot Soup is like getting made... once a year if you read the little desc. for that dish 💀)

AND THEYRE ALL LIKE-

ANIME GORGEOUS FOODS ✨️❤️‍🔥

OKAY SO

PROMO TIME-

U GUYS HAVE TO WATCH THE ANIME "CAMPFIRE COOKING IN ANOTHER WORLD"

Bc that's mostly where this inspo gonna come from to both be realistic cooking + best parts of video game cooking

A guy gets isekai’d and instead of hero powers he just gets the skill of "online grocery shopping" LMAO

and ofc he gets insta gifted whatever he orders and starts making dishes and adding spices and regular stuff you know. like soy sauce.

but the best part is the food in that world is like British medieval soup shit

like barely salted, no spices definitely, no sauces, its barren

so he ends up attracting all kinds of interest that want to eat his cooking ofc

And it gives buffs too!

dw i didnt spoil anything u don't learn in the first episode, but that's just to say that's exactly whats happening here

u DO have to manually collect more ingredients but its so worth it, also u can just buy in bulk or put a commission thru the adventurer guild

tbhhh now that i say that, that could be how u end up drawing in Benny’s Adventure Team even more, bc they just take all ur quests for collecting ingredients around Mond!!

(u have to actively sneak behind their back and whisper to Katheryne that you want to put in other food quests in other guilds tho, silly kids will absolutely go running around Liyue and crazy shit just to have an adventure and do smth for you + eat ur banger food lol)

omfg the first time u barbecue smth???

the wolves, Razor, and Andrius??? Go feral.

Fischl and Benny who were already on their way to u guys to hang out again start booking it thru the woods, dodging hilichurl camps (thatve since settled down and been v peaceful to the wolves + anyone in the woods of Wolvendom after u started living there)

they knowww ur cookin smth fucking amazing

(and u even have some hilichurls and mitachurl that wander close to Andrius’ edge of the woods to shyly beg for scraps,, u give them a portion)

Razor was actually lookin at u like u hung the stars just for him when u gave him a homemade barbecue sauce to put on his food

(u acc may have done that to Teyvatians according to Andrius + the stories u overheard from Springvale…)

ok but the amount of begging u get for desserts like-

No, Razor u cannot have chocolate cake/cupcakes after every meal, u need to take care of ur teeth

(u use ur collection of mora-monster-donations for comms for more ingredients and living supplies like fabric + furniture, u cant afford dental on top of that for ur boy)

Fischl dutifully declares you the “best chef in the kingdom” and writes down all ur recipes (u have them auto-stored in ur settings obv but it cant hurt to have a physical copy, and they look so happy doing it, u don't have the heart to tell them its not necessary-)

Benny insists on both giving u extra ingredients when he takes ur commissions, and giving u handmade trinkets or weapons for the meals!!

No!! He will not take “im good” for an answer!! ur sharing ur home-cave with him, taking care of his best friend Razor, and now feeding him food better than Liuli Pavilion!!! There’s no way he can just take all that and give nothing back!!!!

and theyre not the only ones getting some food tbh

when the knights begin patroling near Wolvendom and slowly all of Mondstadt to search for their “All God”, u break up the beginnings of a fight between 2 confused knights and the now peaceful hilichurl camp at the edge of Wolvendom

U offer some snacks u were going to give Benny’s Adventure Team when they got back (u made little triangle sandwiches, rice balls, etc. finger foods, and u made plenty extra bc u kno their teenage appetites lol)

the knights and hilichurls nearly cried with appreciation, which made for a hilarious sight when the teens actually showed up lmao

ur wearing ur cloak, bc u dont wanna take on that whole “creator of worlds” title just yet, and the kids helped verify u werent anyone suspicious (Benny + Fischl keep ur godly secret, theyre the best like that 🥰)

the knights just swing by for snacks occasionally (they also either pay u in trade or with mora, theyre not bullies)

another person who gets flavored food privileges is the lazy librarian witch herself

u also sometimes pick Razor up from Lisa’s tutoring and bring “the best tea and tea snacks in the world” along with to share with Lisa and him

(she is also fully aware after awhile of meeting u of what u are, and fully believes this is why the food must be enchanted to be so good, but u dont want to be treated super reverently she can tell, so she keeps ur secret too and is just extra flirty when u come by lol)

(Razor refuses to let his pare- Lupical move out of ur cozy cave to the library, so he sometimes hauls u away when Lisa flirts too much LMAO)

…and the moment you've been waiting for.

Yes, Diluc got to try ur food that night he was searching Wolvendom for signs of the god of Teyvat

tbh Diluc was half-convinced that shit was a fever dream.

a bunch of sleepy wolves, a coffee table in the stone colosseum, a giant spirit wolf licking a big plate clean, the wolf-kid glaring at him, and you.

you with gold eyes, staring right thru his soul, like you already know everything there is to know about him, (like the way Kaeya looked at him that night),

like he doesnt even have to introduce himself

and he doesnt, u just lightly smack Razor’s hands until he gets rid of his claymore w/a pout, since Diluc had long since dropped his,

and grab a plate, piling on what leftovers u could, and turn back around from the coffee table to smile at him, patting the cushion-seat beside u for him to join

The giant glowing wolf licks his lips and watches him, the wolf-kid’s creepily watches him, and you, with eyes gold in teh light of a simmering bonfire just past the table, watch him

he just sits down and begins to eat.

its the best food he’s ever had, its his dad’s favorite dish, but not realistically, but the way memory embellishes a dish so much it can never be tasted again, except its right here. in front of him. u pour some wolfhook juice for him, and offer him a napkin to wipe his mouth and eyes

Diluc visits often after that, obviously.

u give him snacks too, and when he lets the staff try some, Adeline will not stop harassing him abt gettin ur recipes/ingredeints so u get him to pay Fischl to get a copy of their recipe book :)

including blank pages for future entries, and Fischl is literally glowing with happiness, would not stop monologuing abt ur food for weeks (send help Oz wants some peace and quiet sometimes)

Oh Diluc absolutely told the Favonius knights he found you. But he’s not saying where LMAO

Jean is actually begging him, Diluc ik u hate the knights but this is an international investigation-

this is the closest Diluc has ever gotten to getting under Venti’s skin.

when he told him this at Angel’s while bartending, he just casually ofc said this, just his smug little smirk, and the anemo god cracked a glass and everything- esp when he said he tried ur cooking??

he's gotta start looking over his shoulder in the city bc not only is Venti stalking him, the entirety of Mondstadt’s citizens are glaring at him in envy everywhere he goes LMAOO

(Venti now has a bar glass or too on his tab to pay off as well)

mans is literally paying u in weapon/artifact materials/mora to make him lunch one day and Venti nearly lunges over the counter

(Diluc purposefully ate it in front of him 💀)

ur food is the ultimate, “u could make a religion out of this!” /ref

like Diluc fully gives u offerings of ingredients he can pay for shipping from other countries + along with regular materials after grinding in domains

does the rest of Mondstadt + the world find out where u are?

only if Diluc lets them tbh. LMFAO

☆

bk trashfire my beloved <3 love ur ideas and stuff, goes without even saying im so sorry i took actually forever to respond :’(

hope u have a great weekend and i did this little side story justice for you

Safe Travels BK Trashfire,

💀♒

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♡my beloveds♡

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WHEN THE MOON HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot

main masterlist | read on ao3 | part 2 pairing: javier peña x f!reader. summary: you meet javier in a café during your sabbatical. you see the man that no one does ― the one who is broken, defeated, crushed by his time as a DEA agent. so you make it your purpose to shine some light on his life, one pumpkin spice latte at a time. -or- the story of how you two fall head over heels for each other c: a/n: hiya! been wanting to write for javi p for a while, but was afraid to take the plunge because it's been a hot minute since i last watched narcos. anyways, this fic is for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge which i found really inspiring, thank you for hosting this sweet challenge! first time taking part in a challenge too, whoop whoop! as always, all interactions welcome, would love to hear your thoughts. take care! <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). post season 3 of narcos, possibly slightly off-canon? idk. fluff, loads of it! angst, comfort. mentions of ptsd, panic attacks and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. trip to the pumpkin patch to cheer our sweet javi up. reader's pov only (v unlike me). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 6.8k (this was gonna be a short drabble... smh) divider by @saradika-graphics

Friday, 18th September 1998

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” was your go-to sentence with every client.

Even when your own personal demons stalked you at night, you made your best effort to get out of bed every day and come to work. Working in a café was not in your plans for this year, but a heart-shattering breakup had rocked your world so bad, you needed out.

So, you took a sabbatical from your job in finance, hugged your parents and waved goodbye to your friends. It would only be for one year ― hopefully enough to get your life together and reorganise your priorities.

That was why you moved to Laredo two months ago, to have a fresh start with a blank slate ― where no one knew you and you knew no one. A month into your new life, you realised you needed to do something or otherwise you would go crazy. So you took a waiting job at one of the local cafés. You were just paid the minimum wage, but you had enough savings to live comfortably for a year without any issues.

It was only mid-September ― technically still summer. However, the unusually cold weather made it look otherwise. Fall had appeared sooner this year, and you couldn’t be happier about it. You loved autumn ― its duller hues, the crispy air, the browning leaves, the cozy sweaters, burying yourself under blankets on the couch while channel surfing. It was, by far, your favourite season.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” The masculine voice that spoke back to you was plain, deflated ― it lacked… something, but you were not able to pinpoint what exactly.

Your eyes moved from your notebook to the man in front of you, sat at the one of the most isolated tables. A few strands of wavy, brown hair fell across his forehead, the ends caressing the metal frame of the yellow-tinted, aviator sunglasses that shielded his eyes. ‘Brown too,’ you thought. ‘Sad and brown.’

Even if he was not looking at you, you could simply tell. His demeanour, his posture, the way he averted his eyes ― the man spoke of sadness and hurt, of something dark and gut-wrenching you could not even fathom.

And he was alone ― it was obvious he was not waiting on anyone.

“Anything else?” You asked, your throat suddenly dry.

He shook his head no without a word. His hands were placed on top of the table, his fingers intertwined while his thumbs circled each other. It was a restrained yet impatient gesture, as if he could not wait to be left alone.

“Could I interest you in a slice of pumpkin cake? It’s got cream cheese frosting. Shouldn’t say it myself because I baked it, but it’s delicious, I promise.” You tried to tempt him; a soft smile directed at him. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house.”

The curvature of your lips wavered when his eyes slowly drifted up towards you and locked on yours. They definitely had a sorrowful tint to them ― as if he had seen too much, been witness to too many unspeakable things. His eyes were a window to a crushed soul, that much you could perceive.

His lips formed a flat line as he looked away and through the window to his right.

“Why not then…” His reply was not rude but charged with something unsettling. Something that made you swallow hard.

But you were still smiling back at him. Maybe the guy was having a rough day, a rough week or a rough month. A rough lifetime? Showing him kindness was not going to change his view on the world around him, but if it helped, even a tiny bit, you would smile until the corners of your mouth hurt.

“Alrighty, shouldn’t be long!” You scribbled the command on your notebook, the tip of your tongue unconsciously sticking out between your teeth as you did.

You walked back to behind the counter and when you turned around, you saw the man watching your every move. But as soon as he felt caught, he bowed his head down and looked for something in one of his shirt’s pockets. Soon after that, he lighted a cigarette.

Slightly confused, you faced the coffee maker and looked at the recipe card for the pumpkin spice latte. As you started preparing it, one of your colleagues walked past you.

“Pssst, Alejandra!” You called her in a whisper.

The girl looked around her, unsure if someone had said her name or if it was her imagination playing games.

“Over here”, you waved at her and Alejandra happily trotted towards you.

“Yeah? What’s up? Do you need a hand with that?” She offered her help, as she always did. You were grateful to have such good coworkers in your shift. It was a contrasting experience in comparison to your finance job.

“No, I think I’m okay. Got a question of different nature though,” you ventured pressing your lips together. “The guy over there, sat in the corner…” Alejandra turned her head around to look and stuck her head out, going on her tiptoes and everything. “Hey! Be a bit less obvious, dammit!” You panicked, shaking her forearm as she giggled.

“What about him?” She asked with a cocked brow.

“Who is he? Not seen him before ‘round here.” You tried to sound as casual as possible, but Alejandra’s raised eyebrow told you she was seeing through your bullshit.

“Chucho’s son. Javier.”

“Chucho who?” It seemed like everyone knew everyone in this town, except for you.

“Chucho Peña, he owns a farm on the outskirts of town. That’s his son Javier. He worked for the DEA and has moved back in with his old man a couple of weeks ago. Rumour has it he was fired. Apparently, he was caught doing drugs on the job, can you believe it?” Alejandra didn’t hold back on the gossip. “The same drugs he was confiscating from the narcos, taking them all for himself. Some say he was even selling them back to them and making good profit.”

You knew to take rumours with a very big pinch of salt. Sure, there was corruption in the DEA as in any other governmental organisation, but he did not seem to be that kind of guy. Not that you knew him, anyway.

“Not even his childhood friends are speaking to him now, so if I were you, I’d keep my distance.” She warned you in a hush. “He’s trouble, that dude.”

That broke your heart a little. Javier looked lonely enough ― learning that he was truly on his own resonated loud with you. Being branded a misfit by his own community had to be a hard pill to swallow.

“Mhmm. Sure thing”, was your only reply. Alejandra tilted her head to one side, studying your blank expression. “I was just curious, that’s it.”

“If you say so. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Her veiled counsel hung above your head as you resumed the task of preparing his coffee.

Five minutes later you were done and walking back to where Javier was patiently waiting. As you approached his table, a guy pushed back his chair to stand up and hit you hard. You lost your balance, almost tripping with the legs of the chair. Your right hip slammed against the edge of an empty chair and prevented you from falling ― you managed to save the coffee, but the plate with the cake slice slid off your fingers and shattered against the floor.

“Hey! Watch it!”

For a second you thought it was the gentleman reprimanding you, but you quickly recognised the voice ― Javier had stood up, fast as thunder, and his index finger was accusatorily pointing to the man who had mindlessly pushed his chair back.

Before the situation escalated, you straightened out your back and planted a hand on Javier’s forearm to stop him from tackling the guy.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing. I wasn’t looking, it’s my bad.” You quickly tried to diffuse the situation, tension building up between the two men.

“No, it’s not.” Javier replied between gritted teeth. “This asshole should have seen you walking by.”

Your eyes widened as they flew from one man’s face to the other’s. Javier’s outburst was not welcomed by the other guy, who was clenching his fists at his sides. You put the surviving coffee down on a table nearby and placed yourself in the middle of both men, arms extended.

“No need to take this so seriously, it was just a bit of cake, and I’m not hurt.” You said looking at Javier with imploring eyes. You did not need this kind of trouble.

‘He’s trouble’, Alejandra had said. Should you listen?

“Please, accept my apologies.”

“I ain’t paying you shit now, treating one of your regular clients like this.” The man barked back, fuming.

Javier took a step forward and his chest pressed against the palm of your hand. You did not expect to feel his warm skin under yours ― a few unbuttoned buttons on his shirt gave you a peek of his hairy chest.

He clenched his jaw so hard you could see his muscles straining.

“Of course, of course. I’ll pay for it, it’s not a problem.”

Huffing and puffing, the man signalled to his companion and they both walked out the door, mumbling something you couldn’t hear but could imagine.

Slowly you turned to face Javier, whose eyes burnt like gasoline. You didn’t know if he was trouble, but he was definitely danger.

“It’s alright, relax. I’m sorry about the cake, I’ll get you another one. It’s on me, I kinda forced you to buy it.” You offered, thinking he was still mad, while you knelt down to clean the mess with some tissues you had grabbed from the table besides you.

“I’ll pay for it. For both slices.” He replied succinctly, squatting down by your side to help you out.

“You don’t need to”, you quickly said, watching him on the corner of your eye.

His expression softened a bit, and his lips turned into a grimace.

“I do. I think I made things worse for you.” You thought the same but didn’t dare to voice your opinion.

You were customer-facing and could hear your manager in your mind saying ‘The customer is always right. Treat ‘em like royalty’. Bullshit that, really, but was part of the job.

Once the mess was cleared, you gave Javier his coffee and ran back to the counter to cut another slice for him. This time, as you sauntered towards him, you were aware of your surroundings. Luckily, there were no more inconveniences, and the cake slice made it safe and sound to Javier’s table.

“Thanks. And sorry again.” He apologised, his tone throaty with truth. He really meant it.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly.” You grinned at him as you gently squeezed his shoulder without thinking. Javier’s eyes quickly darted down at the touch ― you could swear he flinched. “Oh― S-sorry”, you stammered, pulling your hand back to break contact.

Javier just hmphed and turned his attention to his drink and food.

With your brows knitting together, you made your way back to the counter. From time to time, you would check on him from a distance while serving other patrons. ‘Just making sure he likes it’, you told yourself every time.

After half an hour, Javier got up and walked towards the register.

“How was it?” You asked with a gleaming smile.

“It was good.” Surprisingly, you were slightly disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. “Really good”, he added a second later, as if he had picked up on your disillusionment.

The smile came back to your mouth.

“Well, I’m glad.” You said while you typed in his order to produce the bill. “It’s $9.42.”

“How much was the… gentleman’s” he spat out the word, “bill? I want to cover it too.”

That offer took you completely off guard, and you started shaking your hands and head at the same time.

“No, no, no. It’s okay, I’ll pay for it. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I insist. Please.” He punctuated every word. “How much was it?”

“Uh, mhmm…” You didn’t want him to take the blow. Maybe he had made the situation worse, but at the end of the day, it was the other guy’s fault, not his. “Are you sure?”

He simply nodded.

“It was $25.37. So the total would be… $34.79.” You composed a pitiful face ― it was a lot of money for a coffee and a cake slice.

Javier handed you a $50 note and then said, “Keep the change.”

With your mouth agape with surprise and not really understanding his generosity, you looked down and extended your hand almost unwillingly.

“But this is a lot…” You started to complain. However, when you looked up at him, you only saw his back.

Javier was already walking out of the café before you could say anything else.

Friday, 25th September 1998

Exactly a week later at ten past five in the afternoon, Javier Peña entered the café you worked at. Your brows furrowed, trying to recall last Friday. Had he gotten there at the same time too? He sat at the same table, same chair as well. The man was a creature of habit, a wild one at that.

Sooner rather than later, you were in front of him, notebook and pencil on hand, with a cheery smile.

“What can I get for you today, gorgeous?” You asked, hoping he would catch the joke ― you also followed a routine.

The joke went over his head. He looked less taciturn than a week before, albeit he still had this aura around him screaming to be left alone. Javier leaned back on his chair and this time, he did make eye contact, unlike last.

A slight yet noticeable change.

“A pumpkin spice latte, please.” This time round, his voice was a bit livelier although still crude.

“Anything else?” Your smile turned crooked as your eyes locked on his.

You saw a sparkle in them, a brightness that flickered under the fluorescent lights of the café. A hint of mischief, you thought too. He definitely had seen the joke now.

“Do you still have pumpkin cake? The one with cream cheese frosting?” He went off script, which made your grin grow bigger.

A creature of habit, but adaptable.

You nodded, writing the order down ― your tongue peeking through your teeth in full concentration.

“Freshly baked, I did it this morning.”

“If it’s half as good as last week’s, I might have to start coming over every Friday then.” A lopsided grin fought its way to his lips, although it didn’t stay there for long.

That brief gesture had transformed his expression, softening the hard edges of his jaw and smoothing out the wrinkles around his covered eyes. You noticed he still had his aviator glasses on, even though it was cloudy outside.

You were not prepared for his compliment, so you just tittered.

“If that’s the case, I’ll make sure to bake one every Friday as to not disappoint you”, you replied jokingly, albeit you truly considered it.

The shadow of a grimace danced on Javier’s mouth. The beginning of another smile, perhaps. Could you be so lucky that he would gift you with two grins in a row? That would be unheard of.

It wasn’t like you were watching him, but you were. Just a few glances here and there though, nothing too obvious. You did not believe in such things, but it seemed like his demons were following him wherever he went. Whatever darkness accompanied him, had a tight grip on him. You wondered what had happened to Javier to give off such an uneasy feeling.

The man was the epitome of wariness ― always looking above his shoulders, his hand tightly latching on to the buckle of his belt. Javier Peña looked like a man who always had a foot in the door, ready to run at the slightest inconvenience. And just because of that, you should be chary, keeping your distance. But it was exactly that, his raw loneliness, what pulled you into his orbit.

You were a fixer, and Javier was broken.

You were a puzzler, and Javier was a puzzle someone had tossed aside ― all the little pieces spread in disarray, unclassified, waiting to be put back together.

Question was, could he be fixed or was he shattered beyond repair?

Friday, 2nd October 1998

“Let me guess. One pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake?”

Javier’s sunglasses reflected the light off the ceiling, his eyes catching a sliver of it. His fingers drummed against the table, his pearly white teeth peeking through the brief smile his lips composed just for you.

“It’s almost like you already know me”, he jested, flattening the palm of his hand against the table and sliding it off until his fingers wrapped around the edge.

That simple motion had you in a trance for a second, your mind blank.

“I do know a few things about you.” It slipped off your tongue before you could refrain yourself.

Once you realised what you had just said, your eyes slightly widened, and you unconsciously chewed your bottom lip.

“Do you?” Javier tilted his head to one side, his kempt moustache wrinkling with curiosity.

You nodded slowly and he cocked a brow, enticing you to continue.

“I’ve noticed you like a routine, always showing up at the same time, ordering the same thing, sitting on the same table, the same chair. And I know you love fall, because why would you be ordering a pumpkin spice latte every Friday since mid-September? With two sugar cubes. And when you attack the cake, you first eat the frosting, then the rest. That’s weird.”

You could have left it there so you wouldn’t sound like a stalker, but once you started talking, you could not stop.

“I know you feel like something, or someone, is following you. I know you always keep an eye on the door, making sure the exit is clear. I know you never turn your back to it either ― and that’s probably why you are, many a times, reaching for a gun in your belt that is no longer there. I know that you are lonely, but that loneliness is self-imposed. I know you don’t like being touched.”

You had definitely paid Javier Peña too much attention. Your last words did not really sink in until Javier’s amused expression transformed into knitting brows and a fine line for lips.

Had you gone too far in your analysis? Why would you say all those things to a complete stranger? When your slip of tongue dawned on you, you covered your mouth, embarrassed of yourself.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to… I just― I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t know why―” Your words came out in a slurred rush, incoherent and unfinished sentences got stuck to the back of your throat through all that stammering.

He leaned back, his arm loosely draped around the empty chair to his right, near the window. Javier then clicked his tongue.

“Well, I had it coming. I did ask, didn’t I?” His reaction surprised you ― you really thought he was going to up and leave because of your insolence.

You let go a sigh of relief, followed by a nervous chuckle as you hugged the notebook close to your chest.

“Was I… too far off?” You ventured, biting down your bottom lip again. Maybe you shouldn’t push your luck.

Javier took a long minute to respond, his eyes scanning every square inch on your face, as if he was trying to assess whether he could confide in you or not. You found yourself hoping he did.

“No, not really.” He conceded, “I do love fall.”

That hint of mischief you saw a week ago twinkled in his eyes again. Under that sombre and stay-away-from-me bearing, there was another Javier. One who could be mischievous and fun. One that you had been itching to know since he first set foot on the café.

This time was your turn to slant your head to one side, crinkling your lips as you attempted to discern if you were wrong about the rest. Was he playing with you?

“And the rest?” You pushed out of curiosity, knowing full well you shouldn’t take such liberty.

Javier shrugged, his shoulders almost touching his ears. Was he trying to hide a smile?

“I do have one more thing to add to my order.” The change of subject told you he did not trust you that much.

A pinch of disappointment settled in your chest. But you knew you shouldn’t feel this way, you didn’t really know him. For all you knew, he could be a serial killer on the lookout for his next victim and being a DEA agent was just a cover.

“Oh, yes, sorry. What else would you like?” You concocted a smile, but this time it felt forced ― too tense on the corners of your mouth.

Your sight was fixed on your notepad, not daring to glance down at him again. If you had, you would have seen his look of confusion. But you didn’t.

“Another pumpkin spice latte.”

You could not hide your surprise, so inevitably you asked, “Are you waiting for someone today?”

As soon as that question abandoned your mouth, you wished it back, mortified at your audacity. It was none of your business. And you didn’t care. Of course you didn’t.

“Yeah, you. You finish your shift in” he looked at his wristwatch, “fifteen minutes, right?”

You were left gobsmacked. Of all the things you had imagined he would say, that would not be an option at all.

“Uh― Ah, y-yeah?”

“See, you’re not the only one who is observant ‘round here. I do know pumpkin spice latte is your favourite drink too.” Javier explained so matter-of-factly, it would have been impossible to correct him. And he was right, anyway. “So, what do you say?”

You had not really given him an answer and he was obviously waiting.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.” You repeated yourself, a wide smile smoothing out your lips, your cheeks slightly blushed. “I’d like that.”

Friday, 30th October 1998

Every Friday for the last four weeks had been exactly the same, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Come ten past five, Javier would walk in through the door and sit down on the same table after his therapy session just a few blocks away. You would happily trot towards him, notebook on hand ― just a pleasantry, considering you knew his order by heart: two pumpkin spice lattes, one slice of pumpkin cake, two spoons. In fact, you had it written down before you reached him.

And then, every Friday, he would wait for the clock to mark half past five, coffee almost untouched and the cake slice still pristine on the plate. You would tell your teammates that you would be closing down and that they were free to go. You would rush through your tasks to get everything done before the clock read forty past five. A minute later the “Closed” sign would be hanging on the front door.

And then you would sit down with Javier, both lazily sipping away at your coffees and nibbling at the cake, while you shared your hopes, your fears, your ambitions, your struggles, your likes and dislikes, your pasts. His heavily charged with trauma and anguish, yours full of heartbreak and regrets.

You had learnt all about his time in Colombia ― the rise of the Medellin cartel, the fall of Pablo Escobar, the peak of the Cali cartel and the corruption deeply embedded in the Colombian government. And how it all shaped who he was now, how it all shattered him and his view of the world. All the things he had seen that still haunted him to this day, and how badly he wanted it all to go away. How gruesomely tortured he was by it all.

He had split himself open in front of you over the course of the last month, pouring his soul out while trying to detangle the mess his mind was in. And you could not help but feel for him, cry for and with him. His words had reached further down inside you than you were really aware of.

And while he was getting professional help for his PTSD, you liked to think that your long, deep conversations helped him interiorise part of the trauma, come to terms with it as much as he could. He had not said it out loud, not really thanked you either, but he didn’t need to ― you just knew.

You could not have refrained yourself from loving him even if you had tried. Over the course of the last few weeks, you had fallen for him with every detail you discovered about him. But your friendship had developed so quickly and so profoundly, you were afraid of ruining it. Ruining the only real connection you had felt in a long time.

It felt like the moment for love confessions was long gone ― it had slipped through your fingers without you even realising. And now it was too late to change it. Perhaps it was better this way ― you treasured Javier’s friendship more than anything else. You would not bargain with it, not if it meant there was a teeny tiny chance of losing him. You were not a gambler, not with the people you loved.

“I think you should pick up a camera again, see how it feels. Ignore what your parents have always told you for a moment. You don’t have to make a decision now, or ever, really.” Javier encouraged you, his palm flat against the surface, extended towards you, resting halfway through the table.

How badly you wanted to reach for him, to caress the back of his hand with your fingertips. But you didn’t.

“You’re right. It’s all I always wanted to do for a living. My job in finance, it was just their idea, really. They kept telling me that I’d die penniless on the side of a road if I chose photography as my career path.” You sighed, the spice of your coffee filling your sense of smell as you tipped the cup to your lips. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” You asked, an idea forming in your mind.

“No, I was just gonna help my dad on the farm.” Javier replied, a certain interest tinging his voice as he tilted his head ― his chocolate eyes holding your gaze as if it was a staring contest.

You had never met him outside the café, but you were friends. Surely there was nothing weird about meeting up with him tomorrow.

“Well, I was just thinkin’. Brought my camera and equipment when I moved. Tomorrow’s Halloween, could go to the pumpkin patch outside of town to take some pictures. I love taking pictures on fall, the colours are just beautiful. Would you want to join me?” A shy smile hovered over your lips, your heart slightly racing.

Javier’s eyes lingered on your face for an eternal second before he sipped at his coffee. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked ― you knew he didn’t feel comfortable with open spaces, not yet. He had told you about his panic attacks when he returned home and found himself in the open, exposed.

Suddenly, you felt so damn insensitive.

“Sorry, I know y―”

“I’d like that”, he cut you off before you could take the offer back.

Inevitably, your heart swelled, warmth pouring all over your body with his acceptance.

Saturday, 31st October 1998

The car’s door slammed behind you after you rummaged through the backseat to get your backpack. It was full to the brim, as you had taken a few of your lenses, a tripod, a flash you were positive you wouldn’t need, and a few other bits and bobs.

“Sorry!” You apologised as your head buried between your shoulders.

God forbid you made a dent on Javier’s sparkling new Toyota Camry. Well, you didn’t know if it was new, but the car was impeccable inside and out. You were relieved he had offered to pick you up, otherwise he would definitely have judged you for the state your car was in.

“‘S alright.” He muttered, but on the corner of your eye you saw him smoothing out his hand around the edge of the door, ensuring you had not damaged it. “What are you carrying there anyway? Looks like you’re goin’ campin’, pequeña (little one).”

You snickered, Javier by your side in the blink of an eye. So close you could almost feel the warmth he irradiated, even in the crispy, spooky air.

“Oh, ‘s nothing, just a few things here and there that I hope to use later. Might need your help though.” You looked at him askance, measuring his reaction to your petition.

“My help? Mhmm.” He mumbled, almost laconic.

“It’s not too bad. And your aviator sunglasses will come in handy.” You laughed at the confused expression in front of you. “I’m not spoiling it.”

Javier’s lopsided smile made a brief appearance, but it suddenly vanished.

A backfiring noise from an exhaust pipe a few yards away made him flinch, his whole body visibly tautened ― his posture went rigid, his eyes frantically searching his surroundings while his right hand flew to his belt in a vain attempt to grip a gun that wasn’t there.

And then you saw the panic building up in his shielded irises. Even through the yellow tint you watched them darken, so opaque his pupils were indistinguishable from the brown. You could swear he had stopped breathing too, because his chest had not budged one inch.

Quickly you realised what was happening ― the sound from the car nearby had triggered Javier, bringing him back to one of his nightmares. His fight-or-flight response was taking over him, his mind suddenly replaying his time back in Colombia.

When you wrapped your firm hand around his wrist, you could feel his wild pulse under your fingertips ― his heart was beating so hard, it seemed like it was looking for the way out of his torso.

“Javier,” you called his name, giving him a gentle squeeze. He did not respond. “Javi”, you raised your voice over the cacophony on the background, your fingers tighter around his wrist, jerking him close to you.

Slowly he turned to look at you, long eyelashes fluttering, and it took him a moment to gradually come out of his daze.

With your free hand you rubbed his left shoulder, the first time you had been this nigh.

“Hey, Javi, are you okay?” You whispered, his eyes slowly drifting down to your mouth, as he was trying to read your lips rather than listening to your words. “It’s okay, you’re back home. You’re safe. You’re here with me, in a pumpkin patch just outside of Laredo. You’re safe, Javi.” You reassured him in a low voice, the abbreviated version of his name falling from your lips like honey.

You hadn’t realised how scared you were for him until he finally breathed. So did you. Your heart was pounding. Then he nodded, and you thought you saw a sliver of embarrassment in his eyes.

You wanted to comfort him so bad, tell him it was fine to be vulnerable ― but words escaped you, your chest heavy with affliction. The only thing you could do was wrapping your arms around his neck and bring him in for a hug. It only took him a second to swathe your waist, his face partially buried in the crook of your neck.

A shivering sensation down your spine gave you goosebumps. It felt so good having him this close.

“I’m fine.” He hummed eventually, as you both took an unwilling step back.

“I’m sorry. Truly. If you think this is a bad idea, we can just go back.”

He shook his head no.

“No, it’s alright. Gotta push through it at some point. Rather do it with you than alone.” Your heart melted at his words, almost swooning for him.

A soft smile spread across your lips, palming his forearm again. You could not have enough of his touch, of how his skin felt under yours.

“But if at any point it gets to be too much, you’ll let me know. Promise?”

You stuck your pinky out in front of him, asking him to pinky promise he would.

He returned your smile with a devastating one of his own.

“Promise”, was his reply as his pinky wrapped around yours.

Then you both erupted in laughter.

For the next two hours you walked the whole patch together, taking as many pictures as your camera rolls would allow you. Luckily you brought more than one ― knowing yourself too well, you had brought three rolls.

“Hey, Javi! The golden hour is approachin’!”, you shouted at him, amplifying the volume of your voice by placing one hand on the side of your mouth.

Javier’s head poked out in between a humongous pile of an assortment of pumpkins. He went around it to be by your side in a couple of long strides.

“Is this where my aviator glasses come in handy?” He asked with a smidgen of inquisitiveness.

“Spot on. Come, follow me.” You curled your fingers to emphasize your words and you started walking towards a field further ahead.

It was isolated, the yellow grass up to knee height. There were some dead trees around, black branches peppered around the floor. Reaching towards your back, you untied the tripod from the side and set it up, taking your time, while Javi was right behind you.

“So you’re taking pictures of an empty field?” He asked, befuddled.

You just giggled as you knelt and settled your backpack down on the floor. Unzipped it and jumbled stuff around until you found what you were looking for. Snapping your tongue with delight, you pulled out two white bedsheets and a sunglasses case.

“Ha! Here they are!” You enthusiastically presented the objects to a confused Javi, his hands scrunching one of the bedsheets as you handed it to him.

“I don’t get it. You want me to make a bed out in the wilderness or somethin’?”

Shaking your head no, you laughed at his perplexity.

“No, you silly. We’re going to put them over our heads so we look like ghosts, like so.” And then you proceeded to demonstrate, covering yourself with the bedsheet.

Almost blindly, you took your sunglasses out of their case and placed them on the bridge of your nose and over the bedsheet.

“Voilà!” You extended your arms, showcasing your masterpiece to Javier.

You could barely see him through the linen, but his laughter reached your ears. You couldn’t help but smile wide as you grabbed one of the sides and pulled it up to uncover your face.

“I want you to do the same. I’ll set a timer on the camera, and we run over there.” You pointed to a space between some fallen trunks. “And then we just do some silly poses.”

“…Okay?” The hesitation in his voice was faked, because you could see a grin pinching the corners of his mouth.

“Trust me, it’ll look great. I’m a visionnaire!” You said with confidence as you turned around and set the timer. “Go, come on, run!”

You both sprinted to the specific spot you had directed your camera at, and quickly covered yourselves with the bedsheets. Laughing out loud, you both put the sunglasses over your faces and started posing while the camera clicked away at timed intervals.

Back to back with arms folded; one sitting down on the trunk while the other stood up behind; both hiding behind some dead trees with your heads sticking out; just staying still and very straight looking at the lens.

Even Javi got into it by the end, suggesting a few poses of his own occurrence.

You both were having so much fun, cackling so loud, you had tears pouring over your waterlines. You even bent at your waist, hands against your knees, while you tried to catch a breath. Javi was by your side chortling like a kid without a worry in the world.

You pulled the sheet off you and Javi followed suit. You could tell he also had teared up and that tugged at your heart.

“I wish we could see them now, but we’ll have to wait until I develop them.”

You stepped forward to get to the camera, but you tripped with the bedsheet. Clumsy as always, you waved your arms in a vain attempt to regain balance, and failed ― the grass on the ground hurrying towards your face, or, well― quite the opposite.

When you thought you were going to hit the floor, Javi’s broad hand clasped around your elbow and pushed you up, until your chest flushed with his. His mouth was so close to yours, his lips agape and so inviting, you licked your bottom one as you gauged the situation.

“You okay, pequeña?” His voice was just a hush in the confines of your mind.

Unable to speak due to his proximity, you just nodded as your eyes locked on his. This time there were no sunglasses covering his beautiful orbs ― giving you the opportunity to look into the abyss. His abyss. One you had been wanting to jump into for as long as you had known him.

His free hand rested on the small of your back, pressing you into him while his lips were dangerously close to yours. You could smell the hints of tobacco, the old spice, the sandalwood, all of it hijacking your senses.

Something passed between you two. Something that had been there for a while now; something you had not allowed yourself to see.

Too scared to ruin the friendship you so much cherished. Too frightened to have your heart broken again. Too afraid to make a move and be rejected.

But you didn’t need to.

Javier did.

In slow motion, he bowed his head down until his soft, warm lips ghosted yours. A light caress that made your heart jump a beat. And then he pressed them sweetly against your parted mouth, his tongue testing the waters between your teeth as you let him in.

Draping your arms around his neck, you kissed him fondly, tenderly, with all the love you had been stockpiling for a while. With his hands now on your hips, his thumbs gently rubbed the skin under your tee shirt, while your fingers raked through his hair.

And then, in the background, a clicking sound, then a flash. The kiss came to an end, not without Javi leaving a few chaste pecks on your lips before your mouths untangled.

You pressed your right cheek on his chest, eyeing the camera, and chuckled.

“It’s been taking pictures the whole time.” You told him, looking up at him with your chin against his sternum.

“Good. I’d like to have a memento of this moment, pequeña”, Javi cooed as he leaned back down to press another kiss.

“That makes two of us.” You purred, smiling into his mouth before his tongue sought yours again.

The distant howl of a wolf breached the haziness of the kiss and interrupted you. Only then, you realised that the sun had set down a while ago, and a red moon dominated the sky. The atmosphere was rather eerie, almost spooky.

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.” You quoted a sentence you had read once. “So maybe the moon has howled, and not a wolf?” That was your attempt at staying here, in your perfect, tiny bubble, a little bit longer.

Javi smiled, brushing his lips against yours.

“I rather not find out. Let’s head back, pequeña.”

He grabbed your hand, your fingers laced together, and pulled you towards the camera, him walking one step ahead of you.

One last click captured the final moment as you both sauntered towards it, hands intertwined, and Javi looking over his shoulder right at you.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[itskattkm]

Day & Night

Mabel (Finestkind) x G!P Reader

Warnings: life crisis, bruises, smut, bad writing because of translation

A/N: hello my dears. Here a Mabel short story. Maybe making a part two. The requests I had got are in work :) So this is my first try of some spice in English and I could cry in pain. The translation is so bad. And I need to stop changing perspective so often. It’s getting confusing right? Hope you guys can still enjoy

Part 2, Part 3

I remembered as if it was yesterday when I kept an eye on Mabel after she was beaten up by these damn dealers. I didn't know much but what I knew was that things didn't go as they should. So before Charlie took Mabel's car to take care of some things, I got the call to watch out for Mabel until he would be back.

I leaned against the wall when I looked through the small slit in her cardboard at the window. The sun seemed to go down. I sighed softly. What situation did I find myself in again? How many times had I asked myself this when it came to Mabel. For a very long time I thought that we were friends... although I knew deep inside that we never were. I was just like a lost puppy... someone who would follow her wherever she wanted to go. Someone who would do anything to pray for her. Someone whose feelings were obviously not reciprocated. Someone... who was self-evident.

I looked over my shoulder back at her. As if frozen, she sat at the end of her bed and stared at the dark floor. I could feel her pain... her fear. What should you say to someone who was beaten up by dealers a few hours ago? Was there anything right to say?

As I knew Mabel, it was probably raging in her thoughts. Accusations. Shame. Disappointment. She hated the life she came from. I never knew anyone who had longed for a different life like me. At that time, I thought this was something that had connected us. Or did I just try to look longing for things that weren't there? For things that would connect us in any way?

I turned around and walked to the small dining table to take one of the chairs. When I now picked up one of the older wooden chairs and placed it in front of Mabel to sit im front of her, I got her attention. But I only got this because I had made noises that weren't there before.

I slowly sat down opposite her, looking down at the pack full of swabs and the alcohol bottle. I took out one of the swabs and moistened it with the alcohol.

I carefully lifted Mabel's chin with my hand. My eyes were now on her lips. The laceration on her lip had opened again. I didn't know if my attempt to take care of her injury made sense. Whether it did anything at all. But I couldn't stand here any further, wait for Charlie's return and drown in silence.

"You fumble too much on it... it opens again and again" I whispered gently before I dabbing her wound and only got a soft hiss from Mabel when she consumed herself because of the burning.

Again, a sigh escaped me. I threw the cotton wool aside. I wondered how long I would have to suffer. Would it ever be over?

"Thank you..."

The words and the me making me feel goosebumps tone in her voice brought me back. I looked with a mix of worry and sadness in her dark eyes, slightly smeared eyelashes ink emphasized her aura. Her left eye was decorated with yellow bruised spots that slowly turned purple.

I lost myself in the darkness of her eyes. Asked me if she could ever see how much was hidden in my eyes? Every time I looked at her, I had the feeling that I knew what was going on in her. How she felt.

My heart was bleeding and although I knew that my presence and the attempt to sit or just be there for her would not change anything , I couldn’t help it. I hesitantly raised my hand and fixed her bangs, with an almost trembling hand I tried to wipe a strand to the side to see her face better. I didn't want to hurt her. I was afraid of getting so close to her at all.

Now I could admire her injured face in full costume. Why is my heart bleeding all the more to see her in such a state? Why did I find her even more beautiful? Why couldn't these feelings disappear?

The burning of my eyes brought me back from a so-called trance. I didn't smell any of these feelings. Never.

"You are very strong... never forget that," I whispered because I didn't know what else to say. Her eyes pierced me. This time I didn't know what I could see in it. Gratitude? Security? Or maybe it was nothing at all?

But they seemed so gentle. So gently that I had to fight with the urge to somehow tell her my feelings.

Almost a year passed after this incident.

Mabel and Charlie have been still a couple. Charlie and Tom had now built a new bussines with the Finestkind. The crew still had hard jobs... yet they were independent and very important... not on the criminal path.

It was again one of those nights when I sat on the scaffolding of the bridge and just watched as the sea and the sky became one in the dark.

Never before had I felt so lost. So lost from my path.

It was the stormy days when I was here at the pier and watched the raging sea. It should remind me that I was alive... that there had to be a reason for all this. That there was a story for me that I didn't know anything about yet, but when would all this come? When would I feel free. When would I feel important?

"It's one of those days again?"

a voice too familiar to me spoke.

I looked to the side, Mabel slowly approached the terrain and looked out into the distance in which the lights of the Finestkind could already be seen.

Then my heart sank. I knew she was here to pick up Charlie. It wasn't a prescribed path that should lead her to me... No... but to Charlie.

I looked at the ship.

"I guess" I said because I didn't know if Mabel was really interested in how I was doing and what I was doing. Most of the time I was the one who asked and listened, I mean… I cared.

"How's it going with college?" I asked her

Mabel nodded and had this beautiful wide smile on her lips as she looked out to the ship. From the side I could she her dimples and beautiful side profile.

"It was definitely the right decision," she said.

I smiled because of her happiness. Of her her joy...

"I'm happy about that," I said and looked back at the ship. As it got more and more windy, Mabel had hooked her arm in mine and laughed slightly "you have to stop being up here in this weather. It's dangerous"

I grinned. Was this a concern? Was she really interested? This sentence warmed my heart in so many ways. The fact that she knew how many times I was here... that alone gave me hope.

"But at those times it looks the most beautiful out here!" I shouted when a stronger gust of wind hit us.

Mabel shook her head "you really have to stop falling for the things that could kill you"

I looked at her thoughtfully.

What did she mean by that?

Suddenly the horn of the finestkind sounded. Mabel grabbed my arm more firmly and pulled me with her to leave the scaffolding of the bridge together.

When we arrived downstairs and watched the boys docking, my heart began to race. As soon as Charlie had left the ship, Mabels loosened her grip around my arm and she landed in his. He put his arms around her narrow waist and kissed her for a long time.

How much I wish I could have been Charlie. How much I wanted to give her my love and everything else in the world... how much I wanted this from her. The other boys greeted me with hugs. Tom laughed dry

"Y/N if you continue like this you will become our lighthouse" a laugh escaped me and I boxed into his shoulder.

"Beauty and death at the same time... I say," Mabel joked. I grinned and gradually began to understand. "What do you think... are we still going to the bar?" Charlie asked.

More months passed after that day. It was a day like almost any other.

I didn't go to the community college like Mabel, but I had studied online. In the summer season, Mabel actually began to spent most of her time with me on the grounds of the bridge. We learned together. Waited until the boys would come back.

It became our thing. Now I knew that Mabel came here not only because of Charlie... but also because of me.

"How are things going?" I asked her because she was exceptionally quiet today. She looked into the distance and said "I'm not sure..."

I knew this look. Pain. Longing. So I counted one and one together. Things between her and Charlie seemed to have changed.

The boys haven't come back for a long time now. They were on a almost one month long "trip" if I could call it that.

I followed her gaze, a fisherman to date, I indeed imagined that difficult.

"Do you have time tonight?" Mabel asked me with this self-confident strong tone. I looked back at my laptop

"Probably why?"

"I could use some help..."

She began to pack her things and looked down at me. The wind blew slightly through her hair, she looked at me with a grin to which I could never say no.

"So?" She Hacked after I was just staring at her. I shook my head slightly to wake up.

"Yes... yes, of course. When should I come over?" I asked her

"I'll come to you... in about an hour..."

I nodded and watched her go down.

Maybe we were friends after all.

Later in the evening I was just cooking food.

One hour became two... and two almost three. It has now been 11 o'clock at night. I was tired and would still have to do some tasks.

Just when I was about to change, it suddenly knocked on my door. Confused about the late time, I went to the door and opened it. Immediately Mabel entered my apartment slightly out of breath with a wide grin.

Confused, I locked the door behind her and looked after her. She put her shoulder bag on my dining table and said

"Sorry, I'm late..."

I laughed dryly and looked at the clock

"Three hours..."

Mabel continued to grin as if she was in a “that interested me at least now mode”. She took off her leather jacket and looked at me "it's not a bad thing"

I walked past her to drink a glass of water in the kitchen "it's not like I would have liked to have done something else instead of waiting here and worrying a little".

Mabel followed every movement of Y/N with a cheeky yet gentle smile.

"You were worried?" She asked in a teasing tone. Surprised by the sound, I looked at her nervously "of course... it's dark outside and you didn't even send me a text"

Mabel laughed slightly as she walked closer to Y/N "You could have texted me too..." she whispered and looked at her urgently.

Y/N felt a heat in herself that was difficult to control. In order not to respond to Mabel's last words, I said nervously "you wanted my help... what exactly?"

Mabel came closer and held the eye contact for unusually long "did I want that?" She whispered.

Slightly confused, I looked at her and didn't quite understand. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what.

Suddenly Mable slowly put her hand around my waist and said "I meant rather... that I need you tonight"

The place where she touched me sent a wave of goose bumps to the rest of my body. Were those signals? Did I understand the situation I was in right now?

She got closer and closer to me and I didn't even think about moving at all. Her eyes moved back and forth between my eyes and lips. Her face was only centimeters away when her lips slightly brushed mine.

"How much do you want me y/n?" She whispered.

My heart beated hard against my chest.

As if attracted by a siren, I lean in. Next, I felt her soft lips on mine.

The lips that I wanted to feel for so long. To taste.

Mabel grabbed my neck and kissed me back deeper as she slowly led us into my bedroom.

There she pushed me down on the edge of my bed before she made herself comfortable on my lap and started kissing on my neck. Her hips moved into mine. My member immediately started to get hard. This seemed to please her because she rubbed herself more and more firmly on it as she held my neck tightly and kissed me passionately.

I was breathing heavily. Held her hip that was moving back and forth in my hands when I began to breathe heavily. I kissed her back hungry. My lips brushed hers over and over again when I tried to hold back.

"Don't hold back... show me" she whispered seductive. I pressed my nails into the fabric of her hotpants before kissing her hard and then bit on her lower lip to pull it slightly. Mabel gasped slight in surprise of the intense feeling and was overwhelmed by the fact how good y/n felt.

She kept grinding on y/n lap. She felt the big and hard bump in y/n pants and wanted to feel it so bad... wanted to touch it so bad. So she opened y/n pants and observed how rapid the breathing of y/n became.

Both looked down when Mabel freed y/n hard cock. Suddenly it felt like time had stopped. Very slowly she took him in her hand became aware of the size and felt the warmth he radiated. Y/N swallowed hard when she could watch Mabel hold her hard cock in her hand. Her hand was warm and it just felt so good. Both raised their heads and their eyes met. Mable's gaze wandered between Y/N's eyes and lips.

Y/n put her hand around the back of Mabel's head and pulled her closer. She kissed her slowly, breathed heavily and groped herself slowly with her tongue. Mabel escaped a slight moan when she returned this kiss and her tongue hit y/n. She grabbed her cock more firmly and began to move her hand up and down very slowly. Y/n felt all the pleasure coming over search. These touches. That's all she had always longed for.

Mabel observes satisfied the effective she exercised on y/n when she breathed heavily into her neck and tried to hold back her moans.

But she felt and could see how harder y/n always became. She wondered if the pain was with pleasure. She looked down at the pink tip as she slowed down her firm movements and stroked her thumb over her tip. Mabel herself felt an unbearably good pulsation inside of her when she saw some white liquid coming out of y/n cock.

Her heart was racing like crazy. Oh how much her body screamed for y/n. The things she wanted to do with her. She slowly began to kiss her neck. Her tongue strokes slightly over y/n pulse. She now moved her hand a little faster. But didn't want to take y/n too far because she wanted to feel her inside of herself.

She breathed heavily against y/n neck as she started to grind on her thighs while she gave you a probably long-awaited handjob.

"Do you have condoms?" Asked Mabel with a raspy voice. Y/n held tight Mabel’s waist. She breathed heavily when she said "Night table... top... top drawer"

Mabel nodded and reached for y/n jaw before she kissed her deeply and her tongue explored her mouth. She had some condoms herself, of course, but she preferred to use y/n... especially since this was a size that was clearly not comparable to that of Charlie and that in a good sense.

When her lips loosened, she let go of her hard limb. She began to take off y/n sweatshirt and shortly afterwards y/n helped Mabel get rid of her clothes.

Mabel slowly pressed y/n into the mattress so that she was laying on her back.

Mabel leaned over her as she began to kiss her passionately and rubbed her wet middle over the erection of y/n.

Y/n moaned and turned around so that Mabel was now under her. She kissed her jaw, throat and neck before she slightly bit into it and made Mabel escape moan.

She places herself between Mabel's legs. Their naked bodies touched each other and y/n struggled with an almost painful erection. She felt Mabel's warm and moist vagina. With her tip, she brushed Mabel's clit and breathed heavily as Mabel's grip solidified around y/n shoulders.

With full passion, y/n looked into Mabel's dark eyes before she bent over her chest and began to kiss her left breast. Mabel's grip demanded herself in y/n hair when she arched her back in pleasure and moaned. Y/n took time to taste her warm and gentle skin. In a teasing way she brushed her lips above the sensitive skin of Mabel's breast before teasing her nipple.

"Y/n..."

Gasped Mabel heavy. A shiver hit down y/n spine. How long did she want to hear Mabel call her. Taste and touch her body. She slowly kissed her nipples. And moved her tongue around it in circle movements. Everything y/n did robbed Mabel of her mind.

Mabel stretched out her arm and opened the top drawer of the bedside table to look for the condom.

That was a signal for y/n that Mabel wanted more and needed it. With hot and wet kisses y/n covered Mabel's neck and whispered Husky "don't be so impatient Mabel..."

Mabel shivered and chuckled slight before locking eyes with y/n and whispered seductive "just do what I'm telling you to do...".

She caressed y/n stomach... moving her hand slowly down to your hard cock "...please"

She added.

You nodded and let her put the condom on your hard cock.

You shivered when her hands touched you again and rolled over the condom in the most sensual way you could have imagine.

You spread her legs more before burying your face in the crook of her neck. Slowly you penetrated into her. Her walls are tighter than you could ever have imagined.

Some sounds left Mabel as you continue to slowly go deeper. You had reached for the lacquer when Mabel pressed her nails into your back and moaned as you extended her further. After a few moments, you both breathed harder. Mabel put her legs around your hip and whispered "deeper".

You did her that favor and fill her completely with your length in the next moment.

A loud moan caught her and for you it was like music. You finally got what you wanted. What you had longed for. Mabel. In your arms. Connected to each other. You would never be able to let her go again. She was what kept you alive... what motivated you every day even if it was so hard.

I held her hip tightly as I began to move slowly. Mabel's breathing became more and more intense. She moaned almost evenly and called my name.

I began to bump harder, had a firm grip around her thigh when I breathed heavily against her lips. She stretched out her head. Put her arms around my neck to be able to kiss me. Her tongue brushed my lips as she whispered “...y/n”.

I felt how she became more and more tighter with excitement. I felt a soft end with every new and faster push that made her moan more. I knew... that I had found the spot... and it wouldn't be long before she would have her orgasm.

"Y/n!" She shouted, totally intoxicated. Your body was shaking. With every push, she came closer to the feeling of pure satisfaction.

I kissed her hard before I buried my face back in her neck and whispered "your mine now..."

[redrose10]

🌹 𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥

Yoongi

Series

𝓒𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷 & 𝓥𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 (Completed)

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 The Proposal

Alternate Ending 1 (very angsty) Alternate Ending 2

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓘𝓷𝓷 (Ongoing) (On hold)

Summary: You have never experienced true love which is hilarious considering you write romance novels for a living. When you end up staying at The Interlude Inn located in Holly Falls you start to wonder if maybe the answer to your newest love story is sitting behind the welcome desk. Quickly, you find out that Min Yoongi hides a lot of pain and sorrow behind his shy smiles and quick glances.

Part 1 Part 2

Raspberry Romances (Completed)

Summary: There’s no one on this planet you hate more than your coworker/secret crush Min Yoongi. He’s an arrogant, rude, womanizer who gets under your skin every single shift and you can’t wait for your day to be over so you can get away from him. Unfortunately when Jimin, your caseworker from The Ministry of Adoration, shows up offering you both a raspberry jam filled cookie, things take a surprising turn for the worst and you can no longer get away.

Chapter 1- Coffee and Cookies

Chapter 2- Whiskey and Wedding Cake

Chapter 3- Tea and Tteok-bokki

Chapter 4- Sparkling Cider & Strawberry Pie

Chapter 5- Tacos and Tangerine Juice

Cold Brewed Love (Completed)

Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

One-Shots

He Knows

Promise

The Beanie Blues

Oblivious

I’d love too

24 Hours

Cuddle Noodle

Drabble Game

Jin- 1

Yoongi- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Hobi- 1 2

Namjoon- 1 2

Jimin- 1

Picture Game

Everything Will Be Okay Nervously in Love (NSFW)

Pumpkin Spice Lattes Three Little Words

Even Zombies Need Love

Tulip Trees

A Growing Family

The Devil is Beautiful

Min F.cking Yoongi

Secrecy

Hair Tutorials

Kangaroo Vows

Prompt Game

Bonnie and Clyde

Fire & Ice

Beauty and the Frog

Lemonade (Jungkook)

Do You Want Some Ramen?(Jungkook)

I Will Always Love You

The Silent Game (Taehyung NSFW)

The Cookie Jar (Namjoon)

Sprinkles

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 10) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): sickening amount of fluff, language, angst, *SMUT*: oral (m + f receiving), fingering, hand job, p in v, overstimulation if you blink

Word Count: 6,892

A/N: If you’re here, congratulations! You made it to the end. A big thank you to everyone that has commented, shared, liked, etc. I can’t believe it’s been over a year since my first post. I had a vision when I started writing this in the middle of the 2022 season, not quite sure where it would lead, but I’m happy with where it landed and I hope you are too. I hope you like wine with your cheese, because this is ~cheesy~. Also, this is my first time writing smut so (1) if you are a minor please do not proceed; (2) if you do like/read smut, I would appreciate any kind of feedback. A big thank you to @cutelittlefakejourneys and @burningcupcakefire for beta-ing. Thank you @paddockbunny, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz for the insights and words of encouragement. As always, thank you for reading.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel paced the hallway. He wasn’t accustomed to not getting what he wanted. Sure, in the last few months he had had his fair share of disappointments, but this was different. He was tempted to knock on your door until you answered, but thought the better of it.

He played through the moment in his head again, no different than analyzing a post-race debrief. What went wrong and how could he improve? He was professional during the signing. He knew you loved Geri, you only casually brought up Ginger Spice in conversation no less than a dozen times over the last few months. He knew you’d love to actually meet her – who knows, if everything went well it certainly wouldn’t be the last time for you. He didn’t force himself on you – at this point he knew you were like a cat and he needed to wait for you to come to him or else he’d scare you off. It seemed like the only thing keeping you from ripping each other’s clothes off was your job. Or so he thought.

Now he was confused. It was clear you hadn’t meant to say what you said – but you said it. I could kiss you. Can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Four words that looped in his brain. He had spent so much time dissecting the meaning of the word “could,” he felt like he could be a lawyer too. But he had taken his time closing the space between you in the hallway. When he leaned in, you leaned in too. You had ample time to tell him off if he had misconstrued the whole thing, and he would never think less of you if you did, but you didn’t.

No, what just happened was not a rejection. You were just skittish. Like a cat hiding under a bed, you just needed to be coaxed out – slowly. You were food motivated, he’d learned that about you during your first outing in Belgium when you put down more bon bons than he thought was humanly possible. Yes, all you needed was to be approached with patience and understanding - and maybe the promise of a full belly.

-

You leaned against the door and squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment already crashing over you like a tidal wave. You knew you were being ridiculous and immature. What was it that you were still afraid of?

You stripped off your suit immediately, it felt stuffy and heavy as you overheated, the reminder of your attorney-client relationship falling to the floor. You threw on the first thing you grabbed out of your bag - why did it have to be that pesky yellow dress again?

You paced your room for what felt like hours. Your professional activities with Daniel had officially come to its natural conclusion and yet you were still hesitant to move forward. It didn’t help that you were in a country that banned the cohabitation of unmarried couples, so really, what were you even going to do?

Despite the confessions exchanged back in Mexico and the kiss in Brazil, it was never guaranteed that anything would actually happen once Daniel’s legal affairs were settled. Frankly, you still weren’t fully convinced the conversations ever actually happened. You refused to believe the lingering stares and little touches that lasted a little too long were anything more than pure coincidence.

In spite of all of it, you remained unconvinced about how Daniel actually felt about you. Over the years of failed relationships and first dates that ranged from awkward to bad, you had grown wary and skeptical of romantic pursuits. For all you knew, all his lip-service was simply an elaborate ruse to get in your pants. You thought on this worst case scenario, which really wasn’t so bad. God forbid you have one night stand with a Formula 1 driver and live to tell the tale. It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t be hurt at first if you were correct, but you would eventually be fine. You had been happily single and independent for years, it would simply be a return to your de facto state.

And even if you could take him at his word, you couldn’t help but wonder what that relationship would look like when you had to resume work for other clients and the luxury of constant travel and proximity ceased. How would you continue to keep in touch? How often would you actually be able to see each other in person? Your first relationship was with The Firm, and you knew you weren’t ready to give up your livelihood for him. Then there was the other issue of paparazzi and tabloids - the forced spotlight that would fall on you, resulting in the lack of privacy and anonymity. You had no desire for fame, yet he seemed to be designed for it. You could go toe-to-toe with opposing counsel any day, but you weren’t sure you had his mental fortitude to withstand the cruel and unsolicited opinions of strangers on the internet.

You weighed the pros and cons over and over again in your head. For someone with such a demanding job, it made no sense that it all felt so overwhelming and complicated. But it was telling that the Australian was the first person you wanted to confide in. He was the only one who could ever quiet the constant hurricane in your mind that caused you to spiral if left unchecked. In this moment, you needed him to ground you.

You had been raised to leave hotel room minibars alone unless you wanted to bankrupt you and your entire family for two generations. Going against everything you believed, you took a nip from the stock. Hoping the small amount of liquid courage would do the trick, you checked your reflection in the mirror one last time before venturing to the room next door. You would simply have to assume the risk of the unknown aftermath.

With shaking hands, you opened the door only to be met with Daniel’s presence before you. He jumped slightly at the sudden movement. You did a poor job hiding your astonishment that left you frozen in place.

“Oh… hi?” Your eyes remained wide. He looked around and scratched the back of his head, appearing to be as surprised and confused as you were.

“Hi – I uh,” he took a moment to give you a once over. “I’m sorry are you about to go somewhere? You look nice.” You felt your face turn red immediately, the bravery you built up moments ago dissipating in an instance. He shifted his weight, quickly correcting himself. “Not that you don’t always look nice! I just – you look nicer than usual. I mean-” He seemed uncharacteristically nervous and was digging himself a hole. You looked around the hall to ensure it was empty and took a deep breath to save him from digging any deeper.

“Yes actually. I was going to see you.” He seemed surprised and relieved at the answer.

“No way, I was about to see you!” He shook his head when he saw you bite back a smile. “Obviously, I’ve been standing outside your door,” he laughed nervously, his confidence shrinking by the second. “Not for very long though! You didn’t need to know that. But I wanted to come to say I’m sorry about before, I was too forward back there. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just figured, you know, since we went pencils down and everything, maybe we could-”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” You walked backwards as you took his hand, leading him through the doorway. He didn’t fight your lead.

“-you don’t know what I was going to ask.” You leaned back, allowing the door to click behind you under your weight.

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is yes.” You gave him a reassuring smile and gently squeezed his hand bringing him closer. “With you it will always be yes.” It seemed both of you were at a loss for words, but they were unnecessary as he took a step towards you closing the small gap that remained. His eyes were enchantingly curious as they gazed into yours. You only looked away for a millisecond, distracted by the tongue that broke free from his mouth to moisten his plump lips. You took a deep inhale in anticipation, your heartbeat bordering on palpitations as his lips closed in.

The moment they met yours, immediately you knew you never wanted boundaries with this man ever again. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other grabbed your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck in an effort to eliminate any remaining iota of space between the two of you. Your lips danced and moved together in unison, neither of you wanting to come up for air. His firm calloused hands roamed your body, unsure of where to rest. There were so many parts of you he had never touched before and he wanted desperately to become acquainted with them as quickly as possible. He squeezed your shoulders, ran them down the lengths of your arms, moved to the small of your back up towards your neck, in your hair.

The feverishness of it all began to slow, as he tried to memorize every peak and valley. He reverently moved his hands from your waist, dragging them up the length of your spine, one hand finding its way to your hair as though he wanted to remember every hair follicle, the other keeping your body firmly pressed against his. The leisurely pace only teased you, and each spot he touched left your body buzzing. He slowly brought his other hand to find yours again, repositioning so your fingers interlocked. The sweet gesture felt suddenly sinful when he pinned them to the wall, dragging them up the door until they were next to your head. The motion made your head spin, warmth spreading between your thighs, and you inadvertently let out a soft moan.

Ravenous for more, he firmly pressed your bodies together against the door, almost knocking the wind out of you. He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes pleading.

Can I?

You nodded your head frantically, capturing his mouth once more while guiding his hands to the parts you desperately needed touched. One gently cupped your breast while the other roughly grabbed your ass, kneading the muscles underneath. You both groaned in unison at the new sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” he mouthed breathlessly before finding your neck, hoping the feeling was mutual. You didn’t say anything back, but he could tell from the pant of your breath and the pulse under his lips that it was. You threw your head back as he sucked, licked, and nipped at the sweet spot as he gently grazed his thumb over your bra, immediately feeling your nipple form into a stiff peak underneath. Being mindful of your noise level, you bit back a moan that ended up coming out as a pathetic whimper. You shamelessly pushed your hips against his and squeezed his hand on your breast, encouraging him to explore and desperate for more contact.

You instinctively widened your stance for him to perch himself between your legs. His hand played with the waistband of your underwear through your dress, trailing down to your inner upper thigh.

“Stop teasing,” you hissed. He only smiled into the kiss in response, his tongue pushing into your mouth to shut you up.

Your hands followed their own curious whims. Those pecs that you had gotten an eyeful of several times felt warm and firm under your touch. Your palm dragged down the ripples of his abs, gently landing over the front of his pants. You gasped feeling him harden under your touch for the first time, eliciting a low growl from him in return. His hips pushed forward in frustration, eager for more. You allowed him some relief, undoing his belt and pants, cautiously reaching inside. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as you grabbed around his length, your hand suddenly feeling quite small. He looked you dead in the eye, that familiar cocky smirk and twinkle returning to his face.

“Come on,” he flashed you a wicked grin. “You knew it had to be big.” You laughed at his boldness, which only inspired him to double down. “I know how to use it too.”

“That’s some awfully big talk.” You already had goosebumps from your head to your toes, but you weren’t going to let him know that just yet. You would make sure he worked for it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“It’s not the only thing I know how to use.”

He captured your mouth in a gentle, chaste kiss as he used one hand to pull up the hem of your dress. His other hand snuck under the skirt, slowly dragging it across your skin. Rough and calloused from racing, they felt tantalizingly delicate.

“I was going to prove it, but it looks like I already convinced you.” He drew little spirals around your clit over your panties, barely applying any pressure. You bit your lip and looked up to the ceiling, praying for relief from the building tension. To your chagrin, his hand began to pull away.

“No. Please,” was all you could muster, your brain searching for more eloquent words that escaped you.

“Please what?” You reached for his crotch, hoping the action would suffice as an answer, but he grabbed your wrist to pin it to the door. “You have to use your words.” You felt the words on his breath that seeped through your skin.

“Please touch me.” Frustrated, you used your free hand to try to get him to fully take your dress off which was only getting in the way. He obliged, releasing your other hand to get a hold of the fabric. You put your arms up as he gathered the material over your head. Throwing the garment aside, he pulled away slightly to observe you for a moment. His eyes widening as they moved down your frame, trying and failing to hide his growing smirk.

“Do you always wear pretty underwear when you close a deal? Or are these for me?” He played with the pink lacy textile between his fingers, admiring how they accentuated the contour of your waist and hips.

“Both,” you gasped as he dragged a finger down your front. It passed over your clit, down to the fabric covering your entrance, smiling feeling how embarrassingly soaked you already were through the thin material.

With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, chest, stomach, until he reached the hem of fabric. He continued over the garment, bypassing the spot he knew you needed him to your inner thigh. The gentle touches and the scruff of his beard almost tickled, panting as he moved down your body.

He looped his thumbs around the sides of your thong, pausing to look up hopefully for permission. You nodded with lidded, lustful eyes. He couldn’t hide his dimples and he continued to tease, dragging your panties slowly down your legs, taking care to pick up each foot to get you out of them. Your heart swelled as you observed him treating you so delicately, like a fragile porcelain doll. His trail of kisses started again from the bottom, beginning at your ankle, to the inside of your knee and again to your upper thigh until he reached an apex.

“Hold on.” You weren’t sure what he meant at first. Then without warning, he grabbed your hip and threw your opposite leg over his shoulder, finally diving into your center. Your hands instinctively found their way to his head to stabilize yourself, accidentally letting out a yelp in the process which soon after turned into a low moan as his tongue swirled slow circles around your clit. “You taste so fucking good,” he mumbled into your skin.

The vision of him on his knees fully clothed, contrasted with your nakedness enhanced his touch and sent you spiraling. Your hands raked through his gorgeous curls as he lapped you up. The pressure he applied gradually increased, culminating to him inserting a finger in you, then two. You slapped a hand over your mouth as the pressure pooled and he found his rhythm with his tongue and fingers. He knew you were close when your legs started to shake and squeezed around him. The waves came crashing over you as you bucked your hips erratically. He removed his fingers so that he could stabilize you, but his mouth never stopped.

He finally put your other leg back on the ground when your hips slowed and stood up. Your legs almost buckled from underneath you but he caught you before you could fall, lifting you to walk to the bed.

You watched him carry you wordlessly, your brain still short circuiting from your orgasm only knowing enough to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Not because you thought he’d drop you, but because you wanted to be as close to him as possible. It still wasn’t close enough.

He sat himself down on the bed with you landing in his lap, legs still wrapped tightly. There had never been a time where the two of you have been in the same room and exchanged so few words. You continued to stare at each other, simply amazed to be in the same space and sharing skin after three long anguished months of resisting forbidden fruit.

Your gaze fell to his swollen lips that you desperately wanted to taste again, still shiny with your essence. His hand pressed up your back until he grabbed a fistful of hair, bringing you in fervently for another kiss. It was the kind of kiss that enveloped you, that turned your legs to water and caused currents in you to flow creating bountiful energy that begged for release. Your hands roamed from his shoulders, down his chest and abs to the hem of his shirt. The two of you pried it off together and he threw it somewhere on the floor. Your mouths met again gluing your torsos together, your currents crashing in a tidal wave of electricity and emotion.

You unwrapped your legs to straddle him, lightly pushing him backwards. He pulled you with him as you both fell into the bed, smiling into each other and little giggles filling the air. You rolled your hips over him, annoyed with the layers that still separated you from the waist down. You reached down, sloppily pushing at his pants to demonstrate your displeasure. He understood your message, weaving his arms past you to finish the job and shimmying his legs until they were off. You reached down the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing your fingertips just underneath but not going further. It thrilled you to feel his muscles tense underneath your touch. He nipped your bottom lip when your hand moved further south, and you could feel his jaw clench.

He pulled away suddenly, and you couldn’t place the look on his face which made you nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! It’s just…” his hand cupped the side of your face, caressing your cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Your heart swelled at how delicate he was with you, at how much he cared. But you didn’t want to be treated delicately. And now you almost felt bad about how much you’d teased him up to this point. Almost.

“Do you know,” you said sitting up, your hand ghosting over the outline of him through his boxer briefs, “I had a sex dream about you. Right before the Japanese Grand Prix.”

“No,” he ground out.

“You had my legs spread on a desk in some McLaren office.” You felt his whole body clench again as you slid the last piece of clothing down his legs. As though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind every time you admonished him for not paying attention or not taking things seriously in those early days. The frequency of course increased, to every time you bent over, smiled, or played with your hair, to simply existing. For once, he was the one blushing and you found it entirely endearing. “I’ve literally dreamt of fucking you for three months. I want you and I need you. Now.”

His pupils dilated at your words, and his hands moved possessively from your face down to your ass where his fingers sank into your skin hoping to mark and keep you. He tried to find the words to communicate how badly he wanted and needed you too, but blood was no longer flowing to his brain and no words seemed perfect enough for you. His shaft twitched against his toned stomach, eager for your touch. You relieved him, wrapping your full hand around his impressive length pumping up and down a few times, your gentle grip slowly firming with each stroke.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hand found your waist and you felt his grip tighten as you continued. You slithered down his body until your mouth aligned with him, spitting over his tip. He felt voyeuristic watching the saliva drip from your tongue. You looked up to see him gripping the sheets for dear life.

“Is that alright?” He nodded fervently.

“Only if you want to,” he croaked out. Bless this man, who just wanted to make sure you were comfortable even though it looked like his eyes were going to roll back into his head.

“I do. Very much,” you insisted. You dragged your tongue slowly from the base of his shaft to his tip. “You made me feel good.” Lick. “Now I want to make you feel good.” His shallow breath hitched when you finally took him in your mouth. Your eyes watered as he hit the back of your throat, you looked up to make sure he was still breathing. You found him slack jawed, but eyes full of lust. He brought a hand to your head. You prepared your gag reflex expecting him to force your rhythm, but instead simply pushed your hair out of your face.

“Fuck, you look so good.” You felt the slickness spread between your thighs at his praise, adding a hand to his base where your mouth couldn’t quite reach. You increased your speed, moaning into him. He happily absorbed the vibrations, reflexively bucking his hips into you. You tasted salty precum at his tip and could tell he was close.

“W-wait,” you slowed your pace but didn’t remove him as you looked up again. “I don’t want to finish yet. Not like this.” You slowly pried yourself off him, finishing with a satisfying *pop* as you released him. You saw his chest rise and fall at an alarming rate. He helped pull you up, interlocking your fingers in the process.

“What do you want?” you asked, knowing you would do whatever came out of his mouth without hesitation.

“Grab my jeans?” You couldn't hide your skepticism, but nonetheless begrudgingly left the nicest seat you’ve ever known to find his pants somewhere on the floor. You resumed your spot on his lap as he frantically searched his pockets, finally locating his wallet and fished out a condom. Everything else found its way back to the ground. Eyes wide, he maintained a death grip on the condom. “You’re sure?”

You smiled. You thumbed his jawline as you brought your foreheads together. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” It took him about four seconds to process what you said, but when he did closed the gap between your lips in a messy and desperate kiss that sucked the air out of you. It dizzied him too and only pulled away when he remembered he had to open the condom. You leaned back to give him some space as he struggled with the wrapper. His brow furrowed in frustration as he tried to steady his shaky hands.

“I swear I’m usually a lot smoother than this,” he muttered. You bit back a laugh.

“I believe you.”  

“You just make me nervous,” he admitted, uncharacteristically bashful. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“Hardly noticed,” you said sarcastically, but reassured him with a giggle. “It’s very endearing, if it makes you feel any better.” You calmly grabbed it from him.

“It does,” he confessed as he let you take it from his hands. Without breaking eye contact, you ripped the wrapper easily with your teeth. You felt him twitch under you as you wriggled yourself against him in content, allowing him to feel your arousal. He swallowed thickly. “Where did you learn that?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out,” you smirked. You moved off him for a moment, and he took the chance to stroke himself a few times, watching you absentmindedly. How your hair, now perfectly tousled, fell around your shoulders. How gravity worked miracles on the swell of your breasts. How your waist sloped into your hips and thighs. You patiently presented the condom back to him and he used all his concentration to take it from you to roll it down his length. He looked at you hopefully when he was done and you rewarded him with another kiss, your hair cascading around the two of you creating a protective curtain around your new little intimate universe.

You both watched as you eased yourself onto his cock, voyeurs of your own lust. Your moans harmonized as he bottomed out. You felt deliciously stretched and full. Complete. You began slow to adjust to his size, teasing him in the process with your agonizing pace, rising up to the point of almost dismount before sinking back down again engulfing his full length.

“Does this feel good?” you cooed, already knowing the answer as you swirled your hips with him bottomed out inside you, tormentingly slow.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he groaned as he palmed your ass. “You’re so fucking tight.” You dragged a hand from his chest, down the ripples of his abs, towards where the two of you intercepted. With his jaw clenched, he sank his fingers in your hips, trying unsuccessfully to steady them as you continued to rock. “You look so good with me inside you.”

He lifted his hips to meet yours as proof of his enjoyment, the new angle jolting you forward slightly. A moan escaped as you found a rhythm as you rolled your hips back and forth, itching for the friction of his skin against your already swollen clit. Your pace quickened as his length hit that sacred spot deep in your core over and over. The bounce of your tits mesmerized him. Unable to resist, his mouth found a nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive peak that had you seeing stars.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered. You felt the pressure pool and coil in your lower abdomen. Your eyes closed when he grabbed the back of your head, gently pulling your hair.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when you come.” All you could do was nod in response, worried that any sound you might let out at that point would alert the whole building. It was impossible to look away from his gaze even if you wanted to. You bit your lip as the pressure continued to build, hypnotized by the repetition and sensory overload. You rocked back onto him a final time before reaching your release, collapsing on forward onto his chest and his name falling off your tongue like a prayer as your hips slowed and stuttered.

Yes

Daniel

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound before. His mouth caught yours again, absorbing the moans that continued as you rode out your orgasm. He wrapped an arm around your lower back to pull you flush to his chest and began to upthrust, building to an excruciating pace. You held onto his shoulders for dear life.

“W-what are you doing?” You knew you sounded pathetic, barely able to form the sentence. He smirked.

“Getting you to Number Three.”

“I can’t,” you whined. He pulled you close and rolled the two of you over, taking care to remain buried inside of you. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes wide when you landed on your back.

“Three’s my lucky number.” He gave a few slow pumps before pushing himself up to spread your legs. He admired the change in your face at each new angle, each expression more perfect than the next. He brought his thumb down to your clit and watched you whither under his touch. With the new view he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Don’t worry, I’ll do the work this time.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. The only response you could give were incantations of profanities as he fucked you into the mattress and his gentle finger rubbing the sensitive nub just above where your bodies joined. He glistened as beads of sweat formed over his body, enhancing the contours of his muscles with each thrust. It was all too much. You felt your walls begin to clench again, your body eagerly anticipating its reward.

Daniel saw your mouth mold into an “o”, the slight twitch of your muscles, and felt the pressure that was building inside you. He prayed you were close knowing that his stamina would soon run out.

“That’s it. Come for me.” Daniel counted his blessings that he should be so lucky to have a front row seat, not once, not twice, but three times to your orgasms. You were so beautiful. Too beautiful. He couldn’t stop himself from chasing his own high as he watched you twist and contort under him. His thrusts became more frantic and erratic as your moans filled the room until he spilled into you, lurching forward but catching himself before fully collapsing on top of you.

Finally the motions stopped, except for the quickened rise and fall of your chests as you both tried to catch your breath. You blinked at each other a few times, still unable to move or think. Daniel broke the silence.

“Holy shit.” You couldn’t help the stupid grin that formed. You pressed a hand to his cheek just to make sure he was still real.

“That good, huh?” He begrudgingly began to move and pulled out of you, rolling over to your side. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down on you, absentmindedly drawing patterns on your soft belly.  

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner. But that was way better.” You both laughed as you nuzzled into each other, still peppering the other with butterfly kisses and holding onto the belief that the world was the size of a queen-size bed.

Eventually he got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he left your side, the intrusive thoughts returned and you began mentally preparing yourself for the inevitable goodbye. You watched silently as he searched the floor for his underwear, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. This was fun you repeated in your head. It will be a good story to tell you tried convincing yourself.  

He came back to bed and snuggled up against you.

“Now what?” he asked innocently. You squinted back at him, laughing slightly.  

“That’s an awfully loaded question, don’t you think?” He seemed confounded for a moment.

“I mean, I was just thinking we could get food now? What were you thinking?” You forgot that men could be such simple creatures. Maybe it was the audacity that allowed them to go about life blissfully unaware or unconcerned about hypothetical what if’s and unintended consequences of their actions. But for now, maybe you needed to think like a man too. You didn’t need to solve all the world’s problems in one night. Maybe all you needed was to just enjoy whatever this was for whatever time was left before you got on a flight tomorrow to return to reality.

“Yeah, I guess I worked up an appetite.” He broke into a wide grin. He grabbed your face to bless you with a kiss on the forehead before fetching the menu.

“Great. I’ll order us room service.”

-

Your eyes fluttered open the next morning. Scenes from the night before played on a loop in your head. Sweaty bodies entangled in a sea of limbs. In your experience, men who were that charismatic and that good looking rarely knew what to do with the bodies they had been blessed with. And yet…

You were afraid to open your eyes, not ready to let go of the memory that brought a smile to your face so you kept them closed a bit longer. Instead, you extended a hesitant hand to the other side of the bed expecting to feel the warm body of your evening companion, but you felt nothing. You reluctantly opened your eyes.

“Dan?” Your voice was soft and hoarse from sleep. Nothing. Maybe he hadn’t heard you.

“Daniel?” You tried again, a bit louder this time. Still no response.

You slowly got out of bed half asleep, the line between your dreams and the real world still not quite defined. You zombie-walked to the window, delicately drawing back the blackout curtains of the hotel room. You winced as your eyes adjusted to the natural light. Your clothes were still on the floor where they had been unceremoniously discarded, but the other outfit that had kept them company had disappeared. Your heart fell.

“Daniel?” you tried one last time, voice cracking slightly. Maybe he was in the bathroom. Maybe he had eaten something bad yesterday. You knocked on the door before cautiously opening it. You stood in the doorway a beat too long, unable to move from the empty space. He had been so convincing, so charming, and you fell for it. You had been so guarded and careful, you thought you had sniffed out any unsavory motives and you still were left feeling used and abandoned.

You blinked back tears before they could fall, hiding your defeat from no one in particular in the privacy of your hotel room. You wiped your eyes, chugged a glass of water, for some masochist reason put on your Enchante sweatshirt and got back into bed. It was still early, maybe you could sleep another few hours before you had to get ready to go to the airport. Maybe that sleep would help you forget and ease the overwhelming humiliation and melancholy that fell over you.

As you began to drift off, a noise at the door startled you awake. You realized it was the sound of the door key and grabbed sheets to cover yourself quickly, unsure what else to do.

“I’m not ready for housecleaning!” you yelled uncertainly, praying it was in fact hotel staff and not a burglar.

“Hey hey hey, it’s just me. Good morning to you too.” You slowly peaked your head from under the covers, shocked at the sound of the reassuring, achingly familiar Australian accent. The driver stood in the foyer, his hands overflowing with bags and precariously balancing two coffee cups. You sat up a bit more as you processed the sight in front of you.

“What-?” you trailed off. He seemed nervous, but a smile never left his face.

“I, uh, wanted to surprise you with breakfast. There’s a little place down the street. But you looked so peaceful sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you, so I grabbed your room key. But I realized when I got there I didn’t know what you liked, and my phone died, so I kind of got one of everything…I hope that’s ok. I didn’t mean to scare you –“

As he rambled, you had silently gotten out of bed to grab the cups from his hands, placing them on the table along with the insane amount of bags, one by one. With all obstacles removed, you enveloped your arms around his neck and stamped his lips with a kiss. He was surprised by the sudden gesture but returned it eagerly, his hands still familiarizing themselves with you. He blinked a few times when you pulled away.

“I promise I will get breakfast for you every day if you like it that much.” You laughed with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, and you looked away.

“I thought you left,” your small voice shrank in embarrassment that you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. You couldn’t bring yourself to explain further.

But you didn’t have to. He wrapped you in a bear hug crushing you into his chest, his lips nuzzled into the crown of your head, his body heat invigorating you.

“I’m sorry, I should have texted or let you know where I was.”

“No, it’s silly. I was being overdramatic.”

“It’s not silly. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“But what does that mean?” you asked in exasperation. He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief that you would even ask such a question.

“What do you want it to mean?” You bit your lip in frustration.

“Daniel, don’t be obtuse. In a couple of hours we’re getting on different planes to go to opposite sides of the world.”

“And?”

“We’re not going to see each other.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I know people with private jets.”

“I still have to work.”

“I’ll come to you.”

“My apartment is small.”

“I can pack light.”

“What if you meet someone else when we’re not together?” He let out an irritated sigh.

“I don’t want to meet anyone else.”

You were stumped. He could read the confused look on your face and gently grabbed the sides of your shoulders. “You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb sometimes.” You crossed your arms.

“Hey!”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe for some reason, but I want to give this a real shot. I want to take you on a proper date. See what things look like when I’m not paying you to spend time with me.”

You looked down, feeling a little guilty about how much you doubted him. You couldn’t help that you were risk averse by nature.

“Did you just… Socratic method me to get me to understand that you like me?”

“Did it work?”

“Let’s just say you have a bright future as a law school professor if this whole driving thing doesn’t work out.” You paused for a moment, still trying to wrap your head around everything. “So… you really want to give this a go?” He rolled his eyes.

“Is it really that hard to believe?”

“I mean – yeah, a little. The world that you operate in is just so much different than mine. Your world consists of beautiful people.”

“You’re beautiful,” he retorted. You blushed but didn’t let the comment throw you off your stride.

“You know what I mean. Your world is glamorous and luxurious. My world is average. It’s a lot of take-out, it’s late nights on the phone with Joe, it’s boring suits, it’s work - without the recognition and without the spotlight. You could have any actress or model or singer in the world and you pick me. Can you blame me for being skeptical?” His face fell slightly as he realized that you didn’t think your shine was bright enough for him. But it was quickly replaced with something mischievous.

“What are you talking about? You’re a singer,” he said matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes.

“You’ve unfortunately seen me do karaoke, we both know that’s a lie.”

“Your morning shower performances beg to differ.” He laughed at the terror that flashed before your eyes as you threw your hands over your mouth, but quickly reassured you. “I’ve listened to you every morning since we got here. It’s the best part of my day, until I see you.” He pried your hands from your face, holding them in his. “And the last thing you are, is average. Can we please just try?”

You bit your lip, unable to contain the blush spurred by his words of affirmation. The squeeze of his hands on yours caused the dormant butterflies in your stomach to flutter their delicate wings and rise to your chest. A comforting warmth enveloped you, it rose to your cheeks and the answer was there plain as day on your face for him and the world to see. No, it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Only if… you’ll do a duet with me.” After holding his breath for what seemed like eternity, his joy and happiness hanging in the balance waiting for your response, he broke into a toothy grin that used every dimple and laugh line on his face. Without skipping a beat, he threw you over his shoulder and made his way to the bathroom leaving a trail of your giggles in his wake.

“I’m ready for my audition.”

[erathene]

Sowing Seeds

Summary: Wound up by your mother’s incessant nagging, you reminisce over the ranger of the north you fell in love with. Aragorn helps in more ways than one.

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Aragorn x Female!Reader 

Warnings: This fic is rated mature. LOTS of Spice, sexual themes (flirting, touching, kissing, teasing). Mentions of pregnancy and conceiving a child. Mentions of sexual intercourse, but it is not explicitly described. 

AO3 Link: Sowing Seeds

Author's note: Thank you to @emmanuellececchi for being a wonderful Beta reader and taking time to provide feedback even when sick! You're the best 😘 Thank you also to @dancerinthestorm and @inkedmoth who cheered me on when I was documenting my creative process, you guys are awesome 🙂 This fic is also dedicated to anyone who has had the unsolicited question of “when are you having kids // when are you trying for baby #2”. Fertility and conceiving is a journey which looks different from person to person, and there are many versions of happiness that come with it. Enjoy ❤️

..........................

"My love?"

At the distant sound of your husband's voice, you glance up, the letter from your mother still clutched in your hand. You rise quickly, tucking the parchment back into its envelope and stuffing it hastily into a drawer of the writing desk.

"In here," you call back to him. Even after all these months of living in the royal quarters, at times they still feel enormous to you.

He rounds the door to the study and your eyes take in the full sight of him. He's sporting a crisp linen shirt and lightweight moss-green tunic, both of which are generously covered in dirt. His sleeves have been rolled up to the elbows, the dirt even more pronounced around his exposed forearms, down to his hands and fingertips. His breeches and boots fare no better, and there are particularly large patches of mud clinging to his kneecaps where he must have been kneeling in the fresh earth. There's also a slight sheen on his forehead which speaks of his toil.

He looks far more ranger than king today, more than you've seen in a long time. He looks... delightful.

"Been in the gardens again?" you muse, taking in his form with one eyebrow raised and a twitch at your mouth.

"Aye," he says, brushing one elbow where a patch of drying mud seems to bother him. "Our head gardener believes we will have the most spectacular blooms in the palace gardens ere the start of summer," he gushes passionately.

"I don't doubt it," you smirk, still looking him up and down, "with all the work you're putting in."

He flashes a quick smile in your direction. There he is. Your ranger. The dirt-ridden Dúnedain who was always traipsing from one corner of Middle Earth to another, ragged and rough-looking from the wilds and the woodlands, the scent of which lingered on every part of his being. You suddenly wished you were close enough to smell him, just as a flash of a distant memory crosses your mind; one of the two of you buried in each other's arms, his calloused hands running gently through your hair, your lips pressing against his, fully consuming him yet wanting more. The temporary burst of imagery in your mind is intense.

You blame your mother for this, her and her persistent letters which usually centre around the royal heirs that need to come forth sooner rather than later. She was quick to approve your match with long-lost-heir-to-the-throne-of-Gondor Aragorn, but much less approving of Strider and his ranger ways. Indeed, if he had stepped over her threshold in his current state, she would likely throw him out and tell him to go bathe in a horse trough before showing his face at her doorstep again.

He somehow seems to partly read your mind. "I'll go change into something more--"

"Don't," you interrupt him quickly. The last thing you want him to do is change.

You slowly cross the room to where he is standing with a slightly bewildered look on his face, the light chiffon of your dress trailing behind you across the carpets. It's a loose-fitting gown, one of the more casual garments from your wardrobe, the colours well-suited to the warming spring weather. With no royal engagements today, you had deliberately chosen it over the tighter, more formal frocks that now seemed to be overflowing from every armoire in your chambers.

What happened to the simple leggings and cotton blouses you used to wear? What was ever wrong with them?

"What troubles you?" Aragorn's voice is calm and quiet as you approach, despite the crease in his brow. Ever the doting husband, he instinctively knows that something has irked you. 

"Nothing of great significance... My mother and her nagging," you shrug shyly with a roll of your eyes.

"And what has she to say, pray tell?" He traces the backs of his knuckles along your upper arm, up to your shoulder and the strap of your dress, so gentle it barely touches your skin.

You look up into his deep, grey eyes. "Please, I do not want to think about my mother right now." Your voice is hovering somewhere between a whisper and a moan. He doesn't stop caressing your arm. "She's on about… that subject again."

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Has she rescinded her opinion of me? To be posing the question to you so openly and so often?"

You snicker at the thought. "I don't think she will ever move past the fact that her only daughter went chasing after a ranger of the north. She missed out on the opportunity to play matchmaker." Yes, your mother would have loved to have been the one to set you up with some petty lord with the promise of new trade links for your homeland and a sizable dowry for your family's coffers. 

Aragorn hummed to himself, his head tilting sideways as he considered this fact. "Is the King of Gondor not enough for her?" he says, stretching his arms wide in jest.

"Enough of that talk, Telcontar," you scoff, using his chosen house name against him. "You married a strong woman; unfortunately for you, she comes with an equally strong mother-in-law."

"Well," he breathes softly, wrapping his soiled hands around your own, "loathe as I am to do something to appease your mother, the idea of you, round and brimming with our child, does sound very appealing to me." He lifts your hands to his chest where your finely-crafted silver wedding band gleams in the bright sunlight. "A little Telcontari of our own," he murmurs, placing a kiss on your ring finger.

You cannot help your coy smile. "Only the one?"

His fingertips reach for a stray strand of your hair that dangles beside your cheek, and he carefully tucks it behind your ear. "However many you want, my love." His giant hand moves from your hair to your jawline, his thumb inching towards your mouth.

His words are deliberate and astute; many times you have mentioned your childhood spent amongst your large family, and there is little doubt he is not aware of your desire for a generous brood. Yet you cannot stop the flirtatious back talk that slips from your open mouth. "You may come to regret that," you say, before biting your lip and locking his gaze.

A smile quickens across his features. "I think I ought to be the judge of what I regret saying to my wife."

It almost sounds like a challenge.

Strong, muscular arms pull you in closer as he speaks, embracing you, his palms settling into the small of your back. He holds you regally, his touch firm yet gentle, as though you're the answer to every prayer he's ever spoken in tortured whispers to the divine. You are his queen, and he intends to treat you as such; he lays a tender, drawn-out kiss on your forehead where the Gondorian diadem would normally be resting on your brow. He is practically worshipping you.

Yes, it's good. But receiving the royal treatment is not on your agenda today. What you are looking for, what you need, is the ranger in him. You need Strider.

Your next move catches him somewhat off guard. You press your palms to his chest and push him backwards, driving him into the wall with a gentle thud. His eyes betray his curiosity, but he shouldn't be surprised; after all, it was he who trained you in hand-to-hand combat when you joined the northern rangers. You begin your assault, placing kisses along his collarbone and up his neck to where, eventually, you come to the skin beneath his ear where you know he is most sensitive. He confirms you have found his weakness with a low, gravelly moan that rumbles his throat. It gives you the confidence needed to push on, to be bolder. Your hands trail from his chest to the nape of his neck, up into his hair, your fingertips massaging his scalp before pulling his lengths taught. You smirk into his skin when he lets out a second moan.

You should have known better than to think your touch would disable him and this time, it's you who is caught off guard. He sweeps your legs out from under you and wraps them around his waist, spinning you around, lifting you up against the same wall he had his back to moments ago. The breath is driven out of your lungs as he pins you there. He gives you a look, his eyes holding a hunger like he's absolutely starved of you, and you know you're about to learn exactly what regret means.

His lips take to your mouth and he's a man on a mission; to satiate every whim, every desire, every need that you awoke within him and he will not allow himself to rest until he has achieved it. His kiss is wild, passionate, and his broad hands explore your body freely, taking in every contour and curve you have to offer him. You finally figure out how to draw breath again and you inhale his scent, the blissful smell of gardens and disturbed earth washing over you.

It's not hard for you to picture him the way you fell in love with him; a worn travelling cloak hanging from his well-built shoulders which also bear his pack, bow and bedroll, prepared and ready for whatever the world throws his way.

He breaks away momentarily, muttering something incomprehensible about how sweet you taste, before his lips meet your own once more. He consumes you as though you're the first proper meal he's had after weeks on the road. Your breath catches in your throat as he nips at your bottom lip in his frenzy, yet your reaction only encourages his mouth; further kisses are placed along your jawline, one after another like trailing footprints, inching their way to your neck, where his teeth sink into yet more of your flesh and begin to gently suck. He knows just as well as you do that it will leave a bruise. A claim to mark his territory. 

His hands return to roaming about your thighs, tugging at the fabric of your dress, searching for his prize. You know exactly what he wants. However, your full-length gown is awkwardly caught around your knees, the chiffon unwilling to stretch, blocking his access. His fingers switch to tugging at the fastening at the back of the dress, impatient and restless. 

Frustrating as it is to tell your husband to stop, your conscience knows you must. Breaking away from his touch, you hiss a command. "Not here, Aragorn.” You have been working hard to build a trusting relationship with your household staff in recent months, and goodness knows what would happen if one of them were to catch their king and queen in the act of procreation right here on the study floor. The poor elderly head housekeeper would likely faint with shock.

He tries to protest, the disappointment evident in his longing eyes, but you press your index finger to his lips.  "And not with those filthy hands either. Wash them first, then meet me in the bed chamber." You pause, taking a moment to lean in to whisper in his ear, "and there, you can remove whatever you want." Your seductive tone makes the prospect sound even more inviting to him than it already is.

Aragorn sighs, allowing a curse to slip through his lips. He releases your thighs and they slowly drag against his soiled breeches until your feet return to the floor. You pull away and turn towards your chambers, but not before taking a moment to look back at your husband; he's gaping at you like a fool, completely caught in your trance, so you intentionally allow the strap of your dress to fall from your shoulder. You know it's all he can do to keep his feet planted where he stands and not curse you again for being such a tease. As a final provocation, you run your tongue across your bottom lip before sauntering away, your hips deliberately swinging from side to side as he watches you leave. The palace gardens are not the only place Aragorn will be sowing his seeds today, it would seem. 

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

COD Sex Bot Au - General and Character Specific Facts

Requested: Yes. By uh…..pretty much everyone. SO many people begged for something and while this isn’t exactly a part 2, I hope it will help tide you all over til I can get that completed.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Child Abuse, Adult Abuse as well, Mention of Murder, Mention of Self-Destruction (Robot Suicide), Mentions of Knives, Mention of Blood, Spice, Probably very incorrect Spanish

A/N: So! A lot of people, along with requesting a part 2, have also been begging me for Price as well. I know I’ve only done the 4 characters for all of my Cod works so far but I do want to expand the character list! That being said, I’m just not entirely comfortable with writing them yet. I am looking more into Gaz, Price, and Roach specifically and I promise to let you guys know when I feel comfortable enough to write for them! But until then, please enjoy!

✨General✨

Their eyes get this kind of colored sheen to them sometimes. Different colors for different things.

Yellow is absorbing new information

Pink is the color during sexy times

Red is malfunctioning/in need of repairs (but can also be a sign of embarrassment or shyness)

Light blue is curiosity

White (still) is powered down

White (pulsing) is powering down

White (flickering) is low power

Grey is rebooting/charging

Black is enraged

Lilac is contentment

Plum is upset/hurt

All the boys come with their uniforms on but what’s underneath depends

For Ghost’s model, simple black briefs

For Soap’s model, silly patterned boxers (think hearts or something)

For König’s model, usually some fancy lace panties since he’s very popular amongst Doms who like that sort of thing

Alejandro’s model? Absolutely nothing

Ghost

Ghost’s model was MEANT to be a scary bad guy kind of deal, to be marketed towards fans of slashers and the like. But he…..didn’t end up being that way.

At least, not your Ghost. Many of the other Ghost models are that way, but not yours. For some reason.

Granted, that programming is definitely still in him, though not exactly in the way it was meant to be.

Instead of it being just for fun rough sexy times, it’s more…….actually will kill for you. And has, in fact, killed for you.

Something that he’s NOT supposed to be able to do.

“Gee, I wonder what happened to that Barista that insulted me the other day.”

“Gee, I wonder.” *cleaning a bloody combat knife in your sink*

Speaking of knives!!! Ghost’s model does come with a lot of fun knives! Granted, they’re dulled into being just (mostly) harmless kink knives but he made quick work of making them a lot more harmless by ordering a knife sharpener.

So uh, yeah. You have received not just a sex robot, but one that borders on Yandere and will probably self-destruct if you reject him.

Have fun with that!

Fun fact: YOUR Ghost actually used to be a child bot MANY years ago, bought by a man who only wanted to be able to legally abuse a child. So he was broke down and put back together so very many times. And when they recycled and reprogrammed his AI chip, the scarring from that was still imprinted into him.

Soap

While Soap’s model is marketed more towards romantic oriented people, he’s generally seen as a Jack of all trades.

Doms, subs, romantics, first timers, just about any kind of person. He’s good with all of them, though he thrives with Romantics since that is his programming.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

And also just because your Soap is so very lonely. He yearns to be loved by you, to melt under your affection.

He doesn’t want to be seen as just a sexual object, he wants to be yours. And you to be his.

König

Ah yes, the gentle giant that was supposed to be marketed more towards Subs but ended up being a bit….Soft.

None of the programmers can explain it but every model of him is just inexplicably shy and quiet, thriving in an environment where he has no control.

So now he’s more marketed towards doms. Usually soft doms.

They once tried to change his model to be smaller and more petite and people started BOYCOTTING.

It affected their sales so much that they very quickly changed him back.

People still seethe when they think about it.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Probably equal parts the most loved and most abused of the different models.

Just because of how quiet and meek his model is, how they almost never fight back when hurt.

Alejandro

Alejandro’s model is VERY popular among submissives so he’s programmed to be pretty dominant and also to have a caring nature.

Due to said caring nature, many mistake his model as good for beginners.

I can assure you, he is NOT.

So SO many of his models have been returned cause he’s brought them to tears from so much pleasure, absolutely overwhelming for any beginner.

“Cry for me, Amor. That’s it, just like that.”

His model is one of the only ones that isn’t returnable unless something is malfunctioning and even then, they’ll try just about anything to fix the model instead of just taking them back.

If you’re the type to forget meals and such (I’m not projecting, shut up) then he will literally drag you away from whatever you’re doing and make you eat.

Will set up a rewards system if you have trouble with personal upkeep as well, like household chores and stuff (again, not projecting).

How much pleasure you get throughout the day is all dependent on how well you follow the schedule he makes based on your personal life.

He can and will have you call him Papi, in and out of bed.

“Be a Good Little Cachorro and get on your knees for Papi.”

You only get called Amor when you’re good or when you’re upset. Anything else and it’s Cachorro (Puppy).

[toastylicious]

I need help for an oc-based zine!

Hello hello hello! Do you have original characters? Do you like art/writing? Well boy, do I have a zine for you!

I'm planning to make a zine called "Toaster oven". It'll focus on ocs and their worlds, and will be formatted like a gossip tabloid!

Here are the columns/parts/whatever that will be included (if enough people participate, of course.)

LANDLINE - An advice column.

JAWBREAKER - A gossip/journalism column.

DEAR DOVE - An interview column!

BREWER'S CHOICE - A cooking column. (Can include spells)

PENCILKILLER - Little tasks / comics / poems.

And fake in-character ads!

How you can help:

LANDLINE - Send me a dm, ask (preferred), or reply to this post with a question your oc would send into an advice column! Example question (yours can be longer, but id recommend keeping this format) : "Dear Landline. I am a multiversal traveller (M, 45+), and I've been travelling like this ever since I got separated from my (adopted) child (Agender, infinitely old????). Recently, I have been dealing with my boss's bullshit, some random guy that looks like the guy that attempted to capture my child and grandchild, and a horrible family reunion. Which alcoholic beverages would you recommend for my situation? Preferably ones that can be consumed by machines. Many thanks." -@toastylicious

(obviously, replace the text within the "" with your own and the @ with your own) THERE WILL BE 3 LANDLINE PARTICAPANTS CHOSEN (2/3 slots filled)

JAWBREAKER - Send me a dm or an ask or reply to this post with a tabloid-style "article" about your oc/an event that happened to them. 500 word minimum, 1500 word maximum. BONUSSS: you can add 1-3 images of your oc that will be placed with the text. (Image not required, preferred) THERE WILL BE 3 JAWBREAKER PARTICAPANTS CHOSEN (1/3 slots filled)

DEAR DOVE - Reply to this post with your oc and some info about them. If you're chosen, I'll dm you questions for your characters and you dm me answers! THERE WILL BE ONE DEAR DOVE PARTICAPANT CHOSEN (1/1 slots filled)

BREWER'S CHOICE - Send me a dm or an ask or reply to this post with a recipe that your oc would use. It can be a recipe for a meal, a spell or a potion. BONUSSS: You can add an image (preferably drawing) of the meal/spell/potion your oc would make. For example, if you send in a recipe for enchanted croutons that electrocute you if you eat them, draw someone getting electrocuted by the croutons! (Image not required, preferred) THERE WILL BE 3 BREWER'S CHOICE PARTICAPANTS CHOSEN (1/3 slots filled)

PENCILKILLER - Send me a dm or an ask or reply to this post with a small 1-2 panel comic, a little task the reader could do (Drink water, do some streches, idk!), or a poem!

THERE WILL BE 4 PENCILKILLER PARTICAPANTS CHOSEN (1/4 slots filled)

ADS - Send me a dm or an ask or reply to this post with a drawn "ad". Obviously, these aren't actual ads. But they can be your oc trying to sell something! A witch selling her spice brew? A necromancer selling his dead-2-life services? A robot looking to buy parts? The options are endlessssss!

THE NUMBER OF ADS IS UNDECIDED (0/? slots filled)

ALL PARTICAPANTS WILL BE CREDITED, HOWEVER I CANNOT PROMISE CONPENSATION. THE FINISHED ZINE (If finished) WILL BE FREE.

DEADLINE: 01 / 01 / 2025 (Deadline is flexible, can change.) As always, reblogs and sharing appreciated :) Please help me spread this stupid idea and make it into a reality! WE NOW HAVE AN OFFICIAL DISCORD!

[girlbossagenda]

HOW TO ROMANTICIZE YOUR LIFE PT.2

Here's the highly requested come backk, how to romanticize your lifeee!! Are you getting tired of the everyday life? Grab your friend, your cat and favorite snacks, it's time to add spice to your bland life!

୨୧Create a band!୨୧

Everyone wanted to be part of those cool 2000s band, like Roderick Humphrey from diaries of a Wimpy kid, so why not making friends, or become friend with the band kids!

୨୧Make your own site/blog୨୧

This is especially for my 2014 Tumblr coded girlies and the girlies that wanted to be a fashion magazine author, you just need to decide what you want to talk about! Do you want a gossip tea page? Do you want a spotted? Or a self improvement one? You decide!

୨୧Write poetry/songs୨୧

This is for my romantics out there! If you can, go in nature and write poetries or songs take a moments to yourself and express not only your feelings but also your creativity on paper throught your words.

୨୧Start a collection୨୧

Summer it's the best season to start collecting stuff, seashells, rocks, crystals, stamps, swinsuits,stickers,albums,dolls,manga,cards etc..if you ever get bored of your collection you can sell it or use it for DIYs

୨୧Trow a slumberparty/sleepover୨୧

I never went to a slumberparty, but they seem so much fun! staying awake with your friends till the first sunlights, stargazing, gossiping and crazy storytimes! They don't even have to be your friends, they can be your cousins or your siblings!

୨୧Make a mixtape୨୧

This is so old school, but it seems like a fun way to pass time, it's like making a playlist just phisycally! You can choose if you want to do it on a cd or an actual tape.

Here's the second part for my "how to romanticize your life"!! If you want you can find the first part here , as summer it's coming I'm gonna try to post more guides and answer my inbox!, stay tuned cause I'll make sure to make the most about this time and to give you more fun props! xoxo gorgeous

-𝓐