#please enjoy these two basking in the warm sun

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Days in The Sun <3

[helen-with-an-a]

Can you please write something with Aitana based on the video of her saying “fan number one?” and “you work or not work?”

Hiiii - so I used the dialogue in a way that I don't think I've seen other people use - I didn't want to make it too samey. This is inspired by how hot it was here for a little bit during the summer. Also, sidenote - next weeks post will be out on the Saturday rather than the Friday because of the football/international break. I hope you enjoy <3<3<3

Heat

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Description: The heat is getting to everyone in Barcelona

Word Count: 3.5k

One thing you loved about Barcelona was the heat. Coming from England, sunshine was a rarity, and sunshine that was actually warm was a precious commodity that you cherished. You could often be found dozing away in the sunlight, curled up like a cat absorbing the golden rays as you napped your free hours away. The warmth soaked into your skin, loosening the knots of tension that had become second nature in the grey, drizzly days back home. It was as if the sun in Barcelona had a different quality, something richer, more generous, wrapping you in a golden embrace that you had never known in England.

It was something you and your girlfriend had in common. Aitana was as much a sunworshipper as you were, perhaps even more so. Raised in the heart of Catalonia, she had grown up with the sun as a constant companion, and she revelled in its warmth with a kind of effortless grace that you admired. While you had learned to cherish the sun’s rare appearances in your life, for Aitana, it was a way of life. She would often tease you about how you could fall asleep anywhere as long as the sun was shining, but the truth was, she was no different.

The two of you had a ritual – every off-day, when you finally had time to relish in the sunshine to your heart’s content, you would pack a small bag with some snacks, a blanket, and a book or two, and head out to one of Barcelona’s many parks. Sometimes it was the sprawling greenery of Parc de la Ciutadella, with its majestic fountain and shaded pathways. Other times, you preferred the more secluded spots, like the hidden corners of Montjuïc, where the trees provided just enough shade to keep the heat bearable, but still allowed the sunlight to filter through.

You’d find a spot, lay down the blanket, and spend hours just basking in the warmth. Aitana would stretch out beside you, her hand always finding yours as you both soaked in the sun. There was something so simple, so pure, about those moments. The world would fade away, and it would be just the two of you, cocooned in a bubble of warmth and contentment. Sometimes you’d talk, sharing dreams and stories, your voices mingling with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Other times, you’d fall into a comfortable silence, letting the sun do all the talking.

But one thing you hated about Barcelona was also the heat. You weren’t used to it. The relentless sun that you had once welcomed with open arms quickly became an overbearing force, pressing down on you with an intensity that made you feel like you were perpetually walking through a furnace. You found yourself sticky, sweaty, and hot far too often for your liking. The sweat would bead on your forehead, trickle down your back, and make your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin. You felt like you couldn’t breathe in the heat, the suffocating temperatures wrapping around you like an unwanted blanket.

This was where you and Aitana differed. She relished in the heat. The intensity that overwhelmed you seemed to invigorate her. Where you saw oppressive warmth, she saw life brimming with energy. Aitana would thrive under the sun’s unyielding rays, her skin glowing, her movements light and carefree. She seemed to draw strength from the very heat that left you seeking refuge.

On those days when the sun blazed down mercilessly, you’d find her with an easy smile on her face, wandering the streets of the city as if the heat were a friend she was catching up with after a long absence. While you sought anywhere with cooler air, she would coax you back into the light, playfully insisting that a little more sun wouldn’t do you any harm. Sometimes, she’d lead you to the beach, where she would dive into the cool Mediterranean waters with a laugh, emerging refreshed and radiant. You’d follow, grateful for the temporary relief, but always aware that as soon as you left the water, the heat would be waiting for you again.

Yet, despite the discomfort, there was something about the way Aitana embraced the heat that made it bearable for you, even on the worst days. Her joy was infectious, her love for the sun a reminder of why you had fallen in love with Barcelona in the first place. She had a way of making you forget the sweat trickling down your back, or the way your clothes clung to your skin. Instead, she made you focus on the beauty around you – the vibrant colours of the city, the scent of blooming flowers, the laughter of children playing in the fountains.

Barça knew all about your conundrum surrounding the heat. It was a running joke among your teammates, how the sunlight and heat seemed to be locked in an eternal duel, yet somehow always managed to work together to make your life both blissful and unbearable. Sunlight often battled with the heat, but they were a bonded pair—you couldn’t have one without the other, much like they would find you trailing close behind Aitana as she traipsed around the city. The team would rib you about it in the locker room, laughing as they imagined you wilting under the sun's rays, while Aitana, always vibrant, led the way through the bustling streets of Barcelona.

It had become something of a ritual for the team to watch you struggle with the heat during training sessions. The mid-afternoon sun would hang high in the sky, relentless and unforgiving, as you ran drills on the pitch. While your teammates seemed to have adjusted to the searing temperatures, you were still caught in a love-hate relationship with the heat. You’d catch them grinning as you wiped the sweat from your brow, the back of your shirt clinging to your skin, while they effortlessly powered through the drills.

This wasn’t usually a problem—the gym was air-conditioned to a frigid temperature, offering a welcome reprieve from the sweltering outdoors. The cool blast of air that greeted you as you stepped inside was a small but cherished comfort. The staff, always attentive, kept extra ice packs and cold towels on hand, ready to pass them your way during particularly grueling sessions. They had come to expect your need for these little luxuries, and you had become something of a connoisseur of the best ways to beat the heat.

You were usually the first to dive into the ice baths, even when it wasn’t on your designated recovery schedule. The shock of the cold water was intense, but it was also the quickest way to bring your body temperature down from the brink of boiling over. You’d sink into the icy depths with a sigh of relief, feeling the cold seep into your muscles, soothing the burn from hours spent under the relentless sun. The other players would laugh and shake their heads, knowing you’d be there long before any of them even considered it.

Yet, despite all the precautions, the heat had a way of creeping back into your bones the moment you stepped outside. The contrast between the chill of the gym and the furnace waiting outside always caught you off guard, no matter how many times you experienced it. It was as if the sun, sensing your brief escape, redoubled its efforts to remind you who was in charge. The walk from the training facility back to your car felt like a marathon, the heat radiating up from the pavement, wrapping around you like an oppressive cloak.

Your teammates often teased you about this too, their voices carrying over the sound of cleats on concrete as they watched you dart from one patch of shade to the next. “Careful, chica, you might melt before you get to the car!” they’d joke, their laughter ringing out in the sun-drenched parking lot. But it was all in good fun, and you’d laugh along with them, shaking your head as you fumbled with your keys, already looking forward to the sanctuary of the air-conditioned interior.

While the heat was your enemy, you knew how to combat it. You had your routines, your strategies, your little comforts that made the relentless sun bearable. Until the day the air-con broke.

It had been on its last legs for a while now, the fan making a strange clanking noise that echoed through the gym like a ticking time bomb. You and your teammates had joked about it, but there was an unspoken understanding that the day it finally gave out would be a disaster. The unit had a habit of cutting out at random intervals, plunging the gym into a suffocating stillness until someone managed to coax it back to life with a few well-placed taps. But this time, it was different.

It was a scorching afternoon, the kind where the heat seemed to seep into everything, turning the city into an oven. The air outside shimmered with intensity, and stepping into the gym usually felt like a sweet relief. But not today. The moment you pushed open the door, you were hit by a wall of stifling air, thick and heavy, clinging to your skin like a wet blanket. The usual blast of cool air was conspicuously absent, and instead, the gym felt like an extension of the inferno outside.

You exchanged a glance with Aitana, the dread setting in as the reality of the situation sunk in. The air-con was dead – really dead this time. The fan was silent, the strange clanking noise gone, but not in the way you’d hoped. There was no more coaxing it back to life. The temperature inside the gym was already climbing, the walls seeming to radiate heat that had nowhere to escape.

“Oh, amor meu,” Aitana sighed, already dreading the moans that would be coming her way throughout the session. She looked at you wearily as your studied the machine forlornly.

“Maybe … maybe someone can fix it?” you looked up at her hopefully, eyes pleading innocently.

“I’m sure they’ll get a maintenance guy in,” she smiled at you. Aitana's smile was both reassuring and sympathetic, but you could see the glint of amusement in her eyes. She knew exactly how much you dreaded the heat, especially in a place where you had come to rely on the cool, controlled environment of the gym. Still, she tried to offer some comfort, even as the oppressive warmth started to settle around you both like an unwelcome blanket. “They’ll have someone here in no time,” she added, her tone light, though the sweat already beading on her forehead betrayed the discomfort you were both feeling. “Until then, we’ll just have to power through, won’t we?”

You nodded, trying to muster up the same optimism, but the thought of spending the next couple of hours in a gym with no air-con made you want to run back to the car and crank up the AC instead. Aitana, always the more resilient of the two of you when it came to the heat, took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to tough it out.

“Come on,” she said, leading the way to the changing rooms. “We’ll get through this together.”

You did not get through it together. You struggled limply through your workouts - refusing to do the optional extra reps and keeping the weights light. As you looked around the room, it seemed like you were the only one grappling with the oppressive heat.

The native Spanish players, their bodies accustomed to the relentless Barcelona sun, appeared to breeze through their routines. Alexia and Mapí chatted amiably through their sets, the heat barely registering on their relaxed faces. Irene and Marta, both seasoned in navigating the city's sweltering conditions, moved with their usual ease, seemingly unaffected as the temperature in the gym climbed higher. Cata, Pina, Patri, and Vicky handled the heat with a nonchalant grace. Even the Scandinavian players, usually the first to wilt under the sun, seemed to be faring better. Ingrid had her hair neatly tied up in a bun, but otherwise, the heat seemed to have minimal impact on her or her teammates.

Frido and Esmee were sharing jokes, their laughter ringing out above the hum of the equipment. Caro, in her typical fashion, was methodically stacking more and more weights onto her machines, her focus unwavering despite the stifling conditions.

It was then that you noticed Keira. She was the only one who seemed to be struggling as visibly as you were. Maybe it was because you both shared an English background, and despite years on the team, you were still not fully acclimated to the heat. Keira, with her freckled skin and usually upbeat demeanour, looked as if she was fighting a losing battle against the oppressive warmth. Her movements were slower, her breaths more laboured, and her usual efficiency in the gym was replaced by a noticeable struggle.

You caught her eye across the room, and she gave you a small, weary smile – a silent acknowledgment of your shared plight. There was something comforting in seeing someone else feeling as drained and overheated as you were. It was a rare moment of camaraderie amidst the collective struggle.

Aitana had left your side a while ago, a subtle sign she was over your complaints about the heat. You felt a little put out by it, but you understood. You knew you could grumble until the cows came home if it felt justified, and though her patience had worn thin, you couldn’t blame her for needing a break from the relentless whining.

You watched as she rejoined the rest of the team, seamlessly slipping back into the rhythm of the workout as if the heat was a minor inconvenience rather than the oppressive force it felt like to you. Her movements were fluid, and her energy seemed unshaken by the sweltering conditions that had left you feeling utterly drained.

As she chatted with her teammates, her laughter cut through the dense air, a reminder of how effortlessly some seemed to adapt. You took a moment to let your frustration settle. Deep down, you knew you were being unreasonable – Aitana had been more than supportive, and her patience had to be running thin after weeks of listening to you moan about the heat.

With a sigh, you decided to focus on finishing your workout. You adjusted your weights and forced yourself to push through the remaining sets. Each rep felt like a small victory against the heat’s oppressive grip. Even if you couldn’t match the others in performance, you could at least maintain your commitment.

By the end of the session, you were thoroughly exhausted, but you felt a slight sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t about setting records or impressing anyone; it was about getting through it, even when it felt nearly impossible.

Your self-imposed silence meant you had finished your workout a lot earlier than the others. You flopped onto the floor, letting the coolness of the mat seep into your skin. The contrast between the refreshing chill of the floor and the relentless heat you’d been battling was a welcome relief, even if it was fleeting.

As you lay there, catching your breath and trying to cool down, you watched the remaining teammates still at work. Their movements were fluid, a testament to their adaptation to the heat, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy mixed with admiration. The intensity of their focus and the ease with which they handled the oppressive warmth was something you hoped to emulate someday.

Minutes ticked by as you lay there, taking in the quiet hum of the gym’s remaining equipment. The distant sounds of grunts and the rhythmic thud of weights being lifted became a soothing backdrop to your respite. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a few moments of stillness and gratitude for the rare, cool touch of the mat beneath you. You let your mind drift away to icy places; Antarctica and the penguins, the walk-in freezer in the physio rooms, England in the winter.

Someone cleared their throat above you. You cracked one eye open to see Aitana standing with her arms crossed, a scowl gracing her usually smiling features.

“You work or not work?” she asked, unimpressed at your supposed slacking.

“I work, thank you very much, Tana. I’ve just finished,” you said offended at her implications. You sat up, matching her scowl and raising and eyebrow at her. “Just ‘cos I’m not used to the heat doesn’t mean that I’ll slack off.”

Aitana’s eyes softened just a touch, though she kept her arms crossed, her posture still radiating a mix of concern and frustration. “I didn’t mean to suggest you were slacking off. It’s just… you looked like you were resting more than working. And you know how important it is to keep up the intensity, especially when we’re all pushing hard.”

“Yeah, I do know that Aitana. It’s all anyone ever reminds me off whenever I take an extra water break or need a sit down because I think I’m going to faint in the heat.” You huffed, standing up and snatching your water bottle from the floor. “I’ll see you at home.” You snapped as you walked out of the gym.

You knew you were just angry because of the heat. It had a way of getting to you. Aitana was a cuddler, much like you were, but in the heat of the summer, you couldn’t stand to be near her, much less sleeping wrapped around each other like you usually did. It resulted in a sleep-deprived, touch-starved you trying to go about their normal day and push themselves further with the increased intensity of the season.

As you walked out of the gym, the late afternoon sun blazed down with an intensity that only made your frustration worse. Each step felt like wading through a hot, sticky swamp, and the city’s noise blended with the oppressive heat, making it hard to think straight. You tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that the anger you felt was partly a result of the sweltering weather and not just Aitana’s well-meaning but poorly timed comment.

Once you reached your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and slumped onto the couch. The coolness of the indoor air was a brief but welcome respite from the heat outside, though it wasn’t enough to fully ease the agitation that had built up inside you. The usual comfort of being home felt diminished by the weight of the day’s frustrations.

You tried to calm yourself by closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, reminding yourself that Aitana’s intentions were good. She was trying to help, but the heat had made everything seem more intense, including the way you reacted to her. You knew that the combination of exhaustion, heat, and the pressure to keep up was making you more irritable than usual.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew, you were being woken up by a blast of icy air. You jolted slightly, not used to the coolness on your skin. For a moment, you were disoriented, blinking at the sudden chill that seemed to sweep over you.

As your senses returned, you saw Aitana standing beside you, holding a small handheld fan in her hands and adjusting the settings with a satisfied smile. The cool air that had stirred you was now filling the room, making the previously stifling atmosphere feel refreshingly crisp.

“Bona tarda, amor meu,” Aitana said softly, her tone laced with affection.

“Hi, Tana,” you smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you that was as comforting as the cool breeze.

“I thought you might appreciate a little cool relief after the heat of the day.” You sighed, relief flooding your body as you felt yourself cool down.

“Thank you, baby,” you said, shifting to sit up and lean against her. You didn’t recognise the fan – small, white, with red and blue stripes clearly hand-coloured, and a large number 1 printed on the side.

“Fan number one?” you guessed, your lips curving into a playful smile.

“Exactly!” Aitana laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And fan number two.” She reached behind her and produced an identical fan, its stripes and number 2 matching the first one perfectly.

Aitana grinned and settled beside you, aiming one of the small devices in her direction. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” you said quietly, not wanting to break the peace.

“And I’m sorry I implied you were slacking.” Aitana’s smile softened as she reached out and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “We both let the heat get to us. It’s been a tough few days, and I guess we both needed to cool off a bit, in more ways than one.

“I love you, Tana.” You sighed, feeling your eyes slip shut.

“T'estimo, amor meu.” You felt Aitana place a feather light kiss to your hair.

[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Seaside Sparks

Hii, I hope you enjoy this summer romance with Lando :) I think he deserves a happy ending for this last race.

"Not again," you complained in your head as the fourth volleyball fell next to you and your friends. It was a hot summer day, and your friends had decided that the best way to spend it was at the beach. Everything was perfect: no clouds, no wind, the sea was calm. Everything was perfect, except for a group of boys whose ball kept annoying you each time they threw it at you.

"Ugh, are they incapable of playing with the ball inside the volleyball court?" one of your friends complained.

"I'll go give it back this time and ask them to try to avoid us," you said, trying to maintain the peace.

However, the ball soon left your thoughts when you saw the culprit of all the attacks; tall and handsome as hell, with curls that made you want to touch his hair and the most addicting eyes you've ever seen.

"Thanks for bringing the ball back," the boy said as he took you in, leaving him breathless. "I'm sorry for annoying you. I guess volleyball is not our thing. I'm Lando, by the way," he explained as he offered his hand.

"I'm Y/N, and don't worry about it. Just try to hit the ball away from us, or my friend will have a less friendly chat with you," you said, trying to lighten up the situation.

A comfortable silence settled between you two as you gazed at each other, only to be broken by a shout from one of his friends. "Coming! Do you wanna play with us by any chance? We are missing a player," Lando asked, wanting to spend more time with you.

"Me?" you asked, shocked. "Um, sure," you accepted, going with the flow.

You ended up having a lot of fun with Lando and his friends, and you managed to avoid the ball going elsewhere. As the sun set and everyone started leaving the beach, you and Lando tried to avoid leaving each other since you both seemed to have a connection like magnets.

"Do you want to go for ice cream? I know a place," Lando asked nervously.

"Sure," you answered, trying to hide a smile that was threatening to burst from your face.

You wondered what you were doing. You were going on a date, if you could call it that, with a stranger named Lando. You were not a spontaneous girl, but something about him made you want to get to know him, his magnetic aura drawing you in.

As you both approached the ice cream parlor, your hands brushed against each other, and slowly interlaced as blush covered both of your faces.

While you waited in line, you got to know each other, and before you knew it, it was your turn. "I'll have a vanilla ice cream, and she…" Lando started.

"Chocolate ice cream, please," you finished.

As Lando paid, insisting it was his treat, you both settled on a bench overlooking the ocean, the sky painted in vibrant hues of pink and orange by the setting sun. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the serene silence between you.

Lando turned to you, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the sunset. "Y/N, I know we’ve only just met, but tonight has been incredible. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this free, without the weight of expectations or the pressure of the world on my shoulders. Spending time with you feels so natural, like we’ve known each other forever."

He paused, searching for the right words, his gaze never leaving yours. "I can’t quite put it into words, but there's this connection between us that I’ve never felt before. It’s like you understand me in a way no one else does. I’d really love to see you again, maybe go on an actual date, if you’d be up for it."

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his sincere confession. "Lando, I feel it too. Today has been magical, and I haven’t felt this alive in a long time. I’d love to go on a date with you."

Lando's face lit up with a genuine smile, and he gently took your hand in his, the touch sending a warm thrill through you. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you both sat there, basking in the new and exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

The silence was broken by your giggles. "Wait, Lando, you have some ice cream on your face," you said as you tried to wipe it off. As your face neared his, your attempts were stopped by his lips crashing into yours in a sweet kiss. It might have been the first, but it surely wouldn't be the last.

The kiss lingered, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of vanilla and chocolate mingling with the saltiness of the sea air. His hand moved to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss, making your heart race. You felt a mix of exhilaration and calm, as if everything in the universe had aligned perfectly in that moment.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other, you both laughed softly, the world around you fading into a blur. "So, about that actual date," Lando said, his voice low and filled with promise. "How about tomorrow? Same time, same place?"

You nodded, your eyes sparkling with excitement. "I’d love that, Lando."

As you walked back to your friends, hand in hand, the future seemed bright and full of endless possibilities. With Lando by your side, you felt like you were ready for any adventure that came your way.

[antidesire]

12:59 antidesire

not another vendetta/id!leon post.. wuh oh. thank you for 500 followers ♡

f!reader x dbf!leon, 18+ only. reader wears a bikini, a skirt and some makeup, alcohol consumption, reader is 21+, leon is pushing 40. size kink!!, praise, leon calls reader good girl, baby girl, little one, small, reader calls leon daddy like a couple times, reader is very eager to please, a lot of dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie. this is purely fictional always use protection and practice safe sex. 4.5k+ of filfth, probably more rushed and messy than it should be not sure how i feel about it, i apologise.

leon s. kennedy,

you only knew of the older man from your father, the two had met during a pub crawl one night, and your father was quite the talker, giving him the rundown on all the best liquors, telling him all kinds of crazy stories about his life (nothing compared to mr. kennedy) and all the trouble he got in to in his younger days, so the two hit it off like a house on fire and suddenly leon kennedy was a part of your father's friend group despite being younger compared to your father, he seemed to relate a lot to him (his entire tab being paid for by his new friend probably helped too).

you were used to it, how sociable your father was, he always made time to enjoy his weekends, whether it be out on the town or inside, and that day was scorching hot so he had decided a garden party was the only option, it seemed silly not to what with the pool in the back yard and a barbeque grill.

with a group message to all his and your mother's friends, the plans were set.

you wouldn't say you were being promiscuous or inappropriate- not on purpose, surely never. it just so happened that your favourite bikini was on the skimpier side, a little triangular bra and thong, and in a colour that complimented your skin strikingly well, some heart sunglasses for some contrast, cute- that's what you'd call it, cute.

did your mom's friends approve? absolutely not, whispering their outrage and shock under their breaths, sending glares over to their husbands, it did make you laugh.

your mom might've cared, and your dad as well- too bad they were already more than tipsy by the time their guests arrived.

the water felt so warm thanks to the sun beaming down on the garden, with your butt perched on the edge of the pool you dangled your legs inside the cool water as you leaned back on your palms, basking in the rays.

"leon!" you heard your father call out in excitement and your head whipped around, you'd never heard of a leon before. "it's so good to see you man, how have you been?"

leon was gorgeous, and that was to put things modestly. he didn't look as old as your other father's friends and good lord he was a hundred times sexier than any of them.

his hair was dark, not too long, but you noticed one side swept over his eye. he had partial stubble along his chin and upper lip, and his dark locks contrasted with his icy blue eyes.

suddenly you were the one ogling, sunglasses tipped down the length of your nose, determined to know more about this leon.

sloshing of the water turned your dad’s attention back to you, encouraging you over to meet his friend, “this is my daughter,” your dad told leon your name before introducing him to you.

“it’s nice to meet you leon.” you smiled, holding out your hand politely to which he shook and you could’ve sworn you saw a smile tugging at his lips.

“it’s nice to meet you too.” he nodded, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes swiftly grazed over your body before distracting himself with the bottle in his hands, “i come bearing gifts.”

you watched from afar when your mother called you into the kitchen to aid her in preparing some food that couldn’t be handled on the grill your father was cooking in, “mama, does leon have a wife?” you blurted out the question before you could even swish it around in your head a little longer.

“hmm, I don’t think so, why’s that?” she laughed, tossing some salad and dressing in a bowl.

“m’ just wondering, dad’s other friends all do.” you hummed, shrugging to make it seem less suspicious.

the food went down well, even better with the delicious cocktails you and your mom whipped together earlier, a delicious buzz whirling throughout your body that had you up and moving towards the kitchen to grab another one.

“you got a spare glass? smashed mine.” you heard a voice call out, jolting in surprise, head bumping the cabinet above you,

“shit.” you cursed under your breath, hand flying up to rub the top of your head, glancing back to see it was the older man you had your eyes on earlier.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” he laughed, footsteps coming closer, “you alright?” a cold but firm grasp was suddenly at your waist, an excuse to lean in and observe the ‘damage’.

oh god, you could smell his cologne, musky and expensive, “i’m good, you didn’t scare me- well, you did a little, but it’s fine.” wow, real smooth.

you could almost feel the vibrations in his chest when he chuckled, you had to lean back against the counter to distance the two of you, your face furrowing in confusion when he only got closer, hand reaching up above your head, “they up here?” he gestured towards the cabinet above your head.

was he toying with you right now?

“t-they’re all the way at the back, we used most of em’ already.” you mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear, “let me check.” you spoke up before twirling yourself around, your hands pushing yourself upwards to go on your tippy toes so you could reach the glass at the back.

you purposefully shoved your ass back against him, back arched to give him a nice view of the expanse of your bare back, small strings of your bikini high on your hips, you were just generous like that. you feigned innocence as you felt around for a few more seconds, “ah-ha!” you cooed, plucking the glass down and turning yourself back to face him, “here you are.” you smiled, tapping the rim of the glass against his chest as his eyes hung a little lower on your body.

“thank you, sweetheart.” his fingertips grazed yours before taking the glass from you, your eyes dashing down to his hand, noticing blood.

“you cut yourself.” you jut your bottom lip out into a pout, extending your arm to grab his wrist and pull him over to the bathroom, glass in his hand long forgotten about.

"it's just from where the glass smashed, it's not a big deal." he was trying to brush it off but you were already grabbing the first aid kit before he could finish his sentence.

"let me look at it under the light." you encouraged him closer as you put yourself up until you were sat on the sink, first aid kit on your lap.

the light from the cabinet above the sink did make it easier to see the cut, it also made it easier to notice how slender his fingers were, veins running all the way up his bulky arms, disappearing under his black compression shirt he wore, "you're not warm like that by the way?" you glanced up from his hand, referring to his shirt, "you can join me in the pool after." you cooed, voice overly sweet as you dabbed some disinfectant on his cut, grabbing a bandaid next.

leon shook his head, a small chuckle leaving his lips, "i'm not sure your parents would appreciate that." oh, were you too obvious? oops.

your eyes rolled at that, legs swaying in the air back and forth as the rip of the paper from the bandaid could be heard in the silence, your nimble fingers pushing the dressing around the cut securely before giving his hand a squeeze to gesture that you were done.

a small sigh escaped your lips as your head leaned back against the cabinet, still perched pretty on top of the sink, your thighs looked plush and soft like this and the way the glitter from your lipgloss sparkled under the light was like its own little spell, a cautious one.

but you, you threw all caution to the wind now he voiced acknowledgment about your little games, your eyes dragged shamelessly over him, twiddling the string of your bikini panties between your fingers, "d'you not wanna touch me?" you spoke quietly.

you heard leon exhale before you felt his fingertips at your lower thighs, pushing them open so he could step closer, “you’re not playing fair.” his head tilted, fingers pinching at the soft flesh of your thighs, “you do this with all your dad’s friends, huh?”

you hummed out, your hand placing on top of his and pushing it even higher up your thigh, “i’m not normally like this, you’re special.” you cooed out, leaning in towards his ears, “i pinky promise.”

you yelped when his fingers pulled the elastic of your panties back until it snapped back against your skin, “aah.” you shivered, legs raising to clench either side of his hips.

"i won't tell anyone." you whined, rubbing your thighs against him to distract the lingering stinging sensation.

the way you sweetened your voice and fluttered your eyelashes had him reeling closer, so close you could feel his hot breath at your neck, smell the scent of sweat on him from the hot scorching day.

your fingers trailed upwards, pushing at his shirt until he grasped firmly at your wrists, shoving them out of the way, “if i got you here, i wanna do things my way.” he spoke directly, eyebrow raised as he looked for what seemed like your confirmation, to which you gave him a prompt nod, perhaps a little eagerly.

“good girl.” two simple words and your stomach was doing somersaults, all the blood rushing straight to your cheeks. it sounded like pure honey falling from his lips, sweeter than the cocktails you had previously enjoyed.

leon didn’t miss the way the little pet name clearly had you dazed either, he was quite attentive, fingers grazing back and forth over the goosebumps on your thigh whilst the other was placed at your chin, thumb rubbing along your jaw, "you're such a pretty little thing, your old man told me he had a beautiful, smart daughter at home.. i should've believed him more, i shouldn't have come." he snickered, shaking his head.

"it's too late for that now." you huffed, knocking your head to his and catching his lips until they meshed with yours, feeling his stubble graze your skin, igniting pulses of desire straight between your legs.

he didn't bite, you only felt him relax a little into the kiss before pushing himself away with an expression you couldn't read on his face, "you're making it hard to think straight."

you laughed at that, "don't think at all, that's what i like to do." you winked, "just do what feels good." you giggled and leon could feel his heart skip a beat, you were so damn cute.

"fuck.." he threw his head back, chuckling at the situation he found himself in. when his attention was back on you he noticed your fingers between your legs, rubbing your fingers against your clothed pussy.

"mh-mh," he shook his head, swatting away your hand, "let me take care of you, sweetheart." he breathed out, fingers tucking under your panties, dragging them all the way down before flinging them somewhere on the floor, long forgotten about along with his sense of morals.

you whimpered at the feeling of cold porcelain on your bare skin, feeling your pussy brush against it when he pushed your thighs open, "s-shit.." you whimpered.

you almost forgot to keep breathing when you watched him kneel down, taking a position in between your legs, perching them both over his shoulders, fingertips squeezing and rubbing the outside of your thighs, "you don't mind if i'm a little selfish and have a taste first, yeah baby?" he blinked up at you and if the feeling of your thighs already squeezing around his head wasn't enough, maybe the audible moan followed up by a mantra of "yes, yes, yes" was enough.

"you're so cute, you get excited about the littlest things." he observed, leaning in to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, stubble scraping along your skin.

"n-no i don't." you tried to deny out of embarrassment, only getting a chuckle of disbelief in response, knowing your body's reactions spoke for itself.

he breathed you in, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dashed out to lick upwards to your clit, the tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive little nub which had your finger flying in his hair, "ohh, my god.." you mewled, hips already pushing up towards his face for more which he was happy to oblige.

flattening his tongue allowed you to feel him everywhere, every little inch of your cunt being showered with attention, your legs kicking against his upper back until he pulled back, allowing you a second to breathe though he didn't waste it, spitting on your clit and letting the saliva run down your pussy just so he could tongue fuck it inside you.

he had a firm grasp on your thighs now, tongue pressing past your puffy lips and inside you, pushing his tongue further and further, breathing you in until the tip of his nose pushed deliciously against your clit, grinding against it for further friction, "pleasuhh-nghnn," you brokenly moaned, legs trembling either side of him, but he kept going and it was almost embarrassing how sloppy he sounded, eating you out like he was starved, only pulling back when he wanted to pay attention to your poor puffy clit, tongue flicking and prodding before his lips sealed around it, sucking the sensitive little nub into his mouth and groaning which added a mouth-watering vibration, "daddy, please." you gasped out.

you clearly spoke too soon when a sudden knock of someone's fist against the wooden door pulled you out of your bliss.

you could've cried when he pulled away to stand up, pleasure fizzling out into nothing, legs squeezing together to maintain the warmth of where he had been perched, "don't.." you pleaded, grabbing a hold of his arms and pushing him towards you, bare soaked pussy grinding against the belt he had on around his waist.

"leon, you in here?" your father's voice spoke up again, the door handle rattling, leon gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before he plucked your bikini panties off the ground, stuffing them in his pocket and opening the door just wide enough to slip out.

being the gentleman he is, he wiped the residue of glistening saliva and cum from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before speaking up with an excuse, "sorry, was just cooling down."

you heard your father announce needing help with something that happened in the front yard.

both their footsteps wandered away and you cursed aloud, jumping off the sink and stomping your feet on the floor, why now?!

your head peaked out of the bathroom ever so slightly until you knew the coast was clear, scurrying to your bedroom to pick up your skirt, tugging it up until you were decent enough.

with quick steps you rushed down the stairs only to see everyone in the front yard, “what happened?” you asked your mom.

“steve got a little too drunk and saw the keys still in leon’s bike.. he crashed it into the bush.” she pointed to the damage and your eyes widened, it wasn’t like it was irreversible damage but by the way leon was tugging it out of the branches and accessing things, it didn’t look good either.

“oops..” you whispered under your breath, noticing the panicked man profusely apologising and promising to pay for any damages.

leon didn’t look too concerned though- with all things considered, only brushing the man off and mumbling about how he’ll fix it himself, that no one else should be touching it anymore, as he perches it up, stuffing the keys in his back pocket- alongside your panties.

“i’m sorry man, you always have a place to crash here or we can get you a cab back home, come back for it when you can, don’t stress yourself any further.” your dad tried to fix the situation, patting leon on the back as his other friend looked like a kicked dog, wife in his ear scolding him.

“think i’ll have to crash here, i’ll bring a friend over to help me take it back tomorrow, would rather not let her outta my sight anymore.” he forced out a chuckle.

the night drew in much quicker what with your father’s friends' antics, despite leon trying to play it cool and telling them it was no big deal, clearly, there was some tension which had everyone saying their goodbyes as the sun set and the night grew on.

“darling, can you go grab leon some fresh sheets and pillows for the night?” you heard your dad call out, turning on your feet before leon could even protest.

you hopped up the stairs and towards your room, plucking out your clean strawberry sheets with a matching plush pillow for the older man, happily bringing it down and presenting them to him, “sorry if they’re not your style.” you cooed, eyelashes fluttering at him once again.

“they’re just what i like, don’t worry.” he played along before, two-finger saluting both of your parents goodnight with a thank you as they declared they were going to bed, clearly the alcohol and mood change helping their swift decision to head to bed

“is everything okay?” you followed closely behind him like a puppy dog, bumping into his back when he halted his steps as he reached the living room, throwing the bed sheets on the couch.

“it happened, no point still being angry about it, i can fix it anyway.” he told you, glancing behind his shoulder before turning to face you, arms crossing over his chest as though he was expecting something from you.

“what?” you pouted, looking up at him, doe eyes and puffed out cheeks.

“you can’t leave me alone even after almost getting caught?” his head tilted and suddenly you felt a lot smaller underneath him.

you didn’t know how to respond, part of you was humiliated, the other wanting to bite back, “i was worried!” you whined, fist coming up to hit his chest.

leon laughed, pushing his hair out of his face and walking into you until your knees buckled and you fell back against the couch, “you’re so cute.” you didn’t have time to think, already feeling his thumb push past your lips and settle on your tongue.

“such a pretty little thing.” he sighed out, eyebrows furrowed as he admired every little detail on your face, eyes grazing over your features.

“you want me so bad don’t you sweetheart?” his voice hummed out sweetly, forcing you to nod your head, though you didn’t need to be, willing to do anything he asked of you, waiting at his beckon and call.

“sweet thing.” leon pulled his hand away, grasping the end of his shirt and pulling it over his head, your eyes wasting no time taking in everything you could, the way his muscles were defined, how a light sheen of sweat was sticky on top of his skin and how the trail of dark curly hair lead from his bellybutton down into the waistband of his boxers.

“please..” you whined out, hand going up to squeeze his arm, pulling it until he was touching your neck, dragging it towards your chest.

his eyes lazily followed your movements, fingers tugging under the straps of your bikini bra until the skimpy fabric fell into your lap, “want my skirt off next daddy?” you asked him, head tilted up as your fingers already went towards the zip.

he shook his head, tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip, admiring your pretty tits and the peek of your thighs under your skirt puddling over your lap, “no no, keep it on, it’s cute.”

his pants came off next, your eyes watching him cup his erection through his boxers, stroking himself on top of the fabric, "lemme help." you shifted closer, tongue licking the outline of him, the texture of the cotton fabric grazing against your tastebuds, licking a trail upwards to the tip of his dick pushing against the fabric.

you let leon push down his boxers, his hard cock slapping back against his chest, standing tall with the tip the prettiest red you had ever seen, glistening with a bead of his pearly precum.

you giggled, leaning in to lick from his balls, upwards his length, tongue feeling the veins running up the underside of him before the muscle reached his tip, kitten licking up the sticky cum whilst his hand rested at the back of your head. pushing you further against him, his other hand gripped at the base of his cock, slapping the tip of himself on your tongue and watching you go cross-eyed.

you let him guide you until the tip of him was pushed past your swollen lips, "mmh, that's it sexy." he groaned out, "you're so sweet, baby, i'd love to have you choking on this cock one day." he chuckled out, feeling you push yourself further down, as though you were proving yourself, hearing your pathetic little sputtering and gagging already.

"be careful little one, s'okay." he stroked the top of your head and you let your throat relax, drool pushing past the corner of your lips and tears stinging at your eyes, "you don't have to take it all, you're only a small thing."

his words were making your fingers curl into his hips, nails dragging down his skin hard enough to decorate him with red marks, you so badly wanted to keep going but you were far too excited, you had lost yourself already trying to impress him, failing but he found it cute, he found everything about you so fucking cute.

"shh, shh.." he hushed you when you pulled your mouth away to speak, thumb flicking away some stray tears that landed on your cheeks, "don't worry about it sweetheart, you make me feel good just sitting there looking so pretty."

you could feel your heart flutter out of your chest, swallowing down any humiliation and need to apologise for the sad attempt of pleasing him with your mouth, you couldn't help it, your head was a little foggy as soon as he started speaking.

you watched as he next lifted his hand up, finger twirling in the air, indicating that he wanted you to turn around, "all fours for me." he helped you maneuver into a comfortable position on the couch, your back arched, head stuffed into the strawberry printed cotton sheets and your legs spread to accommodate leon behind you.

"you have the prettiest little pussy i've ever seen, y'know that?" he uttered behind you, hand squeezing your ass, spreading you open as he pushed himself flush against you, feeling the way your pussy pulse around nothing whilst he teasingly dragged himself back and forth your slippery folds.

"n-need it, need it so bad.." you mewled out, wiggling your ass a little to try and find some friction, your skirt shifting up higher on your waist. you lurched forward suddenly when he pushed his cock inside you without warning, your squeal muffled by the sheets.

"oh.. shit, fuckkkk.." he dragged out his words as he felt your pussy pulsate and contract around him, "holy fuck, you're so- mhfm," he had to cut himself off to take a second, "so fucking tight." he exhaled, hand placing at your lower back where your skirt was, grabbing a fistful of the fabric to help you push back and forth on his cock.

"you gotta be quiet yeah? don't wanna wake your parents up.." he chuckled, hips reeling back before pushing into you again, "imagine the look on your old man's face, finding his sweet daughter fucked stupid by the man he invited into his home." he grunted, pulling you flush against him with the help of his grasp on your skirt.

"poor thing, you can't help it can you baby? you wanted this dick so bad, i don't blame you sweetheart, i really don't." he cooed mockingly as his pace became more consistently deeper and more violent.

drool was pooling on your freshly washed sheets, countless sobs of pleasure and chants of leon's name deafened thanks to your head being stuffed into the couch. you couldn't care about anything he was insinuating, if this was bad then why did it feel sooo good.

you felt a stretch in your shoulder when he grabbed your arm behind your back, pulling it towards him, "that's it, pussy feels so damn good." he groaned much louder than he should've considering what he scolded you before just moments before.

"feels s'good!" you sobbed out. you could feel his hips slapping against your thighs and your ass, you could hear it every time he drilled his fat cock into you, incoherent babbling against the sheets and fat tears rolling down your cheeks, growing closer and closer each time he shoved himself down your dripping cunt.

"right there? yeah, i know you like that dick, can feel you fucking squeezing me back in every time i'm not deep in your guts." he laughed out euphorically, feeling as though you were driving him crazy, he'd never been this dumbfounded over pussy before.

"in—" you squealed out, legs trembling, "inside! o-oh my fughnnn, cum inside!" you blubbered out desperately, fingers clawing at the sheets underneath you, no regard for your volume, far too gone.

your breath was heaving and you couldn't stop the constant squeals of joy and tears flowing as your body shivered with pure bliss, leon noticed this and didn't let up on his pace, hips jackhammering into you erratically and if he didn't have a grip on your skirt and your arm you would've been flung to the other side of the couch, "that's it baby girl, cum on my cock, you're doing so well, m'so proud." he praised.

your stomach clenched and spasmed as your release washed over your entire body, muscles trembling and jolting, voice breathless and hoarse whilst leon fucked your sticky release back into you, desperate to chase his own high, holding you steady so you wouldn't fall limply against the couch.

"ah!" leon grunted, soppy wet sounds of your pussy bouncing off of the walls as he continuously pounded into your abused pussy, "i'm cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he gritted his teeth, pushing his hips flush against you as he whispered out breathlessly, "take it, take it baby." warm hot ropes of his cum spurting out and filling up your pussy.

you were completely spent but something about the sensation had you feeling so warm, so full it made your toes curl and you regained enough energy to push back against him, not wanting to lose even a drop of it.

you both spent more than a few minutes like this, basking in each other's warmth and closeness until you were collapsing from exhaustion, whimpering at the empty, sticky feeling between your legs.

leon leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your back and shoulders, rubbing and squeezing your waist to relieve any tension, "let me clean you up." was the last thing you heard him say, your eyes growing heavier and heavier.

leon didn't mind, he cleaned you up well, lifted you up, and quietly headed to your bedroom, tucking you into bed after ridding you of your skirt which he ripped, so you could enjoy your peaceful slumber for the night as he slipped away back downstairs to remove any evidence of what happened before the sun would come up and he would have to face your father once again.

[iovebarca]

hello hello:) i love your fics! how about a fic where gavi and the reader go on vacation together (like the maledives) and just spend sunny days by the beach, relaxing in each others arms after a stressful season? maybe they go to a fancy dinner in the evenings or something like that, just fluff of a cute romantic couple on holiday:) thank youuu🫶🏼

Sun-Kissed Serenity - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: only 2 exams left! and i listened to the song SAND by SABA while writing this, such an underrated eurovision song!

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me

WC: 800 ish

Summary: In the serene paradise of the Maldives, Pablo and the reader find solace from the stresses of his football season with Barcelona.

send me requests! or just anything if you want to talk:))

The gentle lull of the turquoise waves washes over you as you recline on the pristine white sands of the Maldives, the sun painting golden hues across the horizon. Beside you, Pablo's presence is a comforting anchor, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders as you both bask in the warmth of each other's company.

It's been a long-awaited vacation—a much-needed respite from the whirlwind of stress and pressure that Pablo endured during the football season with Barcelona, compounded by the setback of his recent injury. But here, in this idyllic paradise, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to leave your worries behind and simply embrace the serenity of the moment.

"You know," Pablo murmurs, his voice soft with contentment, "I don't think I've ever felt more at peace than I do right now."

You turn to him with a gentle smile, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. "I'm glad we could escape here together," you say, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. "You deserve this, Pablo. You've worked so hard."

Pablo's expression softens at your words, gratitude shining in his eyes. "And having you here with me makes it all the more special," he replies, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

As the days unfold, you and Pablo spend your time lazily exploring the island, indulging in leisurely walks along the shoreline and exhilarating snorkeling adventures in the crystal-clear waters. Each evening, you dress up in your finest attire and venture out to enjoy romantic dinners under the stars, savoring the exquisite flavors of the Maldivian cuisine and the intimate moments shared between just the two of you.

But it's the quiet moments spent in each other's arms that you treasure the most—the whispered conversations beneath the canopy of palm trees, the stolen kisses as the sun dips below the horizon, the simple joy of being together in a world all your own.

Pablo had spent the afternoon building sandcastles on the beach. With childlike enthusiasm, Pablo had dug trenches and piled sand, his laughter echoing across the shoreline as he sculpted his masterpiece. He had created quite the castle, if you say so yourself.

"You're still a kid at heart, aren't you?" you teased, a fond smile playing on your lips as you watched him adding the finishing touches to his artwork.

Pablo looked up from his sandy creation, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, shut up," he retorted, a playful grin spreading across his face. "You know you love me."

And indeed, you did love him—with all your heart and soul. It was moments like these—simple, carefree, and filled with laughter—that made you fall deeper in love with him each and every day.

As the night falls over the Maldives, painting the sky in a canvas of deep blues and purples, Pablo suggests a spontaneous late-night swim beneath the shimmering moonlight. Eager for the adventure, you both slip into your swimsuits and make your way to the deserted stretch of beach.

The warm embrace of the ocean welcomes you as you wade into the gentle waves, the water cool and refreshing against your skin. Pablo's laughter rings out in the night air as he splashes you playfully, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Come on, mi amor," he urges, his smile infectious. "Race you to the buoy!"

With a playful grin, you accept the challenge, kicking off from the shore and propelling yourself through the water with all your might. Pablo's laughter fills your ears as he swims beside you, the thrill of competition mingling with the exhilarating rush of freedom.

But as you reach the buoy, the mood shifts, and the playful banter gives way to something deeper—a quiet intimacy that binds you together in the stillness of the night. You tread water side by side, the only sound the gentle rhythm of your breathing and the soft lapping of the waves against the shore.

In the moonlight, Pablo's features are illuminated with a soft glow, his eyes reflecting the depths of his love for you. Without a word, he reaches out, drawing you into his arms with a tenderness that steals your breath away.

And there, beneath the canopy of stars, you share a moment of pure magic—a moment that transcends time and space, a moment that speaks volumes without the need for words.

As you found yourselves immersed in the tranquil waters of the ocean, you couldn't help but reflect on the playful antics of earlier in the day. With Pablo by your side, every moment was an adventure, every memory a treasure to hold close to your heart.

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

A Chilly Trip to The Sugar Dealer

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi x f!Reader

Summary: In the middle of the (mild) Konoha Winter, Lord Sixth and his wife go out for a jaunt to the confectionary. Kakashi feels challenged in the small store, and gets you home quick to make a point. Smut! Lemon! Explicit!

W/c: 5.8k

Warnings: Swearing, jealousy, unwanted flirting, teasing, begging, demanding, possessive!Kakashi, oral (f receiving), p in v, cumming inside (lowk, the slightest talk of wombs)

Notes: ive got a sweet-tooth and I feel like kakashi would support me about that idk please enjoy this and lmk how you feel - btw Satō-Shō literally just means Sugar Dealer

Masterlist💿

The sun shone brightly on the two of you, for where else would it shine? Gentle breezes carried the two of you closer, for a chill is always a nice excuse to pull your loved one close. Konoha had never seen such a brisk day, for it was the dead of Winter.

Even on the coolest day of the year, the sun still loved you. It warmed your back, though the large hand of your husband was infinitely warmer. His fingers splayed on the small on your back, reminding you the he would always love you more than the sun ever could.

With an absent smile, you tilted your head up to him. You admired Kakashi, enraptured by the way the sunlight glinted in his hair.

"You're making me nervous," he admited casually without looking at you.

You just chuckled, "The most handsome man in the village should be used to lingering stares."

"No, darling, it's not that," he hummed deeply, curling his fingers around your hip. Kakashi pulled you closer, leaning low to your ear as he whispered, "Nervous to call off our little excursion and hurry back home."

"It's a gorgeous day, today," you beamed, twirling away from his hand, making the skirt of your dress puff out in your spin. Purple fabric swished around your thighs as your husband put him arm back around you, now draped over your shoulders. Bringing his dangling hand to your lips, you pressed a kiss to the side of his pointer finger and teased, "Won't you let me enjoy it, before I enjoy you? Or must I beg for that privilege, too?"

Knees bending slightly, Kakashi's arm weighed down on your shoulders. You smiled, squeezing his hand still in your grasp. With his smooth tone, steeped in licentiousness, your husband groaned, "Let's go home, it's not even that nice out."

"We'll have to agree to disagree, dearest," you tittered, ignoring Kakashi's huffs. Spotting your favourite confectionary around a street corner, your feet steered the two of you right. "If you get me a couple taffies, we can go home."

"I'll get you a kilo later."

"No," you sang, squeezing his hand again. "I want something to suck on now."

As your husband delivered a craven look, you just smiled at him, popping up on your toes to rub your nose against his masked one. With a rumbling chuckle, Kakashi pulled you into his body, causing the two of you to walk in a very strange, haphazard fashion.

"Do you hear yourself, pretty lady?" He asked lowly.

For a second longer, you looked at your husband. His gorgeous Onyx eyes were filled with adoration, and you could see a deep smile stretched across his face through his mask. Tracing your features, Kakashi stared at you lovingly, as if he were almost certain you were but a dream that he never wanted to part with.

"Do you see yourself, Lord Hokage?" You replied.

Biting your lip salaciously, you stared up at your husband through your long eyelashes. His head turned away from you, glancing around the area. The weather was only inviting you to bask in it, as it seemed most everyone else was rightfully in the comfort of their home. A few stragglers milled about, going between markets for essentials, but the streets were relatively empty.

You restored yourself to a proper walking position despite your husband's subtle protests. Only a few more paces and you were at the step of the confectionary, going up to the door as Kakashi stuttered in his movement.

"Give me five minutes, yeah?" He asked nonchalantly, taking his arm away from your shoulders and letting his long fingers trace down your arm, lingering in a hook around your fingers.

Looking at him, you couldn't help but smile back as Kakashi's eyes danced with thought. You grinned, leaning up to kiss his masked cheek, "Four minutes, fifty-nine seconds." You came back to your feet. "Fifty-eight seconds....fifty-seven."

"Fine, shave off a whole minute, if you want to really challenge me," Kakashi snickered before turning to walk in the direction that caught his eye. His pace was frighteningly quick, bordering a run, and you sighed contently as you watched him lock onto his target, a florist's shop.

Suddenly feeling strange for lingering outside of the confectionary for so long, you bit back a smile and opened up the glass door. The old shopkeeper smiled at you sweetly, having seen you standing outside for a minute or so.

"Back again so soon?" He asked kindly.

You nodded, coming further into the store. The fragrance of sugar enveloped you, making your stomach ache for something a sickly red. "Nothing can keep me away from the Satō-Shō."

"Well, have no fear, the Sugar Dealer is here!" He exclaimed with a hearty laugh, coming closer to the counter.

The old man pulled out a wooden crate from behind, setting it right in your eyeline. You approached happily, and the shopkeeper began pulling out a massive bag of caramel drops, making your eyes widen and your mouth salivate. He held it to his nose, and through the plastic, he inhaled.

"Made fresh this morning, they're still soft," he told you with a sigh, waving the bag of sweets around between the two of you. The warm caramel wafted to your nose so tauntingly.

"Have you got any taffy?" You asked hopefully, smelling a fruity tone in the air.

"Have I got taffy? Have I got taffy, in spades!" He laughed, setting the caramels on the counter as he dove back into the crate. Rooting around, he asked, "Is it the saltwater taffy you're after, or the chocolate taffy?"

"Saltwater if you made cherry or that nice, wild watermelon again - otherwise, probably chocolate," you replied cheerily, hearing the crinkles of the bags and soft clacks of not-yet-set hard candies getting thrown around.

Your excitement and anticipation clouded your senses, overwhelmed by the bright colours and mouth-watering smells in the store. Caught in the shopkeeper's presentation, you hadn't even noticed the other person in the shop. Only when the person moseied up the aisle, basket in hand, did you finally notice him. But, from his eye, he had noticed you the second you entered the store.

"You really know your taffy," he chuckled, sidling up to you.

Allowing your smile falter, you looked back at the shopkeeper as he came from the crate with a large, red package in his hand. Gently, you hummed, "No, the Satō-Shō knows taffy. I just buy it from him."

"Touché," the other customer replied. "From the looks of you, you don't eat a lot of taffy, or candy for that matter."

Narrowing your eyes, you turned over what he said in your mind. You felt a bit gross, like you had been looked at in a certain way by someone who shouldn't have been looking in the first place. Besides, you looked like you ate candy, you were sure you did. You didn't know what a candy-eater looked like, per say, but you were sure it would be a picture of yourself in that dictionary.

"Anyway," the shopkeeper interrupted pointedly. Your eyes snapped up to his kind, old face and the ghost of a smile returned to your lips. The old man's eyes twinkled and the corner of his lip curled as he said, "I've got something special for you, my best customer."

"Is it another gobstopper?" You gasped, "No, another one of those massive lollipops? Or is it something new, something experimental? Might I die, just at the sight of it?"

Recieving your waves of excitement, the shopkeeper chortled, "I won't be selling it, because of the special ingredient, but it is a new idea. And maybe you will just die when you try them."

"The mystery is eating me alive," you said very seriously. The shopkeeper smacked the counter lightly before coming around it.

"Alright, give me a minute, it's in the back still."

Stars, you hoped it was something wacky. That lollipop was bigger than your head, and it took you over a week to finish - but the Sugar Dealer could always have a crazier idea. He won't be selling it, which confused you some, but made you feel wildly special. It had you wondering what special ingredient would make a candy unmarkettable. Perhaps it-

"How about, this trip, you let me pay," the man offered, ripping you away from your thoughts. You looked at the dark haired man beside you, who smiled as nicely as he could, rubbing the back of his neck. "It seems you come here a lot. A pretty woman like yourself shouldn't be spending all of her money on sweets."

"I'm sorry."

"I was asking-"

"No, I heard you, I heard you," you mumbled, looking behind him to check for the shopkeeper. "I'm sorry," you repeated more firmly, looking into the man's hazel eyes. "My husband has no taste for conversations like these - I suggest you quit while you're ahead ."

Your warning wasn't enough, as the man shamelessly flirted, "How can I, when put in front of a woman so beautiful?"

"Isn't she just the prettiest lady in all the Land?"

Oh, thank you, Stars.

Turning the other way, there Kakashi was standing, a single rose in hand. You smiled up at him gratefully as he put the rose into your fingers and his arm around your waist, pulling you as close to him as you knew you needed to be. The rose in your hand was perfect, without the one blemish or tear anywhere in the petals.

"One flower? Couldn't have sprung for a bouquet?" The dark haired man quipped dryly.

Before Kakashi could say something harsh, you just hummed, holding the flower to your nose and putting your free hand over the hand of your husband as it clutched your waist posessively, "It's rare that a man can appreciate the value of one perfect rose."

"Here we go!" The shopkeeper exclaimed, hurrying out of the back. When he returned to the counter, his eyes immediately landed on Kakashi, morphing his cheery expression to shock as he bowed. Hurriedly, he said, "Lord Sixth! I didn't know I would be graced with your presence in my meager, little shop."

"My wife loves this place dearly, I would never call it meager," Kakashi replied politely. He took a deep breath, eyes darting to the man who stood on your other side, mortified.

Flirting with the Hokage's wife was a massive issue, it was just lucky that Kakashi's mind wasn't terribly dark that day.

Waving off the praise of his store from the Hokage, the shopkeeper set a bag of light brown taffies on the counter. Drawing forward, you ooh'd, which diffused a grand amount of tension in the store. The Sugar Dealer's special something turned out to bless you before you even had the one.

"Why don't you want to sell these?" You asked, looking at the bag from a couple different angles.

The shopkeeper chuckled, "It's Amaretto taffy. I can't let a child experience the bliss of Amaretto so early on."

Eyes the size of dinner plates, you pulled out your wallet immediately. You riffled through the bills, collecting a thousand yen at least.

"Keep your m- Lord Hokage, please, I don't-"

"Don't set that precedent," Kakashi remarked deeply as he set two thousand yen on the counter. You threw a few hundred extra down, knowing you owed that shopkeeper so much more from all of his free samples and special somethings.

"I cannot accept your money," he insisted, going to pick up the bills to hand them back.

Plucking the bags of cherry taffy and Amaretto taffy into his free hand, Kakashi just laughed, beginning to steer the two of you away, "Seriously, Satō-Shō, she'll come back here and clean you out."

Nodding in agreement, you waved goodbye to the shopkeeper while pressing the soft rose petals to your cheek. You didn't spare the dark haired man a glance as you turned forward, leaning into your husband's large body. Warmth radiated from him, even more noticably when the two of you stepped back outside.

"What am I going to do with you?" Kakashi asked in a sigh, mainly directed toward himself as his hand drifted from your waist, up your spine.

Brow furrowed, you joked, "You can start by giving me one of the Amarettos."

"Would you have let him buy these for you?"

It was a stupid question, you both knew it, but Kakashi always worried. Worried about everything, but nothing made him as anxious as a potential threat to the sanctity of your relationship.

"You would turn down free candy?"

His expression darkened as he hooked his arm over your shoulders. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking up at his gorgeous face with the halo of cloud. Slowly, he said, "You should be."

"Oh, my dearest, so green with envy," you hummed, holding the hand that rested over your shoulders again. You kissed the back of his hand, promising, "I only jest. I knew you would come to my rescue. My pretty boy always swoops in the save the day."

"Fuckin' right I do," he huffed, pulling you into an alley.

In an instant, his mask was down and his lips were on yours, moving assertively. Like a wire becoming live in your stomach, you could feel electric shocks throughout your body, going all the way down to your fingertips.

Stealing a kiss in a darkened alleyway was so juvenile. It reminded you of all the times the two of you had been in this situation before, especially before you were wed. Not often was the reason for these desirous kisses another man, but the subject had been raised before.

"You're mine, all mine," he snapped, the vibrations of his baritone voice sending ripples against your lips. You let a whimper pass through you as you gaze at your husband's bare face. You leaned forward to kiss your husband again, but he pulled away gently, pressing you against the brickwall of the alley. Looking at you with cloudy eyes, Kakashi purred, "Tell me. Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours, Kakashi, I'm entirely yours- until the end of time," you replied breathily. Eyes scanning your face, Kakashi apparently decided your words sincere as he came forward again to press his soft lips to yours.

He tasted so divine, you couldn't help but moan softly. His tongue slipped past your lips slyly, making a pool form in your stomach. As Kakashi's tongue swirled around yours, the two of you were locked in a dance. A duet, that you and your husband had perfected over the years. You whispered a complaint when Kakashi takes a breath, but it falls on deaf ears.

"Not here," he growls while pulling the fabric back over his face, snatching your hand up quickly. Through the mask, Kakashi places a chaste kiss to your forehead before swiftly pulling you out of the alley. Hushed and hurried as he barreled the two of you down the street at a blistering pace, Kakashi promised, "I'm going to have you screaming those words all night long, my pretty lady."

Supressing the squeal that bubbled up from the pit of heat in your stomach, you happily scurried along as Kakashi led the way to the Red House under Hokage Rock. It was a darling place to live, and you enjoyed decorating it, but even just the residence wing was huge - you almost preferred the apartment you and Kakashi had before he became the Hokage. But, anywhere was the perfect place to live, so long as you were living with Kakashi.

In half the time it took the two of you to get to the confectionary, you were home. Not wasting a second, Kakashi threw the bags of taffy onto the console table in the foyer, immediately putting both of his hands on your hips to pull you in. You hadn't even caught when he pulled down his mask again. But, with his speed, Kakashi caught the single rose between your two bodies and you yelped, holding the flower high.

"You took all four of your minutes to pick out the perfect rose, be gentle with her," you chided, inspecting the slight dents on either side of the rose's bulb.

"I'll be gentle with her," your husband replied, plucking the flower from your fingers.

Gingerly, Kakashi placed it on the console table, just on top of the taffy bags. He turned back to you, eyes darkened a shade further, and he replaced his hand to your hip. Kakashi snapped your body to his with a chuckle, making you gasp. His gorgeous, pillowy lips were all you could focus on, taken by the flushes of self-inflicted bite marks that dotted the center of his mouth.

Muting any remark from you, Kakashi began kissing you again. This time, in the comfort of privacy, his lips were enflamed with passion and desperation - the two ingredients mixed so deliciously to deliver you a kiss that made your knees weak. Kakashi wrapped his thick forearm around your lower back, allowing you to lean on him. As you did so, his other hand travelled lower, squeezing the plump flesh of your ass before nudging you to jump. You do, and Kakashi caught you firmly, one hand squeezing beneath your thigh while the other remained to support your back. The jump gives you the friction both of you crave, but doesn't satiate further.

Pressing you against the growing tent of his pants, Kakashi whispered, "There's my good girl."

"Am I not always your good girl?" You whined against his lips, letting your left hand rest on the back of Kakashi's neck while the other pressed on the ample muscle of his chest.

Peppering your jaw with kisses and nips, Kakashi shook his head and began to walk you down the hallway to your bedroom. The ache within you grew, upset at his lack of validation. You had tried your best to ignore and warn the man from the confectionary, and yet he was the reason Kakashi wasn't giving you what you wanted.

"Kakashi, please, kiss me," you begged as he pushed the door to your bedroom open with your back. Your husband continued pressing warm, sloppy kisses to the angle of your jaw, laying you down amongst the linen bedsheets. Feeling so criminally empty, you pleaded, "Please, kiss me- my lips... let me show you I'm your good girl."

"You'll only get my lips on yours after you've proved yourself," Kakashi hummed, adding a modest suckle right on the sweet spot under your ear.

You could've melted beneath your husband, but the nagging knot of nerves in your abdomen kept you intact, barely. Clenching around nothing as Kakashi slid his leg between your thighs, you let a shaky breath fall from your lips. Kakashi's head perked up from your neck, looking at your face amusedly.

"What are you supposed to do when another man starts flirting with you?"

You shrug, feeling like you did as much as you could have without being rude. You threw your head back into the sea of white linen and replied, "I dunno. Wait for you, like I always do?"

"You do know, pretty lady." You freeze as Kakashi's right hand floated to your thinly clothed cunt. Drifting his finger over the fabric that covered your slit, you sucked in a moan and Kakashi hummed, "You know, and once you give me the right answer, I'll give you what you want." A stifled scream passes through your pursed lips as his lithe fingers graze your sensitive clit. He repeated, "What are you supposed to do when another man flirts with you?"

"Talk about you," you answered, bucking your hips against your husband's hand and thigh.

"And...?"

With a small amount of pressure, Kakashi's middle finger began laying small circles onto your clit. You gasped, "Tell him... tell him h-how frightening you are... when you're mad."

"No," Kakashi snipped, taking his hand and leg away, making your thighs snap shut. He corrects you, voice filled with a dire intonation, "You tell him I'll kill him."

"Kakashi-"

"If another man ever comes so close to you, tell him his body will be found in five different places."

Despite how sharp his words were, you could feel wetness pooling in your panties. Kakashi's eyes were so serious, and there wasn't a hint of humour in his tone. Just fanning the flames of your arousal, Kakashi still did nothing to quench the heat that devoured every nerve in your body.

"I will," you swore, trying to look as sterling as possible.

Kakashi hummed, slowly letting his left hand slide down the inside of your thigh. You went to squeeze your knees together, but Kakashi immediately separated them with either hand. With a shake of his head, Kakashi slotted himself between your legs again, his massive length straining against the black fabric of his trousers as he rubbed against the sopping cloth of your underwear.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he sighed, hanging his head. Then Kakashi looked up at you, the corner of his mouth twitching so hungrily. "I do believe, me having saved you falls under the you-owing-me-one category." You nodded quickly, swallowing the excess spit in your mouth. Kakashi smirked so cruelly, "Look at you, my pretty lady - so eager to please."

"Eager to please you," you affirmed, making Kakashi groan your name as he leaned down to finally give you a proper kiss.

Rutting your hips up, you ground against the twitching bulge in your husband's pants, getting ready to pull turn yourself around. You weren't in a terribly good position to suck Kakashi's cock - he greatly preferred it when you hung your head over the edge of the bed, opening up your throat so perfectly for him to slide down. You could never fit more than half of his length before he was hitting the back of your throat, but if your head was over the edge of the-

It didn't matter. Kakashi moved before you could, slowly moving away from your mouth and down to your jaw. Holding you down slightly, he interspersed your soft neck with gentle sucks and bites, sure to show up as a million love bites the next day.

You had plenty of turtlenecked shirts for the such occasions, but you still found yourself pulling down the neck at various parts of the days you wore them, bragging to each and every one of your friends. They always demanded such lewd details, and you were much obliged to offer up every juicy facet, if only in a private setting. All of them were jealous, so fucking jealous of you, and this was why.

Trailing down to the valley of your chest, Kakashi groaned deeply as his left hand massaged the flesh of your right tit through the fabric of your bra, kneading and squeezing so strongly it elicited a shaky thrum from you. While his hand went up to your shoulder, Kakashi pressed a myriad wet, lingering kisses to the exposed skin of your bust. He pushed the short sleeves of your dress and the strap of your bra off of your shoulder, doing the same to the other side, before Kakashi began tugging the purple dress off of your body entirely. Hastily, he pulled his two top layers off as one, throwing them to the ground with your dress.

"Now who's eager?" You teased as he thumbed the waistband of his trousers.

Feeling a breeze with how quick he is, Kakashi's fingers were nearly sinking into you through your panties. You inhaled sharply as he replied adamantly, "Me. I'm eager."

He would always admit it, quite happily too; Kakashi loved your cunt, in any way he could have you.

Battling his urges, Kakashi was much slower to pull your cotton underwear off than he was with your dress, seeming to greatly enjoy watching strands of your slick pull away with the fabric. He groaned lowly, flicking the soaked cotton to some corner of the room. Cold air flushed against your flaming core, making you clench at the contrast. Slowly, Kakashi lowered to his knees, face to face with your already moistened pussy, and he smiled as you threw your legs around his shoulders.

"Tell me what you want," he commanded lowly, hot breath fanning over your folds.

You swallowed thickly and answered, "I want you, Kakashi, how-ever you wish to have me."

"Fuck, I love you," Kakashi groaned, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your slit. You can see your white and translucent slick on his tongue as he hummed, "You taste so good for me, darling. All that candy, it makes you sweet."

"I love you," you whimpered breathlessly as Kakashi's tongue licked another stripe, entering your folds to get as much of your wetness as he could on his tongue. He swallowed it up, humming to himself lowly before capturing your clit between his lips in a soft suckle. Instantly, you're throwing his headband away and letting your fingers find purchase in your husband's silver tresses. "Stars almighty, Kakashi."

"Mm. That's right, say my name."

Without question, you give in, your husband's name becoming like a prayer as he lapped at your pussy. His tongue swirled around your clit as his long fingers danced around your inner-thigh. The tickle made you shiver, which only seemed to make Kakashi hungrier. Bringing his fingers to your folds, your husband began teasing your entrance with his calloused pads.

Looking down at him, you let out a heavy moan that was felt even in your cunt. Kakashi's eyes were half-lidded as he locked them with yours, and you could recognize how ablaze with desire they were.

"I'm all yours, K-kashi, please," you bit out, starting to feel a whirl in your mind. The fog began to lift, and you could see the light of an orgasm at the end of the tunnel. You ran toward it, calling out Kakashi's name until-

Cold air hits your folds, making you shutter your eyes open. You didn't remember closing them. Looking down to your husband, still with your legs over his shoulders, you babbled a plea, only to be met with another cold blow from Kakashi's very own lips. You whined loudly, throwing your head back into the sheets.

"Where's my good girl gone?" Kakashi wondered aloud in a light tone. He slid down his trousers, lazily pumping his impressive length. Even after so many years, so many encounters, Kakashi's cock always made your lip quiver. As you stared, entranced, he came up your body, slowly pressing your legs up to your chest, and made eye contact with you.

The way Kakashi looked down at you... it almost brought you to tears. Tears of elation, of disbelief, even after all this time. His expression was of playful adoration, of the man you had fallen in love with most ardently so many years ago. But his eyes - they screamed of a dark desire, thousands of thoughts flitting behind his charcoal irises. The uncomfortable nagging of your denied release faded as your heart swelled five sized too big.

Sliding the leaking tip of his cock through your folds, Kakashi lowly chuckled as you squirmed, "I asked you a question, pretty lady."

"You'll just have to ask me again - your eyes are far too distracting," you purred, trying to sound as sultry as you could.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, darling."

Despite his candied tone, Kakashi slapped the tip of his cock against your clit. The jolt made you stutter away, but Kakashi pulled you back with both hands clamped on your hips, before leaning down to hook around your back and remove your bra.

As he threw the plunged bra aside, he murmured, "Be good. Don't you want my cock? Or... would you prefer-"

"I'll be good! I'm good!" You wailed, dragging your slicked folds over your husband's girth. "I want your cock so fucking bad, Kakashi, please, please- I want you, please-"

"Not very good of you, interrupting me," Kakashi mumbled under his breath, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock to line himself up with your velvety entrance. He sighed as the tip of his dick spilled into your warmth, "Oh, but who am I to deny my pretty lady?"

Inch by inch, Kakashi squeezed into you, filling you beyond your wildest imagination. You whimpered, calling out his name as your nails dug into his muscular thighs. No corner of your mind could capture how stuffed-full Kakashi made you feel, it was something you were blown away by every night.

"Fuck- yeah, just a bit more- fuck, you're taking me so well, pretty, pretty, pretty lady," Kakashi groaned lowly as he sank into your warmth, your wetness squelching with the vacuum seal. His hand cupped your cheek, so warm that you couldn't help but lean into his touch as his fingers curled under your jaw. He bottomed out, giving you a second to adjust, cooing, "Such a good girl for me. This pretty pussy's mine, mine alone."

"All yours," you gasped in a squeak. Kakashi groaned, rocking his hips against you. He reached so deep inside of you, you could feel him just below your belly button. You hissed, gripping his thighs, "Kakashi- fuck- you're so- fucking big."

"Mm, and you take everything I give you." Oh, how true the statement was. But your agreement melded to a guttural groan the second Kakashi started moving.

Finally beginning a slow pace of deep strokes, your eyelashes fluttered. Soft moans accompanied every breath as Kakashi started pulling more out, making you feel even more full with every thrust. The sounds of your cunt squelching to accommodate his rapidity fill the room, undercut by the soft slapping of skin.

Putting more pressure on the backs of your knees, Kakashi pushed your legs deeper into your chest. He fucked into you so lovingly that you could see the passion emanating from his body, making all of your muscles simultaneously tense and relax. In a stutter, Kakashi put his left hand on the bed, beside your head, while the other travelled lower to grip your ass. His entire body came closer to you, deepening his movements that much more. Breaths mixing between the two of you, a humidity arose in the room, with a very particular scent.

Enthralled by the sight of his cock disappearing within you, Kakashi's head was tilted slightly down. A stupid smile plastered on your face as you choked back a moan and kissed Kakashi's forehead. His eyes immediately found yours and his hips snapped into yours.

Leaning to connect his lips with yours, Kakashi quickened his pace, swallowing every wanton sound that came from your lips. His tongue Waltzed with yours, leading you in a lovely dance. You reached up, moving one hand over your husband's gorgeously chiseled face as the other squeezed the plump muscles of his shoulder. For a moment, Kakashi let you really get used to his pace, allowing your orgasm to climb to the forefront of your mind once again.

As you climbed the mountain, your walls clenched around your husband's dick, sucking him in further, ushering his precum into your womb. Right on the edge of bliss, your body twitched around, moans becoming more and more obscene.

"Maybe I should stop right now," he groaned, slowing his thrusts painfully.

Vehemently shaking your head, your eyes flew open. "No, K'kashi, no, ple-ase, I was s'close, please, you feel so- so good."

"Tch, how can I deny such a good, beautiful girl?" Kakashi tittered, gradually going back to his original speed. As you sank back in, he pulled you out, asserting firmly, "Look at me when you cum on my dick."

"Kakashi-i-i-" You moaned for a prolonged time, eyes fighting to stay open. Your husband's lip was curled into a darling smile, and the thoughts behind his eyes finally settled. A wide smile stretched across your lips, mouth falling open as you could feel Kakashi's eyes caressing your very soul.

When his hand ghosted around your thigh and intuitively found your clit, shockwaves were sent through your entire body. Just a few beats behind the tempo of Kakashi's thrusts, his middle and ring finger whirled the sensitive bundle of nerves. In only a few more thrusts, you're screaming Kakashi's name as he finally gives you the sweet release.

"Fuckin' stars," he gasped, stilling in your cunt as your walls fluttered and spasmed. "You're s'fuckin' tight, so fucking beautiful."

Smiling up at him, Kakashi pressed another hungry kiss to your lips, before pulling back entirely. He gripped your hips and began snapping into you with more force than he had before.

"Kakashi! Fuck!" You yelled out, hands left to grip his thighs again. Digging your nails into the back of his thighs only seemed to give your husband more vigour. You gasped, "Fucking sensitive, Kakashi, stars-"

"I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this," he groaned, bottoming out with every thrust. His timing grew uneven, and his strokes got messy, telling you he was nearing his light too. "Such a good girl f'me. Me. Only me."

"I love your cock," you whined, feeling blood rushing to your head, a slight spin percolating.

"M-my perfect wife, fuck- I'm gonna cum, pretty girl." Pulling your flushed body up, Kakashi took you in his arms as he fucked into you, delivering his last few plunging strokes, before he stuttered entirely. He groaned so deeply, you could feel the vibration in his cock, pressed against your cervix, "I fuckin' love fillin' you up."

A heat trickled into you, making you smile as Kakashi thrusted into you a few more times at a relatively lazy rhythm, bringing you a swell of relief. Your husband's cock twitched within you, filling you more and more. With a contented breath, you clenched around him, beckoning his cum further into you.

Bringing you up for another kiss, Kakashi hummed against your lips as he stilled, keeping all of his spend nice and secure within you. He took you up fully, then turned and fell back into the bed. The position had you sinking onto his cock so deliciously as you leaned against his chest.

"I love you, more than anything," you murmured as Kakashi's eyes roamed your face.

A small smile tugged at his lip, bestowing you with a dashing look. "I love you too, pretty lady."

"So, what's your verdict?" You asked with a soft chuckle and a tired undercut.

"What's my what, darling?" He asked, voice slightly rasped.

Reaching to your face, he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear lovingly, which had you biting down on your lower lip. Kakashi's eyes danced over your puffy lips, smile deepening on both of your faces as you laughed,

"Can I have an Amaretto taffy now?"

[sunsetchicane]

Postcards - Part 2 [LN4]

lando norris x [travel] journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 7.3k

summary: The one where it's six months later and you still find yourself thinking about him. Maybe a another fated meeting will be the second chance you need.

warnings: fluff, banter, yearning, an unrealistic portrayal of London [probably], sexual innuendo, maybe a kiss or two idk, and...angst

author's note: Heyyy team. Back with another part for you. I think I really like this part and I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated!! So please feel free to leave any questions/concerns/comments you have. I hope you like it and keep your eyes peeled for what's coming next! Lots of love! [xoxo elle]

Summer Break July 2022

When walking down Camden Market, you can’t help but feel tucked into history. Life bustles in the walkways. Mothers corral starry-eyed children. Small bunches of friends are bent over their drinks while they taste each other’s. Couples promenade languidly, hands folded together and heads leaned in. Everything and nothing at all happens at Camden. Time stands still, holding tightly to memories and secrets. The brick that makes up the streets and walls stands proud and true, veterans at their trade. Music floats out of shops like dandelion seeds on a summer’s breeze, planting itself wherever fate leads.

It’s only your second day in London. You arrived late into the afternoon yesterday, not feeling up to checking out the subject matter of your project after traveling. Instead, you checked into the small townhouse that you’d be staying at for the duration of your trip and then wandered about the streets of London. You’ve never been to London before, but it was exactly as you’d imagined it. Tall red buses perused the streets. Towering buildings loomed over skinny walkways. But your favorite sight was the sun slipping just below the horizon, relinquishing the world to dusk, and the street lamps casting a warm glow over the summer night. 

Today, however, you weren’t wandering the winding streets of the city, you’re acquainting yourself with one of London’s most well known attractions: Camden Market. When you were young, you saw pictures of it in some magazine you’d found in your school’s library. You’d adored the way the market looked on the page and promised yourself that you would see it for yourself someday and take pictures of your own. And now you are. The dream of a little girl flutters in your chest. You clutch onto your camera as your fingers tremble from the weight of your emotions. You really made it.

Closing your eyes and sighing, you bask in the moment for a second longer before fishing out your phone from your pocket. The market just opened, so you have the entire day to explore and find your story. The history of Camden is so rich that it can be found around every corner, tucked into every shop, and, most importantly, etched into the memories of the people. 

Piecing together a story with stunning visuals here is difficult not for the lack of inspiration, but for the over abundance of it. How you’re going to choose what to share with the world, you have no idea. 

This isn’t your first story with your publication, but it is your first major one. After working on small, local pieces, your boss finally caved and gave you a real assignment. It came in a nick of time, too, because you’d been getting antsy about staying in one place for so long. You needed to get out. But, there’s a lot of pressure to rise to the occasion. If you don’t do well on this piece, who knows when the next time you’ll be assigned something like this again. 

You move through the market, stopping to watch or take pictures or talk with a shop owner here and there. The hustle and bustle keeps you moving, the current of moving bodies too strong to fight.

After a few hours of nonstop walking, you have dozens of ideas scribbled down and photos stored in your camera. You have a few specific shops and names written down to revisit when you come back with a more detailed idea of what your story is going to look like. The thoughts swirling through your brain move at lightspeed.

The only thing that breaks your intense concentration is the wafting smell of cooking food. Involuntarily, your stomach grumbles and your mouth waters at the savory smell. The only part of Camden that you haven’t sampled yet is the food. Suddenly, you’re desperate to find wherever that smell is coming from. You don’t think you’ve ever inhaled something so lovely.

After tucking away your notebook and slinging your camera off to your side, you hold your backpack over a shoulder and begin seeking out your lunch. There are a dozen different places to choose from, each producing a signature scent that crawls into the walkways. Signs that don each of the shop’s names does nothing to help you decide, everything speaking to your stomach in a different way. Frustration grows inside of you, fueled by hunger. 

But then, as if the universe had a plan all along to keep you exactly where you were, you see him strolling down the walkway. Lando. Your breath catches in your chest, leaving you feeling lightheaded. Jaw slack and eyes wide, you take the sight of him.

His eyes are following the line of shops over his shoulder, seemingly focused on whatever they have to offer. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hang from his hips and slouch against his sneakers. His plain black t-shirt hugs his arms and chest, but falls a little looser around his middle. To complete his look, he has a beat up black baseball cap atop his head. It pushes down his curls, framing his neck with soft brown coils. Even from this distance, you can see that his hair is much longer and healthier than when you saw him last.

The first thing you feel when you see him is immense exhilaration. Never were you expecting to see him again. After sending him his print and a postcard, there had been little in the way of communication. A few weeks after sending the package, you received a follow request from him on Instagram. Battling yourself for all of two seconds, you accepted it and then accidentally began stalking his page. He had posted a story only a couple minutes before requesting to follow you. Opening the story, you had found your photo of him tacked up on a wall in his home. 

“My good side. Or so I’ve been told.”

The caption on the story had made you laugh. Staring at your phone, grinning like a fool, all for a boy a thousand miles and a different destiny away. 

Following each other had been the only movement on either front. For a few weeks, you’d pull up his DM and write out message after message. Not one was ever sent. There was no reason for you to reach out to him. Plus, you didn’t know if he even wanted to hear from you. Following you on Instagram is a far cry from being cool with what happened between you half a year ago.

The night you spent together, though it was cut short, still haunts you and holds you.

You had been somewhat keeping up with this season of Formula One just to have a way to stay connected to him in a way. Even if you couldn’t see him or speak with him, at least you could watch from a distance. Every time you’ve tried to stop, tried to forget him, you’ve been unsuccessful. All of your tactics that you’ve been practicing your whole life haven’t been able to eradicate Lando from your system. He’s a bad habit that you can’t break. 

You want him in a way that you’ve never wanted anything before. Slowly, you’re creeping to the edge of your own rules, wondering what fate looks like on the other side.

But, reality comes crashing in when his eyes lazily flick up to yours and the elation that was just coursing through your bloodstream turns icy cold. Terror seizes your chest in an iron grip. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even run. 

For a moment you both stand still, completely frozen in time while the world continues on without you. People rush in and out of view, obscuring your vision in millisecond intervals. Everytime you lose sight of him, you wonder if he’ll actually be there. 

He is. He’s really there.

And now he’s walking toward you.

A million questions rush through your head in a panic. Is he still upset at you? What is he going to say? Will you be able to say goodbye again?

Caught in the spinning of your own thoughts, you miss him drawing closer and closer with a stupid grin splitting his face. When you finally snap back into reality, he’s standing right in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you into the best hug you’ve ever experienced. Hands down. With his touch, every single thought, anxiety, and question evaporate. There’s nothing in this world except for the way his hands hold your waist and his arms flex against your back.

Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you can’t help but toss your arms around his neck, hugging him right back. Smiling wildly, you push your forehead into his shoulder. Your nose fills with the scent of him, sending you reeling all the way back to six months ago when you saw him last.

While you’re in his arms, it feels as though no time has passed. It’s simply the day after you met, both of you ready for your next adventure together.

Together.

The word feels odd to you. It’s so unused in your life. You’ve always been alone. Growing up in the foster care system, you never stayed with someone long enough to use the word ‘together.’ So, there’s never been a desire in you to ever experience ‘together’ with someone. Until now.

“Hi,” Lando says warmly. You can hear the smile in his voice. A rush of heat paints your cheeks red as you pull away from him. As much as you want to keep your hands on him, you drop your hands from his neck and take a small step back. He lets his hands slip away from your waist, your body suddenly cold from the lack of his touch.

“Hi,” you respond, unable to remove the smile on your lips. 

For a couple of seconds you both stand in awe of each other. He’s grown so much, not that you didn’t already know that. His Instagram is regularly updated for race weekends and things in between, so you’ve watched him grow over the last six months. However, nothing compares to seeing him in person. The shitty part is that he looks so damn good. How are you supposed to say goodbye to that face, that smile, again?

“I can’t believe this,” Lando says while adjusting his cap that was thrown askew by the brute force of your embrace. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you say while watching his hands go about their work. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he says while nodding. “But great now. It’s been ages. What are you doing in London?”

Nerves buzz in your chest and fingertips. It almost sounds like he’s missed you. You’ve missed him. You’ve never missed anything the way that you miss him.

“I’m working on a story,” you say breathlessly. “About Camden.”

His face lights up as you tell him about your time in London so far. He seems excited when you tell him that you’re going to be here for a while and are looking forward to doing a little more sightseeing when you can. His eyes are wide and bright as he listens to you. Every once in a while you get caught stumbling over your words because you got lost in the curve of his jaw, or the smattering of freckles on his face, or by those damn eyes. 

Unable to keep talking coherently, you ask him what he’s doing in London. He tells you that he’s on summer holiday and spending a little time with family. He flew into London this morning and came to do some gift shopping for his parents before driving to Bristol.

He’s standing so close to you that you could reach out with little effort and take his hand in yours. The memory of his hand ghosts along your fingers, urging you to just reach out.

But for all of your desires, you have to hold fast to what you know to be true. This is temporary. Everything between you and Lando will pass because it always does. These feelings only feel this full and vivid because he’s standing right in front of you. This is a chance meeting that should never have happened. It only makes things more complicated. 

“What are you doing right now?” Lando asks suddenly, breaking you away from planning an exit strategy. Your heart sinks to your toes. 

“I–well–” You’re floundering. You never flounder. How is this the time that you can’t come up with some witty response or a quick out?

“Would you like to grab lunch? Maybe do a little catching up?” he presses. There’s this look on his face that makes you die a little. His eyes are so bright, lit up by the softest of smiles on his face. He looks perfectly at peace in your presence. There’s a happiness that exudes from his aura, taking you captive in its warm arms.

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper. You’re barely aware that you actually said it aloud. The answer fell from deep within your heart, spilling out because it had to. You’d like nothing more than to sit across a table from Lando and talk with him until the world comes to an end.

Immediately, you regret your answer. Agreeing to this means spending time with him and reopening the doors you’ve been struggling to keep shut. What you should be doing is locking those doors and throwing away the key. You should be doing everything in your power to do what you do best: to run. The urge is there, pulling you away from Lando and the fate that could be. The familiar safety of running away calls to you. 

But it’s counteracted by the intense desire to stay.

For the second time in your entire life and for the same reason both times, you’re split in two. War rages inside you; mind versus heart; logic versus feeling; safety versus adventure.

Lando reaches over, snapping up your backpack and hauling it over his shoulder. He sends you a wink, which you roll your eyes at. 

“Follow me,” he says while tilting his head back towards the food walkway. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to avoid smiling like a fool, you nod your head and fall in step with him. 

Together you waltz along in front of the shops. Lando is looking down a little ways, obviously searching out a particular shop. You can’t help but be grateful that you didn’t have to choose which place to eat at. You probably would have spent the rest of the day hopping from spot to spot, tasting a little bit of everything. 

After a short walk, Lando stops the two of you in front of a small stall. With a smile on his face, he explains what the shop serves. He obviously loves the place and can’t stop rambling on about it while you stand in line. Honestly, you only hear half of what he’s saying. You’re too busy watching the way his mouth moves and how his eyes dart around and the way he moves his hands while he speaks. 

“So, what are you going to get?” he asks. You’d blanked out when he was explaining the menu to you. 

“Just whatever you’re getting. I trust your judgment,” you say while shrugging, trying to be as normal as possible. You’d rather him not know that you’ve been ogling him this whole time. It doesn’t bode well for your attempts to get over him.

“You do?” he asks with a scoff. You laugh then, remembering the ice cream incident from six months ago. His choice was less than stellar, so why would it be different now? Maybe you should reconsider your options.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I’m giving you a chance at redemption.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s swiftly cut off by the woman behind the counter calling the next customer. Lando walks up in front of you and orders for the both of you. He pays the tender before circling back to you.

“No going back now,” he says while handing you a cup of ice water. Shaking your head at him, you pluck the water from his hand gratefully. 

“What do I owe you?” you ask while reaching for your wallet.

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. You glare up at him, trying to fry that smug look off his face. The opposite happens, his smirk growing into a grin.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” he says, reminding you that he’s a millionaire with just six words. What a snob. 

“Fine,” you say while stuffing your wallet back into your pocket. “Just trying to have manners. Ever heard of them?” 

His jaw drops and his eyes narrow in a look of disbelief. He’s carrying your bag and paying for your food. He’s actually being quite the gentleman, but you still need to bust his chops a little. The smug idiot deserves it, just a little bit. Behind your amused look, there’s an affection that scares you.

Standing side by side, you wait for your food while making small talk. It shocks you how easy conversation flows between the two of you. Nothing has ever been this perfectly natural for you. It just feels right to be by his side while talking about simple nothings. 

Just as your hunger starts to crest into annoyance, Lando’s number is called. Excusing himself, he jogs over and grabs the two boxes from the counter. The smell hits you before he even arrives back at your side. It takes everything in you not to rip the paper to-go box from his hands and devour the food right there. Instead, Lando leads you both over to an empty picnic table.

Lando plops down onto the bench, setting both boxes in front of him. For a moment, you think about rounding the table to sit across from him. It would put more distance between the two of you, a safety cushion of sorts. 

You sit right next to him. 

Smiling smally, he slides your food in front of you. With a needy sigh, you pop open the box and look at the meal in front of you. It’s chicken strips and fries. Raising your eyes to the sky, you begin to pray to the powers-that-be to keep you from laughing in his face.

“What?” Lando says through a mouth full of fries when he catches you barely holding back your laugh.

“I was wrong when I called you geriatric last December. I know now that you’re actually a child.” you strain to say. Lando simply cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Hater,” he says while popping off the lid to his dipping sauce. “Would a child eat chili mayo?”

Smiling wildly, you watch as he dunks his chicken strip into the mayo. After taking a bite of it, he has a little mayo on the corner of his mouth, not doing anything to negate the child accusations. 

Instead of teasing him anymore, you dive into your own meal. You have to hand it to Lando because these are the best chicken strips you’ve ever had. You don’t tell him that, though. No need to inflate his ego anymore than it already is. 

The two of you eat like you haven’t eaten in years. He polishes off the whole box before you and waits for you to finish.

“Stop watching, you creep,” you say while finishing off the end of your fries.

“I’m not watching you,” he lies. “I’m wondering if you’re going to have that last piece of chicken.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss it into his box. With a cheeky smile, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth. 

After you’ve both disposed of your trash, you begin taking a lazy walk around the market. There’s an unsaid agreement hanging between you to not acknowledge the fact that you’d only agreed to lunch together, not whatever this is.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Lando asks while watching the shops as you pass them by. A dozen different excuses jump to the surface of why you can’t stay with him for the rest of the day. Shame fills you as you realize that your first instinct to a simple question is to get out of it. For someone who’s living is asking questions and getting answers, you’re horrible at being questioned.

There’s yet again the choice that you were poised with all those months ago. With Lando standing in front of you, do you do the right thing and say goodbye or do you say to hell with your rules and reach out. 

You’ve already tried endlessly to forget him. Maybe you just need to get him out of your system. At least that’s how you justify your decision.

“Not much,” you answer honestly. All you were going to do today was do a little more exploring before returning to your home for the next few days to iron out your story. 

Lando turns to you with a surprised look gracing his features. There’s something else there too, something that surprises you. There’s hope in the way his lips arch upwards and in the tilt of his head. 

“What?” you say in response to the face he pulled, turning your eyes from him to the scenery around you. Looking at him like this has your stomach in knots for so many reasons.

“Nothing,” He says while shaking his head. He sounds so pleased it makes your chest ache.

“If you’re not busy, I can show you around a little,” Lando says distantly while turning to examine some jewelry sold by a nearby shop. His nonchalance is transparent, a false front put up to curb his enthusiasm. In a way, it puts you at ease. You’re both going to pretend that this is just some casual meet up between old friends. If you can’t make yourself run away, maybe you can keep yourself safe this way.

“Don’t you have to get to your parents’ house?” you ask, not wanting to impose on his plans. He shakes his head, telling you that he’ll just go a little later than planned. 

“Alright,” you find yourself saying. Lando freezes, then finally turns around to face you.

“Alright?” he asks, making sure he heard you correctly.

“Where to first?” 

—

For a while in the afternoon, you stroll around the market until Lando finds a present for his parents. Once he buys it and tucks it away into your bag, he tells you that it’s time to explore London. 

He forces you onto one of those buses that has an open air seating area, informing you that it is the best way to see the streets of London. He tells you that when he was a kid, he and his friends used to come on these and mess about. You can’t help but imagine a small Lando running up and down the aisle, causing chaos with a gaggle of little boys while their parents watched on. Parts of him still hold onto that childlike joy and wonder, shining like sunspots through the man he’s becoming. He must have had a happy childhood. An ache that feels like envy pinches at your heart.

You can’t help but wonder who you would be if you grew up the way he did.

After riding around on the bus, he takes you to walk along the River Thames. Crowds of people go about their days around you while you and Lando create your own little world together. Every place that he points out will forever be a reminder of him. His words paint over the sights, coloring them a shade of him in your mind. 

Once you get close to the London Bridge, the two of you walk up to the walkway’s railing that overlooks the river. Instinctively, you pull out your camera to snap a few shots. At first, you take a couple of just the bridge in all its glory. The clear summer sky is a beautiful backdrop to the brilliant bridge that watches over the busy river that flows under it.

Lando has his back to you, his head turned toward the bridge. He’s mumbling something about the ships that skim across the surface of the river. But your attention is turned toward focusing him into the frame. His brown curls blow softly in the wind. The shirt he’s wearing fills and flutters with the river’s breeze. He looks perfect as he leans up against the railing, his arms rested against the top and his hands loosely folded together. The photo you take feels so intimate. For all the business and life going on, the eye is completely drawn to him. He’s captivating.

“Lando,” you whisper, wanting to get his attention while your camera is still raised to your eye. 

Turning around, his face is caught in a look that you’re eternally grateful you caught on camera. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes are wide, and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s ready to answer any question you have, ready to hear anything you have to say. It’s a look straight from a movie scene. The look on his face changes swiftly from pleased to surprised when he sees the camera pointed at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a laugh forcing his face into a proper smile.

“Taking pictures,” you answer matter-of-factly.

Rolling his eyes, he begins to make faces at the camera. Without missing a beat, you keep snapping photo after photo of him. After a minute or so, you turn the camera off and drop it back down to your side. Lando watches you carefully, his eyes tracking your every movement. The way he’s staring at you makes you feel exposed and analyzed. Distantly, you think you should be scared of his eyes on you this way. But that’s a problem for another time.

The rest of the day passes easily. Lando brings you to some of his favorite spots around the city. He tells you stories; you listen carefully, trying your best to learn everything you can about him. You can’t help but feel like you’ve known him for a hundred years. The ease at which you speak, the natural way you understand each other's ques and mannerisms, it all feels instinctual. And yet, there’s still that layer of nervous excitement that lights you on fire. Every time your hands brush as you walk or you catch eyes lingering on each other, there’s an electricity that shoots through your heart. 

Lando brings you to a place to grab a bite to eat for supper. As you sit together for another meal, you find yourselves arguing lightheartedly about the stupidest things. All things aside, you realize you haven’t had a friend like this in so long. When you began rejecting relationships with people, it had been a hard adjustment. But over the years, you’d grown so used to being alone that you forgot how lonely you were. Sitting across from Lando, listening to him laugh with you and tease you, it dawns on you just how lonely you’ve been. 

By the time you’re done eating, the sun is starting to sink into the horizon. Golden hues are splattered across the sky, painting the city in orange. Lando promised one more sight that would put all the others to shame. Apparently Big Ben is highlighted by the setting sun and is a must see while in London.

With ice cream cones in hand, he hauls you quickly down the street towards the clock tower. Clouds create ombre lines in the sky, bringing the old clock to life. It’s a sight like none other. Big Ben stands like an ancient soldier keeping watch over his city by harnessing the light and fire of the sun.

Wordlessly, you take a photo of the scene in front of you, but only one. Turning your camera off and holding it loosely at your side, you just take in the view. It’s perfect. Everything about today has been perfect. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. 

Lando looms right next to you, his presence warm and full. A hand ghosts over yours, just the fleeting touches of fingers against your skin. Breathing suddenly becomes difficult, your lungs laboring to take in any oxygen. You don’t move a muscle, afraid that he’ll admit that it was an accident or worse.

But it happens again. One of his hands reaches towards your’s, plucking the camera from it. Then his other hand slides into your now empty one. Instantly, the sky isn’t the only thing on fire. Warmth envelops your body, everything stemming from where your hand fits in his. 

Looking over to him, you watch as he slings the strap of your camera around his neck. He looks over to you, a small smile on his face. As your eyes scan over his tanned features, you catch a small bit of ice cream caught at the corner of his mouth. An amused smile crosses over your face. He’s really never beating those child accusations.

“What?” he says while his face twists from peaceful to concerned.

“Nothing you just have some-” You say while you instinctively reach to wipe his mouth with your thumb. As you make contact, you realize what you’re doing. But it’s too late. You’re close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face. Inches separate you, mere inches.

Slowly, you finish the job you set out to do and wipe the corner of his mouth with your thumb. Hooded eyes greet yours when you dare to look at him.

“Ice cream,” you finish your earlier statement as your hand lingers against his face. Stubble rubs against your fingers, but his skin is soft and warm under it. 

There’s maybe a half a second between you trying to pull your hand away and his coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb props up your chin while his fingers press into the back of your neck. You’re barely able to suck in a breath before his lips are on yours. Sinking into him immediately, you kiss him back with matched passion. He feels divine pressed against you. Fire licks at your body, turning you molten in his grip. 

For the first time possibly ever, you feel confident that where you stand is exactly where you want to be. Reaching out to him, you grab his neck with both hands to pull him closer. 

The kiss is damning, his lips drawing you closer and closer. Letting go is not an option, the end of this isn’t even a thought in your mind. Everything you know is this kiss. The rest of the world has faded away; your past has faded into an obsolete flash. While his hands are on you, there’s hope. While your fingers press into his skin, there’s a future.

His hands start to drift, needing to feel more of you. With gentle but firm fingers, he explores your body. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist while the other splays out against your lower back, encouraging you to arch into him. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing you to gasp.

The momentary severing of your connection allows you to breathe for a second. Then your name falls from Lando’s lips in a whisper like honey and you’re submerged once again. Dusk wraps around you while you kiss like the world is ending.

Six months have been spent dreaming of moments like this. Lando has plagued you every day and every night for months. The steady ache that you thought would fade has just been set to rest and replaced with a roaring fire. Down to the very marrow of your bones you feel his kiss. You’re insatiable, needing more of him. 

Neither of you know how long you’ve been standing there when you finally pull apart. Lando doesn’t give any sign that he’s removing his hands from you. Instead, he just holds you close while his head drops between your collar and jaw. A jolt runs down your spine when you feel him placing the gentlest of kisses up your neck. 

“Thank you,” he says while pulling away to look you in the eyes. Reeling back a little, it strikes you as odd that that’s what he’s decided to say after you’ve just experienced the best make out of your entire life. Your reaction doesn’t phase Lando, of course. He just smiles down at you like he knows something you don’t.

“For the photo and the postcard,” he finishes, putting your shock to rest. A baffled laugh rises from your chest and you let your forehead fall against his chest. Laughing with you, he adjusts his arms around waist, pulling you tight against him.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up right now.” you laugh into his chest, dumbfounded that he was even thinking about it.

“Why? This is the perfect time to bring it up,” he defends. You pull back in his arms to look at him and give him a confused frown.

“I wanted to wait until I saw you in person so I could thank you properly. Now I have,” he says smugly as if this was his plan all along. Not only had he been thinking about and scheming this all day, he’d been waiting for months to do it. Chills cascade over your skin as you let the weight of that sink in. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. It’s an insane thought because you should never have felt that way after meeting him once. Rarely over the last six months have you let yourself hope that he felt the same way. Maybe you should have had a little faith.

But to what end?

The familiar feeling of doubt begins to creep in, but you refuse to ruin one of the best moments you’ve ever experienced. Even if you’ll pay for it later, you’re going to do your best to preserve whatever just passed between you and Lando.

“That’s so cheesy,” you find yourself laughing. Lando squeezes your sides, making you squeal and press into his chest.

“I think you meant ‘romantic,’” he corrects, emulating the conversation that you shared months ago. It makes you smile.

“Maybe I did,” you concede softly. Raising yourself up off his chest, you lean in a press the barest of kisses to his soft lips. He accepts your lips on his with equal tenderness. 

Pulling away for the second time, you press your hands flat against his chest to push away from him. He lets you go, but it takes a few seconds. After you’re free from the circle of his arms, you pull one of his hands into yours and begin walking into the night.

The dying light gives way into a sultry purple and navy blue. The air flits over the water and through the trees on a gentle breeze. With Lando’s hand in yours and your lips still tingling from his kiss, you can chalk this up to the perfect night. 

“Can I take a few pictures?” Lando asks as he pulls you in front of him, your camera held in his other hand. You’d completely forgotten that he had taken your camera from you.

“Sure,” you say while nodding. “Do you know how?”

“Yeah,” He scoffs smugly. “Point and click. Easy as that.”

Blinking at him, you’re slightly in awe of his absolute blind confidence. A man really just believes whatever he wants, doesn’t he.

“Alright,” you say while dropping his hand. “Take a few for me.”

Confidently, he smiles at you and brings the camera to his eye. Then pulls it away with a frown on his face.

“Lens cap,” you tell him while pointing to the end of the camera. His eyes flick to you while his confidence falters for just a second. Once he has the cap removed, he brings the camera back up to his eye. He’s obviously a little more pleased when he can actually see his surroundings through the viewfinder.

Silently, you watch as he struts about taking pictures of this and that. Watching on, you can’t help the smile that spreads onto your face. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Once something catches his eye, he walks over to it and spends minutes on making sure it’s just how he wants it. 

While he gallivants about with your camera, you have a moment to really think about everything that’s happened today. Playing it over in your head, it seems like a movie or as if it wasn’t really happening to you. The person you are with Lando seems so different to the person that you know yourself to be. It’s like the person that you are when you’re around him is this fuller version of yourself. Your broken pieces seem to draw together, finally ready to heal. There’s a joy that you’ve never known when your hand is in his. It feels right; it feels real.

And in the nighttime streets of London, you feel a star of hope being born in your chest. And you hold it tight. Maybe there are some things that don’t have to be temporary. Running is all you’ve ever known. Once a place doesn’t fit your needs or desires, you run away to the next place. But what if there’s somewhere, or someone, out there that will always fit your needs and desires. What if it wasn’t chance that brought together again two people whose paths should never have crossed?

What if you didn’t have to run?

“How do you get them to come up on the screen?” Lando says while fast walking over to you and pulling you from your train of thought. When he reaches you, you pull the camera from his hands. He rounds behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder and his hands around your stomach. Pressing the play button, you bring the pictures onto the display screen. It starts with yours from the beginning of the day. The bright morning shot of the Camden Market sign seems like a lifetime ago. 

You drag the wheel dial back, sending you to the last picture taken. It’s completely dark. 

“What?” Lando mumbles into your shoulder, his body going rigid against you. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Slowly, you spin the dial backward to keep browsing through his pictures. Nearly every single one is too dark to make out. 

Obviously frustrated, Lando huffs and presses his forehead into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his display of exasperation. His lesson has been well learned.

“I don’t get it,” he says while you turn in his arms. He’s pouty now, his face pinched into a frown.

“Did you adjust the aperture, the ISO, and the shutter speed?” you ask pointedly. He doesn’t give you the dignity of a response. Instead, he pulls his lips into a line and squints his eyes at you. He’s not taking any of your bull shit. Deciding it's your turn to play the smug jerk, you smirk at him.

“Point and click, right?” you tease while slinging the camera around your neck. You reach into Lando’s front pocket while looking him in the eyes to fish out your lens cap. His eyes go wide as your hand slides in and out of his pocket. Tilting your head to the side, you watch as he sucks in a deep breath. You’ve absolutely flustered him, something you don’t think often happens.

“Huh?” he mumbles, obviously not catching what you had said earlier.

“I can give you a lesson on the bus ride to my place if you’d like,” you say with an innocent smile. Lando blinks away his shock and then accepts your offer.

Walking side by side, you make your way to the bus stop. Hopping on the bus to where your house is, Lando leads you to a row and lets you have the window seat. 

While the bus teeters along, you give Lando a brief lesson on camera basics. He nods along, his eyes following your fingers as they dance along the camera. He seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. A warm feeling flares in your chest that he cares about what you do enough to learn about it. 

Too soon, the bus arrives at your stop. Together, you get off the bus and walk towards the town house you’re staying in. Lando has your hand clasped in his while he asks you question after question about cameras. You do your best to answer him, a smile constant on your face.

“This is me,” you sigh quietly while stopping in front of the gate of the house. He stops too, turning to stand in front of you. There’s a question poised on your lips that you already know the answer to were you to ask it. Once more the choice to reach out looms in front of you. 

“How long are you in London for exactly?” Lando asks. He hadn’t asked about it all day. You’ve been wondering when it was going to come up and it finally has.

“Just the next few days,” you tell him. He nods along with your words.

“After that?” he presses while fiddling with your fingers.

“Back to Monaco for a while until I get a new assignment. Probably only a few days,” you admit. “What about you?” 

“I’m going on vacation with my family to Bali for a week and then with some friends to Australia the next week. Then I’ll be in Woking for work,” he says, his eyes not lifting to find yours. The realization hits you like a dump truck. 

“Then the season starts again,” you say, your voice strained.

“And you’ll be on assignment,” he shoots back, his voice the same as yours.

All the hope that’s been accumulating throughout your time with Lando burns to ash in a matter of mere seconds. The guiding star that flared to life just hours ago, collapses in on itself, creating a black hole inside of you. All joy is sucked away, leaving you cold and alone. Where hope once was, despair takes its place.

It’s nearly laughable that you ever thought you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. Even when you tried not to run, the universe did it for you. Thinking that fate brought you together was a child’s wish. It’s fate that’s tearing you apart. There can be no other way for you, running away is the only option. Saying goodbye will always be your fate, your curse.

“I’ll come to Monaco,” Lando says suddenly, his hands gripping yours. His eyes are like fire when you look into them. His face is stormy, angry even. You know the look well. He’s fighting. He’s a fighter.

You remember when you were a fighter.

“Alright,” you choke out, feeling utterly broken. Pulling you close, he takes your lips with his own. You can feel his promise in his kiss, his hope to see you again. It shatters you further. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall. This pain is what you bargained for and now you’re paying in full. But you kiss him, you kiss him with everything you have because you know it will be the last.

Two fated times your paths crossed.

And two times you were ripped apart by that same fate.

When he pulls away, you can’t look him in the eye. He holds you close while he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll see you in Monaco.” His voice is stern and sure. All you do is nod into his chest. 

When he walks away, he doesn’t say goodbye. He believes that this isn’t one. You know better. 

This time, you don’t look over your shoulder to watch him leave. 

[luna0713hunter]

"you'll have to teach me " with zoro please and with

neck kisses / kitchen counter kisses

Kisses to keep your lover quiet but zoro kisses the reader

Lazy make-up

Thank btw I love your work

Author's note : its currently 3:30 am that im writing this request and gosh so many cute kisses with Zoro! And thank you for your nice compliments!!i hope you enjoy it 💕

"you'll have to teach me"

"neck kisses"

"kitchen counter kisses"

"kisses to keep your lover quiet"

"lazy makeout"

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none,lots of fluff and kisses,cute couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Getting some privacy in a ship is nearly impossible.

You cant really blame anyone;its a public space that all the crewmates share,and no one has the actual time to relax and spend time in their lover's company.

But there are also mornings like this: where everything's soft in the glow of the rising sun;the ocean calm and the sky so blue with few clouds, it has you closing your eyes and wishing for that moment to last forever.

As you lean back on the kitchen counter after you've made yourself a cup of tea,you enjoy the rare moments of loneliness. You close your eyes and take a sip of the sweet honey flavor liquid and let the rays of the sunlight warm your face.

When you hear the sound of someone stepping inside the kitchen,you open your eyes;ready to greet Sanji, assuming he's going to make breakfast since he's always the first one to wake up. But what greets you is the sight of a very drowsy Zoro making his way toward you. You pour him a cup of tea as well and offer it to him;and eye him as he accepts it with a grunt. You grin and bump your shoulder to his,making him grunt again.

"not awake yet,sleepy head?"

"not my fault. Usopp snores. And Luffy talks about food in his sleep."

You snort around your own cup of tea, "what about Sanji?"

Zoro takes a moment to consider your question,a when he speaks next,he seems genuinely surprised by his answer.

"he... actually isnt so bothersome when he sleeps. Which is weird, considering how annoying he is when he's awake."

You throw your head back and laugh;the sound so refreshing in the silence of the morning. Zoro takes a sip of his tea,and leans on his forearms next to where you're currently sitting on the counter.

"why are you up so early?"

You shrug and tilt your head toward the window.

"the weather was too nice to sleep in."

"is that so?"

You close your eyes when the skies clears again and the rays of the sunshine warm your face.

"yeah."

You two bask in each others' presence;no need for any words,just enjoying the silence. The tea finishes soon,and with warm belly,you eyelids start to droop again.

"sleepy?"

When you open your eyes,you see Zoro's face inches away from yours;having you caged between his arms. You lean forward and rest your forehead against his, smiling when he lowers his head and presses his lips to your neck. You shiver,and wrap your arms around Zoro's neck.

"you know,i always dreamed of kissing my boyfriend on a kitchen counter."

An amused chuckle escapes his lips,and he tilts his head to one side while eyeing your lips; pretending to be confused.

"oh?then I'm afraid you'll have to teach me how to do it."

You giggle and pull him closer

"that,can be arranged."

When your lips meet,the morning feels even better. Zoro's lips are soft and move slowly against your own. Its everything you've ever wanted,and even more.

Because of mornings like this,you try to wake up earlier than usual every now and then;so you can have a small alone time with the man you love before everyone else wake up.

When a small sound escapes your lips as he bites your lower lip lightly,Zoro pulls back slightly and rests his forehead against yours.

"you have to keep it down,babe. Don't want other to wake up now,do we?"

And one shake of your head is enough answer for him to dive back in,and capture your lips again.

And you pray to every god you know,that mornings like this last forever.

[galeorderbride]

Intimacy Prompt: #47 for Gale please!

Prompt #47: cuddling under blankets

Ooo thanks for the request, anon, this is gonna be a cute one!! 😊

Coupling: Gale x f!tav 

Rating: M (No sexual content, but allusions to doing it the night before and some suggestive flirting. Gale and tav are unclothed in bed) 

Words: 783

Imagine how sweet the first morning Gale and Tav have in Waterdeep. All the fighting and recovery from the game events is complete, and they can finally, unconditionally enjoy resting together.  

...

First Morning:

A Waterdeep morning was like no other. Tidal breezes whistling through the open window, the beam of the rising sun reaching the foot of the bed, clean and warm like fresh laundry. Breathing had never been easier, as Gale felt his body awaken in his tower for the first time in what felt like a century. Fresh sheets were like silk against his skin, bare and fully clean. He felt renewed, drunk on bliss, happy. 

Happier than he’d ever been, even before the nautiloid. The source of that happiness in the form of a beautiful body beside him, shifting around under the blankets. Tav was turned away, the curve of her hips in statuesque perfection under the ivory fabric. Her back was exposed, little marks lined across from a comfortable, sprawling slumber. Hair unkempt and a tangled mess around her neck. Tiny whimpers of awakening like an angel’s song. Not even the gods could create such beauty. 

They arrived in Waterdeep yesterday, after countless delays and uncertainties, crawling into Gale’s towers just as the clock struck ten pm. Just enough time to have a little something to eat, bathe, and go right to sleep. Except they didn’t, not right away. Suffering tiredness as he couldn’t help but share the bath with her, a choice that kept them awake for some time as they made tender love under the moonlight. Even during stressful travel, filled with exhaustion and unanswerable questions, they knew they could find each other in the dark. As they did from the moment their romance began. 

Now, they basked in the glorious morning, untethered from the trials of the tendays before. Gale could see she was beginning to stir awake, but still clinging to the comfort of sleep. He craved nothing else than to be close to her, an insatiable ache that left him with nothing but a wish that he could fuse his soul to hers. To have nothing else in the world exist other than the two of them. 

Gale drew closer, pressing light kisses on Tav’s back as he pulled the sheet over them, covering their heads. The tickle of his beard against her skin sent her eyes fluttering open, overtaken by the warmth of his body heat collecting under the blanket. Tav stretched her arms above her head, Gale taking the opportunity to kiss across her ribcage. His hand ran down her stomach and hips, exhaling deeply as he pulled Tav toward him, squeezing her into a loving spoon. Their legs intertwined together, grazing against the soft sheets as if they’d never feel this comfortable again. Tav couldn’t contain the grin on her face, locking her fingers in with his as they rested on top of her thigh. 

“Good morning, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear, “The first of a thousand. And then a thousand more after that.” 

“Mmm, good morning to you, my lovely wizard,” Tav said, voice husky from sleep, “Is there breakfast involved in those thousands of days?” 

“Your wish is my command—in just a moment. Let’s lay here a while, if you’ll indulge me,” he said. 

“My time is yours,” she said, harkening back to the words he’d say to her on their adventure. When the stirrings of their passionate romance had just begun its resilient song. Every time she’d go to him for something, he’d speak that magic phrase, enchanting enough to have her melting no matter how many times she heard it. 

“Good, come here,” he said, letting out that sleepy growl she couldn’t get enough of. Somehow, he managed to pull her even closer, tightening his hold of their bodies together. 

The heat under the blankets slowly became unbearable, but neither of them cared, indulging in the sensation of skin-on-skin. Tav wished night would return now, just for the chance to wake up beside him again. This had to be the afterlife, the finest version mortals could access. And yet, both of them knew this was something only beating hearts could conjure. 

Gale hooked his leg over hers, bigger and heavier, sluggishly weighing over her body. Tav giggled, allowing him to fully envelope her in his embrace. Her back pressed against his chest, gooseflesh stimulated from the brush of his body hair, and the desirous leisure of being wrapped up in him. Gods, the kisses, touching every part of her he could reach, from the nape of her neck to the apex of her shoulder, joined by the tickle of his fingers caressing her hip. 

“Who needs breakfast,” Tav said, “Nothing compares to this.” 

Gale chuckled, “I have breakfast right in front of me. I hope you’re comfortable my love, I’m going to savour this morning like no other.” 

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Jareth courting you during autumn would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(These hcs are slightly centered around Halloween, so sorry if you were looking for something different!)

- There’s a lingering warmth that hangs in the Underground even as the normal world turns bleak and cold. You wonder if it’s like this all year round: if the brick walls that seal you inside the manmade; or fae-made, labyrinth also fend off the crisp chill of the regular autumn air. You can’t bring yourself to ask about it either way. You want to stay wondering: want to enjoy the strange world for what it is instead of wondering why it is. Everything inside the labyrinth seems to be just as you like it. You suppose that’s Jareth’s way of making you want to stick around.

- Nevertheless, you’ll occasionally find that the air grows colder right before Jareth arrives or when you find yourself straying too far from his side. The pleased smile that flits across his lips when you gravitate towards him and his body heat is evidence enough that he has some kind of hand in the changing of the winds. He likes you close, nearly shoulder to shoulder or chest to chest. You’ve found that lingering out of his reach proves troublesome in more ways than one….

- Different creatures surface during the changing of the seasons: some emerge from their dens, some retreat away, some grow thicker fur, and some simply grow more ravenous; their new attitudes rendering them unrecognizable from their summery counterparts. Areas of the labyrinth change as well. Leaves fall, as do trees and seeds and rocks, holes and burrows get dug, landslides crumble, things break apart. The labyrinth is perilous on a good day, it grows even more dangerous during seasons of uncertainty.

- Though with it's danger comes an even greater beauty, one that has you pleading with Jareth to escort you around the Underground whenever you have the chance. The two of you go for walks around the kingdom nearly every day, watching the leaves change color and the autumn harvest gradually rise from the earth. When Jareth is too busy to accompany you, he makes sure that one or more of his subjects are around to keep an eye on you, making sure that you're safe wherever you decide to go.

- The Underground is bathed in an orange glow during the in-betweens of day and night. Everything sparkles and shines in the fading sun, and the smell of smoke and spices pour out of the stone chimneys found around Goblin city and the fires that warm Jareth's castle. The light disappears quicker amongst the stacked houses and thick walls, and though you deny that you're cold, Jareth simply smirks at your stubbornness and throws his cape over your shivering shoulders.

- After long days outside, you get back to the castle and have a hot supper together, basking in the warmth of the fire and the different candles that light the room. Though the goblins aren't the best cooks, Jareth's ensured that they know how to make things that he knows you'll enjoy: warm soups and filling foods that remind you of the things you have back at home. He likes to be close to you when you eat: likes being able to watch you and hear you talk more than you usually do. You lower your guard when you're amongst the normalness and the quiet of the empty dining room, and Jareth likes to see you feeling particularly at home and comfortable.

- There's something about traveling between the real world and the Underground that makes you feel like a kid again, like you're still celebrating Halloween in your youth. Something about it reminds you of how it felt to trick or treat late at night: like you're doing something you're not supposed to with the safety of knowing that you're allowed. It's the nostalgic feeling of still believing in magic, of the world suddenly turning fantastical and whimsical and strange. It's the same giddy emotion you get when watching a seasonal movie, of having your fantasies beautifully fulfilled in full.

- Travelling to the Underground doesn't always make sense. Oftentimes, Jareth will seek you out as the sun begins to set and you'll enter his realm just as it's beginning to rise. Sometimes it's morning or noon when he materializes in your home, and when you arrive at his castle, you're standing under a sky of shimmering stars. It adds to the magic of it, makes it feel even more like a dream.

- Either decorating the castle with the goblins or having Jareth order them around in preparation for your arrival. He's unfamiliar with the traditions of the holiday/season, but he lets you wreak havoc in whatever festive way you'd like. Bring those over there. She wants those strung up. What are you waiting for? He raises a brow at the poor creatures when they look at him in bewilderment, making them hurriedly start doing whatever was asked/commanded of them.

- Whether it includes using his magic or simply using his goblin servants, anything you ask for is yours. Want pumpkins? He'll send his minions out to retrieve some. Want atmospheric weather? He'll conjure it up in a second. He'll go as far as to change entire areas of the labyrinth just to make you happy. Like I said: anything you want is yours.

- Jareth likes to pretend he isn't interested in/is above your childish human traditions, but his curious gaze tends to defy him whenever you busy yourself with an unfamiliar task. He'll watch from the sidelines, glancing away whenever someone looks towards him, pretending he isn't amused/vaguely fascinated by whatever's going on. He thinks it's silly that you insist on cooking things instead of just letting/making the goblins do it, or that you want to rake the leaves and jump into the manmade piles. Though he refuses to do it himself, he grows jealous whenever the goblins agree and make you happy in the process.

- The goblin king can't help but scoff when you fondly tell him about corn mazes in the real world. He jealously brags about his own maze; his labyrinth, and asks if you'd like to give his a try if you like them so much. He doesn't actually expect you to agree, or at least doesn't expect you to be so determined about it. He likely sends his goblins out to tail you and make sure that you're not grievously injured during your little adventure: commanding them to go around the kingdom closing oubliettes, moving rocks, and scaring different beasts away as you cluelessly continue on with your journey....

- In the beginning, he watches you with vague amusement, occasionally appearing and making comments about having déjà vu and things of the sort. He tries to convince you to take a break and spend time with him, growing bored with the whole idea when you refuse and insist that you're going to beat his labyrinth. He might even have his subjects lead you towards shortcuts just so you can finish quicker, letting you brag to him about how easy it was when you make your way inside the castle, letting you feel all accomplished while he tugs you close to him and forces you to make up for lost time.

- Speaking of beasts: though the goblin king is prone to jealousy, he might gift you a creature to keep you company/safe whenever he's not able to spend time with you. It's likely an adorably ugly, furry, and hulking critter that follows after you obediently and lays across your lap to keep you warm. Jareth might pretend that you found the thing all on your own; and you might be convinced due to the slight rivalry that the two of them have going on, but rest assured that there's a reason that the beast suddenly appeared during one of your mini travels.

- Fair warning: teaching goblins how to carve pumpkins is a vaguely terrifying experience. It's like trying to teach a room full of slightly violent preschoolers how to do an activity that's completely foreign to them. They cluelessly try to follow along, hesitating at first and looking to Jareth for permission before hurriedly doing as you say. They get very invested very quickly, however, and you'll soon find yourself in a room full of noisy, excited little creatures.

- Goblins love scary stories. They recount them in gruesome detail whenever you ask them to/mention that it's holiday tradition. Jareth usually sits by your side and grimaces while he listens, his hand on his chin and his eyes flicking over to you, watching you hang on to the storytellers every word. He doesn't understand why you're so enamored with such ugly little tales, but he allows them to be told all the same.

- Some of the goblins would likely ask to do Halloween activities all year round/whenever you come to visit, loving the newfound rituals/games you've introduced them to. You might find that the goblins keep Jack-o'-lantern's on their doorsteps all the way into spring and summer, or that they tell cover their "yards" with hay or "fallen" leaves (leaves they've plucked from trees and forced to shrivel up).

- Receiving whimsical gifts. Your home in the real world is decorated with magical souvenirs, things you tend to keep hidden or dodge questions about whenever company comes over. These gifts tend to defy logic and science, and they make even your boring old bedroom seem fantastical, exciting, and strange.

- Somedays, you like to stay with Jareth in your own world, showing him different Halloween movies and listening to seasonal music. Familiar activities take an interesting turn when you're doing them with a magic wielding goblin kings.

- You explain different holiday traditions to him whenever they come up in conversation, telling him about this and that while he sits and listens patiently. The perfect time to whisk them away, isn't it? He'd said teasingly when you told him about trick or treating, wrapping his arms around you while you tried to glare at and scold him. I suppose you'll just have to spend the night with me to ensure that I don't do anything of the sort.

- Your Halloween desserts are a guilty pleasure of his. He can always find it in himself to excuse the boredom you put him through while waiting for you to be finished whenever you finally reward him with a proud smile and a sweet treat.

- There's likely some kind of portal in your home that allows you to enter into the Underground without Jareth's help. It also allows for the goblins to sneak into your world, happily roaming around your house and wreaking havoc wherever they go. Whether you willingly invite them over or not, you still have fun babysitting the little rascals and getting them to help you with your Autumn-related endeavors; even if they leave you with more of a mess than anything else. Jareth can always right whatever wrongs they commit in a matter of minutes, so you never really have to worry. He also finds it amusingly sweet whenever you plead with him to be merciful with the creatures whenever they decide to pay you a visit without his permission.

- When you find yourself feeling lonely or unable to sleep, you sometimes make your way deeper into the castle and see what the goblins are doing. Sometimes you'll be able to stumble across a makeshift goblin party or decide to make one on your own: convincing the creatures to divvy out some snacks and drinks and play some music or party games. It's chaotic, but it's always fun, and you'll find yourself getting so caught up in it that you don't even notice Jareth standing in the doorway. He'll raise a brow at you when you finally lock eyes, smirking in amusement when you smile at him sheepishly.

"Time for bed, don't you think?" He teases hintingly, leaning against the doorframe as he waits for you to untangle yourself from the party. He's somewhat amused as he leads you back to your room; whether in the castle or back in the real world, and he promises to show you what a real party looks like in the very near future.

- The party in question is a masquerade ball, one that's likely set on the night of Halloween. The entire point of it is to try and top your little goblin get together; an incredibly simple affair, yet the extravagance of it would make one assume that he was trying to outshine an entire royal ball. The dancehall's decorations take on a gothic twist, the room is lit by candelabras and chandeliers, the guests are dressed in gaudy satin and velvet and lace.

- You yourself are dressed indulgently, wearing the gown and the jewelry that Jareth gifted you in anticipation of the holiday event. He spoils you rotten with the outfit: making sure that every hem and stitch is in line with your deepest fantasies. He tries to entice you with promises that you could be wearing similar things everyday if you simply chose to stay with him in the Underground, smiling impishly at you when you fondly tell him to focus on his dancing.

- You spend all night dancing and drinking and laughing with all of the Goblin Kings eccentric party guests. You take it all in until you physically can't anymore, collapsing happily into the cushions of an armchair at the end of the night, resting your feet and catching your breath. Your head is fuzzy as you watch Jareth approach you, fading in and out of view between the vibrant, moving company. He asks if you've had enough for the night, offering you his hand and leading you out of the room, members of the crowd parting for the two of you like the red sea. You feel like a child being carried off to bed, hearing the chorus of voices and laughter grow quieter and quieter as you slink up stone staircases and down long empty hallways.

- You soon find yourself standing at the ledge of his castle, looking out amongst the entirety of his kingdom and his labyrinth, admiring the autumn atmosphere late at night. It's easy to want to stay there forever when you feel like this, to be swayed to agree to be his and his alone. Everything is so beautiful in that moment: perfect beyond compare. When Jareth comes up behind you and embraces you, you feel as though the whole world is embracing you, and without hesitation, you find yourself embracing it back....

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 3: Googly Eyes

This came to me in a quick moment of brilliance, please enjoy ^-^

Word count: 610

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

You're scrolling through the camera reel on your phone, aimlessly. It's late, and you're too tired to think but not tired enough to sleep. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself. Seems to work especially well when you wake up from a nightmare, drenched in sweat and heart beating with fear. Flashes of your dreams on giving you the briefest of recollections but causing you to remember all the same-

Your thumb stops on one image in particular, and you furrow your brow at it briefly. It's of a mug, with googly eyes stuck to it. You flip to the next photo, similar deal, instead now it's the back of a computer. You find several other photos with the same shtick. A lunchbox, a ball cap, a jacket. You don't remember taking these, nor can you remember why you would in the first place. 

That is, until the swipe one photo further, and it clicks. 

Staring back at you from your screen is a day-themed animatronic, with two comically large googly eyes plastered on top of his optics. 

Sun.

Sun. 

And now, you recall that day.

"You are a menace to society," You say, laughing in disbelief as you find another set of plastic eyes stuck to your belongings. 

"I don't know what ever you could be referring to," Sun quips, back turned to you and arms crossed, "I think it's impolite to insinuate I am doing anything unruly. I have impeccable manners, I'll have you know!"

You scoff lightly, "Sure bud, but that doesn't excuse the excess amount of-oh come on!" You stopped as you realize your mouse has been compromised as well, and- "My walkie too? How'd you even manage this? I was on break for five minutes!"

“You should never underestimate an expert with their craft!” He holds up a finger, turning to face you, “That was your first mistake. Your second, was leaving the door to the storage room ajar.”

You notice now what he’s done to his face and have to cover your mouth to keep from laughing.

“Where did you even find googly eyes that big?” You ask, watching as they shake while his faceplate spins.

“They’re for big projects! I save them for special occasions only.”

“And this counts?” You rest your chin in your hand.

The grin in his tone matches the one on his face, “Absolutely.”

You stare at each other for a moment, warm smile across your face as you bask in the silliness of the situation.

“Can you even see like that?”

“No! But thankfully my sensors can compensate for such losses,” He deflates ever so slightly, an edge of sheepishness in his tone, “Though, I must admit, perhaps I should have used a weaker adhesive.”

You laugh at that, then realize what he’s saying.

“What did you use to get them to stick?” You ask slowly.

The Attendant’s rays shrink, fingers pressing together, “Ultra-tough, super-sticky, Faz-glue?”

“Sun! Why would you do that?” You’re up now, looking around on your desk for anything to remove the super glue.

“It sounded like a good idea at the time!”

You’re taken out of the memory when you feel something wet on your cheeks. You put a hand to your face. Crying. You’re crying.

You wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, finally turning off your phone for the night. You can’t stand staring at his face for one more second. It just reminds you everything that you lost in that fire.

Once you calm down again, you sigh, turning over on your side and closing your eyes.

Maybe tonight will be different.

Maybe tonight you’ll be fine.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Well I did say fluff would maybe come up BUT I DIDN'T SAY IT WOULDN'T BE ANGSTY FLUFF NOW DID I?

Man I am just out for blood with these huh, oh well, if you're a CS fan you're already used to the pain, this is nothing to you <3

Thanks for reading!! You can find the masterlist here

[feefymo]

Heart Deco; James Patrick MarchxF!Reader

summary: James Patrick March is still alive and well. Prohibition reigns but he doesn't conform to the rules. With the intention of satisfying his alcoholic whim, he will make your acquaintance.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5953 words | murder, sex, violence, blood... it would be easier to indicate what is free of warnings!

a/n: little reminder that English is not my mother language so be gentle, please! I hope you'll enjoy this... long thing(!!!), especially @taintandviolent , to whom I want to dedicate it. Bye, little hummingbirds!

Year 1926.

Prohibition dried up the throats of Americans. It spread like a stinging disease, too bad James Patrick March liked the itch. He knew not to scratch but he hated the restrictions, so he was ready to relieve the tingling with a metal rake if necessary - even if it wasn't, in fact. If you're reading this, you know James Patrick March's special habits: he was a serial killer of the worst kind, sure. But that doesn't mean he didn't indulge in "surface" pleasures as well. Gentleman's pleasures, denied by society but still more accessible to the higher ranks. What hypocrisy! James, still alive and well, had received a tip-off and so here he was, heading to his car with fascinating cunning. Delighted by the pale sun that hit his figure, he was preparing to leave, arousing the interest of the ladies and the envy of some gentlemen. He knew the destination: he had decided to go to an isolated distillery in Calico, Ghost Town. A Sunday concession that brazenly opposed religious objections: a pair of sunglasses and the magical disappearance of the car hood were enough. James felt he was being watched, his ego picked up the signals and basked in it. At the same time, Mr. March succeeded in the fleeting attempt of not giving importance to anyone among those who remained entangled in his less dangerous net. Therefore, he set off enjoying the feeling of leaving anyone who bored him behind, there, to get intoxicated in the cloud generated by the exhaust pipe of his car.

The distillery stuck out of nowhere like the only tooth left in a homeless man: rotting, decadent, a building whose exterior was so ugly and run down that it aroused very little suspicion in the rare customers who passed by. For James, however, it was a picnic like any other that didn't affect his ginger mood at all. Indeed, the darker side of his spirit gradually took over, hoping to get much more than a sip of alcohol.

"Mr. March, it's a pleasure to have you here. We've heard about you!" "We've heard great things about you!" Mrs. Holland entered, interrupting her husband. The couple, too warm in their welcome for what James knew about the Dutch, stumped him with idle chatter. Pleasantries, useful insights into his constant thirst for blood which, if he wanted, he could have indulged in the blink of an eye. The man, treated with kid gloves, observed the two foreigners taking turns and competing to see who could best ingratiate him. For his part, the owner of the Hotel Cortez was experiencing a strong intolerance that he would keep at bay for a little while longer, behind a pair of wide, black eyes. Behind a plastic smile that his mustache shaded with surgical precision. While the types of alcohol available were explained to him, James soon realized that he was once again afflicted by the disease of boredom. A boredom that took him down, down, down into a spiral void that met and matched his homicidal instincts. Then came a first taste and his expression lit up faintly: "Aaah!" he croaked smugly, glancing at the bottom of the glass. "I was just impatient to savor what you praise so much." he turned on his heels with a movement tinged with theatricality, determined to take his own space and explore that dusty labyrinth of barrels and bottles.

He needed to stifle his bloody impulses out of mere opportunism and staying close to Mr and Mrs Holland made it unbearable. Almost impossible. So, whistling a dark tune that made him a recognizable target, he continued as if he were at home until a staircase aroused his feline curiosity. "Oh, it goes even lower! Are you perhaps going to distill all the way to Hell?" the man joked before biting the dusty air and performing a sizzling descent into the underworld. He wasn't greeted by a very different scenario, except for one detail that took his breath away once he understood it in its entirety. An arch had been carved into the wall in front of him. A blasphemous niche, made inaccessible by the glass that separated its "contents" from the rest of the distillery.

The content in question? You. Just you: disheveled, wild, ethereal. An otherworldly creature yet so seemingly fallible. Fragile and candid. You sat backwards on an old wooden chair, dressed only in a long cream-colored nightgown. In the center of the chest, sewn onto it, was a very red anatomical heart detailed with inlays and disturbing sparkles. Clinging to the back of the chair, you seemed twisted like the trunk of an olive tree to study the intruder without your expression being able to be deciphered.

For his part, James had been pierced in the chest by the poisoned arrow of a corrupt Cupid. Still, in a sculpted dictator pose, James let your bottled essence seep and nourish him. It seeped into his veins and electrified his brain. He gave you a stunned expression, as if your existence were an irreparable disgrace. "Well I'll be blessedly darned."

"Ah, you have found our Heart Deco." Mr. Holland congratulated, as if it were a treasure hunt. "We brought a gem from Amsterdam." The owner of the shack was pleased with the way James reacted to that vision: no judgement, no disappointment, no threat of turning to the police. What a morally healthy person would have found disgraceful at the very least, aroused in James an atavistic energy that he was just channeling onto this Heart Deco in its entirety.

It was as if Mr and Mrs Holland had totally disappeared from the planet: they spoke to him but James didn't turn around. His attitude had changed, he excluded them. He barely moved from the spot where he was pinned to observe and study you maniacally. For your part, you didn't show any kind of reaction: you didn't seem scared or infatuated. Curious, perhaps. You returned that oily look with equal intrusiveness. Imprudence, perhaps. There was something profoundly naive about you but that naivety was polluted and James picked up on it. He could feel it and appreciate it greatly. That day, he suddenly decided to turn his back on you, as if he had been burned by the mere image of you.

However, he returned. He came back and came back and came back. "Leave us alone." he commanded, his voice no longer composed solely of velvet but also of nails. A multitude of rusty nails. Your meetings, on the surface, were similar. Beneath the surface, something different, growing and perverse simmered more and more. James' ritual was always more or less the same: he also used a chair very similar to yours. It moved slowly, as if you weren't trapped and could escape.

He perceived you as wild and he was right. He sat calmly, sipped his cordial and smoked. Slowly. He stared at you like an artist stares at his unfinished work for hours, searching for the detail that would make it perfect. That same search afflicted James like a disease and made him more and more frustrated. By now, you were able to notice it from small details such as the pulsation of the jaw or the dilation of the nostrils. The very black, compact tuft that fell on his forehead and the pallor that increased on his marble face. You could even glimpse the muscles underneath his clothes so much so that, one day, you stood up.

You took him by surprise, forcing him to straighten his posture and roll his eyes. A few centimeters from the obstacle that separated you, you waited for him until he understood and stood up to meet you. Dazzled by your presence, he would have drawn a hundred fountains of childish blood just to hear you speak and his anticipation grew. It modeled his facial expressions, increased his breathing. In fact, you opened your mouth but to breathe on the glass and plant a kiss on it while your left hand slid in a squeaking sound until it rubbed at the crotch of James' pants.

There was no contact that wasn't imaginary, and yet, the man's erection grew instantly. James exhaled a tremulous sigh as he rested his forehead on the cool surface; he almost didn't notice that he had pushed himself against the glass to rub his cock against it. An uncomfortable, unsatisfying yet necessary friction. It hurt, it tugged at the intimacy of his skin but this increased his raging pleasure. He hated you and, at the same time, he depended on you. From the question he asked himself: "how fast does his heart beat?"

With a fist, he hit the divider and retreated but you were able to cut off his fury by holding on to the long pearly skirt of your dress. Wrinkle after wrinkle, you picked it up, revealing your legs and, after a few seconds, your pussy. Wet and luminous, you pressed her against the glass as well as your breasts hidden by almost transparent fabric. So, James fell to his knees with an expression halfway between disdainful and subjugated, venerating what you conveyed. "Oh, my precious creature…" he opened his jaws and licked nothing as if it were your cunt. He followed the lines of your crotch and worked his way into your tender center. His destiny was already written: he would eternally remain a murderer with the spasmodic urgency of authentic love. Devoted, if not downright submissive.

///

"And yet, we were convinced that you were interested in alcohol. You're ruining us like this!"

"If I really wanted to ruin your suffocating rat existence, I would already have burned you alive in this building. Without wasting even an ounce of creativity on it."

"Please, Mr. March. Leave these grotesque jokes aside. It's not something we can afford to give up!"

"Indeed. It's not a 'thing'… and neither of you take me seriously."

"You force me to be adamant, March: Heart Deco will not go away with you, that's out of the question."

"Adamant, you say? Mh! My dear gentleman, this negotiation has become very tedious and time, alas, is a tyrant. I apologize if the request has got you so… tangled up. On the other hand, you two are not even compelling interlocutors, therefore, thank you. Ad majora! If you allow…"

Errare humanum est, perseverare autem diabolicum. To err is human, but to persevere is diabolical, asserted Augustine of Hippo. And the Dutch had erred while James merely persevered. He traced his allegorical crop circles, pointing out the obvious, in reverse, on the only Bible he has left. What the couple had taken as a joke in bad taste, accidentally exploded together with their Ghost Town and without Heart Deco inside. Heart Deco, you, had sped away together with James, in the car that would take you to the Hotel Cortez. A silent but vibrant journey of adrenaline that, in different ways, you shared electrifying the road.

///

"Mr. March? Mr. March, wait!" a small nervous looking man chased James until he caught up with him but James didn't stop walking along one of the corridors on the first floor of the Cortez. "Forgive me Mr. Shaffer, I am desolated but, as you see, I have an unbreakable commitment." the owner of the hotel began by pronouncing his words. He sped up his march in long, elegant strides that distanced him from any mix-up. For his part, the little man in question was responsible for managing some projects relating to the building and, although he was intimidated by the figure of the other, he tried to insist: - But Mr. March, I need… -

"I must ponder, inept!" James interrupted him with a theatrical gesture of his hand, as if to chase away an insistent fly. "I'm not convinced about the color of the pool lining." he murmured with a caricatured thoughtful expression: although he seemed to be addressing someone, he was talking to himself, appearing and disappearing among the cones of light emanating from the walls. "Cerulean or Powder Blue? Cerulean or Powder Blue?" captured by that Hamlet-like doubt, James stroked his mustache and continued in his vicious circle. Mr. Shaffer stopped, dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and took a breath but the hotelier burst out: "PALE TURQUOISE! … Perhaps." and then he disappeared, swallowed up by the dark secrets of Cortez. One, in particular, who fed his blood with trepidation.

///

Click.

Your breath flickered like a fish, simultaneously with the sound of a pause being pressed. Gradually, the huge room you had been led into began to light up. Small detail of no small importance: you could perceive the light but you still didn't know where you were because you were blindfolded. Blindfolded and with your wrists secured to two heavy iron rings stuck in the floor. Only later, you would discover that there were many others around you. Meanwhile, they kept your arms slightly open at the sides of your torso, in a gesture of false welcome. You remained still as long as you could, then you started to get agitated and not with the aim of escape. You fretted, smiling left and right in hopes of receiving more clues. "Mister… Mr. March?" you ventured, boldly, without receiving an answer. At least not immediately because, shortly after, the echo of slow footsteps began to spread and allow you to guess the owner of the shoes.

"Oh, but look at this. Look at yourself." the man began, as if it wasn't him who placed you at the bottom (extremely deep) of the indoor pool. "You are the Emperor's Nightingale, aren't you? I have always asked myself numerous questions about that fairy tale." James spoke, syrupy, feline and you heard him far away. You felt him close. You felt it everywhere, yet not there with you. "Freedom. A golden cage and no hunter will ever slaughter him. But if a mechanical bird takes over, precious, tireless, without feelings… what do I do with anything else? The mortal one?" a metallic noise interrupted James' prayer for a few eternal moments and a sense of bewilderment assailed you. "There, there dear: I'm here, with you. Who are you?" the strides lengthened and the man reached you, crouching in front of you. Despite exuding the heat of a living being, a drop of icy sweat ran down your vertebrae as if they were stairs. "Are you the living nightingale or the mechanical one? - it came naturally to you to make a gesture in support of your prompt response but this reminded you that you couldn't move your arms.

On the other hand, James was already thinking about it: you could smell the stupefying scent. The alcoholic notes on his breath that blended masterfully with the cologne he was wearing. Which he would soon impregnate you with. "Come closer. Come closer and feel how my heart beats, my Emperor." at that point James took a sharp breath through his nostrils and moved quickly against your chest, to make sure you weren't lying. To make sure there were no squeaky gears inside you. He was a serial killer and not a watchmaker for a reason. So, combined with the palpitations with which you were spoiling him, the man expressed himself in a low moan that was the soundtrack to his hands. He kept them open, caressing your nipples until they became hard enough to scrawl his palms. At that point, he grabbed both of your breasts, pressing his nose between them. You felt the ring he wore on his little finger create an inlay in your flesh and it was a pain that didn't seem enough. "Your ventricles flutter like little wings. Delicious." he noted, panting between his teeth, before grabbing the blindfold over your eyes and slowly but firmly pulling it down. "Good evening, my darling." James greeted slyly, tilting his head perfectly nestled in the hair jelly. A grin opened slowly, like a fan of premises to which you responded with a reverential nod. "Ooh, I like women who are a little formal and have hard nipples. How do you know it? You read my mind, maybe?" James, kneeling between your thighs, straightened his back in order to rummage through his kit.

“Are you going to kill me, Mr. March?” you asked without fear of the answer you would get, so his night gaze darted onto you. "I have the impression that it will entertain you more if I don't reveal it. " quick and imperative, he grabbed your ankle so that it rested on his shoulder and the fabric of the dress slipped, revealing a calf caressed by thick, weak and pale hair. Mr. March didn't care at all if and how much hair covered your gorgeous body, he was already incredibly aroused but he found it useful. They tested his lucidity like Russian roulette. Then, he began to touch your leg with the solemn touch of someone who comes across the fleece of some Greek deity; so typical of James. A master in veneration as well as in sugarcoating the pill. That could mean a night of his more conventional devotion to you or the calm before a storm.

Seeing the sparkle you saw in his fist, a tangle of dread expanded in your stomach. James held a razor in his hand. From the kit, he had taken only that. He slowly raised it so that you could get into visual confidence while he bent over your leg, lightly rubbed one cheekbone and then began to lick it in long stripes down to the knee. His irises, wells of black water, stared at your face, becoming opaque with growing eagerness. "Sometimes the pen hurts more than the blade… do you agree?" James asked in a slightly contemptuous whisper. Swallowing before going back to licking you. He stared at you expectantly, in a position that made his trousers extremely constricting. “Do you want the honest answer or the one you would like to hear?” your ulterior question bounced off the sinister and apparently pleased grin of the man, who snapped the blade and passed it over the (deliberately) insufficient layer of saliva. Once, twice, three times: the aim was not to shave you but to exhaust the viscosity and make you react to the burning. Craving it with the composure of a heartfelt gentleman, until you tried to withdraw and his grip became steel. James' idolatry of blood, your blood, could be read in his expression: "Oh, look at you Deco: I was so certain of your merit." Tiny blood gems decorated you like aristocratic stockings and, for each one, you suffered a little. However, the presence of James Patrick March continued to dominate the rest and your body, which reacted with pleasure.

The luck inherent in that individual lay in his wearing of many masks. Every day a different James, always methodical and lethal but often subject to boredom. He also put your other leg on his shoulder but he wasn't going to torture it, the idea had already tired him - exactly. He would bend over, literally lay between your limbs as the wrinkles in your robe rose and pooled on your contracted belly. Semi-prone, he seemed ready to swim in the absence of water, but instead, he gave himself the momentum to catch you by surprise and lift you up. Pushing yourself off the ground, more than half of your body was raised to his will. He had taken you away from the Dutch couple but not to free you. He had moved you from one prison to another, however, you loved every bar of this one. You stared at your warder with languor in your eye sockets: it seemed that his finely drawn lips were now made up with the blood you gracefully shed. He, however, did not return the gaze: ensnared by your shiny pussy, he had actually made sure of the absence of underwear. You weren't wearing any and it was as if your wetness were reflected shimmering in his dilated pupils; surrounded by the tiny splashes of blood now transferred to his facial features like freckles. He was exasperating you: he studied your sex with growing veneration but only his breath deigned to barely touch it.

"Mr. March… ?"

"What, my dear?"

"Please…"

"What. My dear."

“If you free my wrists, what can I offer you in return?”

Slowly, softly, James's frown became…pitying. He cocked his head to one side again and his eyebrows curved downwards. A vibrant "aaaw" tickled his whiskers. Whether it was a joke or not you wouldn't have been able to define it, especially since his aura made you numb. You were the clew of a sagacious cat whose canines terrified you more than the razor.

"As much as I love seeing your waiting cunt cry…" Mr. March could utter iniquities as if they were arabesques on silk. The premise sounded sinister and tempting: the ellipses were filled by the intrusion of his thumb, which approached your clit but circumnavigated it. It descended in two parentheses between the labia, then collected your juice with the linearity of a surgeon. You meweld impatiently and your thighs trembled. "…I don't see why not." he was indulging you and, even if you trusted him like a scrap of velvet decorated with splinters and glass dust, you couldn't help but rejoice.

"Of course, an exchange is an exchange. Calling it a "barter" sounds higly vulgar to me, so let's see…" he proceeded, crawling against your shaken torso until he stopped near your left breast. He caressed the nipple with a kiss before unsheathing the razor and cutting the edge of the areola in a dry line. Immediately, his mouth returned to collect the blood that rained down along with your squeal. He drank like Romulus with the She-Wolf, at the dawn of the birth of Rome. His eyeballs rolled, showing clearly visible capillaries. In raptures, he insisted on the wave of your snorts and your truncated syllables. As soon as he freed the first wrist, you brought your hand to his hair and, between spite and passion, closed it into a fist. You messed them up and tugged at them, eliciting a joyful, guttural laugh from the man's throat. "Some… milk is a fair price, don't you think? A favorable price." he had transformed you into the mother of sin. That milk had corrupted him and you, under hypnosis, were grateful for it. Electric, you closed like an oyster around him, licking away the crimson traces from his lips that had become your slave. The man's euphoria in seeing you as an accomplice, not at all impressionable, began to crumble his staid movements.

You were quickly reaching the same overwhelming rhythm of desires to express and this was underlined by a kiss that he dared first. His tongue, cryptic, pushed past your teeth in search of its twin. It swirled around it with the exasperation of a lightning-fast, toxic, iron-like love, bringing with it a long, hoarse groan. His beastly verse got caught in your throat and mixed with the notes you sang. Messyly, you grabbed onto James' suspenders and tugged on them in an attempt not to break the now soaked kiss. For his part, Mr. March stepped back with an air of surrender and opened his trousers. He lay down at the bottom of the pool with the sole purpose of dragging you onto him with primordial ardor. His grip on your hips was as merciless as that of a pincer: he was the one orchestrating your movements. The rubbing of the sexes, still hindered by his underwear.

“Are you confused, little creature?” he murmured, like a breathless movie actor. He smiled, though. He experimented, he pressed you against the veins of his cock in a shameless but still elegant dance. He raised his pelvis, rubbing his length between your melting folds. You, sometimes exasperated by the adrenaline rushes that James inflicted on you, tried to unbutton his shirt. "Do you wonder if… I will make love to you like a gentleman or… hm! Like a criminal?" with an abrupt interruption, he slide between your legs until his face could rest between them. “Should I treat you like a goddess or a prostitute?” he spoke deliberately close to your femininity, meeting it in a lustful stroke that turned into wide, slow lapping. He stared at you; he wanted a dirty answer of your reactions to his impromptu meal. He was entranced by the taste of you and he let you know by the moan that preceded the action of his right arm. He grabbed you by the throat but tightened like an hedcherkief.

"I can be… I can… a Greek goddess or not… there will be no difference between grace and dissoluten- oh James… James!" your desire to argue was overwhelmed by the pleasure offered to you. James had understood what you were trying to say and, appreciating your fine brain, had intensified his care. Small flicks of his tongue tapped on your clit, alternating with sucking. He stuck his tongue as deep as he could, fucking you through it before returning to the tangle of nerves. The middle finger took over immediately below and, shortly after, the ring finger. A cry strangled you and you almost lost your balance but the man bent a knee so you could lean against it. You swayed against his face and his fingers in blind desperation, so much so that you spontaneously grabbed the razor abandoned near you. James didn't feel threatened, on the contrary, he let you do it by curving his phalanges and detaching his mouth from your cunt from time to time, to observe how you melted on him. He stretched his solid neck, grinning with exposed fangs and nodding. He followed your moans but without adding sound; the wet chin jutted out and the nostrils dilated.

"Are you a mirage? Hm, are you darling? Prove to me that you're not at all…" you both knew what that meant. The grip around your slender neck intensified and the fingers, inside you up to the knuckles, became ever so slightly faster. Unstoppable like Mr. March's tongue that tirelessly slapped your clit until you heard yourself scream. Your sex pulsating furiously around the offending phalanges, dripping with scorching juices. For a moment you thought you would never recover. It certainly wasn't your first orgasm but you had never, ever experienced one like it and, at the mercy of delirium, you moved your right arm to the left and then quickly returned to the right and thus opened a cut in your lover's cheek. - HA-A! -the hotelier let out a long baritone growl bringing his hand, made slippery by your orgasm, to the wound. He stared at you with his eyeballs poised in their sockets, a furious bull who almost came in his own pants. Disoriented, you felt the need to rest that fought with the expectation of continuing and facing the consequences. You felt James Patrick March's impatience bubbling beneath you as before Pompeii was submerged by lava and you would not disappoint his expectations. Not after seeing him slowly lead the weapon of your defeat to his jaws to test it. Cleaning it of suspicious evidence as he scrutinized you and red flowed from his face. You curled up and licked it.

You looked like a dying candle and the dress contributed to the image, so you raised yourself on tremulous limbs and let it slide over the feline figure of your lover. Completely naked, you allowed yourself to look him up and down, still dripping onto his designer clothes. Juices, blood, tears, sweat. This created a growl in the back of his throat and he decided to get on his knees in front of you. Just like when a glass obstacle separated you. You preceded him, going back down and emulating his position before bending over at his crotch and unsheathing his thick cock. While you were admiring it, the owner of the Cortez proved to be prepared: he equipped himself with a cigarette. He turned it on and he took a greed drag from it. "You're also a warrior, then." The fact that he appeared relaxed was false, however, he guided his figure in sinuous nods that untangled your hair. He caressed your cheek before his cock was grabbed at the base and gently slammed against your cheekbone. Next, the tip passed over your lip perimeter like an obscene lipstick: consumed by haste, you tried to interrupt James but he hit you again with his cock. Harder. "Ah-ah-ah… greedy." he scolded in a grainy voice, as if he wasn't the first to have an insatiable hunger. In a mock bored manner he began to masturbate, his fist away from your initiatives: "Okay, lost creature: eat." March spelled out the order disguised as an invitation, slightly hunched over, before gathering your hair and giving you the go-ahead. You, out of breath, limited yourself to titillating only the frenulum, forcing James to stiffen like a statue of Italian marble.

"I am capable, Sir." you announced with renewed confidence, insisting on that very thin strip of skin. "I know how to pleasure a man with my mouth" you added, hotly, starting to dedicate yourself in great detail to the entire tip of the length. "And with the blade." James added as he studied you with clenched teeth around the cigarette filter, but his eyelids swayed heavily on his voluptuous gaze. Heart Deco, your stage name, emerged more and more from your arched body so that your captor's attention slid down your back to the roundness of your buttocks. "I know how to give an unforgettable blowjob." the punctuation of your provocation was replaced by March's dry groan. You began to repaint each raised vein with saliva, until you deemed it appropriate to go further. You began to swallow James's sex inch by inch, gradually. At the same time, your lover's no longer immaculate shirt fell from his muscular shoulders. He exhaled smoke like a dragon, taking a plastic pose as he held up what was left of the cigarette. Upwards, like a kind of torch to illuminate your sensuality. "Everything, Deco. Swallow it all. More. Mmmmore." declared the rich American, wetting his lips. "I believe you." he added hoarsely, blowing out a nicotine moan that accompanied his hand among your rebellious locks. He forced himself, thrusting his hips forward with the bluntness of a stab. The now extinct cigarette butt fell next to you as you expertly suppressed a retch. Your left palm crashed into James Patrick March's abdomen, enticing him to hold you by the skull. To ruffle you, indulge you…

He didn't warn you. He pulled back and positioned himself behind you in the span of an instant; you almost struggled to realize it. You preferred not to turn around, in fact, the sensation benefited you: now beyond your endurance limit, Mr. March grabbed you under the ribs and entered you in a tearing way. He remained still for a few seconds, exhaling ragged breaths and enjoying the suffocating welcome of your pussy. This allowed you to get used to it before the man began to pound you with the impetuosity of someone who discovers Eros giving in to Thanatos.

"OH MY GOD!" you yelped, snapping your head towards the kidnapper. You found him already looking at you with a pitch black strand cutting his forehead in two. With a caressing movement he pulled you up and leaned close to your ear: "Call upon me, not him: I killed God some time ago." what he said, how he said it, only made you more excited and needy. While he fucked you, vigorously massaging your breasts, you found purchase in his clean-shaven nape, naming him. Making you an echo of yourself. After a while, he responded to you with a roar and walked out of you gracelessly. He forced you to stand up and slammed you against the pool wall. You felt like an orphan but not for long because James came back to fill you, taking the breath away from both of you. Still between your walls moisted with longing, he brought your arms up. Up, up, up in a double and lascivious caress due to which you found yourself tied by the wrists again. You were the longest hand on a clock that now showed another hour.

"Please, James. Can you… hurt me? Can you do me ah-more? More? I'm begging you."

"If I can?" a sharp laugh filled your ear as he backed away with the aim of thrusting back into you like a slamming iron door. "I must." he huffed, continuing to push and push and push. His teeth clinging to the flesh in the crook of your neck: he was now transfigured into a pure beast, his claws stuck in your buttocks as he spread you apart with the sole imposition of his body. He wasn't a stingy or selfish lover, he had proven that to you. Now, however, his hasty descent into the Underworld of an unhealthy form of enjoyment was evident. You were his deadly river. You were his Styx and he had nothing but delirious, hissed compliments for you. One for each thrust into your now happily broken body. He squeezed your hands into fists and you, smiling, cried.

It was when an inhuman noise gradually exploded from James' lungs enough to fill the pool that he pressed his hot seed into your pussy. You, shocked, touched erotic epilepsy through his ecstasy. The tendons in his red neck ready to snap like whips as "Mr. Cortez's" knees buckled in a little snap and his temples threatened to explode. He directed his growl first at the blasphemed God then, with a movement of his head, at his mentor Demon. He fucked you beyond the climax until he suddenly stepped aside and staggered. He stepped back, trying to focus on you as a whole with the tip of his tongue at the corner of his swollen mouth. He nodded. He laughed, softly at first, but you only understood when his shoe hit the ground and made a watery sound. Now that he was settling down very calmly, March's laughter was louder and more theatrical: he was filling the tub and you were tied up. And even if you weren't, you couldn't swim. The color given to your cheeks by sex disappeared, turning into grey. Without the strength to struggle or the saliva to soothe your throat, you simply stared at your tormentor in astonishment. He approached you one last time, gently grabbing you by the chin and bringing your gaze up to his. He kissed you with the sweetness of a good and normal man.

“I could ennoble you with purpose.” James stated from an iron ladder, as if there were an audience watching the scene. "A subversive purpose: the end of Prohibition in America! AH! I could leave you here, soaking in water like the forbidden fruit that rots to transform into something far more diabolical. You could become the secret ingredient in my personal liquor." he insisted lewdly. Subtly morbid but blatantly thoughtful. From the opposite side of the pool, along its decorated edge, he watched you smugly as the water level rose. To the even number of jets, the same number were added. “Let me stay and look at you. Let me… think about it some more. Maybe-maybe, instead, you deserve our hearts hammering together…”

The degree of your agony would have increased along with the pure bliss of the memory. The ghost of James Patrick March's body, still stuck inside you. His cum still dripping down your thighs. His earthly version that studied you and, sadistically, toyed with your life. For you, nothing would have made more sense within the screaming walls of the Hotel Cortez.

"Oh, darling? I really need some advice." James awoke, as if from a long torpor and he grinned. "What color would you make this pool?"

taglist: @silverzoomies @doll3tt33 @wh0re43van @fear-is-truth @lacucarachapisser @nahoyasboyfriend @marchsfreakshow @coentinim (I took the liberty of tagging you but, if you prefer to avoid it, let me know! This tagging thing is unngfhdidsj ouff)

[crushpunky]

rafe x kook!reader - a drunken night (a cabin in the woods part 2)

inspired by "when we are together" by the 1975, enjoy <3 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Y/n had lined up countless activities for her and the boys throughout the week, everything from fishing to horseback riding and kayaking, all building up to the big hike on their final day. After a week of non-stop action, the boys were more than happy to find out y/n had factored in a “rest” day ahead of their hike.

The four of them had spent the day on the property, basking in the sun, playing cards, and shooting the shit. The heat of the day gave way to a chilly night, leading to them starting a fire near the small pond that sat on the property. Though she had brought her own jacket, y/n found herself reaching for Rafe’s sweatshirt once again as they sat around the fire. It was comfortable and warm, she had told herself. No other reasons, of course…

“That’s literally not true! There is no way in hell that you’ve done that!” Y/n laughed, taking a sip of the drink Topper had concocted from Kelce’s aunt and uncle’s liquor cabinet. Whatever it was, it was strong, and as the night grew on, she could really start to feel its effects.

“You’d be surprised, I’m a very adventurous guy.” Kelce said with a shrug. He had just finished recounting a story of how he had once snuck himself and a girl into the country club after hours, the two of them getting drunk in the bar before falling asleep on the golf course.

“Oh, please, Kelc. You don’t do shit.” Rafe said with a slightly drunken chuckle. As hesitant as she was to see him drinking, y/n figured it being only the four of them, and that he wasn’t doing anything worse, she’d let it slide. It had been a minute since she had seen him drunk like this, typically seeing him only when he was violently high or totally blacked out. It was a nice medium, his cheeks flushed and his demeanor a bit softer and without a trace of its usual grumpiness.

“I forgot we’re chatting with Mr. Adventurous over here.” Topper said, finishing the last of his drink before grabbing the pitcher that sat on the ground next to them. Rafe rolled his eyes, tossing an empty can at him. Topper looked back at him wide eyed and jumped to his feet, nearly stumbling into the fire.

“Hey! Hey!” Y/n shouted before the two started to drunkenly wrestle in the campfire, pulling Topper back into his seat.

“How about we settle this with a game of never have I ever?” Kelce said over the rim of his cup. Rafe and Topper groaned, but y/n grinned at Kelce’s avoidance of escalating the situation further.

“I’m not playing that shit.” Rafe said shortly, grabbing his beer and starting to get out of his seat. Y/n stopped him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. He turned to look at her for a moment, his eyes glassy from the drinks.

“Pleeeaaase.” Y/n sang playfully, tugging at his sleeve. Rafe paused for a moment, looking at her pleading, drunk expression, before relenting and sinking back into his chair with a huff.

“Why don’t you go first, Mr Adventurous.” Topper said, sitting up straight in his chair. Rafe scowled.

“Fine. Never have I ever kissed Sarah.” Rafe smirked wickedly, his eyes locked on Topper as he took a drink. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for Kelce and y/n to do the same.

“Woah, woah, what the fuck?!” Rafe’s smirk evaporated, looking around at his three supposed “friends” exasperatedly.

“Yeah, what the fuck?!” Topper said, his face almost as equally angry as Rafe as he shot daggers at Kelce.

“It was a long time ago, dude. Like, middle school. Calm the fuck down.” Kelce laughed, his hands raised in surrender. Y/n giggled before she looked over at Rafe, who was staring at her, his hand gripping the arm of her camp chair.

“Are you serious?” Rafe said, his voice low and eyebrows raised.

“Oh come on! It was a dare at a party, or something, and we were both drunk… friends kiss all the time. It’s no big deal.” Y/n laughed nervously. She knew that Rafe and Sarah’s relationship was difficult, and as hard as it could be at times, she really did consider them both friends. She hadn’t thought of telling Rafe about it because it didn’t really matter. She did like a Cameron in that way, but it certainly wasn’t Sarah.

Rafe’s mind raced despite the alcohol clouding his brain. Was that how she had thought about their kiss at Midsummers? Just two friends kissing, “no big deal”? Of course that was how she thought of it, they were just friends. Obviously. Nothing more, nothing less…

“No they don’t!” Topper said loudly, nearly spilling his drink as he waved his hands around wildly.

“Yes they do! You’re telling me you guys have never kissed each other?” Y/n said which caused all the boys to collapse into fits of exaggerated gagging and shouting. Y/n rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

“Ok, ok! Next!” Y/n shouted over their dramatics, attempting to get back to the game. She looked over at Rafe, his eyes still stuck on her. Maybe she was overthinking it, but she swore she could see a twinge of something in his face before he looked away from her.

“Alright, fine,” Topper said, his voice slightly slurred, “never have I ever… gotten into a car accident.”

Rafe and Kelce took a drink silently, both of them glaring at Topper. Funnily enough, the “crashes” they were drinking for were actually one and the same. Shortly after getting his license, Kelce had rear-ended Rafe as he was stopped at a stoplight in downtown. Rafe had been pretty pissed at him for a month before Topper and y/n eventually forced the two of them to reconcile. Y/n laughed at the memory, perhaps a bit too much because of the alcohol buzzing through her body.

“Nice, Top.” Rafe said gruffly, taking a sip of beer.

“Ok,” Kelce said, “never have I ever… gotten so drunk I fell off the Druthers. Multiple times.”

“That’s cheating,” Topper said pointedly, but taking a drink nonetheless. It was almost a running gag how often he seemed to drunkenly fall off the boat when the four of them were out on the water, it often taking everyone to drag him back onto the deck.

“Alright, um…” Y/n looked around as she thought of an answer before her eyes caught on the pond, the moonlight giving it a soft glow.

“Never have I ever… gone skinny dipping.” Y/n said, looking away bashfully as the boys all quickly downed the rest of the drinks before shouting over each other.

“What?!” Kelce shouted, tossing his can into the fire.

“How can you fucking live in the Outer Banks and haven’t gone skinny dipping? That’s like, a right of passage!” Topper chuckled.

“I don’t know, I just… haven’t.” Y/n said quietly, feeling her cheeks burn slightly.

“Do you want to?” Rafe asked quietly, his drunken words betraying him before he even had a second to think. What kind of person asks that to their friend? Let alone their girl friend? She’s probably gonna slap the shit out of him and—-

“I mean… yeah, maybe one day.” Y/n responded with a shrug, the fabric of Rafe’s sweatshirt sagging under the action. She seemed nonchalant (or at least she hoped she did), answering his question matter-of-factly despite the slight fluttering it gave her in her stomach.

“Well… we do have a pond here…” Kelce said, a drunken grin on his face. Y/n glanced at Topper who raised his eyebrows before looking over at Rafe who looked at y/n, his expression unreadable. Perhaps if she wasn’t so buzzed on whatever shit Topper had made, she would’ve thought it a bit weird to go skinny dipping with her three guy friends, one of which she was head over heels in love with… but that certainly wasn’t the case as she rose from the camp chair and started sprinting towards the dock.

The alcohol in her veins spurred her forward as she shucked off her pants and Rafe’s sweatshirt, leaving them in the grass. She didn’t look back as she continued onto the dock, discarding her undergarments before she jumped into the pond. The cold water sucked the breath out of her as she came above the surface. On the edge of the dock, the boys stood hooting and hollering.

“It’s really fucking cold in here!” Y/n shouted, treading water. Topper and Kelce looked between each other for a moment before moving to take off their jackets. Y/n turned away from the dock until she heard a splash, the two boys entering the water. They resurfaced, their grins wide. Y/n looked back at the dock at Rafe who stood there alone, his clothes very much still on.

“Come on, Cameron!” Kelce shouted, beckoning Rafe into the water. Rafe shook his head with a laugh.

“Yeah, get in here Mr Adventure!” Topper egged him on, splashing some water towards the dock. Y/n looked up at him on the dock as Rafe ran a hand through his hair. He looked nervous, for some reason, almost embarrassed to join his three friends. His eyes met hers, the moonlight reflecting off the water and highlighting her dampened features beautifully. 

She bit her lip nervously. Should she say something? Encourage her friend to get in? Would Topper and Kelce think something was up if she didn’t? Would Rafe think something was up if she didn’t? It wouldn’t be any different than how Kelce and Topper were already in there, so why was she overthinking it? 

“Get in here, boy.” Y/n said quietly. Topper and Kelce hollered as Rafe took a deep breath before shrugging his jacket off. Once more, y/n turned until she felt water splash her face as Rafe jumped into the cold pond. He resurfaced, tossing his wet hair back with a grin. The four of them treaded water for a bit, laughing at the pure chaos of the situation, before the boys made their way towards the dock. Y/n remained in the water, the boys hauling themselves out of the water and onto the dock before putting their clothes back on their soaking and freezing bodies.

She tried to pull herself out but the freezing cold water mixed with the alcohol made her arms feel like jelly. She groaned, falling back into the water. Topper and Kelce had already started back towards the house, their arms slung over each other's shoulders as they stumbled drunkenly. Rafe, however, was still on the dock, pulling his t-shirt on.

“Rafe!” Y/n whispered harshly, causing him to whip his head towards her as he stepped closer to the end of the dock.

“What?” Rafe whispered back, seemingly oblivious to her situation.

“Can you— can you help me out?” Y/n whispered, feeling her cheeks heat up. She felt like an idiot, not being able to pull herself out of the water and now having to have her friend drag her naked body out. It was utterly humiliating.

“Y-yeah, of course.” He stammered, offering her his hand. She took it and pushed herself up towards the dock, Rafe pulling her all the way onto the wooden surface. She stumbled, getting her footing and looked back at Rafe, whose eyes were closed as he faced her.

“Thanks.” She said, grabbing her undergarments off of the floor and slipping them on as quickly as her drunken state could.

“You can, um, open your eyes now.” Y/n whispered and Rafe opened his eyes apprehensively. He felt his cheeks flush at the sight of y/n dressed so minimally, her teeth chattering from the cold. It’s not like it was anything he hadn’t seen before, 90% of the time the two of them were in bathing suits lounging in the sun, so why was he acting this way?

He turned back towards the grass where her clothes laid, jogging to go grab them before returning to the dock. She took them graciously and slipped them on, the fabric of Rafe’s sweatshirt sticking to her soaked skin.

“Sorry about getting your sweatshirt wet.” Y/n said quietly, looking down at the now soaking wet sweatshirt.

“It’s fine.” Rafe said shortly with a nod. The two of them stood there for a second, staring at each other silently.

“Well… how was your first skinny dipping experience?” Rafe asked.

“Good,” y/n exhaled. “Next time I’ll have to remember to, um, keep my stuff by the water.”

Rafe chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, the two of them falling back into a silence. Silences between them weren’t usually “awkward”, but something about the tension in this silence felt as close to “awkward” as ever. 

Was it the fact that she had kissed Sarah? Was he mad about that? She knew he was always so self conscious when it came to being compared to her, was he mad at her? Or was it because they had just gone skinny dipping, after which she asked him to get his sweatshirt? Did friends do that?

Did she think he was being weird when he gave her his sweatshirt to change into when she was already nearly naked? Did she think he was being awkward and weird? Did friends act like this around each other? Did friends do any of this?

“We should probably go to bed.” Y/n said quietly, finally breaking the silence and stopping each of their minds from racing any further.

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Rafe whispered, swallowing harshly before offering his arm out to y/n. She took it graciously, the two of them drunkenly stumbling down the dock, arms interlocked.

Maybe they could talk about this in the morning, the tension and awkwardness that had been growing more and more since Midsummers. Maybe, when they were less drunk and soaking wet, things would be more obvious, whatever those “things” were. However, as she went to bed that night, y/n couldn’t help but think that “things” would never be obvious or easy for them.

[navybrat817]

The Red Woods

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve tells you a story as he keeps you warm by the fire. Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Implied sex, spooky story (violence), attempted scare, humor, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #5 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense belongs to Lumberjack!Steve thanks to this poll winner. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The moon and stars lit up the night sky, beckoning you to go outside and bask in the beauty. Cold settled into your bones as you stepped outside and shivered. It was chillier than you expected and you debated going back into the comfort of the cabin. Steve had already started the bonfire nearby though and you knew the heat from the flames would warm you up.

So would your lumberjack.

Steve carried an extra load of wood from the shed as you walked toward the fire. He set up a spot for you to sit beside each other, but you had a feeling he'd have you in his lap as the night went on. He liked having your body close to his, whether it was after a long day of work or coming home after a mission. You enjoyed it, too, because he enveloped you with his love.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, catching the slight tremble in your body as you took a seat. "When I suggested the fire, I didn't think it would be this cold."

"It's okay," you assured him as he added another log to the fire. The rich and powerful scent from the smoke soothed you as you stared into the flames. "But what made you so adamant to have one tonight?"

"No particular reason," he replied casually, wiping his hands before he sat down beside you. It was a bit too casual, but the red and orange from the flames dancing along his face distracted you. The urge to reach up and touch his beard was strong. "Wasn't something I really got to do in the city."

Part of you would always love the city. So would Steve. There was always something to do and inspiration could be found around every corner. It didn't mean it was home though. It was a place to visit, to remember. Your place in the woods with each other was where you were meant to be.

And the love of your life provided plenty of inspiration if you ever needed it.

"I don't remember ever having a fire there," you said after thinking about it. There weren’t many places to have fires. Your old apartment didn’t even have a fireplace.

"Hardly ever saw the stars," he added.

You nodded a little, your fingers scratching along his chin. If your touch was too cold, he didn't make a big deal out of it. "I didn't really get to appreciate the stars from my old apartment either," you said, tilting your head to look up at the sky. "But out here? It's like they serenade us. It's a chorus that resonates with the moon until the sun comes up."

Steve wrapped an arm around you, allowing your body to heat up more. He was your own personal heater. "Even when you're not writing, your words are beautiful."

You couldn't blame the fire or his body for the heat that filled your face. His opinion on your writing meant the world to you. "You're just saying that to get in my pants," you teased.

He chuckled as his mouth moved close to your ear. "I already did that this morning," he whispered.

You exhaled, remembering the two of you tangled up in each other. Lazy, soft kisses and lingering touches as he made love to you. His large body pinning yours to the mattress, his hips thrusting in a slow rhythm like the gentle waves of an ocean. You nearly sobbed when you came, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he quickly followed.

You had lovers before Steve, but he taught you the true meaning of making love.

"And I'm sure you'll do it again before the sun comes up," you whispered.

"If I have my way," he said, pulling you closer. Your hand fell to his shirt, gripping the flannel. Your super soldier was insatiable some days, but you weren't going to complain when you both reaped the benefits of his appetite.

"It's too bad the gang isn't here. Otherwise we could tell spooky stories," you said. Maybe you could invite Bucky and Jewel over another night for dinner. It was nice that Steve had one of his best friends not too far away. Sam also didn’t mind making trips to visit.

"Well, you and I can still tell stories to pass the time," he said, kissing the top of your head. "How about I start? Even though I’m not the best storyteller."

“That’s a lie. You’re a great storyteller,” you said, lifting your head and seeing a hint of a blush in his cheeks. With his deep, commanding voice, the man could read the phone book to you and you'd listen. You teased at times that he could do a podcast if he wanted to. Or erotic recordings. "And I don't scare easily, but you can try."

You didn’t mind a healthy dose of fear now and again. It was natural and helpful in some situations. It was also fun and exciting in the right setting, like this.

"I'm sure you've heard all sorts of different stories about creatures and spirits who live in the woods," he began, which earned a nod from you. "Local legend says there's a spirit right here who controls part of the forest: The Lumberman."

"Wow. A lumberjack is telling a story about a lumberman? How original," you said, your deadpan expression dropping when he pinched your side. "Hey! I was kidding."

"Let me tell the story," he said, brushing his lips against the top of your head again as an apology. "They say long ago that a lumberman lived in the deepest part of the woods. He had no family or friends and mostly kept to himself. He only ventured into town to sell the wood he chopped down."

"A loner," you said, already invested.

"Yeah, he was. Not unfriendly. Just a quiet man. And all was well until a local woman went missing. The town searched everywhere for her and couldn't find her. It was like she vanished without a trace. Her family demanded answers, so people shifted the blame to him," Steve explained, a slight breeze rolling by.

You frowned as you listened. It was just a story, but you knew how dangerous mob mentality could be. "What happened?"

"A group of men confronted him in his home and demanded to know what he did with her body. He swore he didn't know what happened and that he would never hurt a soul, but they didn't listen. They were out for blood,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “When he still refused to admit to any wrongdoing, the men took turns hacking him up with one of his axes and burned his cabin to the ground. They even brought the axe back as some sort of trophy, stained with his blood."

"Jesus," you whispered, scooting a bit closer.

"It was only after they killed him did the girl show back up in town alive and well. Not a scratch on her. She had gone a couple towns over to meet up with some guy," he said, rubbing your arm.

"So they condemned an innocent man to death," you said.

"They did," he said, nodding toward the trees. "Most of the townspeople didn't venture to his part of the woods out of fear that his spirit would seek revenge. And they were right."

You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"Over the years, hikers and locals who were brave enough to go on his old land went missing. Their bodies were never found, but people say you can hear their screams echo through the air if you get close enough,” he said, pausing to look around with a somber expression. "And that they became part of the trees."

Glancing around as well, it was difficult to make out the trees in the darkness. "They became part of the trees? How?"

"As you get closer to his land, you can see faces twisted in pain in the bark if you look closely enough. Some even say there’s blood in the sap and dripping from the branches. They even renamed that part of the forest the Red Woods since the paths have inexplicable red dirt, like blood had seeped into the soil," he said, lowering his voice as if to tell you a secret. "It’s like a warning to turn back."

"That is not why they call it the Red Woods," you argued, though you weren’t completely sure now. You actually had no idea why the area got that name.

"That’s how the story’s told."

"So an innocent man was hacked to pieces in his home," you said slowly. "And now he kills anyone who steps into his territory?"

"Condemned to a terrible fate. Just like he was," he said as simple as that. "And people still go missing to this day."

You smiled a bit. There was nothing at all uplifting or funny about the story, but Steve spoke with such seriousness that you almost believed the tale was real. "Okay, but why is he still haunting the woods? If it's revenge on the men who killed him or the townspeople in general, he wouldn’t go after random, innocent hikers."

Steve’s head tilted as he looked at you, something a bit more sinister in his gaze. "Isn’t it obvious? They took his axe. He’s waiting for someone to return it."

A heartbeat passed before you huffed. "Of course, he is. The axe that the men brought back as a trophy," you said, gesturing toward the toolshed. "It’s too bad you don’t have it. You could help put his soul to rest."

"What if I told you I do have it?" he asked.

Your heart rate increased before you huffed again. "You’re a great storyteller, but a terrible liar, Beefcake."

His eyes shot to yours, maintaining eye contact as he reached beside him. You raised an eyebrow when he held up an axe. You had to admit, you knew his tools well and that was one you didn’t recognize. "See? Still stained with blood," he told you, holding it closer to the fire so you could see the blade. "Should we go into the Red Woods and return it?"

You didn’t admit that your stomach turned a little as you brought your hands up and slowly clapped. "Bravo. You went all out for this story. And, no, I’m not going into the woods when it’s this cold out," you said before a snap from a twig nearby drew your attention, making you tense up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, setting the axe down.

"Oh, you had to have heard that. Your hearing is ten times better than mine," you argued, standing up and narrowing your eyes to try and see when you heard another twig snap. You froze before you began to giggle. "Okay, Bucky! Come on out! I know Steve put you up to this."

Steve jumped to his feet and pushed you behind him. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. "Buck isn’t here. He's at home with Jewel," he said in a hushed tone.

"Wait, you didn’t convince him to come out of the woods to try and scare me?" You asked, placing your hands on his back when he shook his head. "Okay. It’s probably just an animal then."

SNAP.

"I don’t think an animal did that," he whispered, guiding you toward the cabin. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. "I think we should-"

"Give…" you stopped at the sound of a demonic voice just beside the toolshed, your heart thumping. "Me…" a man stepped out of the darkness, dragging his left foot behind him. "My…" His decayed skin was caked with blood as he lifted a hand. "AXE!"

Your eyes widened before you snapped out of your stupor. "Oh, fuck this," you muttered, pulling away from Steve who called after you. Grabbing your shotgun from the porch, you brought it to your shoulder and cocked it. "I don’t have an axe, Lumberman, but I’ll shoot you in your fucking face if you take a step closer."

"Whoa!" Steve shouted, holding out his hand for the "zombie" to stop. "Don’t move. She’s serious!"

"Fuck," the zombie muttered, tapping the side of his neck. "Seriously? I really thought I’d get you," the demonic voice fading to a normal tone.

"CLINT?!" you guessed, lowering your gun. The former Hawkeye nodded. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"For the record, this wasn’t my idea," Steve said, an innocent look in his blue eyes. "And I told you she wouldn’t get scared. I don’t know why you insisted on this."

No wonder he wanted to have a fire tonight.

"Okay, okay. It was my idea. Everyone is off doing their own thing and I just wanted to have some fun," Clint explained, walking closer toward the fire as he began to peel the makeup away and toss it in to burn. "This didn’t work on Jewel either! She grabbed one of Bucky’s knives and almost stabbed me."

You laughed a little. No doubt Bucky was both proud of and scared for his girl for that move. "Maybe because, I don’t know, in the story Steve told the Lumberman was hacked to pieces and you’re clearly not. There was also no indication that the Lumberman could leave his territory. Everyone went missing on his land. So why would he be here?"

Clint exchanged a look with Steve. "She has a point," your husband said.

These men are defenders of the universe.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for that," you said, putting the gun back where it belonged. "I have to ask though, why prank me? And why prank Jewel?"

Clint shifted a bit on his feet. "So the guys could be heroes? But seeing as how you grabbed a gun and Jewel grabbed a knife, I think you two are good."

You had to smile as you turned your attention back to Steve. "You wanted to be my hero and protect me from a zombie?"

With a sheepish smile, Steve nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I did," he said in a small voice. "It’s stupid, right?"

Your man, a true hero who saved hundreds of lives, simply wanted to protect you from anything bad. You never loved him more. "It’s not stupid. I think it's kind of sweet," you assured him. "Clint, please, put out the fire and get the hell out of here. Steve, get inside so we can have sex and get warm."

Clint coughed into his hand. "Can I at least get a coffee before I go? I was out there for a while and it’s a little chilly."

Steve ignored his friend as he gave you a smile. "You’re really going to sleep with me after we tried to prank you?" he asked, looking at his feet for a split second. "And you know I’d never want to scare you, right?"

"Yeah, I’m really going to sleep with you. And I know the last thing you’d ever want to do is frighten me. All you want to do is protect me," you smiled. You weren’t going to deny yourself pleasure, especially since you were starting to get cold again. "But for the record, this is pity sex for failing your prank and not grabbing the gun first," you added, giggling when he took two large steps toward you.

Clint stared after you as Steve grabbed and pulled you toward him, fastening his mouth to yours. "So, is that a no on the coffee?"

Your friend eventually got his coffee before he went on his way. After Steve thoroughly wore you out, he promised to stick to cuddling in front of a fire moving forward. Making love in front of a fire was also on the table, whether it was in front of the fireplace or outside under the stars. Though he never did tell you where he got that axe or why it really looked like it was stained with blood.

But maybe you could convince Clint to take that axe into the Red Woods and show Steve how to really scare someone.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[muffinsin]

If you can, can you do where the sisters are so tired that they don’t realize when their fem s/o guide their head on her lap, and when they wake up, they realize how much they enjoy sleeping on her lap so they end up using their s/o lap more often cuz it’s so comfortable and soft and warm, oh and also the s/o runs her hands through the sisters hair, and gives them kisses. Literally something I’d want to do, just comfort them and love them.

Absolutely! This is so adorable!🙌 I totally agree, I just wanna spoil and coddle them and SHOWER them in comfort and affection. Funnily enough this reminds me of a request I did once, of Cassandra falling asleep in her s/o’s lap! :)

Let’s get into it! :)

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Bela

Bela can be something of a troubled mind at times

She thinks a lot and attempts to manage many things

Working, her sisters, the maidens, you, anything her mother adds to this list

It’s very common for her to be entirely focused on her work. She’s more than a little bit of a workaholic at times

What she then doesn’t realise, is to take breaks. Or eat. Or sleep

So when you enter her office after hours and hours of her doing nothing but working, all day and night, even yesterday, you are concerned

You know you can’t just tell her to stop. She’s too focused on her work, and too eager to please her mother to do so

She will allow you to convince her to take breaks, however

And so she finds herself being guided to the castle gardens for some fresh air, her limbs heavy and eyes fighting a battle to stay open

She doesn’t even realise this, her mind already occupied with what work she will do after her break

Bela just allows you to pull her along, until she finds the two of you sitting at the gazebo outside

She makes a small squeak of surprise when you pull her head on your lap, but doesn’t attempt to get up

How could she, when it’s so warm? And soft? And comfortable?

Oh, and she feels the sun shining at her from the position you chose

It’s warming her up like a comfortable blanket, and urges her to close her golden eyes

Surely it won’t hurt to close them a little, right?

Bela yet again fights a losing battle of attempting to stay awake

You go to talk about your day, but instead giggle when her hand slides off the bench and dangles in the air

She’s sleeping soundly on you, nose occasionally twitching when the sun and find tickle it

You don’t dare move. You don’t want to wake her at all

When Bela wakes hours later, she feels groggy, yet shocked. How long had she been sleeping for?!

You’re just glad the blonde made up for the hours of sleep she was so clearly missing, even if your legs went numb a couple of times

In the future, Bela allows scheduled breaks for working, in which she eats, has a few sips of the wine keeping her strong and healthy, and- spends time with you

At first you’re surprised at how she insists to lay on your lap

It quickly becomes a tradition though, as well as a very popular napping spot for her

Bela loves to rest on your lap, and purrs quietly when you begin tangling your fingers in her blonde hair

It has such a beautiful effect on her and never fails to make her fall asleep

After her (usually) 30-60 minute naps, she basks in your warmth a little longer

When her sisters get curious of this and ask to try, Bela chases them off with her sickle

Cassandra

Cassandra has had a LONG week

Interrogating and torturing the men-things that broke into the castle, finding their hideout in the village and making an example of them

She barely got to sleep, even after she at last, after days, finished this task

She was completely on edge for an attack, despite knowing no one was left. This made sleeping…difficult

You, of course, notice this

When you pull her with you to the art room, she doesn’t protest

Her head turns often, as if analysing and looking for threats, but unsurprisingly she finds none

This continues on until she is gently eased to her knees, on the floor where a blanket and pillows are waiting

She raises an eyebrow, though with her heavy eyes, it looks more silly than serious

A light blush covers her cheeks when you kiss the top of her head and giggle at this

When you gently guide her to sit and lean onto your lap, she complies. She doesn’t mind watching you paint

She finds it relaxing

Besides this, being with you allows her to protect you against an attack that you know won’t come

When you pick up the paint brush with one hand and scratch her scalp with the other, her eyes droop and fall shut

Immediately, she opens them again. She attempts to open them wide, but is unable to, sleep gripping her tightly

Instead, she makes a displeased noise that sounds like a mix of a whine and growl at the back of her throat

She doesn’t need or want to sleep. She just wants to watch you

Yet, within moments, her eyes fall shut again

She can’t help it, really

It’s an unfair fight, with how you scratch her scalp and play with her hair, even reach down to gently massage her head and neck

She’s asleep before both of you know it, filling the gallery with quiet snores and purrs

When she wakens a little time later, she feels more at ease

You giggle when she buries her face in your stomach, her cheek smudged against your thigh

She’s so comfy, she doesn’t want to move at all, and you don’t at all demand her to

Instead you stroke her hair a little longer, and even lean down to press a few kisses to it

Judged by the snores muffled by your shirt, she falls asleep at least two more times for a short amount of time

After this, Cassandra often seeks you out during the day for exactly this

It’s adorable how once she finds you, she pulls you into a sitting position or lays you down and all but plops her head on your thighs

She calls it her daily naptime, although you know it means more to her than that

Funnily enough, no matter what amount of time she sleeps, 10 minutes or 30, 40 or 60, she always has an adorably confused and groggy expression and typical bed hair

Daniela

Daniela doesn’t notice how tired she is, too engrossed in her new favourite book

You brought it to her, and she’s very adamant on reading it

Little did she consider, it’s a 1000 page book. She will not be able to read this in one go

Nonetheless, she tries

To her credit, our little redhead makes sure to still cuddle and eat with you, often pulling you against her and reading out loud, or having you take over and read to her while she eats messily

She doesn’t notice her eyes get droopy, or how she has been in the library all day and night already, too engrossed in the book

When you find her in the morning, you tsk. Your favourite teddy bear wasn’t in bed with you

Still in pyjamas, you sit down next to her. She looks up from her book for a moment and shoots you a wide grin, her finger resting at the next sentence to remind her where to continue

“Hello my love!”, she greets. In her exhaustion she doesn’t notice you’re wearing pyjamas, nor did she notice that it’s morning of the next day already

The light in the library was never turned off with her inside and she was too engrossed to see the dark sky out the windows

When she pecks your cheek and turns back to her book, you look around for something that can be used as a book mark. You’ve decided your girlfriend is in desperate need of sleep

Daniela doesn’t notice this until the book is gently pulled from her hands a few moments later

She growls instinctively, then merely whines at you and shoots you her perfectly trained puppy eyes

You force yourself not to give in to them, it only because of the exhaustion you see in them, and how Daniela fights to keep them open

“Come here, sweetheart”, you coo instead, gently guiding her to lay down and rest her head on your thighs

She keeps her eyes trained on the book, though cuddles closer to your thighs

They’re just so warm, so soft. She pokes and rubs her cheek against them

A grin settles on her lips when you begin reading to her instead, continuing where she left off

Still, you already place the bookmark inside.

You know Daniela won’t be up for long, otherwise you would have to deal with a little ball of energy unable to stay still, rather than the tired and nearly limp woman on your lap

Daniela purrs quietly upon hearing your voice

When you start to play with her hair and scratch her scalp, it’s over for her

True to your thoughts, you hear snores before you even finish your page

She is a relatively heavy sleeper, and so you gently shift her to lay more comfortably

After this, Daniela often asks for you in the library. She even had maidens set up a corner with pillows and blankets

She’ll take breaks from books and settle on your thigh, requesting that you read to her

Often enough she falls asleep within a few pages

Aside from this, you notice Daniela can be brought to sleep even when hyper with a few scratches of her scalp and your fingertips trailing along her backside

She always makes sure to reward you with much praise and cuddles for taking such good care of her